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perfectpaperbluebirds · 2 years

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'Great. Now I Have Your Germs All Over Me.’

@sicktember 2022 Prompt #5

Fandom/OCs: MCU Avengers, Sick!Clint Barton, Sick!Natasha Romanov

Title: Superman (It’s Not Easy)

Words: 1163

Inspiration: None yet again. (Didn’t realized there was so many like that TBH)

Author’s comments: Surprisingly there’s little-to-no contagion in my Sicktember docs. Probably because I was trying to keep the fics so short, and I like to see the whole contagion scenario play out if I’m going to write it. Even this prompt, which was just begging for some contagion, was not used for that purpose. Mainly because an angry caretaker isn’t my jam, and that was the only way I could read this prompt if the contagion actually happened here. So, instead today you get two miserable sickies for the price of one with our favorite MCU assassins. Honestly this is probably set after the sick!Tony fic from a few days ago. Makes sense to me, anyway. And yet, this is a Clintasha ship AU.

It was Tony’s fault that Clint and Natasha were sick. It had to be. After all, he had been in the office a few days prior, visibly shedding contagion everywhere. The pair tried to stay far away from him, but Tony wasn’t nearly as fastidious about washing his hands as they were, so they ended up catching his germs anyway. There weren't many things that kept them from their duties, but illness was definitely one of them, especially when they were unfortunate enough to be ill at the same time. When the symptoms started and they realized what had happened, they did what they always did in times like these: they made their way to one of their more comfortable safe houses, stocked up on supplies, and prepared to lay low for the duration, cutting off communication with the rest of the team temporarily.

Lounging in the living room of the aforementioned safe house, each to their own couch, the topic of Tony came up as Nat and Clint discussed their unfortunate luck with no small amount of bitterness.

“What do you think is a good punishment for someone who comes to work knowing they’re sick and contagious?” Clint asked idly, giving up on watching TV since watching sideways and lying down was giving him a headache.

“Reinfect them with another sickness once they’re better, since they chose to infect everyone else with theirs,” Natasha replied sleepily, wrapping her blanket tighter around herself with a sniffle.

“Hm, that’s clever. I was just going to say make them take care of everyone they infected until everyone was better.” He had to stop to cough before he could continue. “But more painful revenge might be sweeter.”

“You’d really trust Stark to be a good nurse? Because I wouldn’t trust him with anything that wasn’t mechanical.”

“He could at least fetch and carry things. I get so dizzy when I stand up. ‘Tash, do you–”

“No.”

“You don’t even know what I was going to ask,” Clint pouted.

“You were going to ask me to fetch or carry something for you, and the answer is no.”

“But I didn’t–”

“No. My fever was higher than yours when we last checked. That means I’m sicker than you, so you get to do your own fetching and carrying.”

Clint huffed in irritation, but knew he didn’t have a leg to stand on, so he sat up and slowly got to his feet, shivering and coughing miserably to make a point.

Natasha was unphased. “While you’re up, could you make me some tea, please?” she called sweetly.

Clint sighed dramatically, but began to pull down her tea supplies, muttering to himself around frequent coughing fits.

“My head is killing me, so don’t be surprised if I make your tea wrong,” he called peevishly at one point.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine. As long as it’s hot. That’s all I care about right now.”

A few minutes later, Clnt shuffled his way back to his couch, depositing a bowl of dry cereal, a glass of juice, and a glass of milk before returning to the kitchen. When he came back to the living room once more, he was carrying a steaming mug, which he held out to his companion. Just as she grabbed it, Clint’s breath hitched in an unexpected gasp, and he leaned forward out of habit, putting him that much closer to the mug and the hand that was grasping it.

“Hih– Hiihgk-KH’SSHHhuue! hh!-HYYIIZSHH’uuhh!! Ugh, god, sorry…” He belatedly brought his hand to his nose, a poor excuse for cover.

“Clint! Ugh, great, now I have your germs all over me,” Natasha groaned. “You sneezed right into my tea, too!”

Clint gave her a look as he returned to his own couch. “Pretty sure we have the same germs at the moment, ‘Tash. I don’t think you need to worry much.” He rifled through the mess of blankets he had been lying under until he found a package of tissues, pulling one out just in time to catch the pair of drips quivering at the corners of his nostrils that had been threatening to make him sneeze again.

“It’s still gross,” she muttered. Yet she had already taken a sip and was holding the mug close to her face, inhaling the steam. He had made her tea perfectly as always. She smiled a tiny bit at this thought. When she glanced back at him, though, the smile turned into a concerned frown. “You okay, Hawk?”

He had not touched his cereal yet, and was pressed back against the couch with his eyes closed, breathing slowly. “ ‘M really dizzy. Just give me a second,” he mumbled, clenching his fists.

She did as he asked and didn’t pester, but waited in silence. Eventually he unclenched, slowly opening his eyes to meet hers. They exchanged a tiny nod, checking in.

“Most days I’m pretty happy not being Superman, or super anything. That super immunity could really come in handy though,” Clint said, wiping his nose again as he at last added the milk to his cereal.

“It’s not easy being the weak ones,” Natasha agreed. “No one likes being reminded of their humanity.”

Clint tried to scoff, which turned into a cough. Natasha laughed at this, which also became a cough. The pair would have laughed at this too, but feeling it might be unwise, settled for exchanging a wan smile instead.

In due time, Natasha finished her tea. She assumed Clint had also finished since he’d been motionless for a bit, but when she turned to ask him if he would get her a refill, she found to her surprise that he had dozed off where he sat, the spoon still resting in his hand as his chest rose and fell in deep breaths. With a little sigh, she stood and went to fetch her own refill, casting a worried look at her partner as she passed him.

She made her tea and set it down by her seat, then moved to Clint’s side. She pressed a hand to his forehead, anticipating the burning heat she felt there, but worried by it nonetheless. Upon feeling her touch, the archer opened his eyes blearily.

“It’s not like you to fall asleep out of nowhere,” Natasha sighed, removing her hand and clearing his used bowl and glasses for him.

“I get sleepy when I’m running a fever, you know that.” He stretched carefully, yawning.

“It’s still unsettling.”

He smiled a little. “And you get anxious when you’re running a fever. Some things never change,” he chuckled, coughing over the last word.

She smiled too in spite of herself as she returned to her spot. “No, I suppose they don’t.”

“Well, you know what always helps both of those things? Sharing a bed for a nap. You get to feel safe and protected, and I get to sleep. Win win.”

Natasha smiled. “You’re absolutely right. At least that’s one thing that’s easy.”

#sicktember 2022 #prompt 5 #mcu avengers #sickfic #everyone is hotter with a fever

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skarmoree · 9 months

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midnight pharmacy (hit and) run

G, gen, neopolitan & roman torchwick

Roman's partner is feeling a little under the weather, as much as she tries to hide it from him.

written for @sicktember day 3: cramping pain, and day 20: hiding an illness

read here on ao3 / full fic under cut

“What are you, turtles?” Roman shouted, leaning back in his chair to watch the White Fang members move dust loads, “pick up the pace!”

Phase two. Move an entire warehouse worth of dust to a secondary location. Roman, as always, had found a way to weasel out of any heavy lifting, deciding to waste time instead by yelling at everyone else to get a move on.

Neo had found entertainment in plucking dirt specks off Roman’s hat, sitting on the table with her legs swinging gently.

“Really, Neo,” Roman commented to her, dropping his chair back onto all four legs, “you could’ve gone to supervise the other end.”

Neo straightened the feather.

When Cinder had sent the coordinates, Roman had been initially doubtful about any operation out of Mountain Glen working. What was a city abandoned to the Grimm going to do? And then he found they would be working from underground, with a handy path right underneath Vale itself, and things started to make a little more sense. What wasn’t making sense was Neo sticking by Roman’s side, knowing that he liked to have full control over their work, and leaving their new base’s supervision in someone else’s hands was… unlike her.

There was a heavy thud, and Roman’s head shot up. “You morons do realise you’re transporting live dust, correct?” he yelled over his shoulder, “try not to get us all killed!”

“Sorry sir!”

“If you’re sorry you won’t let it happen again!” Roman pinched the bridge of his nose. “I need a cigar.”

Neo transformed into that green lackey of Cinder’s, and mimed flicking a lighter.

“Curse that brat,” he muttered, “How didn’t I catch her dipping into my pocket?”

There was the tell-tale sound of Neo dropping the illusion, but if she responded any further, Roman didn’t see, leaning forwards so his elbows were on the table, still pinching his nose.

“They get harder to deal with every time, those kids,” he said, “and their boss— it’d be easier to pull this kinda thing off with all the details.”

Roman practically had all of Vale under his thumb. Cinder had other ideas. Bigger ideas.

He wasn’t fond of all of those said ideas, but money was money, no matter how dirty. Still, at least they provided him with the men needed to pull off whatever task they wanted— even if they were extremists from a human-hating organisation. But they did their jobs well enough, and ran cheaper than Junior’s hires— he’d daresay they were better too, even if just for the ability to work at night.

Roman sighed, straightening up so he could get to his feet, picking up his cane from beside him as he did so.

“I mean,” he continued, “they want me to speak at a rally? Me? I know I’m brilliantly persuasive when I need to be but come on— in front of a bunch of—” he broke off, waving his hand about vaguely.

“You never have to worry about this, of course,” Roman said idly, leaning on his cane to look to Neo, “consider yourself lucky.”

Neo pointed to herself innocently.

“Yes, you!” he replied, “though I do think an entire presentation led by you would be riveting, I fear I’d be the only one to keep up.”

Neo stuck her tongue out at Roman, setting his hat down and sliding off the table to cross the room to their pile of plans, underneath their lovingly annotated map. On top was the blueprint to the Paladin they’d managed to get their hands on, a scribble of Roman’s head in the cockpit. Neo had been very smug when she showed the art to Roman, and he proudly announced he would stick it to the fridge once they were done hiding out in this place.

Which wouldn’t be any time soon, going by the crawl the White Fang were moving at.

“We can’t move this by daylight without the cops swarming it instantly,” Roman shouted to nobody in particular, shoving a guy to move faster as he walked past, deftly grabbing a dust crystal and tucking it away into his own pocket. Easy. “and I’d rather take as little time as possible so we can get this show on the road.”

All the while, he watched Neo’s back, curiosity piqued. Though Neo wasn’t acting strangely, something felt… off. If it were anyone else, Roman would dare say they were being less chatty. But as it were, Neo was carrying on, business as usual.

There! She leant forwards, bracing her hands against the table for a moment before standing straight again.

“Say, Neo…” Roman began, and she swivelled on her heel to face him, one hand out for balance. He trained one eye to it, only to watch her seamlessly bring it up to sign a ‘what’, tipping her head to the side. He had to give her credit, she was good. “You feelin’ alright?”

She blinked at him, eyes switching colours. It was a trick she had picked up fairly recently, but it wouldn’t throw him off the scent. Another beat, and she gave him a wide grin, nodding firmly.

Then, she leant back against the table, crossing one foot over the other, watching him.

Classic standoff, then.

Roman leant back against his own table, letting his cane dangle from the wrist as he folded his arms. She mirrored the movement, catching on.

“You didn’t skip your way over there.”

Neo raised a single eyebrow, as if to say ‘I don’t have to skip everywhere, dummy’.

