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warmau · 3 years

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not knowing what to say isn't a foreign feeling to you, yet when you come face to face with ten outside his apartment on this summer morning, you are almost too petrified to even string a sentence together

he's really just........leaving

ten shines a big smile and from the open door you hear kun's exasperated voice asking why in the world ten is packing up his entire existence for a program that's going to last two months

"you look nervous"

ten jokes first, running a hand through his dark hair which he's spent the colder months growing out

"im the one going to a different country and yet you look like you might turn green"

his laughter tickles you and you force yourself out of the weird, frozen feeling, for his sake

"im not nervous - it's just this is our first summer apart since what, highschool?"

ten leans against the frame of his door and lets kun scuttle past him with a scowl

yangyang and hendery bounce after him with ten's insane amount of luggage

"yeah but it's two months, not two decades. plus....you know how much ive always wanted to do this."

right. and here you are being selfish.

"of course, i mean it's literally the birthplace of ballet."

"technically that's italy, but france is a close second."

"i hate you"

ten pulls you into his arms before you register that this is your goodbye hug

"i'll miss you too."

kun drives everyone to the airport, he complains and cries the most.

sicheng gives you a knowing look when ten takes your wrist in his hand and tucks your arm between his.

you ignore the look, and focus on ten. on him. and then - when the switchboard pops up his flight info - he gives a bubbly and excited

"ive gotta go!"

and then summer starts, just as he's gone

"so when are you going to tell him you're in love with him."

sicheng brings the big gulp he stole from hendery up to his lips and you keep your eyes closed behind your sunglasses

"sorry, yukhei's not my type."

"you know im not talking about yukhei."

you dig your fingers into the sand beside your towel, the beach is already so noisy so you pretend you don't hear sicheng, but you still feel him looking.

you guess a part of it is true, you love ten. who doesn't?

is that the core of the issue then, that ten is so available and loveable and charming, that it makes him also unattainable?

or at least, unattainable to you.

you hear your phone buzz inside your bag and sicheng is being dragged into the water by the rowdy rest of your friend group

it could be a text from ten?

your mind excites, but you put out that fire

it's probably just spam.

ten does text and even video call the first two or so weeks while he's away

you get blurry photos of food at cafes and the eiffel tower, random fancy looking dogs being walked on the small, cramped streets

ten's connection is kind of bad - but he still gleams through the fuzzy facetime camera as he shows you around the room the dance academy has provided

pangs of his happiness and excitement seep into you

and then there's the first sign of worry comes knocking and twirling through his door

a group of other dancers, all beautiful and strong, asking ten - from the limited amount of french you catch - if he's done, they're waiting for him to go to a show with them

ten gives you a scattered, quick goodbye. he says he'll video call again.

all you get is an update text almost five days later that has no pictures attached just a;

im ok - by the way i totally miss eating hot chips with you at midnight. ive had like a banana smoothie and that's it.

sicheng and kun are the first to pick up on the shift, you are quietly withdrawing to yourself

nothing makes you laugh

ten doesn't reply to your question about what the paris metro looks like, actually he doesn't even read it

kun nearly tugs hendery's ear red when he shares a snap story of ten pressed cheek to cheek with his new dancer friends in front of the louvre when you're in the same room

the thing is you are not jealous of any of them.

you don't go around trying to find their facebooks, clicking on their instagram profiles, comparing you and them.

you are just sad to your bones that they will understand ten in such a way that no matter how long you two have been friends

you will never, truly know

"you're his best friend"

sicheng reasons on the phone as you stare up at the wall above your desk, littered in old pictures and clippings and your gaze catches on the ticket stub from ten's first-ever solo dance performance

it had been a talent show in highschool.

it had been the first time you saw ten perform outside the corner of his cramped bedroom or the glimpse you caught meeting up with him outside the dance academy

he's in paris, he's with people who love it so much more than i do - they love dancing like he loves dancing.

i cannot understand that.

"i think you were right sicheng."

"im always right."

i do love him. when am i going to tell him?

you hang up after sicheng has his i told you so moment and stare at your screen

a notification flashes across the screen and it's a text from ten

the trains here are blue. i miss you.

you want to reply right away, so you open the message and start typing

i miss you too. actually, i think i finally understand why people who are in love are so hurt when they're suddenly left without their other half and ten you are my o-

you delete the sentence and make a face

nice. i miss you too.

you don't send it - or at least you forget to because your fingers are shaking and you exit out of the messaging app before checking

abandoning your phone, you turn on your side and stretch your hand out to reach the edge of the bed

there's enough space between you and it for someone to fit, so you remember the countless times ten has laid there

smiling and laughing and tickling your face with his sleeping breath

you can't even recall a conversation because there have been hundreds

suddenly you feel a warmth creep up your skin

hundreds of opportunities to tell him - and each time i chose to be a coward.

"you should write him a letter."

"this isn't a movie, what - you think im going to write a letter and he'll jump on the first plane from france to come to my side?"

sicheng cocks an eyebrow as if to say it is a possibility

"no. im not writing a letter. i'll suck it up and confess when he comes back."

you somehow end up writing a letter.

maybe because you really do want to just send a long text spilling your mushy, soft, pink feelings

but you know that's just not what ten deserves

he deserves (and you do too, but you won't admit this) a face to face confession

so you start retelling the moments that flutter up in your heart whenever you think about him

how he makes the room brighter when he's in it, how he dances with every bone, joint, muscle in his body - how he approaches it with no inhibition and true devotion that paints its way across his face when he practices, how he fits perfectly into the hole that grows more massive every day you don't see him

standing there across the hall - coffee in hand, gym bag with his scuffed dance shoes

by the time you're finished - the letter is longer than you imagine. there are parts crossed and scribbled out, repetitive thoughts, and stupid little comments and metaphors that compare ten to flowers or clouds or anything else pretty in nature

you cringe at yourself, but you do feel better

it could be your outline for when the time to actually tell him comes.

you shove the papers into an envelope, write ten's name and the address of his parisian dance academy just for the irony

and then make the mistake of letting it sit on your desk

in a matter of days, it has been swallowed by a bunch of other papers and trinkets

and when you're rushing around your room trying to get ready for another adventure to the beach - sicheng clinks the lollipop against his teeth and fishes it out - curious at the stamp

"do you want me to mail this?"

he asks and you're trying to find those sunglasses you literally just bought and grumble that sure, whatever - you'll meet him out by kun's car.

halfway to the beach, you turn in horror from the passenger seat to look at sicheng in the back

your eyes like saucers and a tremor in a voice

"wait. what did you ask me back in my room?"

sicheng's big smile is red from the candy, "your letter to ten."

and there comes the second pang of dread and worry that takes the overwhelming shape of your summer

oh my god - oh my god - maybe the letter won't even make it. i mean it's a letter to france....it'll take at least a month to get there. wait - it probably didn't even have a stamp on it. oh god maybe the address was totally off and some poor stranger is about to be subjected to my very incoherent feelings.....

every day you look at your phone and there's no texts or emails or anything from ten

his social media has gone quiet too

you throw your dignity down a well and ask all your friends if they've heard from him and they all scratch their heads and say no, it's been maybe a week since they did

your stress then turns from your love letter to a possibility that ten is in trouble

he kind of thrives from attention so it is very weird that he's so off-grid

you decide finally, on the day that it's been exactly a month and one day since he was gone, to call

you hover over the facetime button - should i text him first?

with a yelp, you nearly drop and crack your screen when ten's name flashes across the screen

you settle your breathing and tell yourself he hasn't gotten the letter, there's no way - since when has snail mail been efficient?

you answer and are about to ask what's up when ten waves something into the camera

"i got your letter."

maybe you go into rigor. because ten's eyebrows knit and he asks if your connection is ok, you aren't saying anything

you don't know if it's just because you miss him so much that you're able to drag yourself back into consciousness or because you are curious, in the depths of your mind, what his reaction will be

"o-oh. right- i-"

ten frowns and you think it's coming. the rejection is coming.

"is that why you didn't answer my text? you sent the letter instead?"

"your text?"

"yeah, i said i missed you and you read it and never responded."

a peek of a smile stretches on his pretty, bare face

"i never thought you were so romantic to send a letter."

something burns on your skin but you just try to make sure your hand holding the phone doesn't shake

"im not - i just, it was dumb sicheng said i should write it because - i don't know. he's the romantic, blame him."

"you're the one that said i could make a shy tulip open its petals with my laughter."

"oh god"

that smile turns into a grin

"and that my dancing manages to cast a spell on you."

you hide your expression by turning your face

"are you going to re-read the whole thing to me?"

"should i, you're so poetic."

"don't make fun of me."

your voice is serious this time, small and huddled, because you mean it

worse than being told he doesn't feel the same is to be ridiculed for holding him in your heart like this for so long

"im not making fun of you, the letter is beautiful."

you still can't look at him, it's so ten to be kind before he's cruel

"i could never write something like that - so i thought i would just call you and say it."

you don't need to love song yourself into telling me you just see me as a friend

"i love you."

your head whips back so fast your phone drops and you curse and ten can't help but laugh

"sorry, sorry -what did you say?"

he runs a hand through his dark hair, the lighting in his room is dim and illuminates him perfectly

a large white t-shirt engulfs his slender shoulders as he sits up against the wall

"i love you. i know it's corny to confess over facetime, but im guessing it's more forgivable than text?"

a bubble bursts in your stomach and it makes you feel lightheaded and inhumanely blissful all at once

"i love you too."

"more then friends right, because your letter had this part about kissing im very interested in."

you bite back your lip and nod, both embarrassed that he'd bring that part up too but also seeing ten - your close friend, your secret love - talk about kissing you

makes some of the neurons in your body go haywire

"good, i seriously was scared you might have been pranking me with thi-"

"i would never. im not hendery."

"oh how are they, ive been super busy with the practice for a review so i haven't talked to anyone."

another thing you love about him, he keeps everyone in. he leaves none of his friends behind. he pretends like he couldn't have a care in the world, but he cares more than anyone else.

"he's ok, he almost crashed kun's car yesterday."

ten shrugs, "expected."

and like that - everything is still somehow the same. there is no awkward phase after you've talked about your feelings for each other at all.

because your love doesn't come as a one hit punch because ten is beautiful, although he is to an unfair degree

it comes from the experience of being around him. having so much of him. maybe even getting a little addicted.

you do talk more on the phone, no more long pauses even though ten's practices get more grueling and you tell him to take his time to rest

but he's sweaty on the practice room floor - texting you - telling you everything is sore but the thought of seeing you soon makes it all better

it's three days before ten is scheduled to fly back that he has his review and you are biting your fingernails waiting for him to tell you about it

when you get a youtube link at like three in the morning - you click it and someone has recorded ten's performance

somehow, he looks more graceful than you've ever seen him

a new text comes in when it's almost done

'i think i did well - can i get a reward?'

'you'll get a really good one when you're home'

he sends a winking emoji and you can't fall asleep after because you wonder what he's expecting, you'd meant a kiss - had he meant more?

you wouldn't mind that at all.

xiaojun is being pulled away from the conveyer belt by kun and hendery is asking sicheng for a sip of his starbucks as you all wait for ten's plane to land in the airport lobby

you two have not told anyone - mostly because you know there will be endless questions you won't have answers too and sicheng might literally never let you live it down

so you wait for ten to be here so you can suffer together

you see the gates from his flight open and sicheng mutters that you look like you're going to pop like a goddamn balloon

for once in your life, you don't snide back at him, folding your hands in front of you and tippy-toeing to see over the crowd

and then, like seeing him for the first time all the years ago when you first met, ten comes out

hendery and xiaojun try to go for a running jump, but the older members hold them back because everyone can sense whats coming

you dash toward him and ten doesn't stay still either - you two collide so hard it almost hurts, but you don't care at all

ten's duffel bag falls over his shoulder and your hands are wrapped around his neck before he can even say your name

it's a first kiss that couldn't be more characteristically fit for you

sweet, big smiles tasted on lips, and interrupted by none other than your group of friends gasping in a symphony of shock

except for sicheng - he knew

ten tastes like you imagine he would taste, maybe because in smaller ways you've already had doses of the sunshine that radiates off him before

he keeps his hands wrapped around your waist as he looks down into your eyes

"mon amour"

"is that really all you learned in france?"

"ummm yeah, i don't know how to say let's get out of here and back to my place even though im pretty sure someone said that to me at some point."

you pout, "don't try to make me jealous."

"never!"

ten chuckles as you press your face into his neck and hug him close

the only way you get pulled apart is because someone (kun) reminds you all you're still at the PUBLIC airport

the drive back is a frenzy and everyone wants to know everything and not about just you two - because you're "two" now - but about france and traveling and ten's dancing

like you'd sensed - nothing has really changed

just this time, your fingers are locked in tens. and the warmth you longed for in silence is suddenly all out in the open.

funnily enough, you and ten don't ever write letters to each other again.

ten just doesn't like writing - it takes too much sitting down

and you are horrified everytime he fishes your love confession out of the memory box and dangles it above your head as leverage

it's how he convinced you into adopting the first cat. now you two have three.

so when you and him are deciding the best way to let all your friends know about your upcoming event you cross out mailed invitations

"we can make an email list."

your legs are thrown over his thighs on the sofa and he's resting the laptop on you them

"let's just make an instagram post: wedding in our backyard on thursday - you're invited."

ten pinches his nose

"we are not having a backyard wedding. we could not fit everyone in my dance company into it anyway."

you play with your engagement band and sigh

"fine, fine. what about.....we just call everyone and tell them. if we call kun right now he'll let all of the world know by the end of the week."

ten agrees with a hum, but then starts typing and you lean over to see

"bulk wedding invites? you're giving in?"

he closes the laptop and tosses it to the side, easily and gently pushing you down onto your back to hover over you with a small content sound

"i am. but we don't even have to write the letters - some company will do it for us."

his lips are inches from yours and all of a sudden you're young again - waiting to kiss him for the first time at that airport

"you know we'll still have to write vows right."

he is about to kiss you, he's so close and your eyes are closing

"i'll just read your letter outl-"

"TEN NO!"

he laughs, laughs until he finally does kiss you and then laughs again when he pulls back - the overflowing amount of love that exists in that moment is potent

you tell him to get over that old thing, but he shakes his head

"never, when again in all the lives i live is someone going to say i could make a shy tulip open its petals with my laughter?"

#i know his bday was in february please im still working through them cries #ten au #ten imagines #ten scenarios #nct au #nct imagines #nct scenarios #wayv imagines #wayv au #wayv scenarios #sfw #nostolgic!au #ten #member: ten #im sicheng through all this

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burnedbyshoto · 4 years

Text

a nurses job

— Bakugou breaks his arms and as a nurse, you have the responsibility to make sure that he is comfortable, even when he needs to use the bathroom.

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pairing: pro hero!bakugou katsuki x nurse fem!reader

warnings: smut, 18+, prohero!bakugou, golden showers/water sports/piss kink, degradation (giving), dirty talk, lusting/pining, handjobs

word count: 5,050

a/n: so, I was going to make this a piss in ur mouth and pussy type of fic, but I kept seeing all those beautiful bakugou piss arts where he’s with a nurse.... so this is inspired and brought upon by all the water sports bakugou x nurse art ive seen for three months.

kinktober day 21 main kink: piss | kinktober masterlist

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You’re not quite sure what persuaded you into wanting to become a nurse as a child.

Maybe it was because your quirk (when you hum at an A flat, everyone within 5 meters experiences accelerated healing properties) was useless for Pro Hero work, so you realized early on that being a Pro Hero was a distant dream. Maybe it was because medical staff were still hailed as everyday heroes despite being in a world with people who could perform extraordinary achievements. It started as a small obsession to prove to the soon to be jobless, dream broken, and graduated failures of the hero course high schools that you had done more than them. That you, unlike them, were recognized as a hero.

You were decent with math and science, so you strove for medical school. But with the horrendous costs of schooling, your then living situation, and your dislike of unneeded and unwanted competitive stress, you deterred toward the nursing pathway. It was a pathway where you really found yourself, or at least, you thought so.

Empathy, emotion, and the need to see people come out of a hospital better than when they entered was something that grew on you quickly and obviously. Your earliest clinical rounds often left you with swollen, tired feet from walking around for restless hours, but with a smile on your face that was irreplicable. With every semester in school, you got better, connected better with your patients. Your feet still ache after long shifts, and sometimes your smile is hollow and broken, and if you look closely, you could see dried tears and puffy eyelids, but you wouldn’t ever regret this decision to become a nurse.

At twenty-five, newly graduated from nursing school, already working full time at the best hospital in Japan, while studying for your degree to eventually become a nurse practitioner. You loved your job quite a lot. They had placed you immediately within their Post-OP, ICU, and recovery wings, and even though you were somewhat new, you were celebrating a year of working in a few weeks, you already had some… more than familiar faces.

“Well, Ground Zero-san, I guess you owe me a drink because unless my eyes are deceiving me, it looks like both your arms are broken, no?” you hum, your grin bright and wide, not even attempting to hide it’s glee as your high profile patient sat seething on the hospital bed. “It’s been, what? Two weeks since you last showed up here? You getting old?”

“Oh, would you shut the fuck up, you shitty ass nurse?!” Bakugou snarled, his arms obviously trying to tense and move against the large casts that envelope him. “The fuck would you expect to happen when facing off with a quirk that’s specifically meant to break people’s arms?!”

“Deku didn’t break any arms,” you point out with a soft laugh, eyes still scanning and reading through his charts to check his medical needs and medicine prescribed by the attending and when he should be taking them. “A bit weird that only half of the Wonder Duo was indescribably injured, no?”

A loud snarl ripped from Bakugou’s throat, and you stifled your own laughter as you raised your eyesight to look him straight in his raging eyes.

“I took that damn nerds hits because he’s broken his arms so many fucking times he’ll be forced to amputate them if he breaks them again!” Bakugou’s eyes were near white in his anger, but the intensity of his emotions was heavily diminished by the fact that his arms were strapped to his chest in thick, round bandages.

“You can admit you care for him,” you chide, ignoring his ‘like hell I do!’ Placing the chart down and walking to his IV drip, you checked to see if anything he was hooked to required any changes or whatnot. “Besides, this is not the first time I’ve seen you in here! It was quite surprising to see Ground Zero on bedrest on my first ever shift here.”

That much was true.

You had been working at Tokyo Hospital for nearly nine months now. Within the nine months, you saw a lot of heroes; that much was true. Your quirk was versatile as a nurse, and you were bright, young, very good at your job, and definitely a beautiful individual. So, when you were assigned to be working most of your days healing heroes because they were the backbone of the country, it didn’t quite catch you by surprise. It was a common assignment you had as a nursing student too.

You just didn’t expect the head nurse of the floor to assign one of your five rooms to be holding none other than Ground Zero, a.k.a Bakugou Katsuki.

Of course, you weren’t an idiot. You had known about the explosion hero since high school! You had sat in front of your TV in high school, attempting to do your homework while watching the rather intensive first-year battles. He had done well in every stage, placing within the top three each time and even winning the game! You had cringed at the awards ceremony but had been horrified at the news of his kidnapping.

But after that, with the rising tensions of the villain world upon the dying world left behind by All Might, you had forgotten him for a moment. As time went on, and finally, a new support system was brought forth, Ground Zero, much like his quirk entailed, exploded onto the scene alongside Deku and a few other young heroes.

So, sure, you expected to maybe one day run into the ash-blond hero, but you didn’t expect it to happen on day one.

All things considered, the two of you got along rather well.

His... strong personality did make you wary of him at first, taking his near verbal barrage until you, very flusteredly he will argue, told him to ‘shut up, you butthole!’

You were horrified at your lack of professionalism, and Bakugou had gone silent as he stared at you in silence.

“Did you just call me a butthole?” he echoed, his face full of emotions you could not read. You felt on the verge of panicking, unsure if he was going to potentially tell on you! The sounds of a barking laughter rang in your ear, and you looked up to see his grinning, much more relaxed form. “Are you some shitty preschooler?!”

Thus began a working relationship of sorts between you and Bakugou.

