#distracted just kinda. dizzy and jittery | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

koqabear · 1 year

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there’s nothing hotter to me than taehyun knowing he’s smarter than his sexual partner and being cocky abt it 😭 is that weird omg - 🐼 anon

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1.7K, smut, f!reader, warnings listed below; unedited

ok no. NO U DONT UNDERSTAND I NEED TO TALK ABOUT THIS.

Taehyun seems like the type of guy that looooves to tease when he has an advantage over u. I’m talking anything and everything— height, intelligence, strength. Of course it’s all light-hearted and would never do it to put you down but MAN. imagine study sessions with him????? GODDD HEAR ME OUT.

(smut warnings: degrading, thigh riding, choking, dry humping, overstimulation, cockwarming, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, creampie, manhandling, pet names)

It’s a class you’ve generally had difficulties with, maybe your professor is really bad or the subject isn’t your forte, but it definitely would be Taehyun’s, trust! Is kinda confused when you ask him to study, he’s like “what do you mean that class is an easy a” but takes pity on you nonetheless and tries to help you with study sessions

but one problem… it takes you a long time to get a good understanding of the materials. Like it doesn’t matter how good of a teacher Tae is, you’re just so confused and disoriented that he ends up teaching you slowly, patient even though you’re literally about to cry and pull your hair out.

but it also doesn’t help that Taehyun is talking to you with his soft little voice— leaning in, praising you and encouraging you even though you get every single one of his questions wrong. You can’t help but notice how nice his hands look as he points out how to do things, more of a visual learner as he writes things down and explains concepts for you. You’re getting antsy, shifting in your seat and clenching your thighs whenever he calls you his good girl, your face feeling hot as you feel his stare burning into your skin— but you refuse to look up, afraid that he’ll be able to tell what you’re thinking the moment your eyes meet his.

but of course, he’s too clever for his own good! He notices right away— and he gets mean about it too. You’ll be so jittery and restless, bouncing your leg as you clench your thighs together for the umpteenth time; you freeze immediately when he puts a firm hand on your knee to stop you.

“what’s wrong baby? You seem distracted.”

He’s so condescending about it, he knows exactly what’s wrong and what you’re thinking about, but he’s just staring at you patiently while he’s massaging your inner thigh, fingers lightly drumming on your skin as you curse yourself for wearing those thin sleep shorts that drive him crazy.

“Nothing, I’m not distracted,” you both know that’s a lie, yet Taehyun pretends to remain oblivious to your state as he nods innocently at you; you’re trying your best to pretend that the way he leans back in his seat and spreads his legs nonchalantly doesn’t affect you, but you know Taehyun can see right through that.

“Come here,” is all he says, patting his thighs as he smiles softly at you. You’re hesitant, not because you don’t want to, but because you know you won’t be able to control yourself the moment you climb onto his lap. He knows this as well, taking in the way you remain silent, glancing back at the material in front of you as you gather up the will to resist him; instead, he leans into you, sliding an arm around your waist and pulling you back to him.

And god he’s strong, it’s so easy for him to manhandle you into his lap and it drives you nuts, resisting the urge to whimper pathetically the moment he seats you on his thigh perfectly. You’re dizzy and hot as Taehyun locks you in, pitying the way you squirm at his touch as his arms encase around your stomach, his firm hold around you making you gulp as he lays you back against his chest and rests his head on your shoulder innocently.

“You’re so warm,” he mutters, hands already wandering as his fingertips sneak under your top; his hands are cool against your skin as you try not to flinch at the ticklish feeling, pretending as though you’re listening when he asks you to solve the example problem in the textbook.

Your hand is shaking as you pick up your pencil; it’s hard to focus when Taehyun has become set on proving a point, shifting you on his thigh as your pussy begins rubbing on his strong thigh, the position perfect as he begins to bounce his leg mischievously. It throws you off immediately, your teeth sinking into your lip as you also become set on proving a point; you won’t let Taehyun get the satisfaction of watching you become desperate for him so easily.

So even though you feel yourself becoming wetter, even though Taehyun’s firm hands are now on your hips, subtly guiding your movements as he watches the way you rock on his thigh, you remain silent. The most he’ll get is your shaky breaths, your vision blurring as it becomes harder to focus on what’s in front of you.

Taehyun finds your front amusing; he can feel you growing needy by the second, and he knows for a fact that you’re not paying attention to a single word in front of you.

“Is my baby too stupid for this problem too?” He coos in your ear, rubbing your thigh soothingly as you immediately fall apart in response; you’re just not strong enough, especially with the way he keeps flexing his thigh against you so nicely. He takes pity on you, condescending words flowing out of him as he watches you ride his thigh— at some point, he simply sits back and watches you make a mess on him, his gray sweatpants becoming stained as you leak uncontrollably onto him.

“Poor thing can only think of cock, hmm?” It’s no surprise when Taehyun begins to take your shorts off, lifting your hips as he leaves you completely bare within seconds; you’re facing him now, teary eyed and needy as he simply sends you a cocky smile.

“Come on, show me how much you want it,” he smiles, placing a loose hand on your hips as you’re back to straddling him; your hands are on his chest, head tucked into his neck as you whimper in shame, feeling how hard he is as you begin humping him mindlessly, your mind gone blank as you only think of reaching your release.

It’s all so amusing to Taehyun, eyes drifting back to your abandoned work before he sighs; you feel so good against him, so desperate as you continue to rock against him, able to feel the clear outline of his cock against you as you whine pathetically.

“Thought you wanted to get work done?” He asks, knowing it makes you embarrassed that you get so needy for him so easily. At some point, Taehyun pushes you to sit up, cupping your face and pushing your cheeks together softly as he forces you to look at him; your dazed look only makes him laugh at you in pity.