“You’ve been quieter.”

The eyebrow rose higher.

“In your own way,” Roman corrected, “are the extremists getting you down? Do you want to go on a good ol’ heist? Will that make you feel better?”

Neo shook her head, an exhale running through her whole body, shoulders deflating.

“But you love heists.”

She shrugged noncommittally, eyes returning to their natural sides, not bothering with keeping up her Semblance. She’d held onto that face earlier for an alarmingly short time, too.

Roman let out a dramatic sigh. “I suppose I will have to make this robbery on my own, then.”

Neo waved goodbye, not rising to the bait.

“Come on, you always jump to join me!”

In any other circumstance, Neo would mock him literally, jumping up (or at the very least rise up onto her toes). She didn’t even do that; instead just flicking her wrist in the approximation of one.

“How much sleep did you get last night?”

Neo’s answering glare was withering, and she held up eight fingers.

Roman gave a low whistle. “Eight, huh? Impressive. I only got two, myself.”

Neo pillowed her cheek on her hands.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll go to bed early tonight.”

She waved around at the warehouse, containers being loaded onto ships, White Fang members pushing trolleys and crates. Then, in slow motion, she pointed out the window to the moon.

“Already late. Going to take all night.”

A nod.

“Then I’ll sleep through the day,” Roman said, “my schedule’s already ruined beyond repair at this poi— hey don’t turn this about on me!”

Neo Signed an ‘oops’.

Roman jabbed his cane through the air at her. “So if you’re not tired, then what’s the problem?”

She shook her head.

“You might be a professional liar, sweetheart, but you can’t fool me,”

The gesture Neo made with her hand needed no translation.

Roman gave an over-the-top gasp, dropping his cane back onto the ground, free hand pressed to his chest. “Oh, my poor, innocent eyes!” he cried, “how will I ever survive you saying such a thing?”

Neo leant further back against her table, hint of a smile on her face, but nothing more.

“I don’t want to have to keep needling you,” Roman said softly, voice carrying across the warehouse with ease, “but I am worried, miniboss.”

Nothing, not even a batted eyelid to the nickname.

He took a step forward. “We’ve always told each other everything,” he said, really pushing the softness in his tone. He had to sell this. “I know you. If you’re not well, I don’t want you to force yourself and make it worse.”

He took a few more steps, closing the gap between the two of them. Neo didn’t move, watching him approach. Another step, and he could see the tense line of her shoulders, the knit of her brow. She really was holding something back, and Roman watched her for a moment longer, trying to piece things together.

“Have you been drinking water?”

A nod.

“Eaten?”

Another nod, slower, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“What,” Roman held his hands up in surrender, “are you gonna arrest me for expressing concern? I’ve committed worse crimes this week alone.”

She pursed her lips together, turning her face away. Roman took that as a sign to continue.

“Headache? Sore back? Heels hurting your feet?”

Neo pulled a face, before she transformed her face into her father’s. Roman let out an offended gasp.

“How dare you compare me to that man!”

She dropped the illusion, shoulders rising towards her ears. Was that too far?

Roman let out a sharp bark of laughter. “Wait, hold on—” he got out, “was that a ‘you're not my dad’?”

Neo stared at him for a beat, before she slowly nodded.

“Oh that’s hilarious,” Roman said, delighted, “he’d roll in his grave at it. Anyway, have you taken any painkillers for those cramps?”

She got halfway through another nod before she froze.

Hook, line, and sinker.

Roman spun to end up next to Neo, hiking himself half up onto the table, cane over his knees. “Really now, did you think I wouldn’t catch on?”

She humoured a so-so motion directed towards him. He sighed.

“Do you usually take painkillers?”

Neo pointedly refolded her arms at that, and Roman huffed out a noise halfway to a laugh, “it’s not a weakness to need them, you know. You’re as stubborn as they come, but if you need a little medical marvel to help you get through the day, I can’t blame you.”

Her shoulders lowered a little, and she shifted to face him a little more. He nodded down to his cane. “Please, Neo— I’m the last person who would deny aid.”

Neo’s expression softened, and Roman counted that as a victory. “So what do you need? Ibuprofen? Paracetamol? What’s that good shit called, codeine?

She shrugged in response, and Roman chuckled, “buyer’s discretion, alright.”

He went to move, but Neo tapped her wrist, where someone would usually wear a watch.

“I’m sure there’s a twenty-four hour pharmacy somewhere in the city,” Roman said. He crossed the room again, hooking his hat with the end of his cane as he walked past, setting it over his head. “Hold the fort. Make sure these animals don’t ruin all our hard work.”

Neo stomped twice to get his attention as he reached for the door handle, and Roman turned to look at her over his shoulder. “No, I’m not actually buying them, what do you take me for?”

Satisfied, Neo nodded, before slouching.

“Really weighing on you, huh?” Roman said, somewhat of a fond smile flitting over his face. He reached into his pocket, warmth from the fire dust crystal blooming in his hand, even through his glove. They had a warehouse full of the stuff; nobody was gonna notice one teeny tiny crystal go temporarily missing. And hey— it was for a good cause.

“Here, catch,” he called, throwing it towards Neo. With her quick reflexes she caught it easily, blinking at Roman in confusion.

“Heat helps. Take it easy while I’m gone, miniboss— no world domination plots, okay?”

He didn’t need to know Sign to know she said ‘no promises’.

_____

“Hello, I would like to steal your finest painkillers, please and thank you.”

The girl behind the counter looked up, eyes widening. She reached for a button, presumably an alarm, but Roman cut her off with his cane; “ah, ah, ah, none of that.”

“T-Torchwick!”

“Good, so you know of me,” Roman said, pleased, “so you’d know, then, that my recent exploits have all been dust-related.”

Eyes still gigantic, the girl nodded.

“So you must be wondering why I’m in a pharmacy, of all places.”

Slowly, the girl retracted her hand from reaching for the button, visibly trying to stay calm. “The thought- the thought is crossing m-my mind now, actually…”

Sure that she was no longer going to raise the alert, Roman waved a hand in dismissal, turning to the shelves to start picking through them for what he was searching for. “Well, unfortunately for you, I’m in a hurry, and I don’t have the time to explain my motives.”

“E-even villains need me-medication from time to time…?”

“Ooh, villains, I like that,” Roman said, comparing the dosage of two different brands, “usually I’m just called a criminal. You like stories?”

“Y-yes,” she kept glancing towards the button. Distract her.

“You got a favourite?”

“The boy and the beowolves.”

Perfect.

Roman hooked his cane over his forearm so he could have both hands free, reaching for another box. “That’s the one where the boy keeps raising the alarm about Grimm attacks, right?”

“Yes…” she glanced to the alarm button again, hand twitching.

“And when the huntsman arrived, they never found any evidence, and eventually stopped believing him?”

“Y-yes…” her response was quieter this time.

“See, here’s the fun thing about petty robbery, sweetheart,” he sidled back up to the counter, two kinds of painkillers in hand. For good measure, he nabbed a few chocolate bars from the front display, leaning against the counter.

Her eyes really were huge, if they widened any further they were bound to pop out of her skull. “There’s not enough evidence for there to be proof.”

“We- we ah, have security cameras.”

Roman nodded sympathetically, “of course you do,” he said, “and how often do they deter shoplifting?”

“They… they don’t.”

Roman couldn’t help the grin that spread over his face. “Correct. Farewell, now!” he called over his shoulder, voice dripping with sickly sweet false care. “Hope your boss doesn’t get too mad at you for this— you really don’t get paid enough for the trouble.”

By the time the girl had recovered enough to think about hitting the alarm button again, he was gone, shelves straightened up with no gaps in the products, boxes facing label forwards.

She mentally started writing her two weeks notice.

_____

Neo had taken up residence in Roman’s chair while he was gone, chin resting on one arm, the other still curled up around the dust crystal, holding it to her abdomen. One of the ships had taken off, leaving the warehouse significantly more empty than before, the remaining White Fang members still clearing it out.

Roman considered yelling something else at them for his own entertainment, but decided against it, striding across the floor towards Neo.

“Here you go,” Roman said, tossing the pilfered goods at his partner, “two kinds so you can stack them, and some chocolate as a bonus. Good to see you didn’t explode the place while I was out, that would’ve been terribly inconvenient. Months of work, up in smoke.”

Neo waved a hand around at the warehouse, expression reading something close to ‘did you want that to happen?’

“You deserve a pay raise. Truly.”

Neo rolled her eyes and got to work opening one of the packs, signing a quick ‘thanks’ to Roman.

“It was nothing,” he replied, “believe me, I know how terrible those cramps can be. Can’t say I’d try and brute force my way through them, though.”

Neo moved her hand to her mouth like she was drinking from a glass. Water.

Roman chuckled, pulling out a bottle and tossing it her way as well. “Didn’t forget about that,” he said.

Taking two tablets and chasing them up with water, Neo stuck her tongue out to show Roman she’d taken the medication. He laughed, knocking his cane into her leg.

“I don’t need to see that!” he complained, shooing Neo out of his chair. She resumed her occupation of the table, screwing the cap back onto the water and setting it beside her.

Roman dropped into his chair, tipping it back to rest his feet on the table beside Neo.

“Now, where were we?”

She cupped her hands around her mouth, as if yelling.

“You’re so right,” he agreed, before raising his voice to carry through the warehouse, “if any of you want to see even a hint of a lien for this work, you best hope you’re not slacking!”

Neo’s wheezy breath of a laugh was all he needed to know things would be fine from here on out.

#sicktember #sickfic #rwby #rwby fic #neopolitan #roman torchwick #skarmowriting

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hermitdrabbles56 · 2 years

Note

Oh, if you’re looking for Sicktember specific stuff, how abt Wind has The Sick and Twi makes him the Yeti Soup, which is somewhat similar to Grandmas Soup bc Taste Like Home And Love :)

If just General prompts, what abt Wind being freaked abt Horses because they don’t have those in the great sea :)

I hope you get Brain to write what you would like to :))))

I was waiting to reply to this until I had both written, but my brain is refusing. so I will add to if I ever manage to write the sick fic.

in the meantime? HORSE

Outset Island, what an interesting place to have landed on this new and bizarre journey of theirs. Everywhere smells of salt and fish, the odd trees occasionally dropping massive round nuts. Brightly colored flowers he'd never imagined could exist. And a truly massive, endless, lake. Or as he's been corrected several times already, an ocean. (He's still going to call it a lake just to irritate the veteran)

As horrifying as the prospect of being surrounded by endless water on a very small mass of land is, it's a very peaceful feeling place. Warm and sunny despite the uncomfortable sand that keeps finding its way into his boots.

And another pleasant perk? Absolutely nothing to do. So for the first time in weeks, the wayward ranch hand decides to take some time to tend to and absolutely pamper his horse. He's not all that great with explaining their weird journey anyways, so he's more than willing to leave the difficult explanations to the local hero to everyone else.

"There there, it's okay." Twilight coos as he brushes along Epona's neck as he scratches her cheek a bit, knowing full well she's been on edge since they got here. "You don't have to go anywhere near the water if you don't want to, I know it's scary seeing so much of it."

Epona gives a little snort and shakes her head before raising it out of his touch.

"Oh what, you want me to believe you're not a little shaken with all those wary glances?"

She gives an indignant little huff and raises her head higher as she looks away from him.