He was an asshole, and you tried your best to not let him talk you off a cliff. It didn’t take very long for you to find out what made him tick surprisingly enough, and you used that to your advantage. The best way to tease him right now was by reminding him that he had been hospitalized more times than Deku, who apparently had held the record for the number of hospitalizations between him and his friends.

“Are you going to mention that shit first meeting every time we talk?!” Bakugou barked, his eyes narrowed as he turned his head away from you.

“After you admit you care deeply for all your friends!” you chirp back, stepping away from his IV drip, satisfied by what you saw. “Well, you look good for now. I’ll be checking up on you every ten to fifteen minutes since you can’t press the button until we can get those casts off! Did ya need anything before I go check on my other patients?”

“Open the damn window; it’s stuffy in here,” Bakugou grumbled, his face finally facing you again.

“Of course,” you smile cheekily, your eyes squinting with your broad grin. “It’s a nurse's job to make their patients comfortable and happy!”

Standing at the side of the bed, you stretched over Bakugou to grab the edge of the window and slide it open. Through your stance, you were entirely aware of how this looked, how this felt. Your breasts centimeters from Bakugou’s face, your eyes never once breaking from the window to feign your innocence as you finally pull away. Even with scrubs on, you could feel his hot, sharp breathes expelling through your clothes, his ears tinging just the smallest bit red as you smile.

“Anything else?” you asked sweetly, failing to hide your impish grin.

“Put the water cup close by,” he grunted, eyes staring at the liter of water at his side table. Well, he wouldn’t be able to use his arms until just before he was set to be discharged, so moving the water closer was a good idea.

Nodding, you grabbed a nearby cup, filling it three-quarters of a way full before placing it onto the feeding table and dragging it near his mouth, a bendy straw already secured into the cup. You watched as he shot forward, putting the plastic straw into his mouth and beginning to drink the cold water. His eyes were back on yours, deceivingly cold had you already not been an expert on his personality.

With one final soft chuckle, you waved at Bakugou as you headed out, a cheerful smile on your face as he continued to drink his water.

“See ya in a few!”

Well, you guess there was one more important detail about your relationship with Bakugou Katsuki. For the past five months, you have been doing everything in your power to seduce him — to get him to admit that he wanted you too.

You knew the ethics and the morals behind falling for a patient of yours, much less a high profile patient at that. You knew that if your little crush was ever found out, you would most definitely be moved from his room. You were also damningly aware that you should have brought up your initial feelings for the explosion hero to your admin the moment it arose. But the thought and the way you were always so happy to be around him eventually overruled your logic. Five months ago, you had stayed at the hospital until nearly three am, talking with a severely concussed Bakugou. You were stationed for an overnight round with the task of making sure that he didn’t fall asleep. And for the first time in your time knowing Bakugou, the two of you somehow clicked into place, and when he was discharged the next morning — the nurse who had a quirk to rid of concussions finally arriving — he had thanked you.

It was so benign, so incredibly simple, yet the way the golden sunshine illuminated his blond hair and made his red eyes shine like a ruby, you found your own tired body feeling heated and warm. He wasn’t such a lousy conversationalist, and you had already enjoyed all your interactions together, yet it still caught you off guard to feel your heart pounding in your throat as he pulled on his jacket and left.

So after coming to terms with your sudden infatuation for the stubborn hero, you began to express your desires and feelings for him without having to say it. For all that he was worth and all that he expressed himself to be extremely observant, Bakugou Katsuki still had no idea that you liked him.

Unfortunately, your scrub nurse uniform wasn’t precisely seductive. The light blue of the breathable, sterile uniform was about as unsexy as uniforms got. But that never stopped you from leaning in too close when doing what Bakugou demanded of you. It didn’t prevent you from accidentally dropping papers in front of him and bending over to show off the curves of your ass.

There had never been a time such as this one where you hated that the old, ‘sexy’ nurse outfits were no longer up to standard and banned from use. How you would have loved to be wearing gartered held stockings just to accidentally flash to Bakugou. But, you suppose that it’s alright. Even though your feelings and ambitions to get the Pro Hero to like you as much as you did him, you never tried to push it.

For now, you were just an asshole tease.

You carried out the rest of your rounds in peace, your pager sitting comfortably in your pocket, unused, unneeded for now. The rest of your four patients were doing well for now.

One was asleep, most likely due to the medicine coursing through his veins, but his vitals remained unchanged.

Another was in the process of getting ready to be discharged, her family there to help her in leaving.

The third was eating his dinner, eyes concentrated on a poker game on the TV as he asked you to help fluff his pillow.

The last was busy with a physical therapist, her forehead slick with sweat as she attempted to sit up from her chair.

All in all, they were all doing fine, and you were back to the beginning, back to Bakugou’s room.

You entered his closed room door to be greeted by an empty bed. Your eyes widened immediately, the initial wave of pure horror flashing through you that by some freak accident, some murderous villain had kidnapped the injured hero straight from the hospital bed.

“Ground Zero-san?!” you called out, a pitched voice of concern frilling your voice as you stumbled through the room. Your eyes were frantically searching the room, fingers feeling the lingering warmth of his body on the bed and your eyes noticing the empty water cup on his table still. The sheets of his bed haphazardly thrown off as if in a struggle.

Your fingers wound around the panic button, your ears straining to hear any sort of sign of Bakugou still being here.

A gritted teeth snarl was muffled from the attached bathroom, and you froze, unable to move as you felt the untouched button in your hands turn as light as a feather. You approached the bathroom door with soft footsteps, the smile on your face, unable to be stopped as you pulled the door open.

The sight you happened upon was something that made your lips curl into a wider smirk as the hospital clothed-clad hero absolutely struggled with his lack of functioning hands and arms to pull down his pants. Something he couldn’t do himself because the socks and slippers on his feet kept him from even attempting to tug his pants off with his toes.

In his struggle, undoubtedly miserable attempt to get his pants and underwear off his waist, Bakugou seemed ignorant to your arrival. His back still towards you, his head tilted down in his struggle as he twisted and pulled at practically nothing.

And as you watched him struggle, you couldn’t help but let your eyes drink in his form that stood tall before you. Most occurrences where you found yourself face to face with Bakugou, he was always tucked in a bed (except that time you realized your feeling for him), whether it was because he needed to be or because he was forced to be. So seeing him in his full height, seeing how despite your size, you were still only at his shoulder, made your eyelashes flutter.

He was tall, so deliciously tall, you wanted to climb onto a chair to see if he would be taller even with that added height. And oh how the flimsy material of his hospital outfit was stretched then against the taut muscles of his back. They flexed and shifted with his aggravation, and the only thought on your mind was to rake your fingers against the tempting muscle and skin.

“Shitty. fucking. villain!” he hissed angrily, sweat trickling down the back of his neck as he still struggled to do what nature called him for.

But you couldn’t help it; the flexing muscles of his back, the lower tenor of his voice, and the way he seemed ridiculously larger than life at the moment tipped your restraint over. Your ability to hold back crashing through you like a tsunami wave, drowning you until you found your hand tethered to the tight spot at the center of his spine, your hushed words drifting to his ear like sweet, warm honey.

“You need any help here, Ground Zero-san?” you asked, your voice just loud enough to have your hot breath fanning against his sweaty exposed neck. You could feel him twitch in your hold, his body stiffening as he whipped his head around to look at you, red eyes wild, wide, and dark.

“Don’t ya know how to fucking knock?!” he snapped, his body flushed at being caught in the bathroom, unable to shed his clothes. He doesn’t move from your touch, and that small detail makes you warm, knowing that he wasn’t entirely repulsed by your touch.

“You were missing from your bed, and I called your name,” you smile despite his angry glare. “I know you are susceptible to hear loss, but I thought you were still in the clear.”

“I ain’t fucking deaf,” Bakugou growled, his face twisted with a frown. “And that still doesn’t explain why the hell you’re here!”

“Oh, were you not just completely struggling earlier?” you feign shock, the grin on your face unstoppable at the embarrassed scowl that sets on his face. You step even closer to him so that your torso is perpendicular to his side. Your hand still gently touching his muscled back, and your free hand gently pressing to his own abdomen, the feeling of his flexed muscles, making you dizzy as you peer down at the white toilet. “Is there a villain in the toilet? I didn’t think that was possible!”

“Of fucking course not, there’s not a shitty villain in the toilet.” Bakugou flushed, his body entirely trapped by you, but he made no play to escape.

“Oh, so did you need help?”

Bakugou stares at you, his mind whirling a kilometer a second as he contemplates his next course of action. The both of you know he needs help, and still, the both of you are aware that his ability to ask of that from you is slim to none given he couldn’t even wait for you to return to his room.

“Tch,” he clicks his tongue angrily, annoyed, completely fed up. His eyes rolling to the ceiling, refusing to acknowledge you as his head nods once. “Help me, shitass nurse.”

“Of course!” you chirp, your eyes finding his hooded ones.

You give him one last warm, sweet smile before the hand on his torso lightly drags down his stomach, soft in its unashamed way of feeling him up. Your head tilted as your fingers hooked into the tight waistband of his pants and pulled it down, the heat of your palm accidentally dragging itself over the imprint of his cock behind his boxers.

The slight, flustered choking noise at the back of his throat didn’t go ignored by you, but rather but aside for later. Your eyes flashing up to see his red eyes wide, his cheeks so lightly dusted with pink as you managed to pull down his boxers too.

“There!” you exclaim, your eyes closing in your grin before you turn your attention back down to his exposed dick.

Immediately, you had to hold back a noise of pure want and lust at the sight of him. He was long, undoubtedly eight inches, definitely more. Although you couldn’t tell how thick, you knew his dick would fill your palm without a struggle. The trimmed, dark blond pubes and the protruding veins are what did it for you, your tongue poking out for a millisecond to wet your lips as you stared at his dark pink head.

“Stop staring at it!” Bakugou hissed, clearly embarrassed if the slight voice crack said anything about it.

You looked back up at him, fake confusion swimming in your eyes as you tilted your head. “It’s only a penis. I see millions of these all the time.”

“Yeah, but it’s fucking weird!”

A soft laugh escaped your lips, your eyes rolling softly as you sighed in retreat, “Fine, fine, let's pee big boy and get you in bed.”

With your dominant hand, you grabbed his dick with a soft grip, pleasure simmering through you at the confirmation of the thick dick in your palm. But it seemed you weren’t the only one who thought that for the moment you tried to steer his dick toward the toilet to assist in aim, Bakugou hissed loudly. His flesh twitching to life in your warm, soft hand as it began to grow upward.

You didn’t say anything; your jaw remained as tight and closed as your vocal box despite the egging need to tease him and celebrate his apparent approval of your touch. So, eventually, in a voice that defied the nervous energy coursing through your veins, you asked: “Didn’t you need to pee?”

Bakugou let out a throaty, guttural groan, his anger hissing between his teeth as his dick twitched again in your hold, growing longer and harder still.

“I can’t take a damn piss with a hard-on, you idiot!” he roared despite the strawberry red blush on his cheeks. You admired the way he was still fighting for control of an upper hand here despite — clearly — not having any.

“Oh, haha! Silly me!” you laugh, your hand shifting against his length, your warm palm getting closer to the base of his cock.

“W-What are you doing?!” Bakugou spluttered, your soft butterfly touches sending him through a loop he clearly wasn’t expecting. “You could just wait for it to die!”

“It’s a nurse's job to make their patients comfortable and happy,” you repeat your words, your hold on his dick growing firmer and harder just as his cock continued to do. “You clearly need to pee, and there’s no telling when your cock will go down.”

“I’LL MAKE IT GO DOWN!” Bakugou yells, but the usual sharpness to his tone has deflated, diminished to nothing but whining embarrassed yell. You look up at his clenched jaw and how a pretty pink glows on his cheeks, and you’re mesmerized.

Looking back down at his growing cock that warms your hand immensely, you hum, slightly twisting your hand around his length. Bakugou shudders, a whine hidden in his throat as you open your own mouth.

“Do you want me to stop?” you question, your eyes fluttering up to look at his clouded red ones. “Do you not need or want me?”

That was a double-headed question if Bakugou ever heard one. He looked at your glossy lips, the way they were pouted, so ready to be kissed, to be claimed, and that delirious look of want and need in your eyes. And he knows better; he knows that this is not the place, not the time to act on emotions like this. The need to pee sits heavily on his lower belly, just like the need to cum makes him twitch and pace uncomfortably. God fucking damn his broken to smithereens arms.

But you already know this, of course, you do. But you also know how stubborn he can be, how anal he can be about the littlest thing. So with no answer, you weaken your grip, making him think that you’re ready to leave, and he falls right into the trap.

“Make it fucking q-quick,” his voice cracks, the embarrassment nearly tangible as you nod your head firmly, your fist tightening around his cock.

Your warm fingers pressed onto his length, beginning at a slow leisurely pace, your eyes glued onto his face, detailing how he reacts to every small flick of your wrist, every little difference of grip in his hands. Your strokes began to grow larger, your fingertips tracing the bulging veins on his cock, your eyes hypnotized by the way his face pinches in his pleasure, the blush on his cheeks, the way the hot pants expelling from his mouth curl warmly in your lower belly.

“Y-You do this with all your shitty patients?” Bakugou growls, but it sounds weak, too blurred and slurred with his increasing pleasure.

Your fingernails drag against the underneath of his cock, tracing the incredibly sensitive skin until he’s slowly thrusting his hips into your fist. “Only the hot ones,” you tease, your thumb pressing against the tip of his beading tip, the warm pre-cum slick and spreading quickly against his flushed tip.

“You’re fucking disgusting,” Bakugou continues, his head tipping backward, exposing the slenderness of his neck that begs for your teeth to sink into. “Just needed to take a fucking piss.”

“Nervous, you’ll pee all over me, and I won’t want to suck your dick?” you ask, your fingers brushing near his scrotum, eyes blazing dangerously at the sight of his gasping, jaw-dropping face. His hips rut forward, leaking cock dripping with his pre-cum, and you giggle softly, fisting him faster, spreading the pre-cum against his heated sex.

Your fingers run against his throbbing length, your palm tight and hot against his cock, the veins you drag across searing against your flesh, ingraining itself onto your skin and memory forever. Despite it all, the obvious near tangible horror Bakugou has on the thought of pissing on you, he continues to fuck into your fist.

“Damn bitch like you would probably l-like it if I pissed on you,” Bakugou pants, his casted arms twitching at his chest. His head tilted away from you, but his eyes burning into you, the red eyes hot as fire against your skin. “You want me to piss on you? Make you my bitch.”

The words burn against your skin, your teeth biting onto your lower lip as you meet his gaze. You’ve never considered it before, never thought you’d be into it. As a nurse, you’ve been around piss, shit, and vomit, and while you had grown unfazed by it, you never considered the prospect of a man pissing on you. But you thought of it, of Bakugou standing above you, free from his casts, hands on his cock as he smirks down at you with golden liquid spraying from his cock, soaking you where you lay.

You shudder, pleasant chills running down your spine as you stare into his eyes yet again.

“And if I do?” you ask, fingers rolling the head of his cock between your forefinger and thumb, relishing in the way that he snarls low in his throat. “What’re you gonna do about that, Ground Zero-san? You gonna piss all over your bitch after you get out of here.”

“You want me to piss on you here?” he asks, his voice snappish, strained, his hips drilling harder into your hand that was quickly speeding up. A battle of power and speed between the both of you as he looms over you, face flushed, pink, and lips demanding to be kissed. “Wouldn’t be surprised if you do.”

“Why’s that?” you breathe, his lips tantalizingly close to yours, a breath away as your hand grips and tightens even more around the base of his cock, causing a pained-pleasured hiss to rip from behind his teeth as he looks at you.

“Don’t act like your shitty ass hasn’t been trying to seduce me every time I show up,” Bakugou gruffs, his hips continuing a drilling rhythm into your fist, his body no longer shy or embarrassed.

“So you noticed but never said anything?” you counter, your fingers shifting over to his swollen, hot balls. You fondle them, tugging at their weight gently, taking in the way his eyes roll to the back of his head and the way his teeth tear into his lip. “Coward.”

“Hah?! Who the fuck—”

You can’t help yourself anymore, your mouth coming to slam against his in a piercing, searing kiss. He moans into the kiss, and you gasp back, tongues clashing together, teeth knocking into each other as awkward, nearing uncomfortable kisses are exchanged. His sweet scent of caramel wafts into your nose, and his grunts and groans are addicting, entirely enthusiastic noises that send your own thighs clenching shut to quiet the heated need in between your thighs.

Your hand increases in its speed, his whines and groans so pretty and piercing into you.

“How fucking gross,” you laugh into his mouth, the slicked heat of his precum lathering your palm until soft noises of your fisting hand begin to fill the sterile bathroom. “You’re a child, wanting to piss on things that you shouldn’t. You came to the bathroom and got a hard-on instead of pissing, Bakugou, aren’t you embarrassed.”

“Y-Y/l/n,” he hissed, his jaw falling slack against your mouth. His hips are drilling into you faster and faster, the throbbing of his cock, the growing, thick scent of his caramel sweat filling the room and your senses. “F-Fuck!”

“Such a dirty, childish pro hero,” you smile your tongue curling into his mouth and dragging against the roof of his mouth as he shudders helplessly against you. “Cum already, Bakugou, cum and piss over yourself like some small brat.”

He shudders, and you find your mouth leaving his own as you stare down, spurting white ropes of cum pour from his tip, completely covering the toilet seat with his sticky white cum. And you watch as soon as his body collapses onto you, entirely spent from the orgasm, yellow piss streaming from his tip.

The toilet fills with his cum and piss, and you grin once his balls and bladder are completely drained. His cock limp and weak in your hand as you hum, your quirk activating and causing the exhausted Pro Hero to recompose himself so that he wasn’t entirely weak against you.

“Such a good patient,” you coo, pulling up Bakugou’s boxers and hospital pants without a second's thought. Patting his butt gently, you watched as his still exhausted red eyes stared at you. You walked over to the sink, washing your hands so that you could continue to finish the rest of your shift.

“Don’t think this is over, shitty nurse.”

You look at him over your shoulder, your fingers curling under the warm water as you grin.

“I expect to be fucked and pissed on next time,” you counter, your smirk devastating and sending a fire right back to Bakugou’s groin. “No freebies anymore.”

#bakugou x reader #bakugou smut #bnha #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bbs kinktober 2020 #tw: water sports

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ashintheairlikesnow · 3 years

Text

We Keep Going, That’s All

@whimpers-and-whumpers , this is for you. Hope your surgery goes well today!

CW: Aftermath of near-death, hospital whump, recovery whump, survivor's guilt, alcohol use, referenced drug use

Ryan shows up to the hospital with Coke bottles full of liquid that absolutely is not Coke - or not much of it, anyway - and Nate doesn't refuse the gift.

He twists off the plastic cap and takes a drink, wincing at the burn down his throat. "Jesus, Ryan, this is m-m-more Jack than Coke."

"Yeah, well. Figured we could use some relaxing." Ryan gives him a slight smile, and the bruising that's been along his jaw - the obvious press of fingers - is finally starting to fade. Off-white bandages ring his neck, hiding from direct view the deep, slowly healing gashes rubbed in by the iron collar he'd worn for a year.

There are other wounds, Nate knows, underneath the lightly-draped black t-shirt Ryan wears, under his effortlessly casual, perfectly-on-trend jeans.

There are deeper wounds still entirely underneath his skin, inside his head. Nate knows those even better. He doesn't begrudge Ryan the need to find some way to fuzz out the edges of what must be written in stark, bright blood in his memory.

Nate spent a year and a half doing the same, after all, before Bram came back for Danny again.

"How is he?" Ryan asks, settling into a hard wooden chair with plastic back and cushion in a dull pastel mauve. "Any different?”

"Then y-yesterday?" Nate exhales, slowly, rubbing at his unshaven jaw. The stubble prickles his fingertips, itches a little as it grows in. There's a razor in the private room's little bathroom, but he doesn't have the energy to use it. All of Nate's energy now is focused entirely around staying right here, being right here, for the rare moments that Danny is both awake and himself.

"Yesterday wasn't... great.”