It takes you a second to process his words— you’re teary eyed and pathetic as you nod, still drunk on his cock as you rock your hips subtly. It’s then when his strong hand finds its way down to your throat, pressing softly as your head spins at the action; his other hand is placed firmly on your hips, preventing you from moving as he glares at you.

“Stupid little slut doesn’t care, hmm?” In a blink of an eye, you’ve shifted positions again— you’re back to how you were before, his firm chest pressed against your back as you now hover over his cock; he’s scoffing at the way you’re practically dripping on him, flushed tip rubbing against your folds as he forces you to listen to the wet sounds that come from it. It’s all so degrading; he’s reduced you to nothing but a cock hungry whore, the sight driving him mad as you whimper and beg for him to fuck you.

The moment he finally enters you, your mind goes blank; he’s so thick and knows all the spots that could make you melt against him, and you’re practically begging for him to fuck you stupid when he places his hands on your hips, strong grip preventing you from moving an inch.

“Solve this problem first.”

Oh god, you’re screwed. You can’t and he knows it, watching the way you’re still determined to do so by the way you pick up your pencil shakily. But you’re stuck and he sees it; you’re reading the words over and over, unsure of what to do as you whimper pathetically; you try to move your hips subtly, you’re literally dripping down his shaft and leaving a mess on the chair as you clench around him helplessly, but all it earns you in return is his hands tightening and more filth escaping his mouth.

“Stupid little thing, this one’s so easy,” he hisses into your ear, watching the way you struggle against his hold, too needy to think straight, “I could do this in seconds, were you really not paying attention to me at all?”

You’re ashamed to admit he’s right; even more so when he laughs in disbelief, ever so cocky at the fact that you simply can’t resist him, begging uselessly for him to let you come as he rolls his eyes in response.

“You don’t get anything until you get this right.”

He takes enough pity on you that he’s back to tutoring you for a second, guiding you through the problem until you finally get it right— lucky for you, your prize is him bending you over his desk and fucking you until his name is the only thing you remember.

The moment you’re cumming around his cock, he makes you sit down again; he gives you a whole page of problems, and you think you might cry as he tells you to solve the whole thing.

“You wanna come? Then show me how smart you are.”

He feels so good inside you, you might just go crazy; it doesn’t help that with every problem you get right, he makes you cum, your wishes coming true until you’re too fucked to even hold your pencil right; you can’t count how many times you’ve orgasmed and been filled by him, your pussy a mess as he refuses to pull out the entire time.

“Thought you wanted to come, didn’t you?”

By the end of it, you’ll be so filled with cum that you’ll be leaking all over the chair— but Taehyun will make sure you’ve got the material down, trust!

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btsmosphere · 3 years

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Crossing Paths - drabble from the Crossfire universe

request from @excusemyuwus -

I remember Tae said he had a crush on her while working on that project so now I kinda want to see his pov of that time and how he was holding being around his crush lol, not gonna lie gangster Tae all nervous bc he like someone is something want to see (also imagine how much the guys would tease him uwu)

tumblr ate your ask when I tried to answer it, sorry! this is the only part I had copied, but if it ever resurfaces, I shall answer there. for now it is still refusing to cooperate so I am posting like this! (update: the ask just returned, it is here)

~pairing: taehyung x reader ~word count: 1.4k ~pre-relationship, fluff, angst, slice of life, mafia au, college au ~rating: g ~warnings: vague mention of gang activity, this is a gang au after all, but it’s not particularly prominent

~a/n: thank you for your great request! this was so nice to come back to, I am so sentimental about this series as my first bts fic🥰takes me back to when I was just getting into bts… it felt hard to do it justice! because of this, sorry it took me a while to write, but I wanted to do it well, and again I kept the theme of making my ‘drabbles’ wayyy longer😅final big thanks to the site being frustrating and eating drafts and such🙃🙃but here it is, finally seeing the light of day! I hope you enjoy it x

“I can tell something’s on your mind, Tae.”

Jimin stared coolly at his friend. Looking over his shoulder guiltily as he unlocked the door, Tae found the other boy with his hands in his pockets, looking expectant.

All Tae could do was shrug as he elbowed the door open, heading to ditch his bag.

“Hey, Jimin’s right.”

A light flick on Tae’s forehead made him startle, looking up to find Hobi grinning, though his head was tilted to one side in question.

“What is it?”

Jimin’s shoulder nudged his own as they sunk into the sofa.

Tae checked his phone.

“It’s just a project for class, don’t worry about it,” he pocketed his phone, ignoring their gazes, “I gotta meet with my partner in an hour.”

“It’s okay, I wasn’t staying that long anyway,” Hobi slumped down too, having helped himself to a drink from the fridge, “I’m on watch with Yoongi across town.”

As the discussion turned to this week’s jobs and deals, Taehyung rested his head back against the sofa. The sounds of his friends’ conversation was like static. Instead, he was picturing the scene in class earlier, as the slideshow was flipped to show the project partners on the screen.

Tae hadn’t been too fussed, idly playing with his pen lid as he searched for his name. But when his eyes fell on it, he sat up straight.

Having only bumped into you a few times in class, he had never expected his heart to be hammering quite so hard as he quickly scanned the room for you. Sliding his things away, he had walked towards you as everyone began to file out, meeting you halfway as you did the same.

Leaning against a desk to keep his jittery hands occupied, he grinned at you.

Your returning smile, he noticed, was much more nervous, only flickering into existence for a wavering second. The two of you had only a brief conversation to sort out when you would meet, before you had practically scurried away.

His eyes had lingered on you as his smile slowly sank.