"Well pardon me m'lady, how dare I assume that the great Epona would be scared of a little water." Twilight smirks. "I assume you're not afraid of the portals either?"

She shuffles her front hooves in place and gives him a pointed look accompanied by snort that borders on mocking.

"Oh I'm the scared one am I? And you're just pretending for my sake, is that right little miss hardened warrior?" He questions as he rests his hands on his hips.

With a confident bray she nods her head insistently. Drawing an almost insulted scoff out of her rider.

"You're unbelievable, I've been pulled through more portals than apples you can count and you say I'm the scared one?" He frowns.

She gives an argumentative winny and stomps her hoof a bit.

"Suppose you've just been acting like a baby to get sugar cubes then huh? I guess you won't be needing any more of those?"

If looks could kill, this horse would be a mass murderer. Stomping her foot again with an insulted snort.

"No no, little miss hard as nails. I certainly wouldn't want anyone to think I'm coddling the great Epona."

Twilight steps back with a smirk just as she rears up with a loud winny. Coming down with a hard stomp where he'd been just a moment ago. He knows very well she'd never hurt him no matter how much they argue. But the startled gasp he hears from off behind him, is a reasonable reaction from anyone who's never seen the two of them bicker before.

Ears flicking a bit he turns to look in the direction of the small voice. Spotting a flash of pale blue as it disappears behind one of the odd looking spiky, fern like bush trees that's a little squaty and a little round. Epona giving a worried little knicker as she pads close to him again.

"It's alright you two, you can come out, she won't hurt you."

Very slowly the two figures peer around the odd looking tree. Twilight recognizes the tan skined blondes with bright sea green and blue eyes. He'd be lying if he said he didn't think this world's Link and his little sister were adorable.

"Sorry if she spooked you, she's a sweetheart I promise." Twilight says with a soft smile as Epona's large head comes to rest on his shoulder.

"You're..the one they call Rancher right..?" Link questions warily.

"That I am." He says with a nod and a smile.

"Why do they call you that?"

"Because it's what I am, I'm a rancher, also known as a farmer."

"What's a farmer..?"

Twilight can't help but chuckle about that. "It's someone who tends to a large amount of land that either grows massive crops, or cares for large herds of animals. For me specifically, I'm a goat herder. But I do other things too."

"....is that a goat?" Aryll questions as she points to Epona.

"Nope, this is Epona, she's a horse." He grins.

"What's a horse?" The little girl asks as she tilts her head a bit. "Also What's a goat if a horse isn't a goat."

"Well, a goat is a farm animal that produces milk, and in my village they also produce wool that can be used to make clothes. Meanwhile horses are work animals! Epona here carries me on her back, and makes it a lot easier to travel long distances on land. She can also pull carts and wagons if bribed enough." He explains happily as he pats her cheek.

"...are they all so…big?" Link asks warily.

"No, not necessarily. Depends on their breed." Twilight explains as he nuzzles into Epona a moment. "She's on the bigger end, she's a full bred war horse in the draft family. Draft horses are some of the biggest and strongest. Though I hear that the war horses of the Gerudo are even more formidable."

Epona had held her head up pridefully until that last part. Looking at Twilight and giving an insulted snort.

Twilight just rolls his eyes. "My apologies princess for implying that you aren't the most fearsome and intimidating steed around."

She gives him an unamused glare.

"I…can't tell if you're, actually talking to her, or you're fucking crazy.." Link says with a bit of concern.

Twilight blinks a moment before a snort escapes him and he breaks into a hearty bout of laughter. Epona giving a long suffering sigh of sorts and shaking her head.

"Crazy it is." Link decides which just makes Twilight laugh harder. Aryll beginning to giggle with him.

"I- assure you I'm not as insane as I look." Twilight manages as he calms down a bit. "I've known Epona for most of my life, we're apart of each other so you could say we have our own language."

He'd always felt this way since he was a kid, so at least he has a less insane way to explain that yes, he can talk to his horse. He can talk to any animal that he meets. Infact since arriving he's learned that the seagulls of Outset have rather insulting opinions of everyone but Link and his family. And that the pigs are easily amused by the kids' shenanigans, but he'll keep that to himself.

"...well..crazy or not. I have more questions." Aryll states.

"Ask away." He says with an amused smile.

"Is she soft?"

"Yes, especially after a good bath."

"Could she crush a coconut with her stompers?"

"I uh, I don't know what a coconut? Is? But as long as it's not a rock yes, she can crush things very easily with her hooves."

"Like skulls?" Link ponders.

"..I mean..technically." Twilight admits awkwardly as the memory of her getting fed up with a few bokoblins comes to mind.

"How do you not know what a coconut is?" Aryll frowns.

"I don't have coconuts where I'm from."

"How is that possible! Everywhere has coconuts!"

"Well..we also don't have an ocean in my kingdom. So that's probably why we don't have them."

"NO OCEAN?!" Both of the kids ask with confusion and a slight bit of horror.

He shakes his head a bit with an amused smile. "No ocean. Just a very big lake."

"So can you not swim?" Aryll asks

"I can swim! There's lots of water, just not this much water."

"Can she swim?" She asks as she points to Epona.

Twilight and Epona both shake their heads. "No, she's not a fan of deep water. She'll travel streams and creeks. But if it gets too deep it's a no go."

"What does she like then?" Link asks.

"Jumping, obstacle courses, herding and just…running wild through an open field."

Epona happily dances in place at the thought.

"What does she eat? Is she like the pigs?" Link asks.

Twilight gives a soft chuckle. "She can eat meat, but mainly she's vegetarian. Grass, hay, certain fruits and vegetables, and some grains."

"Sounds boring." Link frowns.

"Ehh, to us, yes. But to her it's the best thing in the world."

"....can..can I pet her..?" Aryll asks carefully.

Twilight looks at her and gives a kind smile. "She would absolutely love that."

Aryll gives a grin and moves to run forward but Link snatches her up. "Woah woah what! No, absolutely not."

"But why!!" Aryll wines as she wiggles in his strong hold as he lifts her up off the ground.

"She seems…plenty nice, but she almost crushed him earlier! She's literally called a war horse and her feet are bigger than your head and that's saying something!" Link defends with a worried tone.

"Hey your heads bigger than mine! Put me down he said she'd want to be pet!" Aryll grumbles as she starts kicking wildly.

"No! Absolutely not.."

"If it helps.." Twilight says calmly, catching the attention of the siblings before it turns into a full squabble. "She may be big, but she's grown up around children and babies. She gives the kids in my village rides all the time. And she's like a mother hen when she's around babies. I know our bickering looked upsetting, but I knew very well how she was going to react to me poking at her. And she would never ever rear up like that around you two had she'd known you were there."

"Doesn't change the fact that.."

Link trails off as he watches Epona back away from Twilight. Prancing around in a little circle before lying down in the grass without prompting. Her tail flicking lightly as she gets comfortable. Looking over at the kids with those big brown eyes and nickering softly.

Very slowly Link sets his little sister down. Swallowing thickly and watching Epona like a hawk. Meanwhile Aryll is all too happy to scamper over to the mare as soon as she's steady on her feet. Stopping just in front of her with a big grin as Twilight crouches down beside her.

"Just hold your hand out alright? She won't hurt you I promise."

Aryll does as she's told and her smile gets all the brighter as Epona nuzzles her big head into the girl's tiny hands. Little fingers starting to gently pet and scratch at her short coat, before the kid just giggles and full on hugs her muzzle while petting her cheek. Epona giving a happy little rumble in response.

The rumbles only continuing when she feels Link's tentative hands gently and hesitantly starting to pet along her neck. Then comb through her coarse mane and gently undo any tangles he finds.

"Okay…I..I guess you're not all that bad.." Link says quietly.

Twilight just gives a pleased smile. The moment feeling all too much like home.

#it's all fluff #just fluff #linked universe #lu twilight #lu wind #lu aryll #lu epona #fics #hermit responds!#hermit writes

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nurse-buckley · 2 years

Text

I posted 2,570 times in 2022

That's 55 more posts than 2021!

232 posts created (9%)

2,338 posts reblogged (91%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@firemedicdiaz

@princessfbi

@kitkatpancakestack

@ellelans

@fireladybuckley

I tagged 1,025 of my posts in 2022

#0 - 253 posts

#9-1-1 - 235 posts

#eddie diaz - 158 posts

#i got queue - 139 posts

#evan buckley - 138 posts

#queue - 138 posts

#9-1-1 spoilers - 135 posts

#911 spoilers - 131 posts

#buddie - 103 posts

#eurovision - 69 posts

Longest Tag: 136 characters

#a unknown breed some terrier mix of chaos adopted and rescued from a killing station in hungary originally called fifi but he's milo now

My Top Posts in 2022:

Sicktember - Day Four

Fandom: 9-1-1 Pairing: Buddie x Reader (platonic) Word Count: 1,293 words Prompt: @sicktember Alt. Prompt 5 “Can You Be Brave For Me?” Tagslist: @firemedicdiaz @fireladybuckley @winterreader-nowwriter @iamasimpingh0e @dayrin085 @hauntedmilkshakeghost @floralbuckleys @writingmysanity If you want to be added or removed from my tagslist, please let me know! Authors Note: CEO of getting these fics out 25 minutes before midnight! Once again, unbeta’d so I apologise for any mistakes! Requested by the amazing @firemedicdiaz I hope this helps cheer you up lovely <3

You let out a low groan as you feel someone shaking your shoulders in an attempt to rouse you, “Hey. Y/N? Can you hear me? Open your eyes for me sweetheart.” You can vaguely hear Eddie’s voice cutting through the haze, but your eyes are just too heavy.

Eddie moves his fingers to the side of your neck, feeling for your pulse .He lets out a sigh of relief to feel the gentle thrumming beneath his finger tips, even if it is a little fast for his liking. He gently shakes your shoulders once more, releasing another sigh of relief as your eyes begin to flutter open.

“Ed…?” you slurred, as consciousness returns to you. “What? Why am I on the floor?” Your mind still fuzzy, your head pounding, probably from the impact of your head hitting the floor considering the last thing you remember was helping Eddie in the kitchen before the world began to spin.

Eddie can sense your rising anxiety as you come to your senses a little more and attempt to sit up, easing you back down with a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Easy cariña, you fainted. Just lay back for me, you’re alright. We’ve got you,” he reassures.

‘We? Right…you were at Buck’s. You and Eddie had gone there after work to hang out.

You startle as you hear a noise from your side, watching as Buck comes into view and sets the first aid kit you knew he kept in his closet beside you. The younger man kneels beside you, opposite Eddie, unzipping the kit to pull out a piece of gauze before passing the kit over to Eddie.

Buck moves into your line of sight, taking your focus away from Eddie as he begins to pull out various pieces of equipment, sensing your anxiety growing more. “I’m just going to hold this to the side of your head, alright? You bumped your head pretty hard when you hit the floor.” He apologies as the contact causes you to flinch away, but he holds your head steady with his other hand on the other side of your face.

You see Eddie placing a stethoscope around his neck, and feel your breathing start to come a little quicker, suddenly feeling self-conscious of all the attention on you.

“You know, I’m actually feeling a lot better. It’s okay. I’m just really tired or it’s probably just low blood sugar. I’m fine…really. I don’t need the hospital or anything, really,” you stutter, trying to sit up once more.