"No, it wasn't." Nate sighs, leaning over in the chair he sits in, next to Ryan, reaching out with his good left hand to gently nudge a bit of wavy red away from over Danny's face.

The love of his life - the man he's killed for, twice, and would kill for again - lays on his stomach with his head turned to one side. The hospital blanket is pulled up nearly to his chin, hiding from view the fact that nearly all of Danny seems made of bandages these days, bandages and tubes and wires. He breathes slowly, a drugged deep sleep to let his body rest and try desperately to heal itself around the nearly-fatal place the knife went into his back.

He sleeps, more than he's awake. But Nate makes sure that when his eyes open, someone is here for him, every single time.

"Today has been a little b-better, I think," Nate says after a moment's though. He brushes a crumb from the corner of Danny's mouth. "He ate a l-little, this morning. Just Jell-O and a little bit of cereal, but...”

"But something." Ryan nods, takes another drink, looks out the window. Outside, the day is bright and sunny, with a cloudless blue sky. The courtyard below is full of visiting families and patients taking walks through the landscaped flowers, all of them in brilliant bloom. "Have you even left this room since we got here?”

"No." Nate doesn't bother to lie.

Ryan looks over at him, and smiles very slightly. "Remind me to bring you by some multivitamins do you don't die of Vitamin D deficiency.”

"I'm f-fine." Nate takes another drink, feels the warmth slowly spreading through his shoulders, relaxing the knots and tension that have been slowly building day by day. The 'bed' he has here is just a visitor's couch built into the wall, lumpy and hard, with exactly one flat pillow with a scratchy pillowcase. But he'd rather be here than anywhere else. He'll be here for every single second Danny needs him. "I eat oranges for breakfast every d-d-day. No sc-... sc-... scurvy for me.”

"Didn't we joke about scurvy once?" Ryan asks, slightly faintly, looking up at the ceiling. "After Danny came home the first time?”

"M-Maybe. Don't remember. Why do you c-care if I feel good, anyway?”

“My brother can’t fuss over you right now,” Ryan says with a casual shrug. “So someone has to. He’ll never let me live it down if anything happened to you while he’s here. I’ll get chewed out if you get so much as a headcold and we both know it.”

“I d-doubt-”

Danny shifts a little and both men go silent, watching him move in the bed - just an inch or so to the right, his eyes tightly closed, body tensing as even the slightest movement brings a wash of pain.

"It's okay," Nate whispers, and Danny's eyelids flicker, slowly open. The blue in them is hazy and clouded, but not empty. This time, at least, it's Danny who is looking at him, and not the other one, the one that Nate knows only as someone else. The one who runs Danny's body when Danny can't do it any longer.

"Hey," Danny says, in a hoarse whisper. He tries for a smile, and it's faded and wobbly, but it's there. Then he lifts his head a little, looking over to see Ryan. "Oh, you're both... here. How long was I asleep?”

"Four hours or s-s-so," Nate says, standing up - ignoring the twinge of pain in his bad knee - and moving the pillow under Danny's head to still support him even as he moves. A hint of freckled shoulder shows, with its swirling trace of scars from Bram's knife. There's a star carved into the back of his left shoulder that Nate did, at Bram's command, once.

Ryan's gaze be damned, Nate leans over to kiss it, and to kiss one by one the carved letters that are still there, faded, in the back of Danny's neck. A. D. N.

He tries not to feel the guilt that twists in him at the ownership Bram had meant to make obvious, there. His own first initial with Bram's initials, his own... his own culpability.

“How do you feel?” Ryan asks, leaning over close to Danny.

Danny’s nose wrinkles. “You smell like a liquor store.”

“Yeah, well. When your big brother scares the shit out of you by getting himself stabbed almost to death because of you, maybe you need a little pick-me-up now and then.” Ryan manages a half-cocked smile, but it’s fragile, and they both know it.

With a hiss of pain, Danny moves his hand up the bed, offering it to Ryan, who takes it without hesitation, leaning over so his forehead rests gently against Danny’s.

“I’m okay,” Danny whispers.

“No, you’re not,” Ryan whispers back.

Nate moves to sit back in his chair, then stands again, restless. He doesn’t want to sit there but he doesn’t know where he does want to be... until he looks at Danny, thin and dwarfed even by a small hospital bed. He sets down the mostly-jack-and-a-little-coke and climbs into the bed without hesitating, laying down behind Danny on his side, letting his good hand rest just next to a swirl of Danny’s hair on the pillow.

Danny’s smile widens - not that Nate can see that, from his vantage point. Although Ryan can. “I’ll be okay,” He corrects himself, watching his brother. “They said there’s no sign of paralysis. I’ll walk, I’ll probably even run after a while.” He tries moving and hisses again. “A long while. It’s going to be okay, Ryan.”

“You always were way more optimistic when you were high as balls,” Ryan whispers, and he and Danny laugh, until the action makes Danny whimper at a new spike of pain. “What do we do now, Dan, huh?”

“Keep going,” Danny says, voice low, barely audible even to the two men on either side of him. “That’s all. We keep going.”

“I keep thinking I should’ve died back there, ten times over,” Ryan murmurs. “But every single time, you took the pain for me. I should’ve died-”

“Nah. You’re my little brother. I need you here.” Danny manages to keep the smile, then, and his blue eyes are warm. “If you feel so bad about it, sneak me some of that booze next time, yeah?”

"Dan, I am not going to help you mix IV drugs and alcohol-”

“Just leave it in a really easy-to-reach place and I’ll help myself.”

“Danny. No.”

“Danny yes.”

“Daniel Michaelson-”

“Ryan Niall Michaelson-”

Nate’s rumbling laughter interrupts them. It’s such a rare sound that both of them go immediately silent when they hear it, and Danny even tries to look over his shoulder, gritting his teeth through the ache to see the smile on Nate’s face. It’s slight, nearly private - a smile barely noticeable by anyone who isn’t looking for it.

But Danny is, and through the fog of the painkillers still coursing through his system, he sees it.

“What?” Ryan says. “What’re you laughing at?”

Nate lays a hand over the star he once carved into Danny’s skin, and moves to rest his nose, just lightly, against the warmth of Danny’s neck, breathing in the scent of him under the hospital-smell that surrounds them. “Nothing,” He says, and Danny shivers a little as his lips move against the curve of the D at the back of his neck. “I’m j-j-just... realizing I’m g-going to listen to you two do this for the r-rest of my life.”

“Is that a bad thing?” Ryan’s voice is dry.

“No,” Nate says, eyes closed. He can almost feel them in the cabin, like this, just the two of them on days Bram was gone. Lying in the bed wasting the whole morning being warm, just them together. Warm and safe. It feels like being in Danny’s apartment during their year and a half of freedom, the way sometimes when Nate couldn’t get out of bed Danny would just stay with him, holding him, until the pain inside of Nate had lessened enough to let him stand.

Now it’s his turn to hold Danny.

@tiddiroki @whump-it @bleeding-demon-teeth @finder-of-rings @whumpywhumper @endless-whump @18-toe-beans @pumpkinthefangirl @goneuntil @swordkallya @astrobly @evermetnotforgotten @whumpiary @card-games-and-pain @raigash @whump-tr0pes @orchidscript @wildfaewhump @doveotions @eatyourdamnpears

#daniel michaelson's story #hospital whump #recovery whump #recovering whumpee #referenced stabbing #referenced drug use #alcohol use #caretakers #caretaker and whumpee #whump #aftermath whump #the bad arc #injured whumpee #survivor's guilt tw

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glitterrosesnz · 3 years

Text

it is currently *(checks clock)* midnight in my time zone, which means its technically april 30th, which just so happens to be a certain Mr. Diluc’s birthday-

so, of course, ive got a fic for him

---

Aether entered the tavern, Paimon fluttering behind him as he walked up to the counter with a smile on his face, before pausing, looking Diluc up and down.

"...Are you okay?" He asked, and Diluc sighed.

"I'm fine." He said, and was Aether hearing things, or was that a bit of congestion in his voice? "Is there something you need?"

"Oh! Um, two apple ciders please." Aether said. Diluc quietly prepared the drinks, sliding them across the counter when he was done. Aether put some mora on the table, picked up the two glasses, handing one to Paimon, and with one last suspicious glance at Diluc, walked up the stairs to the second floor. Diluc watched until the two of them were out of sight- and then his breath hitched, and he quickly stifled a sneeze into his arm.

"Heh- Hi'NGKT-uu!" He sniffled as he absentmindedly rubbed his nose on his sleeve, turning back around to face the front of the tavern.

Only to find Venti sitting at the counter, staring at him with an incredibly disapproving look on his face.

Diluc startled a little at his sudden appearance, but quickly pulled himself back together.

"...What?" Diluc asked, "Do you need something?"

"You're sick." Venti said, and the tone of voice he used made Diluc wince, feeling like he'd just been caught doing something bad. "You should go home and rest, y'know."

"I'm fine." Diluc insisted, turning away so that he wouldn't have to keep seeing Venti's disappointed expression. "Besides, there's work to be done here."

There was some rustling behind him, and then a thump, and Diluc cautiously looked over his shoulder- barely keeping himself from jumping in surprise to see that Venti was now standing right beside him. He must've jumped over the counter.

"What are you doing- hEY!" Diluc yelped, voice cracking a little as Venti effortlessly picked him up, throwing him over his shoulder to carry him. There were some cheers from the other patrons in the bar, somehow, they'd attracted an audience without Diluc noticing. He struggled, squirming and kicking a little as he tried to free himself from the bard's grip, only to find himself unable to. Venti must've been using some of his godly strength.

Ignoring Diluc's struggling, Venti walked out of Angel's Share, waving to the other patrons as he left.

Did. Did he plan to carry Diluc the whole way back to Dawn Winery?

Apparently not, as Venti paused for a moment, looked around to make sure there wasn't any witnesses-

And teleported the two of them to the statue closest to the winery.

"Apologies, I only have enough power to teleport to statues nowadays." Venti said, starting to walk towards the winery. "We'll have to walk the rest of the way."

"I can walk by myself." Diluc said, sniffling. "Put me down."

"Nu-uh. No way. I'm genuinely certain that, should I let you go, you shall attempt to go back to work, and that is something I simply cannot allow."

"Aren't you supposed to support me in having the freedom to do what I want?" Diluc asked.

"Not if said 'freedom' is detrimental to your health." Venti said, "You do have limits, y'know?"

Diluc, in fact, did know his limits. And sure, he had been feeling a bit light headed earlier, but that didn't mean he was just going to let Venti carry him all the way to Dawn Winery.

Especially since-

"Ven....Venti, put me..hih.....put me down- hEH-" Diluc squirmed as his breath hitched, the faint tickle he'd been feeling all day suddenly growing a lot more intense. "Hih- Hi'ESCHI-uu! Heh- H'TSSCH-iew!"

"Please at the very least try not to dirty my cloak." Venti said, his stride not hesitating at all as he continued to walk, seemingly, for the most part, unbothered.

Now, what Diluc did next was, admittedly, very petty and childish. But, to be fair, he'd had a long day, so maybe a little bit of pettiness was understandable.

He rubbed his nose on Venti's cloak.

Venti gasped in offense, but Diluc barely payed attention to it, as he suddenly realized exactly why the tickle in his nose had suddenly grown worse.

Venti was covered in pollen.

"HehH-Hi'TSSCH! H'ESSCHI-uu! Hih-" Diluc struggled more in an attempt to distance himself from the allergen, but unless Venti put him down... "Hi'ETTCH-iew!"

"Geez...Are you okay? Those sounded rough." Venti asked, oblivious to the fact that he was the reason for Diluc's increased suffering.

"It's.....hIH....the, the pollen- hEH- H'ESSCHI-iew!" Diluc struggled to say in between hitching breaths.

"The pollen? I don't- oh!" Venti said, the realization striking him. "Oh, I'm sorry!"

He finally, finally, put Diluc down, not that Diluc actually was in a proper state to appreciate it. He continued to muffle sneeze after sneeze in his hands, the force of some of them snapping him in half. Venti winced as another sneeze sounded like it tore at Diluc's throat.

"Sorry." Venti said, again. "I... I forgot about your allergies."

"It's....okay." Diluc said, sniffling wetly, the congestion in his voice now significantly worse than before. "I....hih...I try not to make it- H'TSCH-uu!..... make it obvious."

"Still though. I should've remembered." Venti said, and upon seeing that the redhead's sneeze fit was starting to die down, pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket. "Here, take this."

Diluc, still using his hands to cover his nose and mouth, eyed the piece of cloth dubiously.

"I promise it's pollen free this time." Venti said, and Diluc, not seeing any trace of lying or mischief on Venti's face, finally took the handkerchief, using it to both wipe and blow his nose. While he did so, Venti took the time to carefully use his anemo to blow any pollen residue off of himself.

"Dawn Winery is still about ten minutes away." He said, once he was sure he was pollen free. "Are you sure you can walk that far?"

"I'll be fine." Diluc sniffed, pocketing the handkerchief, already planning to wash it and give it back later. "You don't need to come along."

"Hmm. I better make sure you actually go home, instead of wandering off to fight or something." Venti said, smiling a little. "Just to be sure."

"...Whatever."

Night fell over Dawn Winery, and Diluc's body ached in protest as he slowly, and silently, walked down the stairs towards the front door, his claymore strapped to his back. He felt congested, and his head was pounding with a headache that had developed shortly after Venti had dropped him off, and had not gone away despite the small nap he'd taken. But still, despite this, he still had his duties as the "Darknight Hero". Unlike running the bar, which another member of the staff could take over, there wasn't exactly someone who could fill in for his vigilante duties. Which meant that, despite the fact he'd rather just go back to bed, he had to go out and patrol Mondstadt.

"Ahem. Where do you think you're going?"

Diluc froze mid-step, turning his head to find-

Venti, sitting on the window sill, his bow leaning against the wall beside him.

"Were you really planning on going out again while in this condition?" He asked, clicking his tongue in disappointment. "I expected that you'd know better."

"There isn't exactly someone else who can take over this job." Diluc whispered, both out of a desire to not accidentally wake any of the staff that was sleeping in the winery, but also because he'd discovered earlier that his voice was nearly shot.

"I'm sorry? Who do you think I am?" Venti said, sounding offended, picking up his bow and giving it a little twirl. "I've already done the nighttime patrol for you. There was nothing but one or two petty thieves, which I dealt with rather quickly."

"...You did that for me?"

"Mhm. It was kinda fun actually. Gives me something to do, since I don't really sleep anyways..." Venti said, sentence trailing off as he seemed to remember... something. "Anyways, speaking of sleep, you should be getting back to bed."

He jumped down from the window sill, placing his bow to lean against the wall again, walking over to where Diluc stood. Carefully, Venti took the claymore off of Diluc's back, and Diluc couldn't resist his body slumping with relief at the loss of the weight.

He must've been more tired than he thought he was, because he didn't protest as Venti held his hand and led him back up the stairs and into his bedroom. Diluc stumbled a little as he took off his boots, not even bothering with the rest of his clothes as he climbed into the bed. He could deal with the consequences of not changing into pyjama's when he woke up in the morning.

His nose suddenly twitched, and he curled up a little, stifling a sneeze.

"Hih- H'NGXt-uu!" He sighed tiredly after wards, closing his eyes, and Venti laughed as he placed some blankets down on top of him.

"Bless you." He said, and suddenly Diluc felt a lot more comfortable, and relaxed than before.

He felt suspiciously comfortable and relaxed, actually.

Summoning up a bit more energy, he opened one eye to glance at Venti.

"Did you just actually bless me?" He muttered, "Like. In the whole 'godly gift' kinda way?"

"...Maybe. Yes." Venti gave a sheepish chuckle that clearly said that it hadn't been intentional. "Don't worry. You'll just feel more relaxed and free for a day or two. It'll wear off."

Diluc, mildly reassured by that, hummed in response, body fully relaxing as he finally fell asleep with no worries.

#Gen/shin #snz #snz fic #Aether is only there at the beginning..... hjdflskfjslfd #Chaotic Mom Friend Venti strikes again #there is no title because do i LOOK like the kind of person who's good at making titles?? i sure hope i dont because i SUCK at titles

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mxpseudonym · 4 years

Text

Just Good Business III

Pairing: Tommy x Reader

Reader Gender Expression: She/Her pronouns, “wife”

Summary: Reminding Tommy that he didn’t marry a fool was the greatest thing to happen to your bedroom.

Length: 1650 words (allegedly)

Warnings: 18+, sex, hints of rough sex, cursing, and as usual, underlying tones of forced/arranged marriage

A/N: There’s a forehead kiss and a sprinkling of Dom!Tommy in here for your patience! I am pretty sure I’m going to have this be a total of five parts. Part IV may not come right away because I’m in the middle of a WIP though.

Part I | Part II | Part IV

Reminding Tommy that he hadn't married a fool set several things in motion. First and foremost, you and Polly managed to successfully persuade your husband into conducting family business, not that it was hard. You knew London quite well, and one glance at the Eden Club's books had you asking Arthur if he could count to ten. Much of the above-board dealings in London were now your responsibility- properties, charities, and a social life that allowed you to see your friends more often.

Unfortunately, this meant regularly making the trip to Birmingham for the family meetings you'd been avoiding. It wasn't so much the meetings as it was Birmingham itself. One has no great hopes of Birmingham, as they say. However, there was a significant consolation that made it all worth it.

Tommy Shelby, in action, turned you on.

Actually, it was one of many things about Tommy that turned you on. With Tommy's guilt out of the way, you saw him around the house more. He came to bed, albeit late, nearly every night, and you got at least two breakfasts out of him a week. Along with finding that Tommy was much funnier than he let on when he wasn't talking about work, you also noticed that you had much in common. Tommy was as stubborn and prideful as you were. After six months, you still credited happenings between you with a desire to conduct good business- and business was excellent. Stubbornness, pride, your appetite for adventure, and Tommy's addiction to risk resulted in one shameless, exciting sex life.

You'd had partners before. Why deny yourself the world's physical pleasures? But while none could keep up with your desire to find and push boundaries, Tommy had mastered it. You thought you'd have to ease him into it, but it really just took you asking, "What are you going to do, Thomas? Spank me?" while bickering to get you on the same page.

Not that Tommy wasn't enjoying himself as well. He'd met his match in his back talking, neck biting, hair pulling new wife he could hardly bring himself to say no to. What was coming to work late more often or your hands down his trousers while driving the Bentley in the grand scheme of things?

So at the Birmingham family meetings, there was something about the way he was no-nonsense when he firmly told you where to sit and give updates when asked. If you were both being honest, while you loved taking orders from Tommy in the bedroom sometimes, you were on the fast track to giving them too. For now, you watched with thighs pressed together, and bottom lip pulled between teeth as he commanded the room.

After Arthur wrapped up the meeting, you'd meant to mingle with your sister in law, but were quickly distracted. Ada didn't need to follow your gaze to know what was stopping you from listening to a word she said.

"Good god, stop staring at my brother like that," Ada pleaded. You looked at her only long enough to say,

"I almost wish I could say I was sorry." You had just caught Tommy's eye and smiled. "He can be quite good looking."

"Ugh, okay, he's coming over here. I'm going to find Finn," Ada scoffed, then all but ran away only to have Tommy replace her.

"Can I help you?" he asked, amusement evident in his voice. You chuckled and looked up at him.

"You're already spoiling me, Mr. Shelby. What more could I ask for?"

"I'm sure you have a list," Tommy said. You plucked his cigarette from between his fingers and took a pull.

"As a matter of fact, I do."

"Should I make you beg for it?"

"I don't beg," you said, defiant as ever. Tommy rolled his eyes but moved closer. You could feel the warmth of his wool suit, and it matched the heat that was rising to your cheeks.

"Then what do you call what you were doing the other day in my office?" Tommy asked. You thought for a moment then smirked.

"Minding my manners. Please and thank you, Sir," you said, making him laugh.

"Oi, stop flirting on come on," John yelled in partial disgust from where the family was gathering near the door.

"Yeah, yeah, we're coming," you shooed him. You gave Tommy a knowing look as you grabbed your bag to join the group at the Garrison.

"Gonna tell me not to get any ideas?" He asked.