Unconsciously poking his tongue against his cheek, Tae wondered if you were afraid of him.

“Hey!”

A finger clicked sharply in front of his face. He blinked back at Hobi’s grin, Jimin bursting into laughter at his side.

“Just a project, my ass,” Hobi shook his head, dumping an empty bottle on the coffee table, “don’t wanna be late, do you?”

A radiant smile was tossed over his shoulder as Hobi left the room, front door clicking soon after.

Sending his best friend a knowing look, Jimin also gathered himself to stand.

“Have fun tonight, yeah?”

He winked. Tae protested, shooting up from the sofa with an affronted look.

“So it is a special someone?” Jimin giggled.

“You’re impossible,” Tae grumbled, trailing after him to the door, “it’s just a project, I told you.”

Jimin hummed in a way which made it very clear he didn’t believe him.

“Don’t scare them off, tiger,” he remarked, stepping outside.

Tae’s shoulders slumped. He was certain that was just what he had already done.

“I’m busy tonight. And my house isn’t free, so I can’t have anyone showing up here.”

Namjoon chuckled across the line.

“All this for a college project?” Clearly he had heard about this from the others. “If you could lend Kook some of your commitment to school, that would be great,” he teased.

Sighing, Tae spun around to survey the road outside his window, ruffling his own hair.

“You’re very funny, but I need to go. See you tomorrow.”

Tae was certain he would never hear the end of this from the others. It was true that he had firmly set aside time for your meeting today, even if it was only for a minor college presentation. But it was important to him.

He knew that this was the only time he would get together with you, and though it would end as soon as the presentation was given, he couldn’t help but want to make the most of it. At your last meeting, he had been largely distracted by the dizzying height of your apartment, leaving him shying back from any windows.

So this left you with his house today instead.

Arriving soon after Tae’s phone call, you were both soon seated on his floor. Though you mostly worked in quiet with occasional, quick conversation, it was not awkward. Your legs lay close together under the coffee table as you scribbled away diligently on its surface.

Glancing over the lid of his laptop as his fingers hung idly, Tae sighed. Watching as your pen swirled across your notebook, he let his eyes drift across your focussed features.

He swallowed as he did so, teeth tugging his lip. A light frown came over your features. He couldn’t take his eyes away from your lips as your pen lifted to your mouth, resting between your teeth as you mulled the work over, eyes flitting about the page.

Eventually, the lack of tapping at his keyboard must have got through to you. You raised your head.

Too late to divert his gaze, Taehyung cleared his throat and muttered a proposal for a break. Eager as well to put your work aside, you clambered from the floor to join him at his offer of a drink.

Moving through to the kitchen, he made casual conversation, asking after your dad. Last time there had only been a brief meeting, as he met Tae at the door before you hurried him away.

Picking up on his offer to chat, you teased Tae for his fear of heights, giggling over how he had screwed his eyes shut whenever he had come within sight of the view from your windows.

Of course, Tae tried his best to roll his eyes at you, but the smile dragging the corners of his mouth refused to be suppressed.

He poured your drinks. When he turned away to put the cartons back in the fridge, he took a breath, trying to settle himself. Why did he feel so flustered?

Squaring his shoulders a little more, he turned back, only for his hand to catch one of the glasses. It clattered against the surface, barely leaving time for him to jump back and avoid being splattered with its contents.

You hopped from your seat, ready to help.

Swallowing down his shock, Tae scratched at the back of his neck to hide his slightly trembling hand.

“Don’t worry,” he quickly muttered, flashing a nervous smile as he gathered towels and set to cleaning up.

Soft laughter followed from you. Still, you reached across to help.

Righting the glass and taking one of the cloths to clear up, your hand came concerningly close to Tae’s own. He kept his eyes firmly fixed on the countertop, his cheeks warm even as you finished and he was rooting in the fridge again for a refill.

You seemed miraculously unfazed by his flailing, though, he noticed as you finally settled beside each other sipping your drinks.

“So it went well?”

Jimin nudged a reluctant Tae, eyebrows wiggling all the time.

“Yes, fine,” Tae groaned, trying to shrug him off.

Jimin did stop, but only in favour of staring at his friend with doleful eyes.

“Don’t be like that. You’ll see her again. You literally share a class!”

“It’s nothing like that,” Tae refuted.

He even halfway believed it.

You had got on well together, but surely not more than could be expected of most classmates? He sighed a little as he thought of it. It had been fun, but there was no excuse to spend any more time with you.

Besides, sparing one night to work on a project was a little different to becoming friends, or even more…

There was a reason the bangtan boys stuck to themselves.

But as he reminisced, he knew he had a soft spot for you, even if it should come to nothing. The project was over, the presentation given, but he still remembered the way you bounced with excited relief after you had finished talking to the class. Your face was glowing as you high-fived him with a grin, the work having paid off.

There was still a hint of nervousness though, and you had only given a timid smile and a small ‘see you later’ before heading out of class.

And that was the end of it.

But Tae smiled to himself. It had been fun, and he knew he wouldn’t be sorry if you ever crossed paths again.

Thank you for reading! Reblogs and comments super appreciated always!!

Taglist: @aianloveseven @preciouschimine @un2-verse @ddaechwita @taegularities

#thebtswritersclub #taehyung x reader #taehyung mafia au #bts mafia au #taehyung imagine #kim taehyung imagine #taehyung scenario #btscreatorscorner #bangtanarmynet #purplearmynet #vantaenet #taehyung fluff #taehyung college au #bts college au #mafia bts #bad boy bts #bad boy taehyung

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edsbev · 5 years

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where was the scene i said and then wrote it

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Richie only breathes once he’s staring into the murky water of the quarry.