“Hey,” Eddie speaks up from your other side, taking your hand in his and squeezing it reassuringly, “No one said anything about the hospital, I can’t rule it out just yet, but I just need to check you over, that’s non-negotiable. Can you be brave for me? Just for a little while.”

You nod defeatedly, allowing Buck to ease you back down this time. A stray tear rolls down your cheek at the thought of there being something wrong with you, but you know you’re in safe hands with the pair of them at your side.

“That’s it. Just lay back, we’ve got you. You’re safe,” Buck reassures, wiping away the stray tear with the pad of his thumb.

“Did you have any symptoms before you passed out? Any dizziness, blurred vision, palpitations?”

You give a worried look to Buck, but an encouraging nod from him has you nodding your head, “i-is that bad?”

“Try not to worry, it could be nothing,” Buck tries to reassure you.

“B-but it could be something. I’ve never passed out before,” your panic begins to rise once more, the thought of something being wrong with you overwhelming you.

“I need you to take a deep breath for me sweetheart,” Eddie says this time, “We need you calm okay, just let me worry about everything else.”

You mimic Eddie as he takes a slow, deep breath, feeling a little calmer. “Good, now, keep taking deep breaths with Buck here, and let me check you over. I’ll explain everything before I do it and if it gets too much we’ll take a break.”

Buck gently moves back into your line of vision, taking slow deep breaths for you to follow.

“I’m just going to check your pulse,” Eddie announces, gently placing his fingers around your wrist and glancing at his watch. You focus on your breath, following Buck and trying not to focus on the feeling of your pulse tapping away against Eddie’s touch.

He sets your arm down by your side, before picking up the blood pressure cuff from the kit next. “Is it alright if I just slip this on here?” You nod your consent, trying not to focus on the feeling of the cool fabric as Eddie wraps it tightly around your upper arm. You watch as he puts on the stethoscope and places it at the crook of your elbow, “Just a little squeeze here.” He inflates the cuff, just enough to be uncomfortable before releasing it, quickly and efficiently taking the reading.

“Your vitals are a little concerning,” Eddie quickly continues, before you work yourself up again, “I’m just going to check one more thing, is it alright if I check your blood sugar?”

The thought of the needle pricking your finger is enough to make bile rise at the back of your throat, but you knew Eddie wouldn’t be asking if he wasn’t certain.

As if he were able to read your mind, Eddie speaks up once more, “I’ll be as gentle as I can and it’ll be over before you know it.”

You nod once more, offering your middle finger to Eddie and holding out your free hand to Buck to hold as Eddie gets the necessary equipment together. “Do you want me to count down?” Eddie asks as he presses the tip of the lancet against your chosen finger.

“Count down please,” you ask as you look away and focus on Buck, squeezing his hand tighter.

“One…two…three.”

Before you have a chance to even think, you feel the needle quickly pinch your skin before Eddie squeezes your finger and takes the reading. Buck is quick, grabbing another piece of gauze from the packet he’d opened earlier and wraps it around the tip of your finger.

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99 notes - Posted September 4, 2022

Sicktember Day 9 - Home Remedy

Fandom: 9-1-1 Pairing: Buck x Reader Word Count: 789 words Prompt: @sicktember Day 9 - Home Remedy Tagslist: @firemedicdiaz @fireladybuckley @winterreader-nowwriter @iamasimpingh0e @dayrin085 @hauntedmilkshakeghost @floralbuckleys @writingmysanity If you want to be added or removed from my tagslist, please let me know! Authors Note: Is this me early posting (for me at least) for once? I have now officially finished my presentation so hopefully more regular posting - I am also going to be clearing my ask box and getting through my prompts missed during the big depression! Thank you @firemedicdiaz for having a quick glance at this, I hope you feel better soon love <3

You hate the feeling of migraines, but at the same time, when one hits, you can't remember a time before them. The pain is agonising, overtaking every one of your senses. Everything is too bright. Noises too loud. Movements causing the already dizzying nausea to worsen tenfold.

“Babe?” Buck calls out softly as he enters his apartment, squinting in the dim light to spot any sign of you. He knew you were no stranger to migraines and judging by the darkness and eerie silence that fell upon the loft, he guessed that is what was happening.

With no sign of you, he makes his way quietly up the stairs towards the bedroom, seeing you bundled under the duvet and your head buried into the pillows.

You feel the bed dip as Buck perches on the bed next to you, even that gentle movement was nauseating. He places a gentle hand on top of where he guesses your hip is under the covers, before softly uttering the word, “migraine?”

“Yeah,” you reply, just loud enough for him to hear you from beneath the cocoon you’d wrapped yourself in, whining as even the slightest movement causes the pain radiating from deep within your head to throb even more.

“Have you taken anything for it?” Buck asks again, being mindful to keep his voice low.

You chance coming out of the safety of blankets, thankful that Buck has kept the light off, “no…I feel too nauseous. Plus, nothing touches it, just gotta ride it out…” you whisper your reply.

“I think I might have something that could help,” you feel him shift from the bed and move into the bathroom.

You can see he’s carrying something, but you’re not sure of what in the dim light of the loft. He comes to kneel by your bedside, “do you trust me?”

There was no doubt in your mind anything Buck did would make the pain any worse, so with nothing to lose you slowly nod your head.

“Alright, I need you to shift around for me.” He guides you with a hand at the small of your back, helping to ease you down onto a pillow he’d laid out in front of him, so he has better access to your head.

“I did a little research after your last migraine and read that lavender oil and a head massage can work wonders,” he explains as he pops the cap from the small amber bottle and warms a few drops between his palms.

You wrinkle your nose, preparing for the overwhelming floral smell you’d encountered with some essential oils before, but are pleased to find the scent isn’t strong at all.

“Alright, just relax and if it gets too much, just let me know.”

You take a deep breath and close your eyes, feeling safe in Buck’s capable hands. Buck had given you massages before, but nothing prepared you for the pure bliss you felt as his touch gave you some relief, easing away the tension that had built up around your head, neck and shoulders.

He places his middle and index fingers on your temples and begins to massage the area in a circular motion with just enough pressure to counter the pressure you were feeling from the migraine, causing you to let out a low groan. The feeling of relief only grows as he moves down to your chin, gently stroking his fingers up from your jaw towards your temples again.

You hiss slightly as he moves his hands again, adding slight pressure with his thumbs along your eyebrows, right above where the pain is radiating from.

“I’m sorry,” Buck apologises, moving his hands away.

You make a move to grab his hands, placing them back over your head, “Nooo,” you whine, “don’t stop…feels good.”

He continues on, moving towards you neck and back, turning your head gently to the side cupping your neck with his hands and using his thumb to work out the knots deep within the tissue. You feel him working into the area at the base of your skull, rubbing small circular motions, before moving back to the rest of your head, slow circular motions, gently scratching your scalp.

Between Buck’s skilled hands and the relaxing scent of lavender you begin to relax more and more, the tension leaving your body along with the majority of the migraine pain. He finishes the massage, rubbing his hands together, warming a little more oil, before he places both his hands covering your forehead and eyes.

The gentle pressure he’s applying feels wonderful, “Buck…”

“Yeah?” he whispers his reply.

“I am going to need you to do this again and again when I’m feeling better…because this was amazing. Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

106 notes - Posted September 9, 2022

Eurovision 2022 opening.

173 notes - Posted May 14, 2022

Sicktember Day Nine - Emergency Room/ Ambulance

Fandom: 9-1-1 Pairing: Buck x Reader Word Count: 1,095 words Prompt: @sicktember Day 9 - Emergency Room/ Ambulance, written for the amazing @floralbuckleys Tagslist: @firemedicdiaz @fireladybuckley @winterreader-nowwriter @iamasimpingh0e @dayrin085 @hauntedmilkshakeghost @floralbuckleys @writingmysanity If you want to be added or removed from my tagslist, please let me know!

Buck had warned you on more than one occasion to be careful carrying stuff down the steep stairs of his loft, even more so now you had both welcomed the latest edition to your family. The shelter a block from your shared apartment had had a special event for the cats and kittens in their care with their kennels recently overwhelmed. With a lot of pleading from you and the endless cute cat photos you'd sent to Buck, he had eventually caved and you’d adopted Sammie, a beautiful little white and ginger cat who had definitely made the place her home.

“Come on girl,” you gently nudged her with your foot to try and get her to walk ahead of you, your hands full with a basket of laundry that had built up. You giggled as she didn't listen, flopping over dramatically in front of you before moving to weave in and out between your legs as you continued to ignore her.

You’d had a few near misses, Sammie wanting to be right by your side, rubbing her face against your legs as you attempted to move past her. “Sammie, come on sweetheart, you’re going to trip…” you didn’t have time to finish your sentence as you came tumbling down the stairs, Sammie running off to hide with her tail fluffed as the flying laundry startled her.

You tumbled down the stairs, each one seeming to find a new spot to hit, sending jolts of pain through your body until you flew forward, your head landing on the floor with a sickening thud.

With the wind knocked out of you it took a little while for the initial shock to wear off. You took a shaky breath before you began to move each of your legs, testing for injury, moving higher and higher as you checked your body over. When it came to checking your wrist, you let out a yelp as a jolt of pain shot up your arm. The jerk sent another pain through your head and you could already feel the large lump forming near your temple where you’d made impact with the ground. You lifted your hand to inspect the side of your head, gasping when it came away with a smear of blood from a cut on your forehead.

With the danger over, you glanced around as you heard a meow, the sound followed by Sammie who had come out from her hiding spot to investigate what had happened. She made her way over coming to nuzzle against your side; if you knew better you would think she was apologising for causing the accident.

“And this is why we’re careful on the stairs,” you groaned as you cautiously sat up. Sammie seemed to take this as an invitation and she climbed onto your lap, her paws coming to rest on your chest as she nuzzled against your face. “Alright, get off me. I guess I’ve got to go and get checked out at the hospital. What’s your dad going to say about this? You think we can get away without calling him from the ER?”

Being gentle, you shoved her off before you slowly got to your feet, glad you were the only injured party between you. Once you were sure you were okay to stand, you made your way to the bathroom, grabbed some gauze for your head, and left your apartment for the short walk to the hospital.

By the time you arrived in the ER and were triaged, the pain in your head and wrist had doubled and you were beginning to think maybe it would be a good time to call Buck.

“Y/N?”

Your thoughts were interrupted as you heard your name in an all too familiar voice. You turned just in time to see Buck and Eddie wheeling a patient into the ER, cursing whatever power had led them to bringing someone in at that exact moment.

“Heeeeeey babe. It’s not as bad as it looks,” you replied.

Buck wasted no time, checking that Eddie was okay being left with the patient before he made his way over to where you were sitting.

“Let me be the judge of that,” he said as his hands came to hover over you, afraid to hurt you as he checked over your injuries. He put a gentle hand over the one holding the bloodied gauze to your head, pulling it away with a hiss as he got a glimpse at the wound.

“Y/N what the hell happened? Why didn’t you call me?”

“I swear, I was going to as soon as the nurse saw me. I wasn’t looking where I was going with the laundry and Sammie got under my feet and I ended up falling down the last few steps.”