"Of course not. Get as many ideas as you can from here to that pub." You pointed a stern finger at him.

"Yes, ma'am."

Tommy had long given up trying to get a grasp on what to expect from you.

"God only knows what's going on up there," he'd say while tapping your temple.

But nothing surprised him more than your absolute willingness to have him any time, anywhere.

"Skirts hike up for a reason, Thomas," You once told him in the stables. Tommy had yet to find a good enough argument against that, so here you were, shushing him through breathy laughs as he almost tumbled into you.

It was a busy night at the Garrison, and it wasn't hard to leave your group to find the back room. Now you were pressed up against a shelf that wasn't nearly sturdy enough. Tommy's pants were unbuckled in a hasty moment, and your knickers were pulled aside, and you were both stifling your moans.

"Oh god, fuck, Tommy, how do you always feel so good?" You asked, your grip already in his hair. He groaned at the question and thrust deeper.

"You're the one always warm and wet for me, aren't you?" He squeezed the flesh of your bottom, making you moan. He quickly relocated you further into the dark and onto a crate. "Such a naughty little thing I've got on my hands."

"Just the way you like it." You bit his ear as you played with fire. His thrusts got hard and deep, earning more high pitched moans from you until he pressed a hand over your mouth. He kept his grip firm, just how you liked and spoke in your ear.

"I'm giving you what you asked for with all of these people just out there. Do you want them to hear you?" He leaned back to see you nod. Of course, you did. Tommy shook his head as he chuckled. By the sound of your yearning moan, he just knew you were pouting beneath his palm.

"I know love, but when we get home, you can be as loud as you want. You can let the maids hear you, what was it? Minding your manners for me. How's that sound?" You accepted his counteroffer with a nod and was rewarded with Tommy moving his hand. He relished in the smeared lipstick that was now on your chin before adjusting his grip on you.

"Now, be good, and stay quiet for me."

Tommy had to give you credit for carrying out your version of quiet. You forfeited your usual words of encouragement and panted hotly in his ears, a whimper or moan periodically coming forth.

"Tom," You pleaded his name under your breath. His grip tightened around your waist, and you knew it would bruise, which only shoved you that much closer to the edge.

"That's a good girl," he praised you, knowing what it did to you. In this case, it made your thighs tighten around him. "So good, you can tell me where you want it. Should I make you walk around with me all over your face?"

He felt you shiver and swallow a moan that came out like a sob. His thumb reached between them, and it only took a few circles of your clit to send you over.

"Oh fuck," You bucked against him as you came. Tommy's eyes squeezed close while you kissed his neck. It was truly incredible, you had to admit. You knew he was close and you had to decide. "In me."

"In you?" He repeated, not fully registering anything as he got closer.

"I want you in me, Tom. Please," you said again. You kissed him, then pulled back to look in his eyes. "I'm begging you."

You loved watching him come undone. Even in the low light, you took in his parted lips, creased brow, and flushed cheeks. He rested his forehead against yours for a moment before you pulled away and began putting yourselves back together.

"I'm excited to go home if you keep your word," you said, leaning against the crate while Tommy pulled out a cigarette.

You quietly smoked and thought about how strange this was. Before it was sprung on you, being married was something you hadn't expected anytime soon. Being married to someone you actually enjoyed was a fate every woman you knew hoped for but knew not to anticipate. And here you were with both a marriage and an enjoyable husband.

"What's wrong?" Tommy asked, tossing away his cigarette. He brought his hand up to stroke your cheek, but you caught it and observed the silver band around his finger instead, running your thumb over the metal.

"Do you like this?" Your eyes lifted to meet his. "The ring?"

The ring, the marriage, what was the difference? He smirked then turned his hand, interlacing your fingers.

"So much that I think there must have been a mix up of fortune. A better man should have it, maybe." He said, then kissed your forehead and started towards the door. "Come now, I think I'll let you walk around with me dripping out of you for at least a half-hour."

"I may just have to give you a proper thank you on the ride home then, Sir."

Tommy expertly ignored questions about his whereabouts from his brothers and knowing looks from his sister, all while holding your hand. You smiled to yourself and thought,

I have a crush on you, Tommy Shelby.

Tommy Tag List: @soleil-dor; @amysteryspot

JGB Series Tag List: @biba3434

#Tommy Shelby Imagine #Tommy Shelby #Tommy Shelby x Reader #Tommy Shelby Fic #Tommy Shelby Smut #peaky blinders imagine #Dom Tommy

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plounce · 3 years

Photo

what if gay CATS........... were gay PERSONS

(info on this au under the cut)

theyre all shitty young adults just kind of. getting through their early 20s as best they can. or as much as they can. maybe things will get better someday, but right now they’re kind of spinning their wheels

magic exists but like eh it’s not a big thing don’t worry about it. it’s around but like whatever. not many people have it and it’s mostly just like. a curiosity or a party trick

demeter and bombularina are together, tugger and mistoffelees are together, bombularina and tugger occasionally fwb, it’s cool and aboveboard and it’s all fine

demeter:

bisexual with a preference for women. 24 years old

semi-psychic (not as powerful as tantomile or coricopat). tends to have vague and confusing prophetic dreams

dropped out of grad school for sociology due to trauma and ensuing intensified mental illness. kind of bitter about it, but tries to get through every day. general anxiety disorder even before all that

very nervous around most men she doesn’t know & trust

currently working at a barnes & noble starbucks, which sucks. she recently became the assistant manager, which turbo sucks because now she has more work for only like a buck raise, but at least she’s getting reliable shifts

her go-to therapy is cutting her hair with scissors. her hair is fried to all hell from regular bleaching

she’s learning how to crochet because she’s decided she needs to do something physically productively creative with her hands to distract herself from Stuff

bombalurina:

bisexual. 24 years old

got her bachelor’s in english two years ago and hasn’t found a job in her field and has kind of given up on it for now

she’s been bartending for like four years, does freelance editing work on the side. will occasionally write listicles for clickbait sites if she needs extra cash

literally any extra money she can save goes to tattoos. her right sleeve’s almost done

has natural red hair but dyes it cherry red

a hedonist to cope but is also just a natural hedonist. likes a good bath

i know that like the typical thing fandoms say about female characters is “doesn’t take shit” for the girlboss points but she truly does not take shit anymore. she used to take people’s shit sometimes but at this point in her life she’s tired and she has a girlfriend to be protective of. she has a couple people whose shit she will take (mostly just tugger) but besides them (and having to practice basic customer service to keep her job) she’s tired of other people’s shit! enough!

my personal take on bombalurina is a mix between the riot grrrls of the 90s and 80s punk girls, and then a dash of the greaser chicks from grease. i saw that spiked collar and my brain went OH okay i can run with this somewhere fun. same for demeter, but less so - she just has the piercings.

demelurina:

bombalurina met demeter in college at a women’s activism club, noticed her because of her dimple piercings and was like “oh someone else with a lot of metal in her face, i’ll sit next to her”

they were each other’s first off-campus roommates and were close friends. made out a couple times, but it was mostly a lot of sexual tension. there was a lot of bombalurina staring at demeter while she or demeter made out with someone else

demeter was on and off with her high school boyfriend munkustrap and bombalurina was like “oh he’s so much more stable/calm than me and she needs that, i party a bit too much for her, i shouldn’t try anything” so she just sort of. lets their almost-there peter off

(this is all bombalurina’s internal thoughts - demeter always was interested in her, but thought she was too boring for bombalurina. so neither of them thought they could pursue it)

bombalurina graduated and moved somewhere cheaper further away from campus. they kind of drift apart

munkustrap and demeter peter off and he moves away for a job (they’re still good friends, it was a very amicable breakup) and then demeter gets with macavity, which is a deeply toxic situation for her and sucks hugely and throws her whole life really off track. won’t go into further details

she finally manages to break up with him and calls bombalurina at like 2 am asking if she can pick her up, and also if she can sleep on her couch, it’s okay if that’s not okay, she just. really needs a place she feels safe, and her gut is telling her to. and of course bombalurina says yes

bombalurina also knew macavity and had also made out a couple times with him at like parties and stuff (see: staring at demeter as she makes out with people). something about transference of feelings - bombalurina was into him for a couple moments because he and demeter had a thing.

this is due to me interpreting the song “macavity” as actually about bombalurina wanting to fuck demeter and her singing as a half-repressed expression of that. i use my really good wlw brain to reach that conclusion. it’s kind of a non-competitive version of eve sedgwick’s take on the love triangle. (<-- normal thing to say)

but anyway demeter stays on bombalurina’s couch and she tries so hard to stay on track but eventually she just has to drop out. bombalurina helps her with that too. she’s just really supportive even as demeter’s life is at its lowest point. when she gets home from bartending she gets demeter to go to sleep

she just Stays with her and makes her smile and reminds her that her life isn’t over, there’s still things in her day to enjoy, to keep her trudging forward

bombalurina is roommates with tugger at this point - he also recently dropped out and demeter knows him because he’s munkustrap’s brother, so he’s Trusted and also is like “hey it’s okay that you dropped out, im here and im chilling and you like me and respect me at least a little, and you have a bachelor’s degree at least!” (more on him later)

demeter is like “oh god ive been crashing at their place for so long not paying rent, theyre gonna ask me to leave, im such a freeloader, they wont take my attempts at paying rent” but then bombalurina and tugger are like “hey! the lease is almost up! we found a pretty good 3 bedroom, do you wanna have your own room for real?” and she nearly cries because 1. the RELIEF 2. oh my god you want me around???

cut to bombalurina helping demeter put together an ikea dresser (tugger got banished to the kitchen to make crystal light lemonade for them because he’s useless with a screwdriver) and demeter has two epiphanies:

1. i thought i was ready to d*e four months ago and here i am making a dresser to put clothes into in my new apartment where i live and feel safe and loved. im still not happy but im still alive and im making a dresser

2. holy fuck im back in love with my best friend, and ten times more than i was back then.

so she like kind of freaks out because she’s already imposed so much on bombalurina, how could she impose her FEELINGS on her like this, oh no oh no oh no

meanwhile bombalurina’s back in love with her even MORE and she’s also like no... she’s already dealing with so much... i don’t want to make her uncomfortable or feel unsafe in her own home especially after her recent relationship trauma... i just want her to feel safe around me...

you might think tugger as their roommate would be like “JUST KISS” but he is in fact pretty oblivious because he is self-absorbed. mistoffelees on the other hand..

eventually they do have a big confession of feelings after demeter has a bad day and it’s very dramatic and they make out in the rain. and it’s like. well this is a movie scene. but also im cold and damp. let’s head inside our home and get warm and dry :)

and then they go inside and and talk through everything, all their feelings (not just their romantic feelings but like ALL their feelings) and their shared histories and bombalurina is like “do you think you’re... ready for a relationship right now? like that would be a good thing for you?”

and demeter considers it. she does stop and think. and then she says, “with anyone else... probably not. but it’s you. and i feel so safe around you, and we’re already so close. you make the future feel more worth it. you make more days alive feel not just tolerable, but something to look forward to. and knowing you’ve loved me all this time... it’s nice. it’s good. i’m - i’m understating it so much, it’s more than nice, it’s just - it’s a lot. i wish i had noticed back then.” “hey, hey, don’t blame yourself. i’m the one who never said anything.”

anyway. everything works out, and they start dating for real :)

tugger:

bisexual. 22 years old

dishwasher at the same bar bombalurina works at. she got him the job. he keeps bugging her to teach him bartending tricks and on slow nights she will agree to

he dropped out of their four year, but he managed to secure an associate’s in communications before he dipped

trying to be an ig influencer hotboy and hopefully get modeling jobs from that but his phone’s camera sucks shit so his account isn’t really going anywhere. but he continues to post his low resolution shirtless selfies

trying to cope with being the failure son who does not have a fancy nonprofit job with a salary and healthcare by being self-absorbed and self-aggrandizing

it works about 60% of the time and 60% of the times that it doesn’t he’s able to hide it

he dropped out right around when bombalurina graduated and he was like HEY! ARE YOU LOOKING FOR A ROOMMATE WHO DOESN’T CARE IF WE LIVE TEN MILES AWAY FROM CAMPUS? WELL HAVE I GOT A SOLUTION FOR YOU: ME!

to which bombalurina (who has fooled around with him here and there and thinks he is funny little man and genuinely goodhearted, and also he has rockin abs as a plus) says munkustrap already asked me if i need a roommate and if i do to consider you, because you don’t want to move back home. in other words: yes, you little idiot

they do fool around with each other but they are both very understanding that it is strictly platonic and for fun, especially once they become roommates. they both do not desire each other for anything serious

he did have a bit of a crush on each other when they met (hot punk older girl who’s friends with his brother) but 1. it dissipated pretty quick after they fooled around for the first time because it was not a very serious crush 2. she was in the middle of being in love with demeter so she was focused on that, emotionally

he got his ears pierced a couple times in high school but bombalurina inspired him to get a couple more. she went with him when he got his nose pierced

demeter has always understood that him and bombalurina are strictly fwb, has never been an issue.

she and him like to bleach their hair together when their hair schedules line up (he bleaches his way less often then she does), but she refuses to use his fancy conditioner that keeps his hair unfried because it’s expensive, even though he tells her to go ahead and use it, please, the health of her hair is giving HIM anxiety, demeter please. please demeter

mistoffelees:

gay. 20 years old

has magic. it’s pretty good magic but again: magic is not a big deal in this concept

a bit spooky. skulks around. a bit of a bitch but also very very nice. chooses when to speak

he has postings on craigslist and fiverr about finding lost objects and people with magic. like a gig economy private detective

side job is a waiter at a fancy restaurant

sometimes he gets paid VERY well from the private detecting, depending on the client. he does ask his psychic friends (tantomile & coricopat) to give a quick glance over on some of the more suspicious clients just to make sure he isn’t finding someone who should not be found by that person.

doesn’t go to college. is roommates with his sister victoria, who’s a freshman and studying dance. moved into town with her so she wouldn’t have to live in the dorms by having a guaranteed roommate.

tuggoffelees:

the general vibe i want for these two is mistoffelees walking around town or driving around in his shitty toyota camry while tugger tags along because he’s bored and thinks this is cool as shit

the general tone of the au is “magic isn’t a big deal” except for tugger, who thinks mistoffelees’ magic and his magic freelancing is the coolest shit ever. this is mostly because he just likes mistoffelees. “there are people who can do cooler shit than me, tug” “yeah but i don’t KNOW them also theyre not as COOL as you” “you had to explain to me how instagram reels work”

idk how they met i just think tugger shows up at his and bombalurina’s apartment one day (this is when demeter has moved in but they havent moved to the 3br yet) with this dude to dash in and pick something up and bombalurina is like “uh. who’s this” “oh this is mistoffelees he’s SO GOOD AT MAGIC” [mistoffelees nods hello] “okay bye bombalurina see you at work!!!” “uh. later”

after that he just shows up a lot. sort of ambiguous if theyre dating or what for a while before bombalurina straight up asks like “hey does the dude you’re dating know we fool around” “the dude im - what?” “... the little magic guy who keeps using our hot cocoa mix. misty.” “oh. uh. we aren’t dating.” “... do you want to? because you’re kind of all over him constantly” “um. well! haha, if i wanted to, i could! haha!” “yeah get back to me on that”

tugger trying to use his ig clout to get mistoffelees more work even though 1. he has no clout 2. mistoffelees has a very stable client base. but mistoffelees appreciates the effort. the self-promo guy promoing someone other than himself... the highest expression of love...

mistoffelees is A Nonthreatening Man plus he’s pretty obviously gay so demeter is chill around him pretty quickly. when mistoffelees is over they’ll sit on the couch where demeter sleeps and watch documentaries quietly while she crochets

they both occasionally say spooky shit at the same time because magic stuff. bombalurina and tugger are both torn between “that was cool as fuck” and “god that’s unnerving”

just a lot of tugger following mistoffelees around on his jobs and mistoffelees letting him because he’s fond of him and them occasionally getting into minor peril and interesting shenanigans, but it is 90% fetch quests

i think the first time they met tugger was taking selfies in front of a hydrangea in a public park and he saw mistoffelees walk up with a shovel and start digging in one of the flower beds and he thought he was hot so he went over and offered to take over on the shoveling to look strong and masculine and he ended up digging up a skull, which mistoffelees picked up and said “thanks” and then walked away

mildly terrifying but also very interesting and tugger’s days are kind of boring and dishwashing kind of sucks as a job to do like every night and he is a person who thrives on novelty so. moth to a porchlight

i think they do start making out for fun here and there and then a while later theyre out on one of mistoffelees’ jobs and someone asks “who’s the guy with you” and mistoffelees replies “oh that’s my boyfriend, don’t worry about him” and then it’s like. “HUH? I’M YOUR BOYFRIEND?” “uh. yeah? i assumed. is that okay?” “i mean yeah of course i think you’re great! how long have we–” “oh like a while.” “oh. uh. cool!!”

they just hang out a lot. mistoffelees enjoys teasing him and enjoys his warmth and bombasticity and tugger likes watching and helping him solve little mysteries around the county because it’s always something new. they’re kind of a comedy duo. they just enjoy spending their time together and following mistoffelee’s internal magic gps to find lost dogs and lost necklaces

yeah right now this au is just vibes and just sort of. continuing forward with your days and your weeks and your months. just young adults hanging out

#cats the musical #mr mistoffelees #rum tum tugger #demeter cats #bombalurina #tuggoffelees #demelurina #chirps #bird in the hand

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blueskrugs · 4 years

Text

Four Times Fate Brought You to Vince Dunn, and One Time You Found Him on Purpose

I wrote this simultaneously with another Vince 4+1 (coming tomorrow, hopefully!) and yelled to @captainpetty and Erin about them constantly. Sorry guys.

length: 3k words

An Accident You met Vince Dunn for the first time in an emergency room in St. Louis. Normally you worked the pediatric floor, and not on the night shift, but sometimes you floated to the general emergency room for an extra shift because, well, money is money.

You liked pediatrics because dealing with kids was far easier than adults, in your opinion, even when parents could sometimes be just as difficult as a screaming toddler. But at least screaming toddlers could be calmed down with the promise of a sticker or a lollipop.

“Hey, can you pick up the new guy that just came in?” one of the other nurses asked as she breezed past you to handle one of her patients. “I think they said something about him being important around here.”

“Being important” meant that, when you pulled the curtain back to face your newest patient, you came face-to-face with a very drunk Vince Dunn and a significantly less drunk Colton Parayko. You simply raised an eyebrow and moved over to the computer to start charting.

“I’m not really sure I want to know what happened here, but I think I have to ask,” you said, trying to ignore the fact that you were pretty sure Vince was whispering to Colton about you.

“Is there any way, like, our training staff-”

“And Petro!”

“God, yeah, and Petro, won’t find out about this? Because I wasn’t supposed to let anything happen to him, and we have a game tomorrow,” Colton finished.

That really didn’t answer your question, and you weren’t sure how anything that brought the two of them into an ER after midnight was going to be easily hidden for a game the next night. You turned then, properly looked at the boys, took in Vince sitting on the bed with his feet swinging above the ground like a child. His shirt was a little wet with what was probably beer, and, when you looked closer, blood. His left hand was wrapped in a bar rag–that you really hoped had been clean when they got it–that was definitely blood-stained.

Colton explained to you, as you started an IV in Vince’s right arm and cleaned the gash in his palm that would definitely need stitches, that they had gone out in spite of their captain telling them it was a bad idea. Vince had had one beer too many and had ended up on a table, then fell off the table, catching his fall on someone’s pint of beer. By the way Vince winced when you moved his hand around to clean it, you were pretty sure his wrist sprained, too.

You hovered a bit as one of the ER doctors came in and checked out Vince’s hand and wrist. Vince was quiet, but you could feel him watching you as you fidgeted around the small room. By the time everything was ready for him to be sent home, he was definitely more sober himself, but that also meant he was lucid enough to be embarrassed about how he ended up in the ER. You watched as Colton led him out of the ER and to a waiting Uber, and you wondered just how the hell they were planning on hiding his hand from everyone the next day.