A very faint, badly rendered image of his face stares back at him. A reflection that ripples and waves – makes him look as wobbly and small as he feels, all his parts coming undone. He can hear their words, the cruel angry snarls from Bower’s mouth. So jagged and sharp his lips are shaped like a cut. He can hear that word, over and over, slicing through the video-game gunshots, the dark, dreaded music of a game over. Tangling itself like barbed wire around Richie’s throat.

Faggot.

Reflection Richie begins to tremble. Real Richie snatches up a rock and hurls it right through his face. The water explodes. The image breaks. Doesn’t want to see the way his breaths escape him in hitching gasps, bottom lip sucked in toward his mouth, like some kind of fucking pussy.

Instead, he sees the boy’s face. Looking back at Richie as he steps away. First a smile, then panic. Then his features cave in and his mouth turns over and he’s disgusted. Disgusted by Richie. Disgusted by this thing inside him that he wants to claw out. Richie hadn’t meant to make things weird. He really hadn’t. He had been so careful, kept his distance, all day. But then their hands had touched and the boy had smiled at him and Richie had thought…he’d wondered…

It wasn’t as though he had a crush on that boy, or anything. Richie didn’t even know his name. But something in Richie had been drawn to him, the curl of his fair hair, the sharpness of his smile, the way he had laughed, when Richie had told a joke, and said, with a snort, fuck off.

He’d reminded Richie of someone else.

The water of the quarry has smoothed back over and Reflection Richie stares up at him once again, a pale, shaken ghost of himself.

Richie hurls another rock through his face and then collapses onto the bank. Sits with his knees bent up, sneakers toeing the edge of the water, sun beating down on the back of his neck.

Fuck, he thinks. “Fuck,” he says, and worms his fingers under his glasses, presses against his squeezed-shut eyes until he sees bursts of colour, flashes of strange shadowed light, behind his eyelids.

Fuck this. Fuck this. He’s going to leave Derry, just you fucking wait. He can’t wait to get out of this shithole. He’ll just up and leave and never look back. And it’s not like the change of place will change him too but maybe it’ll better. To be in a place where no one knows him. He could change his name if he wanted. Could cut off all his hair and grow out a beard and replace his glasses with contacts and maybe cover his body in tattoos. It’d be better.

But, then, of course, that’d mean he’d have to leave –

“Richie?”

Richie can’t see, when he looks up. Because his vision is still swimming with colour and light from pressing down on his eyes, only made worse by the glare of the sun against the water.

But he knows it’s Eddie.

“Hey, man,” Richie says, tries for casual but his broken, watery voice betrays him. He clears his throat, wipes at his damp cheeks, blinks and blinks and blinks until his vision clears. “What – uh. Whatcha doing here?”

Eddie stands only a few feet away, his hair looking tousled and wind-swept, presumably from the ride over. He wears a baby blue Thundercats shirt, half tucked into the fannypack around his waist, and short yellow-and-blue shorts. One of his white tennis socks is hiked higher up his calf than the other. A small frown scrunches up his sun-kissed face – Eddie always tans during the summer – and he studies Richie like he can very much tell that he’s not okay.

Sometimes Eddie is painful to look at.

“I figured someone would be here,” Eddie says, and Richie’s really grateful that Eddie doesn’t prod, though he knows that Eddie’s probably itching to question him.

“Bet you were hoping it would be Bill. Sorry to disappoint, Spaghetti, but you’re stuck with me,” Richie jokes.

Eddie shrugs. “That’s fine,” he says. “Actually I was kinda hoping that I’d find you.”

It’s the last thing Richie would ever had expected him to say. He can’t find a single way to respond.

The rocks of the bank roll and clack together as Eddie makes his way over, Richie’s stomach twists and jolts as Eddie sits down next to him. His hand flails around by his side, blindly picks up a rock and skims it across the surface of the water. To try and distract himself from the fact that Eddie has the side of his sneaker pushed up against his own.

“Richie,” Eddie says, as Richie scrabbles for another rock.

Richie whistles, low, ignoring him. The rock skims over the water. “See that one, Eds? Bounced five times. Bet you can’t beat that.”

Eddie scoffs. “I can,” he says. But he doesn’t reach for a rock. Instead, he knocks his knee against Richie’s. Leaves it there. Golden skin against the stark white of Richie’s leg, all warm and sunbathed. Richie’s tongue feels too big for his mouth. Eddie says, a little firmer, “Richie.”

He’s asking Richie to look at him. So Richie does.

Richie shouldn’t be surprised to find Eddie’s face so close, to find Eddie’s brown eyes staring into his own. There’s a splattering of freckles across the tops of Eddie’s cheeks, the bridge of his nose, that you can only see when you’re close to him like this, or if you look hard enough. Richie wishes he could say that this is his first time ever noticing them. But it’s not. He’s noticed those freckles a thousand times.

A smile hooks at the corner of Eddie’s mouth. “Idiot,” he says, but there’s no bite to it; he calls Richie that the same way Richie calls him ‘Eds’. “You were hoping I’d be here too, weren’t you?”

The answer is no, technically. Richie had run here after being chased from the arcade. Had just run and run and run until he’d shaken Bower’s gang from his back. He hadn’t thought about Eddie as he scrambled down here; he’d just been thinking of finding a safe place.

But the answer is also yes. Because Richie hopes to see Eddie everywhere.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about, my good chap,” Richie says, putting on his British guy voice. “I wasn’t hoping to see anyone. Thought I’d just pop down ‘ere and hone in my swimming skills, I did. I figured I’d practise my breast-stroke. All good men must practise that one.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, but he looks amused. “Ha ha. You do know I’m trying to have a conversation with you, right?”