Buck sighed as he glanced over the various bruises that had begun to form over your body and the swelling in your wrist, “that looks like a lot more than a few,” he admonished. “I’m going to go catch up with Bobby and let him know I’m staying with you, you’ll need someone to take you home with that head injury…,” Buck paused, “wait…how did you get here anyway? Did you drive with a head injury? Y/n, do you even know how dangerous…”

“Buck,” you interrupted him. “I’m not that stupid, I didn’t drive here…I walked.” You realised as soon as you said it and by the look on Buck’s face that it probably wasn’t the wisest decision you had made either, but you decided to chalk that up to the head injury.

“Why didn’t you call 911, or me? You could have had a spinal injury, you could have a serious head injury and be unconscious on the side of the road right now,” he continued rambling off each and every worst case scenario he could think of.

“I know and I’m sorry, I was embarrassed, you’ve told me time and time again to watch out for Sammie and I didn’t listen.”

Buck silenced you with a chaste kiss to your forehead, “it doesn’t matter now, as long as you’re both okay. I’m going to take the rest of the shift off, take you home, and we’re going to get your favourite takeout and chill on the couch tonight.”

You stopped him as he began to turn and walk away to find his captain.

“What’s wrong baby?”

“Can we stop by the store and get Sammie a treat? She’s had a trauma today too!”

“Anything for you two,” he chuckled, shaking his head.

262 notes - Posted September 11, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

To Keep Me From Freezing

Fandom: 9-1-1 Word Count: 3,383 Pairing: Buck x Reader Warnings: Being locked in a walk in (honestly my biggest fear when I worked in a grocery store!) Minor medical exams/ mentions. Tagslist: @firemedicdiaz , @fireladybuckley @winterreader-nowwriter @iamasimpingh0e @dayrin085 @floralbuckleys If you want to be added or taken off my tagslist please let me know! Thank you @floralbuckleys and @firemedicdiaz for helping revamp and reading over this fic for me and @floralbuckleys for the amazing graphic. <3

‘Have a good shift.’

You smile as your phone lights up with a notification from Buck, you pocket the device with a sigh knowing it was time to start getting yourself ready to leave for work. You’d been taking on more shifts in the store trying to keep yourself busy while Buck was away for his long shifts. The added bonus of overtime was also a very good incentive.

Throwing on your store branded jacket and name tag, you grab your keys and make your way out of the door, walking the familiar route.

The shift went by as usual, stocking the shelves in your assigned aisle, helping the off customer here and there looking for various products or advice. You enjoyed the quiet of the night shifts, unlike the majority of your colleagues, fewer customers meant you could work mostly uninterrupted. Having the shelves fully stocked, neat and tidy at the end also gave you satisfaction, Buck teased you for it endlessly as you’d found yourself doing the same at home, constantly reminding him to rotate the food in the cupboards in date order.

You glanced at your watch, finding relief that you didn’t have long left of your shift. The display you’d been working on just needed a few finishing touches and then you could go home, shower and spend the day with your boyfriend. You spot your manager walking past, looking beyond stressed as she paces up and down the aisles looking for someone.

You sigh when her eyes land on you and she begins to make her way over to you. “Y/N, I hate to ask…” she begins.

“It’s fine, Elise. What’s up?” you reassure her, kicking yourself for the offer, hoping the task won’t take too long. You guessed you weren’t her first choice but you were happy to help if it meant a little more overtime.

You watch the relief wash over her face, happy you weren’t going to be another in what was probably a long line of colleagues who chose to blow her off. “Everyone’s gone home, and you know I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t desperate but that shelf in the walk-in freezer is broken again, someone’s just left stock all over the floor. I’ve gotta go to an appointment so I can’t stay until open,” she says all at once.

“Elise, it’s fine. I’ve got it. I’ll just finish up here and then I’ll see what I can do.”

She flashes you a smile, giving you a clap on the shoulder before turning to leave. “You’re a lifesaver!” Elise tosses you the keys to the store, going over the instructions on how to lock up when you finish, assuring you’d be paid for the overtime. She continues her thank yous as she walks away, leaving you by yourself in the store.

You pull out your phone, sending a quick text to Buck, ‘might be home a little later, gotta fix something in the walk-in and then lock up. Going to need a hot shower when I get in…maybe someone to join me too?’ You sent with a few emojis.

Your phone lights up as the three dots appear, then disappear as Buck decides on how to respond. You let out a laugh as your phone buzzes with a new notification, Buck having replied with a few suggestive emojis.

Pocketing your phone once more, you zip up your jacket as far as it can go and pull on the gloves before heading to the back of the store to the walk-in freezer. You should feel slightly ridiculous at the attire, considering the climate you live in, but they were needed in the biting 0 degrees of the freezer.

The cool air hits you as soon as the doors open, causing you to suck in a deep breath. Your boss hadn’t been lying when she’d said the stock was everywhere. In fact, she probably hadn’t been entirely truthful with you. Realizing you would probably be in there longer than you thought, you decide to close the door behind you, not wanting to let in the warm air or hear the robotic voice reminding you ‘door open, please close the door,’ on an endless loop.

Unsure of where to start, you begin by shifting the stock around to give you a bit more room to work. It probably wasn’t the wisest decision to go in with only your jacket, but you knew the sooner you got in, the sooner you would be out of there and you could be on your way home. You shake off the cold, focussing on the task at hand, hoping you will be done soon.

Your fingers are numb and you’re barely able to grasp at the last few items by the time you are done, the gloves just about doing their jobs none they were damp from the melting ice from the frozen produce. With the shelf finally fixed, you make quick work of restacking the boxes of frozen vegetables and oven fries before turning to leave.

You give another pull on the handle, surprised as the motion jerks you. You were stuck. Not quite believing it, you give the door handle another hard yank, trying to keep the panic from rising further, but once again the door doesn't budge.

You try to swallow the anxiety that has risen in your chest as your biggest fear has come true. ‘The safety release, it’s there for a reason. Try that before you panic,’ you thought to yourself as you pulled on the emergency release next. Dread washes over you, the uncomfortable sensation of your stomach dropping with the realization that the door is still jammed tightly shut.

With all the strength you could muster, you try one more time, hoping it is just a small build up of ice that is preventing your escape. Your strength, however, is of no use. The lever hardly budges. You slam your hands against the freezer food in frustration as you let out a choked sob as you finally admit to yourself that you’re stuck. Turning your back against the freezer door, you allow yourself to slide down, your emotions finally taking over as you let the tears you’ve been holding back escape.

The tears only made you colder as the moisture hits the cold air. You try, in vain, to stop, hiccupping as you try to choke back the tears; but the fear and anxiety were too much.

You pull out your phone from your pocket, glancing at the top right hand corner of the screen to see what you had expected; no signal. Elise had likely already left, so you knew there was no point in ringing the safety buzzer either. With no one to call and the store empty, you choked out another sob at the realization that the morning team wouldn’t be in for another hour.

With the knowledge you wouldn't be able to get out, your mind turns to survival mode. You vaguely remember something from one of the survival shows Buck loved to watch; you needed to keep calm. Panic would only burn energy and your body needs that to keep warm and to survive.

You glance around, noting the broken down cardboard boxes you’d cleared, sitting by the door to the freezer. You place a few on the floor, hoping it would be enough of a barrier to insulate you from the cold ground. You also spot the roll of saran wrap you know is kept in the freezer to wrap the full cages and begin to frantically unravel the rolls, folding it as you went to make a makeshift blanket.

You sit down on the insulated floor, wrapping the improvised blanket over your head and around your shoulders. With the remaining cardboard, you cover the rest of your body, hoping it will stave off the chill from the cool freezer air.

Despite the makeshift shelter, you can’t help the involuntary shivering causing your whole body to convulse as it tries to keep you warm.

You can gradually feel yourself growing more tired, not sure if it's from the cold air or the effect of the long shift you’d completed, not that you cared either way.

For once, you’re thankful for the thermal socks and heavy uncomfortable steel toe cap boots, at least your feet are warmer than your hands. You know it’s not looking good for you when you begin to lose the feeling in your fingers, despite having your arms wrapped around you and your hands tucked beneath your armpits. Rubbing your hands up and down your arms helps to warm you some, the action helps to keep your blood circulating, praying to any god who would listen that you’ll make it out of this alive.

You clumsily fumble your phone from your pocket, with the hope that by some miracle you might have at least one bar of signal, but as suspected, nothing. Checking the time, you sigh, sliding the phone back into your pocket, fumbling it slightly as your fingers are no longer cooperating.

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359 notes - Posted August 29, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #long post

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musashi · 2 years

Note

For the WIP tag game: I'd love to hear about "fine print (written in the stars)", that's such a pretty title!

thank u drew!!! i can't take credit for it, it's a lyric from funky at heart which is one of my franmaya songs, hehe. the whole vibe of that song is the fic i was trying to write.

thats my day 26 for sicktember! uhhhh i gave maya strep for fun. her and franziska spend most of the fic just sitting in the woods somewhere in Bamberg. SOMEONE cries. here's them:

“Be careful, Maya, you’re going to give me an ulcer,” Franziska says as Maya’s coughs turn into croaky giggles. “Honestly, what sort of trouble would you get into if I wasn’t here to stop you?”

“Hm. Well, just now I probably woulda fallen downstream and got swept away by pirates.”

“Pirates?” A single raised eyebrow.

“What are German pirates even like?” Maya wonders for a moment, and then swiftly moves on. “From there I think they’d see how much grit I got and make me their captain on the spot. And then I’d probably eventually die of scurvy, but it’d be fine ‘cause I’d spend my final days beside my hot pirate wife who looks exactly like you but has a parrot on her shoulder.”

“Watch your tongue,” Franziska says with a trembling, anticipatory grin, “a parrot killed my father.”

“Franziska von Karma!”

obsessed.

(ask me about my writing WIPs!)

#wendy answers #respectful-ramblings #wendy writing

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yes-i-am-happyaspie · 3 years

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It turns out that my (probably) flu was definitely not the flu. My husband tested positive for Covid, and now my entire household has it. I am thankful we were all fully vaccinated. That more than likely being what has prevented out symptoms from being more than just an uncomfortable inconvenience. But, man, I'm tired all the time! Hence, the early posting of today's @sicktember fic!

Sick Days Aren’t All They’re Cracked Up to Be - happyaspie

Part 4 of the Sicktember 2021 series and Part 3 of the Second Chances series

No Archive Warnings || Rated T || Word Count 3759

Summary: Peter needs a break but is reluctant to talk to his fathers about it. Mostly because he’s sure they’ll have different ideas as to what that break should look like. So, in order to avoid losing time in the Spider-suit, he decides that his best course of action is to fake being sick in order to get an extra day off from school. However, unbeknownst to him, his parents are onto his scheme and more than ready to make him question his decisions. In the form of some intensely overprotective coddling.

Sicktember Prompts: - Faking It - Blankets - Warm Soup

[Even though this story is ties into my Superfamily/Homeless Peter Parker AU, it can be read on it's own 🙂]

[Excerpt Below the Cut]

“But, Ned, the semester just started!” Peter hissed into his phone. “Yet my brain is fried and I don’t even know why. All I do know is that a two-day weekend isn’t enough.” He’d returned to school after winter break ready to jump right in and had been doing great. Then out of nowhere, his ability to focus had disappeared, and forcing himself to go to school every day had become difficult. “I just- I need a break, Man.”