At a Bar The second time you met Vince Dunn was, somewhat ironically, in a bar. You had seen him as soon as you walked in, laughing with some of his teammates in the corner, but you diligently ignored him as you headed to the bar with your friend to get a drink. Why would he remember some random ER nurse from over a month ago, when he had been drunk? You shook your head, determined to ignore the loud hockey boys in the corner and have a good night yourself.

You had been at the bar almost an hour and had done a pretty good job of ignoring and avoiding the hockey players in the corner. You headed over to the bar for a second drink, when you felt a hand press against your lower back. You tensed, twisting around as much as you could in the crowded bar to see who was behind you.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to sneak up on you,” Vince said, but he didn’t move his hand. He raised his left hand to get the attention of the bartender, and you saw the flash of a still-healing scar on his palm, pink even in the dim light of the bar. “You were that nurse from the ER, yeah? I never thanked you for taking care of my drunk ass that night.” He smiled, then, wide and genuine, hand still warm against the small of your back, and you relaxed a little bit.

You were surprised that he recognized you. You’d heard stories of the younger players on the Blues wheeling multiple girls at once; you vaguely wondered how they kept track of them, much less a nobody nurse he’d met once.

You didn’t say that, though, just smiled back at him as the bartender slid two beers in front of you. You reached into your pocket to pay but Vince grabbed your wrist.

“Nah, this one’s on me. Said I had to thank you, didn’t I?” he told you. You tried not to think about how green his eyes were up close.

You shook yourself again; you didn’t need this. You didn’t need this. Besides, how many more times could you run into Vince Dunn?

In Enemy Territory It was in Pittsburgh, of all places, when you saw Vince Dunn again. One of your brothers had moved out there for work, and you were visiting him for a week, helping out with babysitting his kids, hanging with your sister-in-law. You hadn’t even thought to check the Blues’ schedule; you had no idea they were on a road trip to play the Penguins.

You were standing in line at a Starbucks, your two-year-old nephew balanced on your hip, your sister-in-law still outside with the other kids. You heard the door open behind you, and a loud group came in, but now you were focused on ordering before the toddler you were carrying decided he got bored and threw a tantrum. You were struggling to reach your card one handed when someone else reached past you.

“Add it to ours,” the voice belonging to the arm said. You spun, only to see Colton Parayko looking down at you with a smile. You looked over his shoulder to see several of his teammates shoving each other playfully in line. That would explain the loud group you’d heard come in. Colton was introducing himself to the two year old you were carrying, but you were still watching his teammates. Vince caught your eye from where he was trying to put Jordan Kyrou in a headlock and grinned, immediately letting go of Rouzy. You smiled back, a little caught off guard.

You stepped to the side as you waited. Before long, you were joined by Vince, both of you trying to ignore the catcalls from his other teammates.

“And who’s this little guy?” Vince cooed, actually ignoring you aside from a quick smile. You raised an eyebrow a little bit at his baby-voice.

Your nephew tucked his face into your neck, suddenly shy. “Oh, come on now,” you said to him. “This is Jake, he’s my brother’s youngest,” you explained to Vince. Vince continued to talk to your nephew in that same high, gentle voice, until he was giggling and chattering right back. The barista called your name, and Jake picked that moment to decide he was done being patient and started fussing, very close to crying and screaming. You couldn’t balance two drinks and two sandwiches as well as a fidgeting toddler, and you groaned.

“Here give him to me,” Vince said, reaching out to take him before you could protest. Jake settled immediately, and you glared at him a little. You could hear Vince talking to him more as you scrambled to pick up all of your order. He followed you outside, and you ignored the interested stares of the rest of the guys.

He continued to hold Jake as you handed off your sister-in-law’s half of the order, stood there to chat with her and the other kids, long after Sammy came out with Vince’s drink. He used the same voice he had used to befriend Jake on the other two kids, but he talked and laughed with you and Sarah in the next breath, even teasing her for the Pens shirt she was wearing.

You were doing your best not to think about how that voice was making you melt every time he used it. His teammates eventually dragged him away to get back to the hotel before the game, but not before Vince talked you into exchanging phone numbers.

You tried telling yourself that you were never going to use it.

In a Grocery Store You were pretty sure the universe was laughing at you at this point. Your mom had invited herself over for dinner, and you had nothing in your apartment to cook. Which meant you rushed to a grocery store on your lunch break, and you ended up at a different one than you usually went to because it was closer to work.

Why couldn’t all grocery stores be laid out the same? You were trying very hard to make it look like you weren’t turning in circles as you tried to find everything you were looking for when your phone buzzed. You pulled it out with a huff, fully expecting it to your mom again, but instead the name on your screen read, “Vince Dunn.”

You paused. It had been nearly another month since Pittsburgh, and neither one of you had texted the other one. You were (mostly) perfectly content with leaving it that way, but clearly Vince had other ideas. The screen had gone dark, but it lit up again, reminding you it was there. You read the text, the simple words “you look a little lost.” With that you spun around, and, sure enough, Vince was standing a couple feet behind you, leaning against a shelf with a smirk on his face.

“I don’t have time for this,” you said, turning back around and starting to push your cart in a direction that hopefully ended in pasta.

“Hey, wait,” Vince said, taking a couple annoyingly long steps to catch up to you and put a hand on your cart to stop you. “Lemme help. It’ll be faster. I’ve been watching you walk in circles for like ten minutes.” You blushed as he smirked again, but his eyes were soft.

You wanted so badly to just push past Vince, forget you had ever met him, and then met him again and again, delete his number from your phone, but you also knew he was right; he would probably get you out of this damned grocery store a lot faster than you could probably manage on your own, and maybe you really wanted to spend a little time with him, too.

So you sighed, handed Vince the list you had scribbled on the back of a gas receipt, and let him lead you around the grocery store. He let you rant about your mom, and then about work, only pausing to offer opinions on the food he was putting in your cart. After a while, you realized you had actually managed to get everything on your list, but now Vince was wandering aimlessly around the store, sneaking junk food into your cart. You raised an eyebrow as you watched him slip a package of cookie mix behind the box of pasta. He looked up at you as you leaned on the cart handle, sheepish now that he’d been caught.

“What?I like snickerdoodles,” he said in defense.

You shook your head and pulled the package out of the cart. “I can make better snickerdoodles from scratch, dude.” You looked closer at everything in your cart. “And I don’t like jalapeno Cheetos,” you said, throwing the bag at Vince.

“Is that a promise on the snickerdoodles?” Of course he focused on that.

“I don’t know, maybe. Now go put the damn Cheetos back.”

Vince laughed. You willed yourself to focus on getting out of the store and home to cook dinner, not just kissing Vince in the middle of the baking aisle.

“Don’t knock ‘em until you try ‘em. Thommer’s gotten the whole team addicted at this point,” Vince told you over his shoulder as he went to put the Cheetos back from wherever he found them. You turned around and headed back in what you thought was the direction of checkout. Vince found you again as you stood in line. You had honestly thought the whole Cheetos thing would be the end of this interaction with him, but apparently not.

“Don’t you have your own grocery shopping to do?” you asked, realizing just how much time Vince had spent with you in the store. “Instead of helping some random girl?” you added, allowing the insecurity you were suddenly feeling slip into your voice.

Vince started putting your groceries on the conveyor belt. “Nah, Sammy just wanted some snacks, and he can wait.”

You let Vince load the rest of your stuff onto the belt, you didn’t let him pay–though he fought you on that one for several minutes–and you let him walk with you to your car and put all of your groceries in the trunk.

You were halfway home before you thought to wonder if he actually went back and got snacks for Sammy.

At a Hockey Game When your best friend texted you and asked if you wanted to go to a Blues game with her, you didn’t hesitate to say yes. You had grown up a hockey fan, had found Hannah in high school, and there you two were, years later, still yelling about the Blues over texts and phone calls and in person. Your eagerness had absolutely nothing to do with Vince Dunn.

You also didn’t hesitate to snap a picture of your ticket and send it to Vince after Hannah handed it to you. You didn’t really think he’d see it so close to puck drop, but you still regretted it as soon as the tiny little “sent” appeared underneath the picture.

The game was exciting, and the Blues won, which helped distract you from the anxiety you were feeling over Vince. Mostly. Until he scored a goal, and his eyes swept the sea of blue in Enterprise Center, and, for a split second, you let yourself think he was looking for you.

Until after the game, when you and Hannah were getting up to leave, and an usher appeared next to you, saying your name and telling you to follow her. Getting down below the arena was a blur of people and security, being given neon wristbands and convincing people that, “Yes, I was invited down here by a player, I belong down here,” even if you didn’t really believe that second part was true.

You both hovered awkwardly in the doorway to the room where all of the WAGs and kids were waiting, and suddenly you regretted wearing your Parayko jersey just a little bit. You were thankful to have your friend next to you, though, and you explained the whole grocery store thing to her while you waited. You were starting to debate leaving, telling everyone that, yeah, actually, letting you down into the tunnels was a mistake, that you have no business being there, when you’re wrapped up in a hug suddenly, and there’s Vince, freshly-showered and back in his suit– and this is new, but it’s nice and you let yourself relax into the hug.

Vince pulled back, and he was smiling at you and introducing himself to Hannah, and Colton was standing behind him with a matching smile. You remembered the 55 sprawled across your back, and you knew Colton saw it, but then he was wrapping his arm around your shoulder and didn’t say anything about it.

You weren’t so lucky with Vince. “I’ve gotta get you a new jersey,” he said. You just rolled your eyes and shrugged.

“I’ll sign that one for you,” Colton whispered.

Vince and Colton started arguing over that, and you were starting to think that this is something you could get used to, since this was apparently your new normal, when Alex Pietrangelo comes over to your little group, and you were reminded a little just how not normal this was for you.

“Is this the nurse Dunner won’t shut up about?” Petro asked Colton, who nodded over your head. “You really freaked him out when you texted him before the game,” Petro was talking again, this time to you. “We thought he was gonna go out into the stands to find you himself.”

You laughed, more at the bright blush that was spreading over Vince’s cheeks. “What happened to ‘Petro can’t find out about this?’” you asked.

“That went out the window pretty fast,” Colton told you.

“And I don’t know how you ever thought you could hide eight stitches in your hand and a sprained wrist from me,” Petro added.

“You should have heard him after we saw you in Pittsburgh. He kept looking for you at the game that night, too.”

You smiled up at Vince, who was blushing all the way up his ears now, but he just wrapped his arm around your shoulders and buried his face in your hair. Yeah, you could definitely get used to that. You elbowed him in the ribs a little bit, but his arm just tightened around your shoulders.

He and Colton walked you and Hannah back to your car outside the arena, Colton chirping Vince relentlessly the whole way.

Vince grabbed your hand before you could get in your car. “I’ll text you, yeah?” He looked unsure, which was probably the first time you’d ever seen him nervous around you. “Sammy won’t stop asking me when you’re baking us cookies.”

“I don’t remember saying anything about baking Sammy Blais cookies,” you laughed. “Text me when your next day off is, and we’ll see about those cookies.” And then, because apparently you couldn’t stop doing impulsive things tonight, you pushed up on your toes to kiss Vince on the cheek before climbing into the car.

Your phone vibrated in your cupholder less than five minutes later, and you knew without checking that it was Vince.

#cait writes things #vince dunn #vince dunn fic #vince dunn imagine #nhl fic #nhl imagine

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whump-town · 3 years

Text

Moments Too Late

In honor of spending too much time on my own Universities quad because of the nice weather (which is promptly going to shit because it’s going to be cold again Monday) and because of @olivinesea college AU I give you...

The false promises of March lure them from the comforts of their dorms. Each morning now a little warmer, the sun beaming down forgiving and loving as it’s not the quiet time for it to swelter down great beams of heat that melts clothes off the skin off muscles off bones. Today it heats the ground, enough to encourage them out of their shoes to feel the still slightly chilled nature of the not yet up to pace earth beneath their toes.

Derek laughs deeply, unabashedly as he chases Spencer along the grass. Seemingly all the more pleased the louder he can get the younger boy to screech in terror as Derek pins his thin arms in contorted positions as they wrestle. The only mediation, the only warnings they get, comes when JJ looks up from her textbook. More often to tuck strands of hair behind her ears than to break from her reading. “Don’t hurt him, Derek,” she warns. Not because she’s afraid he will but to continue these halves of theirs. Where she stands to allow Spencer this idea that she will step in if need be.

“The winter,” Emily says softly. “I think the winter depresses him.” She’s laid out on the jacket Dave spread out on the ground before them. He’d given a little “hmph” of disapproval but not altogether displeasure when she laid herself out on it. Her legs break out in rashes and the shorts she’d chosen to wear leave her too exposed to rest comfortably in it.

Dave rests back on his elbows, chest lifted to take in all the rays of the sun that he can. He cracks open his left eye, scowling over at her as he processes what she’s just said. The raised eyebrow of doubt -- of further need for contemplation and clarification on the generally just vague statement she’s just made -- goes unnoticed as she watches Aaron. Dave’s eyes follow suit and while he might not understand the full complexity of what it is that she means, he might be able to gather what she sees.

“Winter depression?” he whispers. There’s no way that Aaron could be anything but… well, Aaron. By definition, that means dark and spirally with a complexity not a single soul, at least Dave suspects, knows him in his entirety. They are all bound by bits and pieces, half-truths that they have put together like children and those little cheap boxes that are covered half-hazardously in Elmer’s glue and macaroni shells.

Aaron lays out on his back, eyes closed and more relaxed than they’ve ever seen him. Shoulders sinking into the ground and limbs open. His ankles set aligned with his hips and shoulders. Palms up, a sunflower turned to face the warmth. He can feel the heat crawling up his body, nearly too warm with the sweater on his arms and the jeans that don’t quite fit the length of his legs. Softly, he clears his throat doesn’t even bother cracking an eye open as he says, “the word the two of you are looking for is seasonal and I’m not, nor have I ever been, depressed.”

Though Dave shoots Emily a look that says it all -- leave resting snakes to lie, don’t poke a bear you’re not ready to kill -- she sits up and observes him further. Letting his head thud against the dirt, Dave lets her poke that hornet’s nest knowing he’ll be the one to soothe Aaron’s buzzing anxiety and pull the stingers from Emily’s skin.

“You locked yourself in your room for two weeks,” she reminds him. As if she wasn’t the dead girl in the freshmen dormitory wrapped around a toilet and sent to the emergency room where they know her by name. Where they take turns picking her up in the lobby, waving to the doctor’s as she signs out against their advice with her arm still bleeding where she pulled too harshly, too angrily at the IV snaked under her flesh. Who is she to point fingers at his oddity? At least he can go a weekend without visiting the bottle.

The two weeks in question were from hell. He’d been with them Tuesday, present in a way that they reflected on as oddly so. They also thought he’d killed himself, a theory started by JJ too good to pass up so their application might be flawed. For two weeks, there was nothing but radio silence from him. His dorm was empty and they couldn’t even find him in the library, a place they more often than not have to drag him from. He didn’t show up until Thursday, so he was actually gone for sixteen-days, and looked like maybe he had died and dragged his corpse all the way back to them.

Not yet adults and very much the children raised by their parent’s hips, how could they not think in the extremes that they have known their entire lives? Too young to know the complexities of the life ahead of them but too damaged to ignore it. JJ knows what her sister did and Derek could feel his father’s blood hardening on his hands, could understand and see what JJ was telling them.

One. Talking about wanting to die or to kill oneself; Eyes closed and back sinking further and further into the blankets behind him. Nearly unaware of how close they all are, of the hand on his knee or the shoulder on his hip. “It would be nice… I think,” he whispers. “No stress. No obligations. Like sleeping.” He doesn’t sleep well.

Two. Talking about feeling hopeless or having no purpose; The warmth of his eyes has frozen over, the helpless desperation that he feels bubbling over. The carefully orchestrated faux look he’s spent years building burns at his feet. Leaving behind the broken child that he is at his core, searching for something that makes sense. For a father that loves him and a mother that protects him. “It doesn’t matter what I do,” he rasps. “Nothing matters because all I do is fuck everything up.”

Three. Sleeping too little or too much; He pulls from the hand that JJ gently reaches out with, flinching. “I -- I just don’t sleep well,” he defends, avoiding her eyes when she tries to look harder. To really see how pale he’s become. “It’s just -- just insomnia.” Nightmares are what he means but twenty-year-olds shouldn’t have that kind of horror built up into them so he lies. It’s easier that way.

Three strikes. You’re out but… they just couldn’t find a body. Dave had told them about how old dogs will drag themselves away from their homes to die and Spencer had cried for hours after that. Maybe that seemed a little too on the nose, Aaron being compared to an old beaten dog. They yelled at Dave out of fear but knew he was right.

Then Aaron just showed up to campus Thursday, a lump of human underneath his comforter as if he’d been there the entire time.

“We couldn’t find you for two weeks, Aaron. That’s -- That’s crazy, even for you.”

JJ looks up from her textbook, sees Dave, and looks back down. She’s certain that they’re about to have to deal with one of Emily and Aaron’s nuclear fallouts. With hindsight, she can see how that’s been festering up. Every semester they have one of these martial spats, bad enough to leave Spencer (who loves nothing more than to be one of their shadows) afraid to be left alone with either for a few days. Rightfully so, Aaron gets a little dark and Emily never pulls her punches, it’s a scary thing to witness.

“My father died.” The group freezes for a moment. Spencer and Derek’s wrestling had died down, both watching Aaron and Emily. He’s sitting up now, forcing her to look him in the eyes. “My father died and it wasn’t any of your business.” Emily opens her mouth but he’s shaking, having opened something not so easily contained. He doesn’t know how to put it all back. “Sean called, what was I to do, Emily? Would you prefer I tell a scared nine-year-old to fuck off?”

He wanted to. Despite how scared Sean had been, how small he’d sounded sucking in little sobs. Aaron lost his father ten years ago but he couldn’t tell Sean that. He’d gone out of obligation and the strange weighted sense that this might be the last time he truly sees his little brother. And he couldn’t know it yet but it’d be the last time he saw his mother too.

“I wasn’t out mixing my name up with Jack Daniels.”

Well… it was only a matter of time.

She stands first, fist clenched at her sides. “We’re your friends, we would have been there. You’re just too much of an insufferable bastard to notice!” She seethes good and properly angry. Misplaced but firm. “If you spent half as much time locking yourself away, pretending to be someone you’re not--” She pulls in a deep shuttering breathe. “Everyone knows, you know? All of us. We’ve seen the scars.” She’s not sure if it’s what she wanted but he flinches as though he’s been hit and that’s not enough to stop her. “Do you think we wouldn’t notice the flinching? That we can’t touch you? You’re not as good as you think you are, Aaron, and we’re not stupid.”

Silence.

Emily always knows what to say.

“Ex-Excuse me.”

Penelope comes up just as Aaron’s stumbling to his feet, pale as a ghost and trembling. He nearly runs into her. “What’s--” she’s brought them snacks. Little pieces of fruit she’s painstakingly cut for this little snack. “What’s wrong?”

He shakes his head and mumbles another “excuse me” and tears past her.

Penelope looks hopelessly at them, confused and hurt. She turns, watching Aaron stagger and wipe furiously at his eyes. “What… What did you do?” She looks back and forth, settling on Emily. Penelope watches tears gather in Emily’s eyes, her lower lip trembling.

“Oh God,” she whispers, hands raising to her lips. Emily looks over at Dave and to JJ, Spencer, and Derek still watching in terror. Her own words coming back to her, funneling through moments too late. “Oh God, what did I do?”

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #derek morgan #jennifer jareau #spencer reid #david rossi #penelope garcia

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hale-13 · 3 years

Text

Febrile

By Hale13

For the Summer of Whump Day 23 - Sick

“Don’t,” Peter grouses, spitting out the last bit of bile in his mouth in the sink in the men’s restroom at Midtown and pointedly ignoring the look of disapproval both Ned and MJ are giving him in the mirror as he rinses his mouth out and washes his hands.

Words: 2101, Chapters: 1/1 (Complete), Language: English

Fandoms: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)

Rating: Gen

Relationships: Peter Parker & May Parker, Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Ned Leeds, Michelle Jones, Tony Stark, May Parker, Helen Cho

TW: Vomiting

Read on AO3 or below the line break.