Those words feel like oddly like a sucker-punch. Richie can’t even think of a joke. He asks, jittery, trying not to go cross-eyed from looking at Eddie’s freckles, “A…about what?”

“About, you know…” Eddie trails off, his cheeks going a little pink. It hurts to look at.

“I don’t know.”

“You know…”

“No, dude, I don’t.”

Eddie coyly ducks his head and looks up at Richie through his lashes. It hurts it hurts it hurts. “About the fact that you like me.”

Fear spikes so sharply through Richie’s heart that for a second he is certain he’s going to die.

“Wha – ” Richie’s throat closes up and he can’t speak. Can’t breathe. “I don’t – ”

In his mind he sees the boy at the arcade, his face screwed up in disgust. In his mind he hears that word. Over and over again.

God, isn’t this impeccable timing. What the fuck brought this on. Eddie looking at him like that, face flushed, a warmth in his eyes, like some sort of fucking daydream. Why is Eddie saying this.

“You do,” Eddie says. “I can see it. The way you look at me is the same way Ben looks at Bev.”

No it’s not. No it’s not, because Richie is so careful he’s nothing like Ben he’s so fucking hyper-aware he doesn’t look at Eddie at all not if he can help it.

Except he does.

He looks at Eddie all the time. He looks and looks and looks. Quick, stolen glances. Long, wanting stares. His gaze is pulled to Eddie like a magnet, he’d just thought Eddie hadn’t noticed.

A little crease forms between Eddie’s brows now, his lips purse in a gaze that is both sympathetic and very thoughtful. “You like me so much,” he says, “don’t you?”

“No, I – ” The words come out like a gasp. “I don’t know what – ”

And, god, Richie remembers the two of them on the hammock in the clubhouse just yesterday, Eddie half on top of him, his head leant back, chatting happily to Mike. Richie had watched him over the top of his comic, until Eddie had looked, suddenly, over at him, like he could feel his stare. And Richie ducked his head, quickly, behind the pages before their eyes could meet, before Eddie could see him looking.

He thought he’d been fast enough.

“Chill, Richie,” Eddie says, with a small laugh. The words aren’t unkind. If anything, they’re affectionate. The next sentence is much softer, “it’s okay.”

But it’s not. Because they’re sitting here, in the open air. Exposed. The water reflecting onto the rocky cliffs around them, the water reflecting onto the smooth surface of Eddie’s cheek. Because they’re sitting here, and their legs are pressed together, and their faces are so close that Richie is dizzy with it, and they’re both boys, and it’s Eddie.

Because it was supposed to be a secret.

“I’m not going to say anything bad,” Eddie continues, voice still soft.

“N-no. Eddie, you’re…I mean, you’re wrong.” And this whole thing feels wrong. Like he’s warped Reflection Richie, not Real Richie. “What you’re saying isn’t true.”

“So, what, if I kissed you right now you wouldn’t like it?” Eddie asks.

If he – kissed – If Eddie kissed him – Richie stares at him dumbly. “I…”

“…want to kiss me,” Eddie finishes for him. Richie can’t say anything in response. Maybe he’s frozen. Maybe he’s scared he’ll say yes. “I know. How many times have you thought about it? Sometimes I think you probably think about it a lot. You know, when I see the way you look at me.”

Richie swallows. It’s not something he wants to think about. But it creeps up on him. But it’s there when he closes his eyes. But it’s all he can fucking think about when Eddie laughs or smiles or frowns or does nothing at all. His mouth on Eddie’s mouth. Eddie’s mouth on his.

Eddie scoots even closer to him. “C’mon, Richie,” he says. He’s so fucking close that Richie can feel his breath on face. That Richie’s vision blurs when he tries to look at Eddie all at once, so he alternates, looks at Eddie’s doe brown eyes one by one. Eddie lowers his lashes. His gaze drops to Richie’s lips. Richie’s heart leaps into his throat. “Kiss me.”

It’s like every dream Richie’s ever had.

“Eddie…” he murmurs, uncertain.

“Richie,” Eddie whispers. He leans in, impossibly close. Richie’s whole body is on fire. “Just kiss me.”

So Richie leans in.

And the dream stops there.

Because a high, cold sound makes Richie pause before their mouths meet. Laughter. Eddie is laughing. Because Richie is immediately recoiling, and Richie is immediately so fucking scared.

“Oh my god,” Eddie says, gasping for air like this is the funniest thing he’s ever witnessed. “You thought I was serious.” Richie’s whole body feels like a thousand tiny shards of glass, breaking away. And then Eddie laughter dies, and his eyes pin Richie in place. “Did you really think I’d want to kiss a boy, Richie?”

“Eddie,” Richie starts, desperate. “I’m sorry, I was just – ”

“Did you really think I’d want to kiss a boy like you?”

Richie’s mouth works hopelessly over a word he can’t get out. And then Eddie is dead.

His skin melts right off; rotting pale flesh, cold lifeless eyes. It is Eddie’s corpse, that Richie is looking at. It is a Eddie who died years ago, and clawed his way up from the ground.

A horrified shout rips from Richie’s throat. He thinks he yells, Eddie.

“See what happens when you try to kiss other boys, Richie?” Eddie grins, in a voice that is much too deep be his own. “See what you’ve done?”

“Holy fucking shit,” Richie says, fumbles frantically to his feet. “You’re not real, you’re not fucking real – ”

“I was real enough for you a minute ago,” not-Eddie says. He doesn’t have half his teeth. “When you wanted to shove your tongue down my throat.”

It’s maybe the wrong time to think about this. But a cold dread trickles down Richie’s blood stream as he comes to terms with what this really means.