“Just tell your parents that you need an extra day, Dude,” Ned replied as if that was the most logical thing in the world. “Like a mental health day or something. I’m sure they would understand.”

Peter sighed and ran a hand down his face. “If I tell them that I need a break they aren’t going to give me an extra day off from school, they’re going to tell me not to patrol for a while and I need to be Spider-man, Ned. I need to be able to have that outlet to move and climb- it’s literally in my DNA,” he attempted to explain, growing frustrated the longer he spoke. He just- didn't want to go to school and knowing there was no way out of it was making his stomach twist. “I just need one extra day at home, watching movies and eating ice cream or something,” he wistfully stated, leaning back onto his pillows and fidgeting with one of the action figures that lived on his bedside table.

“And you really don’t think that they would let you take a day like that?” Ned skeptically inquired.

“They’re always telling me that I need to ‘balance’ patrolling with ‘life’ and if I tell them that I’m overwhelmed, they’ll automatically assume that Spider-man is the problem and either make me cut back or take it away altogether,” Peter returned without hesitation. He’d taken exactly two breaks from patrolling since he’d taken on the alter-ego. The first one had been right after he’d come to live with the Stark-Rogers’ and even though it had been two whole weeks, it hadn't been so bad. He’d been exhausted, adjusting to a new home and recovering physically. Then there had been the time that he’d been grounded for three days after trying to sneak out one night and that had nearly killed him. A break from Spider-man would cause more stress than it prevented and that was the last thing he needed. He just didn’t think he would ever be able to get his parents to believe that.

“Well,” Ned thoughtfully replied. “What if you were sick?”

The line went quiet for a few seconds while Peter allowed that question to run through his head. His parents, Tony, in particular, tended to be overprotective and it was reasonable to assume that they would insist on him staying home from school if they believed he was sick. “Ned, you are an absolute genius!” he said, having already decided that it wouldn't be terribly difficult to convince the two men that he wasn’t feeling well. He just needed to choose his symptoms carefully.

[Continue Reading on AO3]

#sicktember2021 #faking sick #superfamily #stony #peter parker #steve rogers #tony stark #marvel fanfiction #alternate universe #homeless peter parker au #hurt/comfot #domestic fluff #so much fluff #tw illness #tw covid

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ak47stylegirl · 3 years

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Hmm... sicktember, huh? Let's go for #10 and I'm going to be boringly predictable with Scott :D Your choice of caretaker.

This was fun 😁 I know you love Scott and Gordon, so the choice of the caretaker was easy lol 😂 I hope you enjoy it! I went with a little bit of a different writing style with this fic, so hopes it's good 😅

I'm doing this challenge by asks, so send in a number and a bro, and I'll get to writing 😄 Overload my inbox!! 😁

----

Glass crunched under his feet.

“Wow…this place was asking to become a danger zone...” Gordon muttered, gingerly tipping over an empty beaker with a finger. “What even was this place?”

It was hard to tell what was dust and what was rubble from the earthquake; everything was in some form of ruin or decay.

“The building is listed as an office complex, owned by lee frank industries, but….” John frowned, sounding perplexed, “something doesn't add up….”

Frustration was evident in John’s voice, because there was nothing that John hated more than a puzzle piece to a mystery being just outside his grasp.

That or false information, especially incorrect space facts…oh boy, does John go feral if you joke that the sun is just a planet that‘s on fire.

So does Alan, though he's more the barking puppy variety, Gordon thought with a smirk, oh that was a great mental image…

“You’re right about that, John….” Scott reported, stormy blue eyes scanning the room, back rigid. “This looks more like a lab than an office, and not one that reaches any legal safety requirements either….”

Gordon straightens unconsciously, becoming more alert and focused. He understood what Scott was implying and what that could mean…

The building’s stability may not be the only danger…

There was a tense pause on the comms before “I’m contacting the GDF….” John's voice filtered over the comms, each word heavy with the severity of the possible growing situation.

“Good plan, John….” Scott nodded, looking left and right down the long complex “in the meantime, Gordon and I should look for survivors….”

“FAB….just..” John’s professional mask slipped for a second, his voice softening, “be careful down there, okay?”

“Will do…” Scott nodded, with a small, confident smile, catching his eye, “Gordon will search the left side of the building, while I take the right, all agreed?”

“FAB”, Gordon and John replied in unison.

“Good”, Scott’s eyes hardened, his commander persona coming to the forefront, “comms stay on at all times, is that understood?”

Acknowledgement was voiced, and in Gordon’s case, in the form of a mock salute, and an ‘Ay, Ay captain!’

Scott’s eye roll could be felt from space.

----

So far, the left side of the building was devoid of life, a ghost town of broken glass and rubble.

And bodies.

“I found another one, John..” Gordon grimaced, crouching down next to a middle-aged female, who was crushed by a shelf, chemical burns making her unrecognisable.

“Damn it, Scott was right, this place was a safety hazard waiting to happen…” Gordon looked around the small stuffy room, bottles of chemicals stacked haphazardly, sharp objects just discard all over the place.

Brains would have a fit if he saw this…

“Had any luck on your end, Scott?”

“Not so far, but keep-” the sounds of harsh coughing could be heard over the comms, “-keep l-looking….”

Gordon frowned, “Scott, are you alright?”

There was more coughing before Scott replied, “I’m f-fine…I just-” Scott groaned, his words starting to slur, “-I just cau-caught my..my b-breath, I-”

There was more coughing and a thud on the other end, followed by Scott’s comm going dead. “Scott?! Scott, are you alright?! Answer me!”

Gordon started to run full speed, all thoughts of lab safety abandoned in his panic. All of the alarm bells in his head were ringing; something’s wrong, something’s wrong.

Something’s wrong!

“Gordon, put your helmet on now!” John barked over the comm line, causing him to halt and follow without question. “There is an unknown gas radiating from Scott’s location! GDF and Virgil are on route now!”

Gordon took off in a sprint again, helmet now secured. “Good! We may need it! Do you have eyes on Scott?”

Gordon flew around a corner.

“He’s still not responding; vitals show he’s conscious, but none of them are in a healthy range.”

John sounded worried. Not a good sign. As was the yelling he could hear as he neared Scott’s location, but something was off about it.

The only one yelling was Scott.

He slowed down his pace, not wanting to run into an unknown, possibly dangerous situation unprepared.

“No! No! Gordon! Please, wake up!” Scott could be heard screaming; his voice filled with pure anguish. “Please!!”

A shiver ran down Gordon’s spine, “John, you don’t have any clue what that gas does, do you?” He whispered tensely; honestly a bit freaked out by Scott’s cries.

“I’m working on it….” John growled, sounding beyond frustrated that vital information was alluring him. “Don’t engage Scott until we know what we’re dealing with, okay?”

Gordon scowled, hearing Scott scream and cry his name again. “Sorry John, no can do….” He turned the corner, finally laying eyes on his brother.

Scott was hunched over a body, screaming his name and begging the dead body to wake up, sob rattling Scott’s shoulders.

Scott thought that body, a young adult male, was him, Gordon realised in horror, his face going ash white.

“Scotty?” Gordon spoke softly, taking a cautious step forward, his hands held up in front of him in a gesture of peace. “You’re okay there, bro?”

Scott’s head snapped up at his entrance, blue eyes locking onto him. Blue eyes which were cloudy and glazed over.

Gordon grimaced, taking another step forward.

Yeah, Scott wasn’t in his right mind; that was plainly obvious.

The situation changed so fast Gordon barely had time to react as Scott launched to his feet with a snarl, yelling, “You!”

Gordon barely dodged Scott’s punch, his eyes going wide. “Whoa! Scott, it’s me! Gordon!” He pleaded as he dodged Scott’s attacks.

That seemed to just make Scott angrier, “don’t you lie to me, you bastard! You killed my brother!!” Scott jumped at him, finally managing to knock him off his feet.

This was bad! This was very bad! Gordon thought as his big brother started to punch him, pinning him down with a crazed look in his eyes.

Virgil and John were yelling at him over comms. He had to do something! Gordon thought as he struggled against Scott, whose punches were becoming more painful.

Gordon’s elbow stuck Scott’s cheek, stunning Scott long enough for him to shove Scott off, and put distance between them.

“Scott! Stop this! I don’t know what you’re seeing, but it’s not true!” Gordon yelled as he once again began to dodge Scott’s attacks, his ribs protesting immensely. “Please, Scotty!”

Scott’s attacks stopped, blue eyes clearing for a second, “Gordy?” Scott’s voice trembled, sounding so terrified.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s me, Scooter….” He took a hesitant step forward, a plan forming in his mind. “We were on a rescue, remember?”

He took another step forward, seeing that Scott was staying still, slowly reaching for the emergency sedative in his sash.

Scott’s eyes latched on his hand movement, eyes going wide, and the anger returned. “Ahhhrgh! Get out of my head!” Scott shook his head, gripping his hair in his fists. “Your tricks won’t work on me, Hood!”

Well, that explains a lot…

He took another step forward, “Scotty, I promise I’m not-“

“Enough lies!” Scott screamed, tackling him to the ground, his head hitting the ground hard, being momentarily stunned.

“No!” Gordon cried out as Scott knocked the syringe from his hand, it rolling just out of his reach.

“It’s over, Hood!” Scott sneered, blue eyes devoid of their normal kindness and love, “you’re never going to hurt my family ever again!”

Gordon looked into emotionless eyes, and felt proper fear of his brother for the first time in his life.

Scott wasn’t going to stop; he was going to...

Gordon growled, his eyes hardening in detention as his fist met Scott’s nose. Scott cried out in pain, distracted for a second, and in that second, he was able to wrestle Scott under him.

While Gordon was quick and agile, a good fighter in his own right, Scott was stronger than him. The fight quickly escalated into a wrestling match, neither letting the other get the upper hand.

Gordon spotted the syringe near them, just as Scott got the upper hand, slamming him into the ground.

No matter how much he struggled, Scott had him well and truly pinned this time, one arm pinned above his head.

One arm was free, but mobility was limited by Scott’s body weight on his upper shoulder and arm. But he had to try!

“Scott! I’m just tr-” Scott pressed his forearm against Gordon’s throat, beginning to cut off his air supply “,-t-trying to help you!”

His fingers brushed against the syringe, it slipping just out of his grasp. So close! So close!

“Like hell you are!” Scott cried, tears of anguish and fury pouring down his cheeks. “What have we ever done to you?! What have my little brothers done?!”

Tears pickled at the corners of Gordon’s eyes, his vision darkening just as his hand finally gripped the syringe.

He didn’t hesitate, slamming the syringe into Scott’s thigh with all of his remaining strength. Scott cried out, the pressure on his throat disappearing as Scott leapt away from him.

“What did you-” Scott stumbled, falling on his butt, eyes starting to blink rapidly. “What did you just...just inject into me?!”

Gordon slowly sat up, wrapping an arm around his ribs. “Scotty, it’s okay….” He moved towards Scott, who tried to flinch away, but only ended up collapsing onto his side.

“No, no, this, this can’t be h-happening..” Scott whimpered in despair, unable to lift his head or stop Gordon from moving towards him. “P-please, not G-Gordy….”

“I’m right here; I’m right here, Scotty..” Gordon pulled Scott onto his lap, wrapping his arms around him tightly. “It’s alright, shh come on, go to sleep now….”