“Peter,” Ned’s voice is exasperated and he looks irritated. MJ’s face is still (mostly) an indifferent mask but he can see her eyes brows pulling in the way they do when she’s concerned. “This has been going on for three days now,” he complains. “you have got to tell May.”

“Sure don’t,” Peter says, drying his hands off on a scratchy paper towel and trying to surreptitiously blot at his sweaty face before tossing it in the trash.

“You’re an idiot,” MJ tells him with an eye roll and a soft shove of her shoulder. It completely throws off Peter’s limited equilibrium and makes him sway into the wall. Ned’s glare becomes even sharper.

“I’m fine,” Peter tries and even he can hear the lie in his words now. He totally isn’t fine. He’s not fine at all actually. He’s had a fever, vomiting and stomach cramps for going on three days now and he’s just not used to getting and staying sick this long since he got bitten by the spider. A cold or a twenty-four hour hell flu? Sure. Consistent nausea and a low to mid grade fever for seventy-two hours? Unheard of.

“This is pointless,” MJ’s voice is monotone as she tosses Peter his phone which he fumbles, just barely catching it with the tips of sticky fingers.

“When did you take my phone?” He asks confused.

MJ guides him out the door and towards the front office – the exact opposite direction he needs to be going if he’s going to make it to his chemistry class. “I took it from your pocket when you were re-enacting the exorcism. Happy should be here in like ten minutes.”

“MJ,” Peter whines, not putting up a fight when Ned grabs his other arm to help with the pulling and directing. “I don’t need to go home.”

“Yes you do,” Ned’s tone is firm. “No one wants your flu Peter.”

“Alright that’s… fair,” he admits. “But my homework-,”

“We’ll get it for you,” MJ reassures as the office comes into view. She pushes him into one of the chairs sat outside and marches in to speak to the secretary. Peter pouts and crosses his arms. Yeah he feels like shit and he really just wants to sleep and, sure, his lower abdomen is really cramping and hurting but he got shot two weeks ago and the pain isn’t that bad. He can totally handle it. “You’re signed out,” Michelle tells him when she comes back, offering Ned a note to excuse his tardiness. “Let us know that you didn’t die okay loser?”

“Bye Peter!” Ned says brightly, back to his normal self now that he knows Peter is actually going home.

His friends finally gone, Peter drops all pretense and lets his face rest against the cool wall next to him, letting his eyes slip shut in relief – his forehead was burning. He pulled the sleeves of his hoodie over his hands and shivers. Maybe it is good that he goes home. He can take a nap and recuperate and be back at school tomorrow completely better.

Yeah. He just needs to nap.

“Well your scary girlfriend wasn’t kidding,” Mr. Stark’s voice rips Peter out of his near-sleep and has him blotting out of the chair, nearly falling over if he hadn’t caught himself on the way. “You look like shit kiddo.”

“Mr. Stark,” Peter squeaks, surprised at seeing his mentor at his freaking school what the hell. “What uh… what are you doing here?”

“What does it look like?” Tony asks with good humor, looking at Peter over the top of his AR glasses with a concerned smile, eyes scraping over him in a clinical way. “I’m here to get you.”

“Uh no offense, but why?” Peter asks, tripping over his book bag on the floor and falling back into the chair. Tony raises an eyebrow.

“Because I’m one of your emergency contacts,” he answers like this is the most obvious thing ever and Peter blinks a little in confusion. Mr. Stark is one of his emergency contacts? Since when? He opens his mouth to ask this very question when a sudden bout of nausea rolls over him and he, instead, scrambles to his feet and down the hall to the nearest bathroom.

He barely makes it to the sink before he starts gagging and dry heaving, nothing coming up but leaving him feeling dizzy and light-headed. Peter leans his head against the porcelain of the sink with a low moan, gagging again on the end and leaning his face back over the sink to drool out the excess saliva in his mouth.

“Yikes,” he hears Mr. Stark mutter behind him and then a calloused hand is running carefully through his hair and resting on his forehead. Peter pushes his face into the cool palm subconsciously and keeps his eyes closed as he tries to push the nausea down. “Yeah you’re definitely coming back to the MedBay with me.”

Peter lets out a wordless whine but doesn’t protest beyond that. It has been three days of this after all – maybe it is a good idea to consult with a professional?

“Come on buddy,” Tony says as he slings Peter’s arm over his shoulder and starts dragging him out of the bathroom and towards the entrance to the school. “You have a date with Dr. Cho and your aunt is waiting to hear the results of her exam.”

Happy actually looks concerned when Peter sees him standing outside of one of the many town cars Mr. Stark owns and he doesn’t say anything when he takes Peter’s bag from Tony to put in the front seat. The leather of the back seats is cool and the interior is darkened by the tinted windows and Peter lets out a sigh of relief, resting his head against the window; already half asleep.

The drive is, thankfully, quick and Peter dozes through most of it – still nauseous but able to hold it down for the most part. Soon enough they pull into the underground garage of the Tower and Tony is hustling him into the elevator which rockets them up to the MedBay floor without either of them having to say anything.

“May wants you to call her once you get settles,” Tony says, rapidly texting on his phone.

Peter squints his eyes at his mentor. “I’m not sure how I feel about you two texting,” he says.

“Oh we’re besties,” Tony teases, pocketing the phone with a shit eating grin. “We have coffee every other Wednesday.”

“I… don’t know if you’re serious,” Peter says, concerned. He probably doesn’t want to know to be honest. The doors of the elevator trundle open and Tony steers Peter into an empty exam room, directing him to sit on the exam bed. It only takes a second before Dr. Cho bustles in.

“Hey Peter,” she says with a smile as she rubs hand sanitizer into her hands and grabs a set of gloves from the box on the wall. “Tony said you were sick. Want to tell me about what’s going on?

“Nausea mostly,” he says as she runs a thermometer across his forehead and frowns at the readout. “My stomach hurts.”

“Well you have a fever of just over one hundred and two,” she says as she clips a pulse ox reader to his finger and wraps a blood pressure cuff around his arm and lets it run. “And your blood pressure is a little low,” she narrows her eyes at the reading and unhooks the machines. “Lay back for me?”

Peter does and stares at the ceiling as she starts to palpate his abdomen. He could probably fall asleep here actually if he – “OW!” He exclaims, curling away from Dr. Cho’s hands and wrapping his arms around his stomach to protect it.

“Well I have a tentative diagnosis,” she says snapping off her gloves. “We’ll do an ultrasound to confirm but, congratulations, Peter you have appendicitis.”

Peter and Tony both blink and then look at each other and then back. “For three days?” Tony questions, scooting Peter over to sit next to him on the bed and run a hand soothingly up and down Peter’s back. It doesn’t stop the stabbing pain in his abdomen but it helps.

“His healing factor is probably slowing down the progression, preventing it from rupturing as quickly as it could or should have,” she says, typing something into Peter’s chart on her StarkPad. “I’ll have a tech confirm with ultrasound and get a surgeon out to do the surgery. It’s pretty quick – one hour tops and then a few days recovery and you’ll be good as new.”

“Surgery?” Peter asks hoarsely, feeling his heart rate speed up. He’s never had surgery before.

Dr. Cho looks up at him and her face softens a little. “It’s an easy procedure,” she promises. “You won’t even realize that you’ve had it really and. Once you wake up, you’ll feel immediately better. Everything will be fine,” she promises and Peter nods with a gulp. He can feel stomach acid rising in his throat again and lunges for the emesis basin sitting on the bedside table, gagging into it.

“Let it all out Webs,” Tony says, rubbing his back sympathetically. “Got anything to help with this doc?”

“I’ll have the nurses start and IV and give him an anti-emetic,” she said, passing a new basin to Tony and taking the one from Peter’s slack grasp. “Just try to relax okay Peter?”

“This sucks,” he grumbles, letting his head fall over to rest on his mentor’s shoulder and relaxing when he feels Tony’s finger scrub though his hair to massage his aching head.

“Sure does kiddo,” Tony agrees, pulling the blanket up to Peter’s chest. “But at least its an easy fix.”

“I don’t want surgery,” Peter tells him quietly. Even with all of his many Spider-Man injuries he’s never had to be put under for anything. “Is May on her way?”

“Happy went to get her,” Tony promises him. “And surgery seems really scary but its not I promise. It’s like taking a really good nap and May and I will both be there alright? It’ll be fine Underoos.”

“Okay,” Peter says quietly, feeling slightly better but still a little concerned. But he would have May and Tony with him. It would be fine.

————————————————

“Guess we still need to tweak the anesthetic formula for you just a bit,” Mr. Stark says apologetically as he mops up the sweat on Peter’s brow with a damp cloth and supports him as he retches again. The surgery had gone well and had been quick. Waking up however?

Not so much.

“Just let it out baby,” May croons as she rubs his back, sweaty and making the thin hospital gown stick to his skin uncomfortably. Peter just gasps a little and squeezes his eyes closed, trying to take deep breaths through his nose to quell his nausea.

“I’m good,” Peter croaks a minute later, letting his aunt settle him back into the bed and fuss over him. He had barely woken up after the surgery before the vomiting started again. It had alarmed Tony but May and Dr. Cho had both determined that it was just a poor reaction to the anesthesia they used. With how fast him metabolism was, it should move through his system quickly.

“Can I get you anything sweetie?” May asked him, brushing his damp hair out of his face and sitting on the edge of the bed facing him.

“I’m okay,” Peter said, his eyes drooping from exhaustion. Tony squeezed his hand and tucked his blanket in a little tighter around him warming Peter up from the inside a little. He was so glad and thankful that he had the chance to get closer with Tony over the last couple months since the incident with the Vulture. The man was still a little awkward and learning how to be a mentor but he was trying and that’s all Peter could ask for. “Just want to sleep,” he said softly, letting his eyes slip closed.

“Okay baby,” he heard May whisper, running her fingers through his hair and Peter felt the ghost of a smile on his face. Yeah, he could probably handle this recovery.

#summerofwhump #summerofwhump23 #Prompt: Sick #irondad #spider man #Summer of Whump 2021

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warmau · 3 years

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☆ lovestruck!au x librarian!au taeyong other lovestruck!aus: jeno | chenle | haechan | jisung

a tower of books is blocking taeyong's vision, just a voice comes echoing out from behind them

"do you have a classics section?"

"of course! which author?"

there's a pause and taeyong starts to get up so he can at least see who he is talking to

"who would you recommend?"

taeyong is already running through his alphabetized list that he's spent hours on making in his head

when you love books as much as he does, a question like that makes everything around him spark

but then he sees you

you seem to be frowning, looking down at the screen of your phone as the familiar notification sound of the college email comes vibrating through the room

a couple of people studying nearby turn to glare and you whisper a small apology as you put your phone on silent and meet taeyong's gaze

taeyong almost wishes you hadn't

the urge to bring up the long sleeves of his oversized cardigan to hide his face starts to take over his brain instead

they're so cute - i can't look at them!

you blink when taeyong doesn't say anything - he looks as if he has suddenly been struck by lightning

"sorry - is everything ok?"

your concern seems to do the trick, taeyong mentally mocks himself for being so awkward, and he says the one name that comes to mind easier than all the rest

"have you read, um, twain? m-mark twain?"

the look that you give him tells taeyong he's picked an author that could put you to sleep - not that he really would argue, it's just that suddenly all his knowledge has seeped away into the darkest corner of his brain

"no..i mean i have tried to, but he's kind of - boring?"

"jane austen?"

"aren't most of her books a thousand pages long?"

"is - are you looking for a book for a project?"

you poke your tongue into your cheek, the little action makes taeyong suddenly feel like jello

"kind of - one of my classes wants us to find a classic author that speaks to us personally. the only issue is none of them speak to me - most of them are dead anyway right?"

taeyong stares at you and then gives a little nervous chuckle

you stare back and sigh in defeat

"i know i must be annoying you right now."

"no- no! no, i just......i -"

i just can't stop looking at you and it's kind of insane

taeyong pushes the thought back and levels himself and his emotions

"i think you might want to find someone that isn't exactly a 'classic' author?"

this intrigues you, your shoulders perk and you lean over the librarians counter

the sudden action nearly topples the neat bunch of books that had originally blocked taeyong from seeing you and he circles his arms around it protectively as he tries not to fall into the stars that are looping through your gaze

"what do you mean?"

"w-well the assignment is a classic author who speaks to you right? there are lots of authors from that same time who aren't labeled classics but they - they might fit that category to you."

he is still holding his fingers on the spines of some of the books as you think about the sentiment

"like who?"

taeyong, looks at the pile in front of him, mostly to avoid direct eye contact with you, but then he notices something in the mix

through the mess of titles and textbooks and more he sees one of the colleges oldest and most checked out books

the great gatsby

briefly, he thinks about the way in which gatsby speaks about daisy

a flickering thought of the almost desperate love someone could feel for another

you tap your fingers and the little memory lights something else in taeyong's mind and he asks you in a small voice,

"have you ever read zelda fitzgerald's work?"

you haven't - actually you were unaware she was ever a writer - and when you ask taeyong if her work is available in the library he shakes his head

"she wrote a novel, save me the waltz, really not popular enough to ever become a classic but if you read it and like it i think -"

"well how can i read it if the college doesn't have a copy?"

taeyong thinks he feels the temperature of his skin rise a little because

"i-i own a copy."

this time you do knock over the tower of books, simply because you jut your upper half over the counter to ask him if he'd ever consider lending it to you and your elbow catches right on one of the books

they topple over and the loud crash echoes a wave of irritations throughout the library again as you scramble behind the desk to help taeyong get them back in order

behind the desk like this - you ask him in a whisper

"i know im a stranger, but you can trust me with the book - i promise!"

taeyong wants to say of course, but all he manages is a shy hiccup when your hands brush over the same cover

"here -" you stack the rest of the books up and then push your phone into this palm "give me your number and we can meet up"

the rest of it all happens in a blur

taeyong gives you his number - you delete the contact name and write yong with a little book emoji instead

you text him and insist he put your name down with your favorite little pink flower

after his shift, he heads to his dorm and finds the book - smiling to himself silently as his dormmate doyoung stares with a look of curiosity from behind his pre-law homework

and then - it hits ten p.m. - and the all-night cafe on campus is packed and warm and taeyong is standing in front of it with a small scarf around his neck and the book placed carefully in a manilla envelope

you come bounding down the street, ten minutes late, and skid to a stop in front of taeyong

you call him mr. librarian and taeyong doesn't know if the feeling in his stomach is love or his lunch

"thank you thank you thank you - ill be sure to let you know if i use it for my project!"

he assumes you just mean one text after you're done reading it - a yes this is perfect or a i think i need to find something else!

what taeyong does not expect is that the two weeks you work on your project, you text him daily

the book is only a mere 230 pages - but you keep telling him about passages and the old articles you're finding on zelda

somehow you took one little book and pulled so much from it

taeyong thinks its been a long time since he's seen someone fall so much in love with a writer that he misses the feeling he used to get too

one evening he gets your text just as he's finishing up shelving at the library, he stops to lean against the cart and read it

submitted my project, i have to see you and give you back the book!

he thinks for a second, chewing on his lower lip

you can keep it, you've come to love it.

the bubbles pop up fast and taeyong nearly loses the grip on his phone when you reply

that's so sweet, but i actually just really want to see you too.

and so you pop by the library when it's only him left, he's closing it with the key the school trusts on him with (and the janitor)

and he almost jumps out of his skin when he turns and you're there - beaming a huge smile at him

you're holding the book and he says, "no really you can keep it-"

"do you want to go to dinner with me?"

taeyong doesn't know if you've been privy to his feelings all along

did you, standing there behind that tower of books, already know he was going to start thinking about you every day after he saw you

did you already know he'd feel like a helpless schoolboy with a crush on the sun?

either way you don't admit it - you just keep that huge smile across the table with pieces of cake between you two and steaming cups of tea

you babble about your project, about how you had to defend not picking someone more obviously 'classical'

and taeyong does the one thing he learnt from romantic movies and novels, that when you shiver in the cold air of the cafe, he shrugs off that huge cardigan he's always wearing and offers it to you without much of a word

you pull your hands through it and go

"it feels like a hug!"

when you're both done with your food, you ask taeyong if he's going to walk back to the dorm - you have to take the shuttle across campus

"thank you for treating me, you didn't have to all over a book."

he shyly scratches the back of his neck and he still doesn't ask for you to give him his cardigan back

you look much cuter wearing it anyway, in his opinion

in the breeze of the night, you step closer to him and taeyong swallows because you're looking straight at his lips

"it wasn't just for the book. are you book lovers so dense?"

"hu-"

he starts as you lean in to kiss him, gently and sweetly, the lingering taste of cake and tea on your lips

taeyong almost falls over - his saving grace is your hand wrapping around his wrist

"ive seen you in the library before.....so when i got this project i thought it would be the perfect time to talk to you and ive always liked you, so i cant believe how nice you were to me-"

you start, confessing an onslaught of feelings taeyong was oblivious to

"-and if you don't feel the same i understand."

taeyong has never been straightforward in his life, but he answers your concern with another quick, soft kiss to your lips

he doesn't say everything he wants to either when he pulls back and you're giving him a slight look of shock

i like you too, ive liked you ever since i saw you - ever since you toppled that tower of books back on me - ever since you helped me put it back together behind the librarians' desk

he can't force the words out instead he goes,

"please keep the book.....and my cardigan is yours too."

#lovestruck!au #nct scenarios #nct au #taeyong scenarios #taeyong au #nct imagines #taeyong imagines #nct 127 #nct #taeyong #taeyong x reader #sfw

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jasontoddiefor · 4 years

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Title: desecrate my lungs Summary: Anakin Skywalker died in his son’s arms on the Death Star. He woke up again in the middle of a battlefield during the Clone Wars, choking because he forgot how to breathe without a machine forcing air in his lungs, unable to stand because he hadn’t been standing on his own legs for two decades. Time-travel fix-it in which Mustafar haunts Anakin decades after it happened and years before it would. AN: That’s right, the medical trauma time travel AU is gonna get written now.

Read on AO3

Kix was a medic. He had not only been bred to shoot blasters with deadly efficiency, strategize on the fly in the midst of enemy fire or fight for the protection of the glorious Republic. He had also been taught how to take care of the wounded, dosage medicine, do surgery and decide whether a life was worth saving or not. Back on Kamino, he hadn’t really known what the latter meant, but his first battle had more than shown him. It meant that he decided which brothers they could afford to take back to camp for treatment, whether they had enough time and recourses to save one life or should rather invest the bacta to save ten more. Being a clone medic in this war was much more about mathematics and benefit-cost analysis than anybody wanted to admit.

His job was to ensure that soldiers could fight another day.

He had not been taught how to heal sentients.

General Skywalker, genius pilot and mechanic that he was, could run the same calculations as Kix. He knew that risking ten to save the one was without merit and yet he tried it again and again and more often than not it paid off. Kix easily remembered the first battles, when Rex had returned to camp together with Skywalker against all odds because their General had decided not to leave him behind.

The part of Kix that was a brother to millions of others had appreciated that. The other half, who had been taught to rescue and repair based on credits hadn’t understood. The longer the war dragged on, the more concessions did the field medic have to make. Kamino’s training had been extensive and Kix could make it through the war relying solely on that, but he’d long since realized that it wasn’t enough if he wanted his brothers, not his soldiers, to make it out of this whole fight alive. He wasn’t supposed to spend his nights reading up on how to alleviate aching joints and figure out how prosthetics worked. The latter was much too expensive to waste on a clone, the former was unnecessary, but Kix studied it anyway and sent the necessary info to his brothers in need. The General had been a great help when it came to prosthetics considering his own arm and was supportive of the small but ever-growing group of medics under Kix’s tutelage who were outfitting their brothers with new limbs so they wouldn’t be phased out. The whole project was missing funds at every corner and Kix thanked the Force twice a day for the money that could be made in shady bars, games of chance or troublesome bets. Perhaps organizing an underground gambling ring was against regulations but Kix was resourceful. He needed money and he knew the price of blood and organs on the market. Besides, there were always more dead brothers than those who needed a transplant.