That wasn’t Eddie. None of that was Eddie.

Eddie doesn’t want him.

Richie snatches up a rock. Zombie Eddie’s face is changing, lips growing redder, forehead growing larger.

Eddie would never want him.

Richie launches the rock straight into Pennywise’s face. But It only laughs.

“I know your secret,” Pennywise sings.

But – and in that dread Richie also feels relief, and disappointment – at least Eddie doesn’t. At least it’s still a secret. And it will stay that way, until the day Richie fucking dies. Because It is right, as much as that sentence makes Richie’s skin crawl; Eddie would never want to kiss a boy, let alone a boy like Richie.

And for the second time that day, Richie swallows down a sense of fear, of panic, of self-loathing, and he runs. Runs and runs and runs until he’s all out of breath. And he doesn’t tell anyone. About any of it. Not the losers, not thoughtful, kind Ben, or strong leader Big Bill. Even when the topic of seeing It comes up, and they all glance at him, waiting for him to chime in, expecting that he’s had the same experience they have.

Richie says nothing.

And this time when his eyes are to drawn to Eddie, as they always are. He doesn’t let himself look.

#me: im on fluff lockdown #me: writes pure ANGST #this is supposed to be a replacement for the paul bunyan scene #just like 10 times more painful #reddie #my writing #its about the yearning

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phantasmaphoria · 4 years

Note

Hey I was wondering if u had any ideas on a quirk based around the Mad Hatter Or just Alice in wonderland in general?

It’s been quite a long while since I’ve read Alice in Wonderland (I’ve never watched the movies, so no luck there), but I can try! Warning for references to drugs, most of which are in the Blue Caterpillar-based entry (Metamorphose).

Quirk: Size Swap

The user is able to switch sizes of different items, including both inanimate objects and living creatures! They must be touching both objects for their quirk to work, and they are able to use their quirk on themselves.

Overuse can cause muscle strain and fatigue, and (if it gets too severe) nausea and dizziness.

[Notes: This is based off of the shrinking/growing stuff in Alice in Wonderland, though only vaguely. I didn’t want it to come off more as an item than a quirk, since quirks are supposed to be natural and, well, not food. So, here goes.]

Quirk: Psychedelic

The user’s presence gradually warps their surroundings, up to the point where perception is completely altered. The user’s vision is also affected -- the longer the user stays somewhere, the better their view and/or understanding of the area becomes.

[Notes: This is obviously based on the psychedelic motif of the book, also seen in some scenes in the movie.

Hopefully this isn’t worded too weirdly -- basically, the user normally sees in psychedelic colours and shapes, and the longer they spend in a place, those shapes get transferred from their eyesight to the outside world, allowing them to see normally.]

Quirk: Porthole

The user is able to transfer things through open apertures (such as doorways or the rims of cups), as if connected by some sort of portal. The item must move (seeming to disappear) through one opening before appearing in the other.

The user must be able to visualize both openings, and they cannot transport anything heavier than their own weight. They’re also unable to open more than one “connection” or portal at a time.

[Note: Based off the various doorways and portals in the Alice in Wonderland ‘verse (Through the Looking Glass, anyone?) Hopefully this one makes sense -- the portal doesn’t appear as anything, but it’s still able to transport stuff from one location to another.]

Quirk: Frenzy

Anything the user says has a mild influence on others’ minds, compelling them to believe whatever the user has stated. This effect becomes more potent the more the user talks, though they aren’t immune to their own quirk! This side effect can result in the user tricking themselves into believing their own lies.

This quirk can be broken via strong emotional connections or a stubborn will, and will have no effect on those with emotional or mental quirks. The user’s emotional and/or mental wellbeing is also affected by continued exposure to their quirk -- overexposure can drive them into madness.

[Notes: And here’s the one based off the (Mad) Hatter! I tried to fit with his theme as much as I could, but if this one isn’t what you’re looking for, I have another called “Hat Trick” that might work -- it’s in the archive!]

Quirk: Metamorphose

By consuming drugs or other harmful substances, the user is able to transform into a winged creature with six legs and faceted eyes (also called compound eyes) -- similar to a humanoid butterfly. This creature possesses above-average strength, but lacks motivation and capacity for intelligent thought, as it is unable to carry on a meaningful conversation.

The user transforms back into their human or “true” self when the substances wear off. Though their quirk allows them to resist most adverse side effects, the user is still affected by the drugs if taken in large quantities.

[Note: Based on the Caterpillar, who smokes a hookah while sitting on a mushroom. I wasn’t quite sure what to do with his character, but I think this turned out pretty well!]

Quirk: Clockwork

The user is able to speed up and/or slow down time via the clock located in the middle of their chest. This clock seems to be powered by their heart, and as such, they retain an eerily accurate internal time.

Breaking the clock would paralyze the user at best, and kill them at worst. The clock can be stopped with severe blunt force trauma, being burned or shocked, or if it’s drenched in water. The user’s quirk only works for anything in their vicinity -- if they can’t see it when they look around, it’s not affected.

[Note: Based on the White Rabbit, who (with this quirk) will never have to be late again! ...Hopefully.]

Quirk: Delirium

The user is able to spread delirium to anyone they touch, though they cannot deactivate their quirk. As such, the user is in a constant state of delirium -- easily distracted, jittery, and prone to relapses of time.

The longer the user spends awake, the more potent their quirk is -- however, this also increases the intensity of their own delirium, occasionally resulting in hallucinations, or an inability to recognize faces. Most often, this takes the form of speaking in gibberish or rhyme, and short-term memory loss.

[Note: Based off the March Hare! I basically asked myself, “What sort of quirk would make the March Hare act like that?” and this was what I came up with! Not sure where he’d get the obsession with tea from, though...]