Scott’s eyes were becoming heavy, each blink becoming more prolonged than the last, “No, I can’t…I gotta…I gotta…“

Scott’s breathing evened out, eyes slipping close and not opening again. Gordon sighed in relief, slumping backwards, Scott’s head resting against his chest.

“You owe me big time, big brother…” Gordon whispered with a small pained smile, hearing Virgil’s voice in the distance. “So very, very much….”

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #scott tracy #gordon tracy #john tracy #virgil tracy #alan tracy #sicktember2021

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snezandsickheadcanons · 3 years

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@sicktember Day 8: Contagion

Characters: Gil and Ki//rei

this one is actually a sequel to a fic i wrote a few years ago, tho reading that isn’t super necessary. technically gil isn’t really the focus in this one but still lol

He should have seen this coming.

His bedroom door slammed open. “Kotomine!” announced Gilgamesh, still a bit sick though much better than he had been a few days ago. His energy certainly had returned, at least. “It is your birthday, is it not? I shall grace you with my company. Let us have some wine.” Only then did he seem to notice Kirei laying there.

Kirei sighed and coughed. He rubbed his eyes as he sat up, trying to dull his pressing headache. “I’m sorry for dampening your spirits, but I’m not exactly up for that right now.” His weakened voice had sunk even lower than its usual octave.

“Hm. Most unfortunate,” Gilgamesh said, averting his gaze and sniffling. “Though I suppose it was impossible for you to escape what my own body fell victim to.”

“HhSHOO!” After lowering his arm back down from where he’d raised it to catch his sneeze, Kirei replied, “I’ll make it up to you. If you’ll allow it, I’d like to go back to sleep.”

An annoyed and almost confused expression crossed Gilgamesh’s face. “Fool. Are you saying you have no regrets about spending your own birthday sick in bed?”

“I’ve never felt strongly about my birthday one way or another. It’s simply another day of the year.”

The king stared at him, huffed, and crossed his arms. “How boring. Is there nothing you do to enjoy yourself on this day?”

“Well,” Kirei said, in between coughs, “you know I only embraced my… hobby this past year, so no. I suppose my father and my wife would sometimes try to get me things they thought I’d enjoy, but they gave up eventually.”

Gilgamesh laughed, which turned into a small coughing fit himself. “Perhaps I should go into town and fetch some filthy worm for you to kill as you please.”

“Ha,” said Kirei. “Between this and the…” He was interrupted by another sneeze. “The gift of your spice-filled agony the other day, I’m tempted to say you’ve developed a generous side. However, as fun as that sounds, I’m lacking the energy for it. I was going to sleep now so I could get some work done later.” Just talking this much was making his feverish head swim.

“I see,” said Gilgamesh with a nod. “Very well.” And without another word he turned and left.

When he woke up, Kirei found his bed more cramped than usual. Gilgamesh was sitting with his back against the headboard next to him, papers and pen in one hand with the other pressing a crumpled tissue up against his face. “What are you doing?” Kirei asked.

“Do your mere human eyes not work correctly? Has your illness stripped you of your sight, Kirei? A king should commend valuable subjects and reward them appropriately on special occasions. You are the only interesting person in this pathetic time, and I have already stated you should enjoy today. Therefore, I am lowering myself once again to help you with your work.” He flipped through the pages. “I must say, these church mongrels like to buzz like the flies they are.”

Kirei smirked, then coughed. Watching the King of Heroes become increasingly frustrated with complicated forms might not be such a bad way to spend his birthday after all.

#sicktember2021

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skarmoree · 9 months

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I will stay (all the way)

G, gen, lucina & custom f!robin (rae'lia) word count: 1023

Lucina catches an illness. Rae'lia keeps her child company.

written for @sicktember day 3: "what happened to your phenomenal immune system, huh?"

read here on ao3 / full fic under cut

Lucina let out a groan, rolling over to lie on their stomach, burying their face into a pillow.

"Oh, I'm sure it's not that bad," Rae'lia chided, setting herself down on the edge of the bed, reaching across to run a hand over her daughter's hair.

Lucina let out another groan. "Why'd Morgan have to get me sick?" he asked, still muffled into his pillow. "He should've kept to his own room, it's not like we don't have staff to bring anything we need..."

"While it is very amusing to hear you complain," Rae'lia said, smoothing out Lucina's cowlick, something he had inherited from her, "I do believe it was you that wanted to take care of your brother?"

Lucina was silent for a beat.

"Shut up," she said, rolling back over to glare at her mother. "I just didn't want him to die on me, not after managing to survive everything else so far."

"I'm sure Morgan thinks he's immortal at this point," Rae'lia joked lightly, still smoothing out Lucina's hair, "if nothing's killed him yet, he’ll believe nothing can."

Lucina's face flickered with some unidentifiable emotion for a moment, before returning to annoyance. "Yes, well..." he sighed, turning his eyes to the ceiling. "... forget it."

"You're holding up fairly well," Rae'lia said, shifting so she could turn to face Lucina fully, tucking one leg under the other, "either you'll get off without the illness taking too hard—"

Lucina grimaced, "or it just hasn't come down over my head hard in the beginning."

"I suppose we don't know just yet," Rae'lia said.

"You shouldn't be here," Lucina said, "what if I get you sick?"

"That would be difficult," Rae'lia said mildly, shrugging a shoulder, hint of a smile dancing over her face, "I hardly ever get sick."

"...Weren't you bedbound for most of your last pregnancy?"

Rae'lia swatted Lucina's shoulder. "No snark, young man," she said, ignoring the fact that her daughter was the same age as her, "and that is an entirely different circumstance."

Lucina hummed. "Alright," she said, unconvinced.

“It’s true!” Rae’lia insisted, “I have a phenomenal immune system. I was the only Shepherd to not get sick during the Plegian war.”

“... I feel as if that’s a rather low bar, Mother.”

Rae'lia sighed, long and slow, pushing her fringe from her face. "Enough of that," she said, "How do you feel?"

Lucina continued to stare up at the ceiling. "Awful," they said honestly, "congested and stuffy. Like I cannot focus on anything. How did Morgan read so much in this condition?"

"You know your brother," Rae'lia said, amused, "if he's not devouring a book at any given time, I fear he'd fall to pieces."

Lucina made a noise of agreement. "I suppose you're right..." she said, “but what am I meant to do if I struggle to focus? You can’t possibly expect me to sit still for days on end.”

"Is that your way of asking for company, Starlight?"

"... maybe."

Rae'lia felt a fond smile overtake her face, and she tucked back another of Lucina's stray hairs. "Very well," she said, "now, get under the covers. There is no point to trying to recover from an illness if you won't help yourself."

Lucina obediently did what he was told, shifting his pillows so he could sit comfortably against the head of the bed, bringing the blankets up over his lap.

"I ah... do not remember the last time I had someone care for me when I was sick," Lucina admitted softly, picking at a loose thread in the seam of the blanket. "I'm... unaccustomed to it."

Rae'lia nodded in understanding. "I doubt there was time for such in your time..."

"There wasn't," Lucina agreed, "any illness could be a weakness; we couldn't stop to rest for even a moment."

"Pushing through is never a good method."

"We didn't have much of a choice."

Rae'lia's smile took on a sympathetic quality, gentle and sorrowful. "I know," she said softly, "I know more than I ever wished to."

Lucina blinked hard, tipping their head back to rest against the headboard. "I'm sorry," they got out, forcing back tears.

A hand closed over the top of Lucina's, brown and scarred, the back blank of any mark that had ever found its place there. Rae'lia squeezed Lucina's hand firmly. "Starlight," she said, "I have never once thought that you need to apologise for anything. You've endured more than anybody ever should, and I should be the one apologising for not being there with you through it."

Lucina sniffed. “Gods,” she choked out, halfway to a laugh, “I was already struggling with a blocked nose. “Why do you have to be so…” she trailed off, waving her free hand uselessly in the air.

“So?” Rae’lia prompted.

“So you!” Lucina got out, before grimacing, tipping her head back further, “can you pass me a handkerchief?”

Rae’lia fished one out from her pocket, holding it out. Lucina took it without looking, holding it to their nose before tilting forwards again. “Guess the congestion is fixed…” they said, before looking back to Rae’lia, still holding the handkerchief to their nose. “I appreciate it, Mother. Truly. But I don’t expect you to have to make up for the shortcomings of… urgh, now that I’m saying it out loud, it… you know what I mean.”

Rae’lia breathed out a laugh. “Eloquent.”

He pulled a face. “I simply mean that… you’re not the same mother I lost. You don’t have to atone for her mistakes.”

A lull in the conversation. Rae’lia drew back, folding her hands into her lap. “You may be right,” she said slowly, “but is it too much to want to give you the support you should have had back then?”

Lucina sniffled, swiping the handkerchief underneath her nose. “Okay,” she got out.

_____

“What happened to your phenomenal immune system, huh?” Lucina called, leaning on the doorframe with her arms folded.

Rae’lia threw a pillow at her. It only made it halfway across the room before hitting the floor, and Lucina’s smirk grew.

“Let me convalesce in peace,” Rae’lia said dramatically, throwing an arm over her eyes.

#sicktember #sickfic #fire emblem awakening #lucina #rae'lia #skarmowriting

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perfectpaperbluebirds · 3 years

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@sicktember #1

Prompt # 1: Fever

Title: Damn Nick Fury

Fandom: Avengers/MCU

To kick Sicktember off, I'm starting with some classic Avengers sickfic. This is actually part of a longer work that I posted many moons ago on AO3. Still one of my favorite whump fics that I've written.

Clint Barton breathed slowly and deeply as he drew back his bow, sighting in his next target. He was so far unnoticed by the cultists they were fighting, perched high in a tree as he was. Below, Natasha was baiting and dodging them with ease, dispatching one every now and then to keep them occupied. Clint's task was to pick them off as she did so.

Another arrow met its mark.The archer sniffled wetly as he reloaded while cold water continued to trickle down the back of his collar. He had made Fury aware a day or so ago that he had a mild cold, as was his duty as an assassin. If he wasn’t at one hundred percent, his commander needed to know. However, Fury had insisted he and Nat take this mission, since no one else was available. The soaking rain they encountered when they arrived was unexpected. However, it turned out the rain had actually made it easier to obtain the objective of this particular mission. Meanwhile though, it was making Clint thoroughly miserable. Compared to other missions it was going quickly, but the five hour stakeout leading up to the current fight had not been pleasant in the continuous downpour, even up in a tree.

Wiping his nose on his shoulder, Cint again loosed an arrow. Only five more cultists to go. Then they could loot the bunker, get the map they needed, and go home. A drip of water hit him right in the eye, and he growled to himself, inwardly cursing Fury. He had started to shiver an hour ago, though he made sure his hands were steady as ever. He couldn’t wait to take a long, hot shower and sleep for at least twelve hours. He only needed to hold out a little longer.

The tickle in his throat had gradually become a low, irritating ache. He coughed softly. The sound did little to make his throat feel better, but it did make the nearest cultist look up at him. Before the man could do anything other than widen his eyes, Clint’s arrow ended him expertly.