He had been made a medic because he had steady hands and a mind for numbers. He could keep track of their income and made sure it didn’t show up on the regular budgeting.

Kix had not been made to heal sentients and he had no idea how to help one who regarded himself as a soldier at best, and a mindless weapon at worst.

Kix’s knowledge of physical therapy was less than he’d like it to be and even Coric, who had had more time to invest in the medical side of their project than him, didn’t know too much about it.

Never mind how it worked for someone who didn’t even have prosthetics, yet needed to relearn how to walk.

“Fuck!” The crude curse was barely above a whisper, yet it rang loudly in the silent room.

Kix stepped over to his General, who was holding himself up by his IV-stand, to help him, but the moment he came too close to him, Anakin raised his mech-arm.

“Don’t,” he ordered. “I can do this.”

Kix had noticed that he had started to favor it, likely because it was the limb he had the most control over. They had stopped handing him breakable things to handle with his flesh hand right after he had woken up with coherence.

The first week had been a little touch-and-go in that regard with Anakin thinking he was hallucinating or worse, but by now he had his grasp on reality back and was steadfast refusing to take it slowly.

“Sir, I’m not sure you should be standing or walking yet,” Kix carefully spoke up.

Anakin’s expression twisted into a snarl. “I know what I’m doing.”

He took another step and nearly crashed to the ground again.

Kix was supposed to be sleeping, his shift was over, but everyone else involved in this mess was busy so it was left to him to watch over his patient. Who should also be sleeping but instead forced himself to walk when he obviously had neither the strength nor the coordination needed for such an activity.

This wasn’t how physical therapy worked, he was sure, but it wasn’t like he knew any better. The clones who had to relearn how to do certain actions did so in-between breaks and the battlefield. There was no time to get properly acquainted and used to it all. The General was obviously of the same school. He was always on the mover, never knew when to take a break to rest and find himself again.

Anakin moved his bare foot forward once more, this time without lifting it off the ground. His attention was laser-focused on it. When the movement was completed, he was smiling in grim satisfaction.

Kix wondered whether that had been Anakin’s approach after he had lost his arm. He pitied General Kenobi for having to deal with that.

“General Kenobi insisted that you take it easy,” Kix said out loud, hoping that mentioning the other Jedi would do something to keep Anakin from this foolish endeavor. “You don’t have to master it all at once again.”

“I do,” Anakin insisted hotly. “You don’t know what he will do if I don’t-“

He shut up, his mouth in a thin line.

He had slipped up before when he was less coherent, the aftereffects of what Kenobi had hesitantly dubbed a vision still shaking him. Anakin was afraid, downright terrified of someone and he was sharing information in bouts of panic attacks, careless comments, incredible worry, and dark anger. It wasn’t enough to make any plan of sorts or explain why the General suddenly acted as if he were a ghost haunting himself, attempting to use his body as a puppeteer might want to make their doll move.

“Will you at least take it easy as to avoid worrying the Commander any further?”

As soon as the question was out of his mouth, Kix knew he had lost this battle.

“I’m doing this for her,” Anakin answered. His words began to blur together. He was overdue for a rest, should, by all means, be sleeping just like Kix. However, unless they forced him under via sedation or a Kenobi-induced Force-suggestion, the General wouldn’t close his eyes. “All of them. I don’t have any time left.”

Time for what? Kix wanted to ask, but instead watched as Anakin took another unsteady step, refusing any and all support.

#Anakin Skywalker #star wars #clone trooper kix #tcw #fanfic #medical trauma time travel au #Kix: if not for the fact that you are my general i would chain you to your bed #i swear this is a happy fix it but do mind the tags

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halfwayinlight · 3 years

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I wrote a thing today. It was supposed to be for Valentine’s Day

Title: Holding Space Fandom: Star Trek TNG Pairing: Will Riker/Deanna Troi Rating: PG Notes: set between Season 3 episodes The Bonding and The Booby Trap

Commander Will Riker would be lying if he didn’t admit that he was disappointed Deanna had not yet come to the bridge to report she was back on board. It wasn’t an official protocol, but it was a courtesy that the senior staff generally observed. It was, in fact, out of the ordinary that Deanna didn’t report to the bridge officer on duty.

He told himself he would wait a full half hour past her anticipated arrival time to call down to O’Brien. It would be a very long half hour, and he knew that at least some of the bridge crew were very aware he was antsy. So Will had dutifully read through the various daily reports sent in. And he checked the logs three times to make sure there wasn’t some mental health crisis that would’ve pulled her immediately back into work.

Eventually, he’d taken to the ready room, vacant since the captain was off duty at the moment. Catching up on reports was no help in the distraction department because the only remaining reports they were still working on were the reports over the Mintaka III duck blind. It had been an utter failure in all aspects of First Contact. Not that the Enterprise crew had been able to really help it. It was more an Act of Fate.

Privately, though, Will still felt guilty about the whole thing. Guilty for leaving Deanna behind. He knew, rationally, that there was no help for it. Palmer had needed immediate medical care. There had been no reason to think that Deanna wouldn’t be able to slip quietly away and be beamed back on board.

“You’re beating yourself up over it,” she’d observed one night in Ten Forward, about a week ago. Her fingers played with the glass containing her Sumerian sunrise, idly tracing the bands etched around the cup.

He shifted, elbow on the table to lean against it for support, suddenly uncomfortable with the turn this evening was taking. Rather than answer immediately, he took a slow inventory of the lounge. It was a slow night, and they were relatively isolated. As his gaze swept the bar, Guinan had given him a long look and a subtle nod. He wasn’t even really sure what the nod meant, except that they would be given some space. “We should’ve come up with a better plan. One that had less risk.”

“We had limited intelligence. Given what we knew at the time, the risks seemed minimal. In retrospect, I don’t see what we could’ve done any differently. And, Will, I’m fine. I wasn’t hurt.”

He shook his head. “You were almost sacrificed to a non-existent deity,” he ground out, one hand lifting to rub his beard in frustration. “Do you know what it’s like to sit in a meeting with the captain and the current expert in Mintakan culture and hear that under these extraordinary circumstances, they might actually kill someone you care about?”

Deanna was leaning in now, arms resting on the table, hands clasped. He envied her level of calm and acceptance about this. “No, I do not. But,” she quickly added, “I do know what it’s like to sit on the bridge or in meetings and hear about missions where the people that I care deeply about may die. To see you and our friends leave on away teams when there are serious risks. To coordinate evacuations and general quarters, especially sauce separations, that leave me with the low-risk group and people I care for very much on the battle bridge.”

The intensity of her words hit him like a phaser blast, and Will was left speechless for long moments. He’d never taken much time to consider what it looked like from her end of things. And given her sympathetic smile, she realized this.

“It’s the life I chose, Will,” she added quietly after giving him some time to absorb her first statements. “We all signed up for Starfleet understanding the risks. Some of us have already lost loved ones in the line of duty…”

It was the line of duty that was the hardest to absorb. That reminder that her own father had died while serving. Amplified days later when Lieutenant Aster died on the archeological dig. It had impacted the crew, shocked them all because this had seemed like such a routine exploration. Worsened because she left behind Jeremy, now parent-less.

And in the last six days since that incident, Deanna had been on duty, more or less continuously caring for the boy. Worf had wanted to accompany both her and Jeremy to Starbase 24, where they would rendezvous with the boy’s aunt and uncle, but the Enterprise couldn’t spare him long enough. As it was, Deanna would barely make the connection back before they needed to jump to high warp in order to make their next mission. If she was delayed, it would be another week or more before a shuttle or transport would cross their path to bring her back.

In the end, it was O’Brien calling. “Transporter Room 3 to Commander Riker.”

“Riker here,” he replied instantly, straightening in his seat on the couch. He never used the desk in the ready room because it felt too much like the captain’s personal space.

“The counselor is back on board. You can take us to warp now.”

“Acknowledged,” Will replied, feeling a bit silly for not realizing sooner that O’Brien would be aware they were waiting for her arrival before moving on. That he would have anticipated the need to notify the bridge so they could go to warp.

Gathering the PADD he had been using, Will made his way back to the bridge. “Counselor Troi is back on board. Warp eight, on to our next coordinates,” he called to the helm before settling into the captain’s chair. He continued to fight his eagerness to see her back on board for himself. With a few commands from his PADD, he finished the plans he’d settled on the night before in anticipation of her return.

She had sent two communiques to him in as many days. They’d spoken only once through subspace, the first night after Jeremy had fallen asleep in one of the bunks on a small thirty passenger supply ship they’d caught a ride with. Deanna had looked very tired, eyes shadowed from lack of sleep that he hadn’t seen from her in a long time. It had been a rough past few months for her-- the psychological torment on Rana IV, nearly being sacrificed on Mintaka III, and the aftermath of Aster’s death. He’d set a hot bath to run in her quarters and left out some real chocolate that he’d managed to obtain on a recent starbase and kept a secret stash for the rough days when hot chocolate from the replicator wasn’t enough. Will had the sense from their subspace call that this would be one of those days.

And yet the bridge held only the scheduled crew members on a very routine shift. Textbook even. He’d rarely been so glad to hand over command to Data when it finally did end. In reality, he should be finding his way to the mess hall or Ten Forward for a meal. But he was determined not to wait any longer.

It didn’t take long to gain her quarters, and he politely pressed the button to notify her that she had a visitor. They came and went freely from each other’s quarters. They were both visitors with full access at any time. Besides that, as First Officer, he had override access to all parts of the ship. But he was a gentleman and would announce himself.

When there was no answer, he paused for a long moment. A glance up and down the hall confirmed that he was alone for now, and he was grateful. Everyone on board knew they were close. It wouldn't have been the first time either of them had been spotted outside the other’s quarters. Besides, their roles on the ship meant they often worked closely together. But he was also acutely aware that the crew knew their relationship was much more complicated than that.

“Computer, location of Counselor Deanna Troi,” he finally decided to consult on this, instead of simply assuming she was in her quarters. It would be easy enough to gain entry, but he hesitated to simply go in. She might be sleeping. Or she might want to be alone. A few dozen less rational explanations for no answer flitted through his mind, but he dismissed the various scenarios as absurd and unlikely.

“Counselor Deanna Troi is in Commander Riker’s quarters.”

Now that was not something he had not considered. With an about-face, he moved just down the corridor and through his own door. His lounge showed no evidence of a visitor, and he frowned to himself as he scanned the room to be sure he hadn’t missed anything. He gained his room and came to a full halt at the doorway.

There was a Betazoid in his bed. Soundly asleep. In the chair in the corner, her maroon uniform was folded neatly and her boots tucked out of the walkway. He was pretty sure he’d left at least a few articles of clothing on the floor, but it had been cleared out, most likely tossed in the laundry.

But what caught his breath was how small and worn out Deanna looked under the silvery Starfleet-issued blanket. The shadows under her eyes were more pronounced in the low light seeping in from the lounge. He wondered if she had even gone to her own quarters at all, and he suspected likely not.

For now, he was too awake to sleep. So he let himself linger for several moments more, absorbing that she was back on board. That she was getting the rest she so clearly needed. There would be time to catch up later. Will finally returned to his lounge and found something in the replicator menu that sounded appetizing and was able to focus enough to wrap up his daily report and close out two older reports before his mind wound down enough that he could think about sleeping, too.

A quick sonic shower relaxed him enough that Will knew meant he could finally get some rest. When he went in search of his usual blue pajamas, he found the top missing but tugged on the trousers and eased in beside Deanna. And he quickly found his missing top, which she had appropriated for her own sleepwear.

That particular realization touched on a mix of new feelings. Attraction. It wouldn't be the first time she had swiped something of his to sleep in. Secretly, he hoped it wouldn’t be the last time, either. And it touched on something tender, which surprised him all the more. That she was tired enough to borrow something, rather than make the effort of going to her own quarters, one room away, for her own things.

“Mmmm,” she murmured now, though Will could tell she remained on the other side of sleep.

“Sssh,” Will soothed, arms banding around her and pulling her closer to him, his body warmer than usual from the sonic shower. She relaxed into the comfort, as he’d hoped she would. “Back to sleep,” he murmured as he pressed a kiss into her hair. “I’m glad you’re back,” he breathed, thumb pressing at the nape of her neck, seeking those pressure points to soothe and relax her. He rubbed small circles until her breath evened out again, familiar and soothing against the crook of his neck and he followed her into deep sleep.

#imzadi #otp: imzadi #will riker #deanna troi #counselor troi #commander riker #my messed up space cinnamon nugget rolls

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bellatrixobsessed1 · 4 years

Text

White Out

Lateish Sokkla Saturday piece.

Summary: While on vacation to a ski resort, Azula and Sokka get stranded in a blizzard.

Night has already fallen, snowflakes stand sharply out against a dark sky. Outside the wind shrieks, throwing blasts of snow against the side of the resort. A fire blazes in fireplace and the TV blares the same warning, ‘Caution: Winter Weather Advisory in Effect. Blizzard. Low Temperatures Across The Map’. And as it scrolls, ‘Stay Inside If Possible.’ Across the town jobs have sent workers home and schools, were it not winter break, wouldn’t have opened at all. The advisory closes with a deep and loud buzz, Zuko knows that it will be back within the next half hour.

“They aren’t back yet.” Katara hasn’t stopped pacing since the first snow flake collided with the windowpane. Now that it is snowing more heavily she is visibly shaking.

“I’m sure that they’re on their way.” Zuko smiles. It is the nervous sort of smile. The kind that intends reassurance but betrays stress. “Azula was probably nagging Sokka to head back the minute they got to the top of the mountain.”

“But Sokka is annoyingly persistent. The last time we went skiing, we almost got stranded because they forgot that we went up for one more round.” Katara shares. She swallows and her look of horror amplifies. “Oh, gosh, Zuko...what if they…? All of the workers were sent home. What if…”

“They wouldn’t have just left them.”

“Mistakes happen, Zuko!”

He moves away from the fireplace and comes to stand in front of the lobby doors. A later car pulls in, fishtailing on the ice and narrowly missing the ‘handicapped only’ sign. The car comes to a halt in the snowback. He watches the man decide to forget about his luggage for the night. He hustles his children inside.

“‘S cold one out there.” He remarks with a good natured laugh as he passes by.

“Yeah, I can feel it from here.” He agrees.

.oOo.

His tears are born of frustration and fear. And regret. They freeze to his cheeks as soon as he sheds them. Azula has gone nearly still hours ago. He holds her against his chest, he thinks that her eyes might be frozen shut, snow clings to her lashes and her cheeks have gone from flushed with cold to a deathly pale.

To think that it had been such a good day. They’d gone up the mountain feeling cozy and enthusiastic. His hand was cupped around a steaming coffee and she had ordered white hot chocolate. Since sunrise she had been beating him down the mountain and the scoreboard was tipped so heavily in her favor (especially with the bonus points she had amassed for all of her tricks) that his only hope was to beat her in their final winner takes all competition.

Despite feeling bitter to the highest degree, he’d let her rest her head on his shoulder as the ski lift climbed. There was already a sharp chill in the air, the first sign of the forewarned snow storm.

“Are you sure?” Azula asked for the seventh time that he had bothered to count. “It’s supposed to be a bad storm.”

“You’re just afraid that I’m going to kick your ass this time!”

He remembers her frown that look of determination that had cut through her reluctance. He supposes that those were the words that had sealed her fate. The words that he will hate himself for, for the rest of his life. Though he isn’t sure that the rest of his life is that long anyhow.

“I’m not afraid. I’ll win.” She had folded her arms across her chest.

He looks at her stiff figure. He wishes that she did win, that she would just wake up and brag about how she’s surviving much better than he. But the fact is that she has always been more susceptible to the cold. She has been since they were children. But she always has been too stubborn to admit it; she would let her nose get bright red and runny before admitting that she wanted to go inside. He would always have to pretend that he was really cold too just to keep her from catching a cold.

Small as she is and with no extra padding, she doesn’t really stand a chance even wrapped in his coat and her own; and here is no going inside this time.

“I’m sorry, Azula. This is my fault.” He brushes a mittened hand over her face. Her hair is brittle, the strands plastered together with ice. He thinks that she doesn’t look human anymore, more like a doll or a mannequin. A snow covered statue. He holds his hand to her chest just to feel it rise and full, to feel the terrifyingly slow beat of her heart.

All he can do is pray and think over how things had come to unfold. They had made it to the top of the mountain and a good halfway down it. By then the flurries had started, the winds had began to gust with more force and Azula seemed to grow visibly concerned. She was more subdued, less talkative and harrowingly less competitive. He should have known to just cave and head back when she told him that it was fine and that he could just ‘have his stupid fucking victory’. But he was still high on happiness and adventure. He was still pumped and ready to continue their contest, he wanted to win fair and square.

By the time that he realized that they were in trouble visibility had dropped drastically. In mere seconds, they were in white out conditions. Azula was already shaking rather violently, her face a bright red and it wasn’t with anger. She, in fact, was looking almost meek and teary beneath a very forced bravado.

The determination never left her face.

He thinks that it is still there now.

They wandered for some time before Azula began to slow. “Sokka, I’m really cold.” She’d whispered. He remembers because for a while she simply kept repeating it, over and over again until he’d handed over his coat. Even then she kept up the mantra. Her shivering seeming to increase by the minute.

And then her mantra had evaporated into silence until she grew delirious enough to speak again. She started telling him about the time she and Zuko built a snowman with their father. He remembers none of it, probably because her speech was slurred to the point that he could only pick out, ‘Zuzu’, ‘father’, and ‘snowman’. The rest of the story had been garbled and indecipherable.

He had let her keep talking.

She had asked for his coat.

He reminded her that she already had it.

He was freezing his ass off.

Ten minutes later she asked again.

And then another ten minutes later.

He doesn’t think that she could remember asking him at all.

And then he had to fight with her as she tried to take her clothes off.

And now she is still in his arms.

And now he wants to go still too.

He hugs her tighter and rubs his cheek against hers. At least when they’re found, they’ll be found together and Zuko and Katara will know that they hadn’t been alone nor separated. That they had each other until the very end. Azula did anyhow, not that anyone else would be able to determine that.

For some reason, he expected her to open her mouth and murmur a final parting word.

He is so tired.

.oOo.

The conditions are much too perilous for a search party. They promise to send in the morning. Zuko notes the grim undertone. The search party that they will send out tomorrow will mostly be looking for bodies buried in the snow. And who knows how far from the path they have stayed. Sokka is an idiot—he tries not to say as much in front of Katara—and Azula is a fighter. He can’t imagine that they stayed in once place.

“Well!? What did they say? Are they sending people out?”

He presses his lips into a thin line. “Let’s go back to the room, Katara.”

“Zuko.” Her eyes grow misty. “Zuko no. They have to send someone. They can’t just...oh Zuko.” She flops down on one of the lobby sofas.

“Katara,” he says softly, “we can’t stay here all night.”

“But what if they get back?” She asks. “We have to be here.”

“You need some sleep. The desk clerk will give us a call if anyone comes in.”

But she doesn’t budge and nothing he can do will make her. She doesn’t move an inch until the door crashes open causing her to jerk.

Sokka makes it only just inside before swaying on his feet and collapsing. Azula falls with him.

And Zuko chokes. He wishes that he wouldn’t have brought her back. He’d rather hear that she froze to death than see it for himself.

He glares at Sokka. At his best friend. And he wishes that the boy had died too. He always got Azula into trouble. Not that she doesn’t do the same. But he knows that Sokka has caused this.

.oOo.

Waking up is like a dream; it is fuzzy and doesn’t make sense. Feels as though she shouldn’t be awake at all. And she supposed that she isn’t. Not entirely. Which might be why she asks, “did I win, Sokka?”

But Sokka isn’t there, she thinks that she is alone. She alone and confused. It is warm, she realizes. Warm and bundles in blankets. For a moment she doesn’t remember why this is significant.

And then it strikes her that she is in the hospital. She sits up and looks around the room, she hears the faint beeping of a heart monitor and wonders if her heart rate is healthy, she supposes that there would be doctors flocking to her if it wasn’t.