Quirk: Seeing Red

The more red the user perceives, the more hostile they become, potentially falling into a blind fury. Their strength and stamina increase drastically the more red they perceive (whether real or imagined).

[Note: Based (very, very loosely) on the Queen of Hearts -- not particularly accurate to her character, but I thought it an interesting concept to include nonetheless!]

[Postscript: So here are a few (?) quirks based off Alice in Wonderland -- they were pretty fun to make, though I kinda gave up on sorting it halfway through... could you tell?

Anyways, If I got anything wrong, or if there’s anything else you want me to include, just tell me! I’m not going to bite!]

#request #theme #oof this one was a doozy...

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datleggy · 5 years

Note

Just got to say! I love your writing! The Buck stories at the best! Could you write one where Buck's gets mugged or jumped?

thank uuuuuu! :) this is kinda short but i hope u like it

Buck is probably the tallest firefighter in the 118, and in very good shape, to boot, but even he is no match for the gun suddenly pointed at his face when he turns the corner on his way to Eddie’s party that night.

He raises his hands and tells the three men to take whatever they want. He’s not trying to risk his life over twenty bucks and some loose change in his pocket.

“Where the hell’s your wallet, man?” the blonde searching him spits out his cigarette, frustrated.

“I forgot it at home.” he knows that’s not the right answer when the guy to the left of him suddenly swings his fist, hitting him on the side of the head, hard. Buck goes down instantaneously, holding a hand over his ear.

It hurts like hell.

They don’t stop there, two of the men kicking him while the other one continues to point the gun at Buck. He keeps his head covered, but that leaves the rest of him open to injury.

A noise startles the muggers and they run away with their tails between their legs, their footsteps harsh on the cement ground.

Buck slowly looks up. There’s a stray tabby sitting on the trash can near the entrance to the little alleyway. He wants to laugh at the fact that he’s just been saved by a cat, of all things, but it comes out a strangled noise he ends up choking on. He groans, turning over to get up. Everything hurts.

There’s blood all down the side of his face--he thinks his ear is the cause; it’s ringing. And his ribs protest when he finally stands up on shaky legs. The adrenaline of having had a gun in his face is still there, and he can feel his heart pounding like mad in his chest.

The bastards took what little petty cash he had on him--two wrinkled ten dollar bills--which isn’t exactly his highest concern right now. They took his cell phone, too. So he can’t even call anyone for help.

Buck leans his back against a brick wall for a few minutes, in an attempt to catch his breath and calm his nerves. It doesn’t really work. He’s so jittery his hands are trembling. If those men had wanted to, they could have shot him dead tonight.

Buck buries his face in his hands and exhales.

He stays like that for another ten minutes before he decides his legs--despite feeling like jelly--might actually make the short trek to the bus stop. Thankfully they left him with enough change in his pocket to be able to ride the bus to Eddie’s place. That had been the original plan in the first place, seeing that his truck was in the shop. He takes a deep breath and starts walking. No point in changing plans now. He’s fine. He’ll be fine.

Eventually.

The bus driver gives him a funny look when he pays his fare and takes a seat near the back of the bus, but it’s LA, he’s probably seen the worst of the worst, so he doesn’t say anything.

It’s late and there aren’t many passengers aboard, which makes Buck feel a little less anxious, at least. He gets off at his stop, nodding a thanks to the driver, and walks the rest of the way to Eddie’s.

The team should all be there by now.

Today they’d planned a small get together to celebrate Eddie’s birthday. Buck hesitates at the door before knocking. He’s definitely going to ruin the party. Maybe he should turn around and go back home?

But he really doesn’t want to be alone tonight, not after what happened.

Buck stands at the door trying to decide if he should bother, when he hears Athena shout out. “Is that someone at the door?”

Someone else, Chimney, replies, “Maybe it’s Buck--he’s like half an hour late!”

The door swings open before his knuckles can even touch the wood. Eddie is standing there expectantly, but the giant grin on his face slides off when he sees Buck. “Jesus! What happened to you? C’mere, get in here, sit down.” he leads Buck inside by the hand, straight to the couch.

Buck lets him, sitting down with a wince. “I’m ok. It’s not as bad as it looks.” he says.

“What happened, mi amor? Dios mio, look at you.” Eddie gently turns his head to the side, to check the source of all the blood.

Buck sighs. “Some assholes mugged me on my way here.”

The rest of the team hover about, concerned.

Hen asks Eddie to tell her where he keeps his first aid kit and runs to retrieve it.

Chim cringes in sympathy. “It looks like they ruptured your eardrum, buddy. This is a dumb question but play along. Any pain or ringing in your ear?”

Buck gives him a look that says just how dumb he thinks the inquiry is, but he knows Chimney’s asking as a paramedic, so he answers honestly. “Yeah, it hurts like a bitch, it stopped ringing on the bus ride here, though."

“Ok, that’s a good sign. Any dizziness or loss of hearing?”

Buck replies in the negative.

Once Hen comes back with the first aid kit in hand they work on examining the ear canal more thoroughly and wiping away all the blood. Then they place a small patch over the ear and tell him to keep that on for the next couple of days.

“If you do experience any dizziness or loss of hearing--or if the ringing returns--go to the ER.” Chimney states, then turns to Eddie. “Keep an eye on him.”

Buck pouts. “M’not a child.”

“No, you are not,” Eddie agrees, squeezing his hand. “But you are kind of awful at taking care of yourself sometimes.”

Bobby rests a hand on his shoulder. “Were you hurt anywhere else?”

“My ribs, but it’s not too bad, just sore.”