Hawkeye sighed wearily. Four more to go.

~~~~~~~~~~

Thirty-six hours later, Clint and Natasha were relaxing on the couch in Avengers Tower. Natasha had her legs tucked up under her and was reading a book while Clint had his head pillowed in her lap with his arm flung over his eyes. Suddenly, his breath hitched warningly. Natasha lifted her arm in a practiced way to give him room to turn and bury his face into a tissue:

"HehyYIIZSHHhoo! hihtESHHHiew!"

She looked down at him with an irritated sound. "That is the third time you've sneezed in as many minutes. I'm making zero progress in this book. You're going to be finding yourself a new pillow in a minute here. Plus I'll kill you if you get me sick."

He sniffled wetly and blew his nose before replacing his head in her lap with a weak cough. "Aww, you would ndever kill mbe, 'Tash. I'mb the only one who puts up with your crap. But I'mb sorry. I can'dt help the sneezing. It's mbaking mbe mbiserable too if that helps."

She sighed in an annoyed way, but couldn't help looking down at him fondly. "You're lucky I know you well enough to understand what you're saying. And you're also lucky that it just so happens to be true that we tolerate each other better than most, so you're safe from assassination for now."

"Blame Fury. This cold wasn't so bad until I had to sid oud id the rain for hours." He sniffled thickly again, barely turning his head away as he followed it up with a cough.

Natasha made a face, swatting his shoulder lightly. "You're gross. Cover your mouth when you cough. And I don't *have* you let you lay here, you know. You have a perfectly comfortable bed only a short elevator ride away."

" 'm cold though. And if I go ubstairs there's ndo one to mbake mbe tea." He swiped at his reddened nose with the tissue, trying to look extra pitiful.

"You're extra whiny when you're sick. Not a good look on you, Hawk." She carded her fingers once through his hair. "And you're just cold because you're a little feverish."

Instead of replying, Clint halfway sat up again and brought a tissue to his nose, breath scissoring and nostrils flaring.

Natasha groaned as Clint once more exploded into a sneezing fit:

"Gihh-ESSHHshuuu! hehKSHHHshuu!" He coughed, then sneezed again: "ERRSHHhuh! Hih'EZSHHyue! --guhhh." Clint miserably rubbed the space between his eyebrows, slowly lowering himself once again to Natasha's lap.

"Apparently my partner has managed to catch the world's sneeziest cold. How did I get so lucky?"

Once again Clint was kept from replying as Natasha's communicator began to ring. She glanced at the screen, then at Clint.

"It's Fury," she warned.

Clint quickly sat up. She answered the device, turning it so they could both see. Fury's single eye met theirs, looking as serious and commanding as ever.

"Good, you're both here. Barton… your nose looks red. How are you feeling?"

"Aboud the sabe I guess. Sneezy."

"And feverish," Natasha said with a warning look at her partner.

"How feverish?"

"Ndot very. One hundred or so," Clint mumbled.

"That's… not ideal. But I don't have any other option… if at all possible, we need you both out in the field again ASAP. We've discovered a small Hydra base, but it's a crucial one. Some of their brainiest goons are posted there, working on something big. From some communication we intercepted, it sounds like their project is almost finished. I need eyes out there immediately. Recon only for now. Think you can handle that?"

The assassins glanced at each other. "We're good to go," said Clint firmly, though the sore-sounding rasp in his voice betrayed him slightly.

"I hope so. Don't disappoint me. I expect you in the air in an hour or less." With that their director ended the call.

Barton and Romanov glanced at each other once more, this time with a weary sigh from Clint before they stood and went to get ready.

~~~~~~~~~~

"Barton! What's your situation?"Natasha's voice crackled over the com.

"Being... chased by three. Heading... to the roof… of the base," Clint gasped around labored breathing.The metal steps made a sharp clanking noise as the archer sprinted up them, nocking an arrow as he went.

"Can you handle them on your own?"

"We'll… see...," he panted, sweat rolling into his eyes. "Backup… would be nice...."

"I'll be there as soon as I can. I've got 4 of my own. Hang in there, Hawk!" The line went dead for the time being.

"I'm gonna … kill Fury…," he mumbled breathlessly as he reached the roof. He darted to the far side of the area and spun around, taking a knee and aiming his bow at the stairway he had just vacated. The sounds of the three Hydra agents sprinting up behind him were unmistakable, but he was as ready as he was going to be.

"This was supposed to be... an easy recon mission, but noooooo…. It's another... full-on assault," he continued to mumble, trying to catch his breath as the shouting on the stairs got louder.

As an extra stroke of bad luck, it was pouring rain here too. Clint flipped the water out of his eyes with a toss of his head, his hair and clothes hanging on him limply. He hadn't stopped shivering since they'd gotten off the jet. His teeth were now chattering and his fingers were blue with cold. His throat was absolutely burning now, raw and inflamed, the pain exacerbated from running. He couldn't suppress a hoarse barking cough just as the first baddie poked his head through the opening. Clint dispatched him immediately, but the two still coming up were not dissuaded.

The second goon got lucky. Clint's hand slipped on the bow a fraction, and the Hydra agent got hit in the shoulder instead of the heart. The archer knew he was in trouble now. With trembling hands, he managed to kill number three with a final arrow, but the one he had wounded, by far the biggest of them all, continued to advance menacingly.

Hand-to-hand combat was evidently imminent. On any other day Clint could have made short work of this, but this miserable, feverish cold had him operating at around fifty percent capacity and falling. Clint pulled out his knives with shaky hands and another rasping cough. When his opponent was a foot away, Clint tried to leap up to get in the first hit. Instead he slipped and staggered, and the Hydra agent's fist, with all of his weight behind it, caught him in the ribs. Clint heard a dull cracking sound as he was flooded with pain, but he couldn't pause. He spun and ducked, trying to avoid the worst of the blows while trying to get in some of his own. At least ⅓ of his opponent's swings met their target though, and in minutes Clint was battered and bruised, barely clinging to consciousness.

He knew he only had enough stamina for one more try. In a split second, while the Hydra agent was off-balance winding up for another swing, Clint leapt once more, and at last his knife met its mark.

As the baddie crumpled to the ground, so did Hawkeye, wheezing weakly, every breath agonizing. He activated his com as his vision threatened to gray out:

"Roof... clear. Good...Nat?"

"All clear down here too. Mission complete. Nice job, Hawk. Let's turn this bunker inside out and go home."

"Mmph."

"You good, Barton?" she asked, concern suddenly in her voice.

"Gonna need... medevac… Won't… make it down… stairs…."

If Natasha replied, he did not hear her. He let his head fall against the cool, wet metal and let the grayness overtake his vision.

~~~~~~~~~~

48 hours later found Clint lying on a bed in S.H.E.I.L.D. medical with broken ribs and and a confirmed case of pneumonia. He was drifting in and out of consciousness from the drugs they were giving him, but his ears perked up when he heard Natasha arguing with someone nearby.

"He's stable. Not on oxygen. Fever is controlled. He can tolerate oral meds. There's no reason he needs to stay. I promise you, he won't recover while he's here. You need to discharge him home."

The haughty-looking orderly she was speaking with huffed angrily, muttering about shortness of breath and heart rate and changing oxygen requirements.

Clint let himself drift off again to the sound of their voices, trusting his partner to deal with the situation. A cool hand on his cheek awakened him a little while later. He blearily opened his eyes to meet Natasha's, for of course it was she that had roused him.

"We're busting you out of here," she whispered with a little smile. "They're bringing a wheelchair now."

"Thangk god," Clint groaned. "And thangk *you*, 'Tash. You're a lifesaver."

"Eh, you've saved my life plenty of times too. I think we're pretty even."

It took some maneuvering to get a very breathless, battered, and achy Clint out of the bed and into the wheelchair, but they managed it with minimal damage. Once he was settled in the chair, Natasha wheeled him away to their rooms.

Inside Clint's suite, they again had to coordinate getting him from the chair to his bed. Natasha was grateful Clint's pain tolerance was high, because she knew the transfer was far rougher without the assistance of the medical staff. He didn't make a sound throughout the process however, though his face was drawn in pain. As soon as he was settled though, he let out the breath he'd been holding in a rush, which quickly became a nasty coughing fit. He had trouble catching his breath for several moments even after the fit ended. He gasped and wheezed and clutched his ribs, sweaty and reddened and miserable. Natasha could only watch helplessly, stroking his hair to try to help him relax.

"Damn Fury," he croaked weakly when he could finally speak. "This fugcking sucks. "

"Language, please. But I can't argue with you there."

"I'mb gonna kill himb for sending me od thad mission."

"I think he got his just desserts since now his best archer is out of commission for a few months. But at least it seems like the sneezy part of your cold is better."

"You h- had to s- hih- say sumbthing, dih- dn't you?" Clint croaked, gingerly bracing his ribs as his breath scissored and his red nose twitched:

"Gih'tsschh! Ghhnxt'chf! Oh Fugck. Ow! Ow ow ow...." Clint groaned, gritting his teeth, eyes squeezed shut in pain. "Not doing that again."

"Yeah, stifling is probably not wise. Poor sick guy," Natasha murmured, carding his hair with her fingers as they waited for Clint's pain to subside.

After a moment, Clint opened one eye, looking suspicious. " 'Poor sigck guy?' Who are you and what have you done with mby partner?"

Natasha smirked as she sat on the edge of his bed. "Would you prefer I call you a whiny asshole?"

"Yes. Maybe. I dunno," Clint mumbled with a weary sigh and a grimace of pain as he exhaled.

"Well too bad for you, because right now *my* partner is sick and miserable and I plan to baby him at least a little until he's feeling better."

"Guess I'mb nodt complainig," Clint mumbled, stifling a cough, which only made him clutch his ribs in pain. "Hurts whed I cough. Hurts whed I try not to cough. Fugck me."

"Language, seriously. But what can I do to help? You need water, food, drugs, anything?"

"Nodt hungry or thirsty. Too sood for drugs. I just want to sleeb, 'Tash."

"That sounds like a good plan. I'll leave you be then. But I'll be back to check on you soon." She stood up right away, fussing around and tidying up his nightstand area before moving toward the door.

" 'Tash?"

She turned expectantly.

" 'm still cold," he mumbled thickly, looking pale and weary now.

Her face softened affectionately. "Well you're still running a fever, hotshot. You're gonna feel cold."

He groaned pathetically. She moved to his side once more.

"Aww, you're shivering," she murmured, stroking his cheek.

"Told you, I'mb freezing…."

She sighed, looking at him fondly. "Is this you trying to say that you need some extra body heat in bed with you for a while?"

He looked at her pleadingly.

"Okay, okay, no more puppy eyes. I'm coming. But if you get me sick--"

"I know, I know, you'll kill mbe. I'll try ndot to share."

"That's all I ask." She kicked off her shoes and slid into bed beside him, doing her best to jostle around as little as possible. They carefully arranged themselves so that Clint was tucked against Natasha, most of his weight resting against her, while her weight was against the stack of pillows behind them. This position seemed to cause the archer the least pain, and in fact he relaxed against her right away, his breathing deepening.

" I'mb sorry I'mb so warmb. You'll probably swelter," mumbled Clint sleepily.

"It's not the first time I've slept with you when you're running a fever, and I'm sure it won't be the last. As long as you're warm enough."

"Am now," he breathed, nearly asleep.

"Then that's all that matters to me."

#sicktember2021 #sickfic #everyone is hotter with a fever #prompt 1

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