She realizes that Sokka is in the bed over, she wants to get up and go over to him, but she is tethered to her bed by IV’s and monitor wires. With nothing else to do, she lays back down. She doesn’t mean to, but she falls back asleep. She supposes that her body could use that.

She wakes up on and off through the night but Sokka never seems to be awake when she is and the nurse informs her that Zuko and Katara have just left. And that she was going to be out of the hospital before her parents’ plane landed. She can only imagine the earful that Zuko was going to get from father.

When she full comes around she is, as promised, back at the hotel. Her night stand is teeming with flowers and get well soon cards. She knows that Toph has received word because there is a handmade snowman that looks curiously like her, it has all of the trademarks of Poppy Beifong and all the offensive humor of her daughter.

“You’re finally awake.” Zuko notes with a smile. “Katara got you some soup and hot chocolate from the cafe.”

Azula rummages through her get well soon gifts, pulls out a quilt, and wraps it around herself. Once she gets to the table she inspects her hands and feet. All of her fingers and toes are accounted for. But she is terribly fatigued and her throat tickles. She is getting sick and she knows it. The soup will do her sore throat well. “Is Sokka up yet?” She asks, finding that her voice is already somewhat hoarse.

“Right here!” He weaves.

“This is all your fault.”

His face falls. “I know.”

Azula frowns, torn between annoyance and sympathy.

“We should have just gone home. I almost got you killed. I thought that you were dead.” He sputters. “I...you stopped moving and you were so cold.”

Her aggravation dissipates. “Well I’m still here, she mutters. Here and ready to make you suffer for it.”

“I already have.” He clearly isn’t in a joking mood. She can count that as a first. He holds up his hand, it is bandaged heavily. “I gave you my gloves because I thought that you needed them more.”

Her stomach flutters. “You lost your fingers?”

“So you didn’t have to.” He gives a sheepish smile. “Hey, it was my mistake. You shouldn’t have to pay for it.”

“I could have just let you have your stupid victory.” She folds her arms over her chest. She finishes her soup and sits down on his lap. “You’re warm, Sokka.”

He kisses the crook of her neck and she feels his arms wrap around her torso. “You’re hot.”

“I know.” She takes his formerly frostbitten hand and lifts it up to observe it. “Thank you for the gloves.”

He smiles again. “I don’t mind. You always hated the cold more than I did. And besides, I was getting tired of slamming that finger in the door anyways.”

It is a relief to hear him cracking jokes again.

“Seriously, you two?” Katara asks.

“She’s sick, Sokka. Do you want to get sick too?” Zuko adds.

Sokka wriggles his brows before pecking her on the lips. As if to prove Zuko’s point she turns away to cough several times.

“Go eat the rest of your soup, Azula.”

“Already finished.”

“You can have some of mine.” With his remaining good hand, he holds a spoonful out to her.

She takes the spoon and holds it out for him. “You eat your own soup.”

“Only if you help me.”

“Alright, fine. But only because you’re missing a finger and it makes Zuko mad.” Azula replies. He leans in for a bite but she pulls the spoon away. “Did I win?”

“What?”

“The skiing competition. Did I win?”

Sokka groans.

“I’d say that you both won.” Katara replies.

And Azula supposes that she is right. They’d beaten the cold more or less and they had beaten death, if only barely. The night is a blur in her mind but Sokka mentions having to carry her several miles down the mountain. She won’t say it out loud, but she thinks that counts as a winner takes all sort of victory.

She holds out the spoon for him.

.oOo.

He curls up next to her in the bed. He plans on savoring it, both of their parents will be in tomorrow, weather permitting, and they will spend the rest of their vacation supervised. He doesn’t count on it, they had tried to make it out the minute Katara had made her distressed phone call.

He has another trip to the hospital the next morning, a follow up. But tonight he can relax. He can’t help but be at least somewhat bitter at how this vacation has ended up, but when Azula rolls over to face him with a sleepy murmur, he finds that it is okay.

He watches snow building up against windowpane and Azula snuggles up against him. It is more than a relief to feel her body heat. To know that she has body heat again. Granted, she is now burning up with fever, but she seems to be doing well enough. Mostly she is drowsy and lethargic. But cold medicine keeps takes the brunt off of it as his painkillers take the edge off of his own ailment.

She sniffles and her eyes flutter open.

He reaches for the book on the nightstand. So far, each time she has woken up, she requested that he read her back to sleep. If he is lucky she offers to read to him until she grows too tired to continue.

They sit up and she leans on him as he finds the page that they’d left off on. Azula wraps the blanket more tightly around them. He supposes that this trip isn’t a complete disaster after all.

#Avatar The Last Airbender #Azula #Sokka #Sokkla #Sokkla Saturday #Fanfiction

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mr007pennyworth · 3 years

Text

Feeding Barry Headcanon

“Is this a bad time to bring up my blood sugars?”

If there was one thing Bruce had to make sure he calculated for when he built the Justice League was making sure his speedster didn't go hungry.

Money, was never the issue, the real issue came about making sure Barry had someone TO MAKE SURE he was eating enough to cope.

On an average day, just from watching Barry consume a full 18 inch pizza by himself and a guess from looking at the details of some of the foods he’d listed online, that he and Alfred would have there hands full.

Well, more Alfred.

Cue, Alfred.

When Bruce explained Barry’s apatite to Alfred at first, he didn't quite see the issue, Bruce downed 3,500 calories a day most of it just proteins so, another mouth to feed wasn’t all that hard, Dick had been on the same by the time he’d hit 16.

But when Bruce ran the simulation of Barry’s metabolism on the computer, they both began to panic.

How was a boy his age managing to feed himself the MINIMUM of DOUBLE Bruce’s calories a day on his budget?!

Alfred came to the conclusion that unless Barry ate roughly 7,000 calories a day at minimum, he’d start losing weight.

Bruce was in the trash in ten minutes, digging up the MacDonald's takeaway containers he’d bought Barry just that afternoon.

He’d given the kid his card and said go. Now he sat here with the boxes of 3 Bigs Mac’s, 6 double cheeseburgers, 3 packets of large fries, 20 chicken nuggets, a black coffee, a large irn bru and 5 apple pies. That was roughly 9,087 calories from what they could add up from the nutritional info.

That was LUNCH. That was...Barry’s minimum daily needs and only $50 out Bruce’s pocket.

$50, was pretty much Barry’s budget for THREE days of meals not just one.

Bruce went to argue with Barry that he needed to move in, Alfred managed to stop him.

Barry was all grown up and had been independent for too long to allow Bruce to walk into his life and smother him.

But something had to be done.

It took awhile but Barry did move in with some carefully plying by Alfred and the Butler managed to start tracking his food intake.

By making sure Barry got 6 meals a day for his 7,000 calories out of Bruce’s pocket, letting Barry add the rest became routine.

Breakfast, Brunch, Lunch, Afternoon Tea, Diner and Supper, Alfred was finally back to using his cook books that had been gathering dust.

Each meal had to have 1,160 calories and 30g or more of proteins to be any use to Barry’s development. Now, Alfred could have just given the boy a lump of cash and let him go bonkers on fast food, but the fat’s and sugars were the bigger hurdles, as much as it met his calories and his proteins in meat from burgers...it didn’t meet everything else.

Barry’s malnutrition he found didn’t just come from the lack of food, it was the lack of the RIGHT foods. Even though Alfred balanced all six of Barry’s meals a day to cater for vitamins and such it wouldn’t be enough in places, that was where medication would have to come in, now he finds one afternoon after offering the boy some ibuprofen, that they didn’t work, his metabolism swallowed the effects in just a few minutes. Even tripling the dose, it was out of his system in just 12 minutes. That ment that to account for the speed at which his body used it’s building blocks everything had to be at least TWENTY times the rate of a normal human every day just for Barry to get a close enough dose of his nutrition.

To put into perspective, an average male needs 500ug of Vitamin D a day, thats...30 minutes of sun. Barry, on the other hand needed over 10,000 a day just to function. Something that was easily helped with him being able to travel, a couples of hours in Australia and he’d get a solid top up, but running back ment using his powers, ment burning his body’s reserves, it was one hell of a game. Tablets, were Alfred’s go to. Ten dissolvable multi vitamin tablets in a 2 liter bottle of OJ a day and Barry was good to go, with his meals included, Alfred was glad to see Barry starting to look better after the first few months.

Until, he wasn’t.

Going to work without breakfast, had Alfred concerned, but he had his packed brunch and lunch, he had his extra cash for snacks. To find that the lunch had only been half eaten when he came home was massive question mark.

Dinner Time...he said he wasn’t hungry and Alfred had him dragged towards the cave in just a moment.

Just the ONE day of not eating his minimum calories and all the work that they had progressed on was fading. Barry still as much as he’d gotten off his chest about the anniversary of his mothers death, refused to eat.

IV’s it came too then.

Dragging the boy back upstairs, he handed him off to Bruce who situated him in his room while Alfred set about getting Barry on some IV drips.

Barry muttered on about the fuss but didn't fight Bruce keeping him in the bed as Alfred put IV catheters in both arms. 6 bags of 20% dextrose fluids wouldn’t do the job his meals should have but it would prevent him from going hypoglycemic for the rest of the day. In the mean time, Bruce set about finding his weak spot, his food weak spot. Now Barry liked a lot of food, he liked many different foods and Bruce was pretty willing to pay anything for him to eat something.

He returned a few hours later with takeaway Chinese food , Indian Food , Italian food as well as three large pizzas, Mexican food meals, nearly every MacDonald's burger, Fried Chicken bucket meals, Kebabs, 48 Krispy Kreme Dounuts, nine different 12 inch sub sandwiches, Frozen meals from several different supermarkets and even a huge three tier chocolate cake. Bruce had been about to run back out of the door when he recalled a Brazilian takeaway just outside of town as well as another chicken shop when Barry came out of his room pulling the IV stand with him woken up at all the kerfuffle Alfred was making.

“Master Bruce it’s midnight I doubt the boy is going to eat”

Barry, pulling out the IV’s then sat down at the table quietly as they argued, looking over everything Bruce had bought him slightly shy of the money he could imagine he’d spent. A smile broke out on his face at the sight of the brown bag.

“He’s just started gaining weight, Alf if he doesn't-” “I’m fully aware, Bruce look, one day won't kill him, the IV’s will hold on off the worst of the hypo-”

*crunch*

They turned to see the boy happily munching prawn crackers.

Alfred pretty much dropped to the sofa in relief. Bruce just started laughing before pulling out a chair to sit opposite the speedster who was now eyeing up the cake as he packed prawn crackers into one of kebabs.

Nobody said a word until Barry had consumed at least five of the items on the table and paused for a can of lemonade.

“Barry?”

The pup looks up to Alfred on the sofa who was sat with a cup of tea, paper work spread out across his lap as Bruce sat beside him with a his laptop. It was just past one one in the morning.

“Promise me something?”

Barry paused in reaching for the rice pot next to the Korma to indicate he was listening. “When this happens again, you’ll tell me when you’ll eat again before giving us a heart attack won’t you?”

The younger nodded and fought the laugh he almost made at Bruce getting whacked with the folder in Alfred’s hand at his old man response.

Suddenly, Curry wasn't what he wanted. He’d had a kebab, a pizza, three burgers, a subs sandwich and a whole bucket of chicken...he needed something sweet, picking up one of the boxes of dounuts he pads over to the sofa dropping himself between Alfred and Bruce who shared an intrigued look, Barry picks a dounut before pushing the box into Alfred’s lap with a cheeky smirk.

Alfred sighs, the boys puppy brown eyes were too hard to resist and picks one out putting it in his mouth before passing the box back over to Bruce, the vigilante grimaced and went to give them back but caught Barry’s look of confusion.

“Okay, okay, just one, I guess it won’t ruin my diet”

Grabbing the remote, Alfred passes it to Barry as he puts away the paperwork, Bruce does the same tucking away the laptop and watches as Barry flicks for a movie.

“Coffee, Dounuts and bad horror movies at one in the morning...I guess it beats being out in the rain eh” Bruce laughs licking chocolate off his fingers as Barry snuggles into Alfred’s side.

“It’s perfect” Barry smiles around a mouthful of dounut, pulling a face as Alfred goes to wipe the caramel dripping off his chin.

Feeding Barry was always going to be a challenge, but for our vigilante and Butler Dad, it was worth it just to see him happy.

#mr007pennyworth #Alfred and Barry Headcanon #Feeding Barry Headcanon

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witchygagirlwrites · 4 years

Text

Confessions

A friends with benefits arrangement with Kelly ends up being so much more. @gottaboopthesnoot fluff?

The first time you'd ended up in bed with Kelly both of you were coming off of being dumped. You walked into Molly's with the intention to just have a few drinks then head home alone. April and Ethan were headed out as you were headed in so you thanked Ethan for holding the door open for you then headed to the bar.

"Herrman my good man can I please get a whiskey on the rocks and make it a double" he let out a low whistle and started making your drink "Rough day sweetheart?" You wanted to laugh but simply shook your head "I lost two patients that came into med today then my dumbass now former boyfriend decided it was in fact too stressful to be dating a doctor who refused to transfer from emergency medicine" "Yikes. Here this will make you feel a little better" you took the glass from him with a smile and slid the money across the bar plus some for the tip jar "Thanks Herrman"

He walked away so you glanced around the room. Jay was sitting in the corner with Will, Adam and Kevin. They waved when they spotted you so headed over "Hey fellas how's it going?" Will cut his eyes at your glass "Bout as good as yours" you laughed then looked from Adam to Kevin "Bad day?" Kevin letting out a breath told you all you needed to know so you turned back towards the bar "Herrman I got the next round for this table!" He nodded "You got it sweetheart"

You patted Jay's shoulder before you walked off and said "see you boys later"

--------------------

You headed for a corner booth and spotted Kelly sitting alone. You sat next to him on a stool and bumped his hand "Well hello Severide" he smiled up at you "Hey Y/N" you noticed he was lacking a certain blonde appendage he'd acquired "Where's shit what's her name..Kristy? Brittany?" "Jessica and she dumped me by text around eleven this morning" you did laugh then and held up your phone "I got dumped at two in between losing a seventy year old to hypothermia and a sixteen year old to a ruptured appendix of all things" he tilted his head with a laugh "Ok you win"

--------------------

The two of you ended up talking for the better part of an hour. "Well I guess I'm gonna head home" you said pushing your glass away. "Want a ride?" He asked so you shrugged. He'd only had one beer and it was long gone "Sure"

You slipped your jacket back on then followed him outside and to where he'd parked his mustang. You smiled when he held the passenger door open "What a gentleman" he walked around then slid into the driver's seat. You watched him as you buckled up then he pulled out onto the road.

Kelly had always been a good looking guy. He was a little cocky at times but damn you'd bet two months salary he could back it up. You shook your head to clear the sudden rush of hormones then turned to look out the window until Kelly pulled up behind your car and parked. "Want to come in for some coffee?" You asked without even thinking and were rewarded with that gorgeous smile of his "Sure"

--------------------

One thing led to another and the morning light found the two of you tangled up in your sheets and each other. You woke up and felt his warmth at your back as memories from the previous night flooded your mind. When he woke up he let his lips trail lazily over your bare shoulder "Morning" hearing his voice so thick with sleep while feeling him pressed hard against you made you squirm slightly "Morning" you said with a smile that turned into a gasp when he bit down gently on your shoulder. "Are you wanting to continue last night?" You asked reaching back to pull him forward for a kiss "If you do" was his response.

--------------------

That had been over four months ago. The two of you weren't dating per say as much as blowing off steam or well you were pretty sure that's how it was for Kelly. You had started falling for him somewhere along the month and a half mark. How could you not? He was gorgeous, amazing in bed, one of the sweetest men you'd ever known and genuinely seemed to care about you.

You were scared that if you told him how you felt you'd more than likely not only lose him out your bed but as a friend also and you weren't really to risk it so you buried it.

--------------------

You were at work grabbing test results from Maggie when a bad wave of nausea washed over you. "You ok Y/N? You look a little green?" She asked so you forced a smile "I haven't eaten. After I sign off on Mrs. Rodriguez I'll come raid your snack drawer"

"You know where it is" she replied with a smile even if she still seemed apprehensive. You told Mrs. Rodriguez her aftercare instructions and was walking out her room when another wave of nausea hit and the next thing you knew the world went black.

---------------------

You woke up in an exam room with an iv of fluid going into your arm. Will was shining a light in your eyes "Jesus Y/N you scared all of us. I'm gonna run some bloodwork. It appears like you're just dehydrated but I want to make sure""Thanks Will" you said right before he walked out. Some doctor you were, couldn't even keep yourself healthy.

You heard a knock on the door before Maggie popped her head in with a bottle of juice in her hand "No solids until your blood work is back but this should help" you sat up a little and took the juice "Thanks Maggie. I don't know what happened. I mean I've been feeling a little off but I thought it was just all the hours I've been working" she patted your hand reassuringly then said "Just rest. We'll figure it out"

--------------------

"Run that by me one more time Halstead" you repeated despite reading the results yourself "You're about eight weeks. That's what caused the fainting. We can make you an appointment with the OB of your choice to discuss options but for today Goodwin wants you to head home and rest. Natalie is going to cover your shift for the next couple days"

"Thanks Will" you were in a bit of a fog as you walked out and to your car. How the hell were you supposed to tell Kelly?

-------------------

You made it a few blocks before you had to pull over. You were crying hard enough your shoulders were shaking what the hell were you going to do?

A baby. You were in love with Kelly and pregnant and he was clueless to both of those things. You wanted to keep the baby but you also knew you had to tell him.

-------------------

Once you managed to get home you grabbed a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. You needed a hot shower to clear your mind. You'd texted Kelly that Goodwin had sent you home so he'd in return texted back saying he'd be over the next morning when he got off shift.

At least you had twelve or so hours before you had to face him. You could eat and sleep.

----------------------

No matter how you laid all you could think about was the fact that you had a baby inside of you. Yours and Kelly's baby. You finally managed to fall asleep curled up on your side.

--------------------

You were woke up around seven to a pounding at your door and your phone ringing. You picked it up to see you had seven missed calls and the person currently calling was Kelly.

You answered it but instead of saying hello you asked "Is that you at my door?" "Been here for ten minutes sweetheart. Started to kick it in. I was getting worried" you smiled despite yourself "I'll come let you in" then hung up.

Your nerves started fluttering and you cursed when a wave of nausea hit you again. The moment you unlocked the door you barely saw Kelly's face before you had to hold up one finger and rush to the bathroom.

Kelly kicked the door shut and quickly followed you. When he saw the position you were in he crouched behind you pulling your hair out the way and started rubbing small circles into your back.

------------------

Once your stomach was emptied either nerves or hormones or both hit you and you started to cry. Kelly pulled you into his arms and sat leaned against the wall gently rocking you for god knows how long before you managed to calm down "Baby what's wrong?" He asked and you almost started crying again.

"Kelly I'm sorry" he pulled back far enough to look in your face "about what?" You could tell he was so confused about everything so you took a deep breath then just decided to rip the bandaid off "I'm in love with you and I'm eight weeks pregnant"

A thousand emotions flashed across his face. Shock was the most prominent. You started to try to stand up but he pulled you back down in his lap "Hold on Y/N just let me catch up. You said you love me?" You nodded "It's ok if you don't feel the same way" he cut you off by his lips crashing into yours.

When he pulled away he smiled "I love you too. I have for a while. Now about that second thing you said?" You swallowed hard and looked into those bright blue eyes that you loved so much "Remember that close call you had? And we spent the entire night in bed?" He nodded slowly "Well I apparently got pregnant that night" you nearly whispered glancing down at your hands.

Several long silent seconds flicked by before he said "So you love me and I'm gonna be a dad. Not how I figured this would go" you looked up to meet his eyes right as he added "but I'm happy and I will be here for you and our baby every step of the way"

You started crying again but this time it was tears of relief "I love you Kelly" "I love you too Y/N" he said with a smile then ran his hand across your stomach and leaned down before saying "and we both love you"

#kelly severide x reader #kelly severide fanfiction #chicago fire imagine #chicago fire fanfiction #chicago fire drabble

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