Eddie confirms for himself that Buck’s ribs are fractured but thankfully not broken and sighs in relief.

“Did you see who did it?” Athena asks.

Buck grimaces. “Kind of. I mean, I know there was a blonde and the other two I think had brown hair, but honestly, I didn’t really notice. One of ‘em was waving a gun in my face and that uh, that kind of distracted me from anything else.”

Bobby’s eyes go wide. “A gun?” He sits on Buck’s other side and rubs a hand up and down his shoulder. “God, Buck, that must have been frightening, I’m sorry.”

Buck looks down at his lap.

Now that he’s surrounded by his family he is finally able to let go, and let himself be vulnerable. Tears spring up in his eyes and spill down his cheeks before he can blink them away; tears that have wanted to come out since the mugging happened, that he’s been holding back. “Sorry. I think the adrenaline’s finally wearing off.” he mutters, swiping at his face with his sleeves.

Eddie shakes his head. “Don’t. Don’t apologize. It’s ok, you’re safe now. I’ve got you.” he sits beside him on the other side of the couch and pulls him in close, kissing his forehead and murmuring sweet nothings into his good ear.

Buck relaxes in Eddie’s arms.

Hen hands him a glass of water and two tylenol. “Here, take this.”

“Thank you.” he looks up at the people who are always in his corner, no matter the situation. “All of you.” he feels infinitely safer now, with his family gathered around him.

#prompt #buddie #fic #9-1-1 #hurt/comfort #will post on ao3 eventually

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bookish-nerd9 · 5 years

Text

At Long Last: Chapter 3

Shit, shit, shit, shit, i’m late, i’m soo fucking late Neil though.

“Maaaaaaaatt hurry up i need the bathroom, go do your ridiculous hair routine at Dan’s” Neil shouted.

“Damn Neil don’t insult my hair routine, and what’s soo important that you’re rushing me through it?”

“I told you I’m late!!” Neil answered exasperated as he pushed past Matt into the bathroom.

“Late for what?!”

“That guy that monitors the dorm came by two nights ago and he saw the kitten so i made a deal with him that i will touter him in maths and in return he won’t report about it, and thanks to you now I’m late and if he calls of the deal and the kitten is taken i will fucking kill you!.”

“Okay first off you need to name the damn kitten you can’t just keep calling him “kitten”, and secondly do you mean Andrew Minyard, as in you made a deal with Andrew Minyard!!”

“He has a name and it’s kitten, besides if you don’t like it why don’t you come up with a name, and yes i made a deal with him I’m not sure about his last name but his first name is Andrew”

“I won’t name him because it’s not mine I don’t even like it you’re the one who bought it......” at that Neil rolled his eyes, it wasn’t the first time they had that argument and yet each night when he came back he found kitten safely sleeping on Matt’s chest.

“Wait are you serious!! You actually made a deal with Andrew Minyard.” Neil could tell that Matt was standing now outside the bathroom door and couldn’t get what the big deal was.

“Yes, i said i did what is wrong with that?!” Neil said as he yanked the bathroom door open and headed for his room to pack.

“You mean you don’t know the infamous Andrew Minyard.”

“Well I don’t personally know him but i’ve heard about him.”

“And yet you made a deal with him!” Matt exclaimed clearly amused.

“Yes i did to save our cat so you can just shut it.” Nail yelled as he stormed out of their room.

“Well it’s not my caaat!” Matt yelled back.

Neil was jittery, yes he was running late but that’s not it. Something about Andrew made him actually excited and looking forward to this deal.

The next day after Andrew came to their room and still hadn’t texted Neil on when they would meet Neil got really anxious and his patience was wearing thin.

He couldn’t focus on his homework and kept pacing up and down his room that he almost ran a trail on the rug, kept checking his phone which earned him weird looks from Matt because Neil rarely remembers that he even owns a phone, and finally he almost considered skipping practice and this though has never crossed his mind in all his life which was a testament to his anxious state.

Practice didn’t help that day he was distracted and no amount of drills could get him to focus and that made Kevin furious with him and by their third fight Neil decided to leave and go for a run that always helps him.

Half an hour in his run Neil started to relax and focus solely on regulating his breath when a text alert jarred him, checking his phone it read “tomorrow at 4 in the library don’t be late or the deal’s off.”

Neil stopped in his tracks, breathless, excited, and kinda dizzy. “Okay, it’s happening don’t panic it’s cool, it’s nothing actually we’re just studying just don’t ruin it” he told himself.

Now he was actually headed to the library to meet with Andrew however being late didn’t stop him from grabbing coffee on his way.

“I know i know i know I’m late sorry, Matt was hogging the bathroom and......and you don’t care” Neil finished as he saw the impassive look on Andrew’s face.

“Well i bought coffee”

“Is it sweet?”

“Umm no, I don’t really drink it with sugar so i got yours black too, sorry” Neil said weakly

“Stop saying that”

“Saying what?”

“Sorry, stop saying sorry.”

“Yeah okay sure, should we get started?”

This wasn’t going well, at all, Neil didn’t know if Andrew was angry about him being late or about the black coffee, or if Andrew was even angry at all and that impassive look still on his face was because he just couldn’t care less, it was impossible to get a read on him and Neil was getting anxious again.

An hour into the tutoring session Neil started to be at ease, they started with some basics and even though Andrew didn’t utter a single word that impassive look was replaced with an intent focused look instead and Neil took that as a good sign.

After two hours Neil got up to stretch his legs and starting walking around their desk, “How are you soo good at this?” Andrew asked stopping Neil in his track.

“At what?”

“This maths and teaching it.”

“I don’t know i guess it just makes sense to me.”

“Maths makes sense to you?!” Andrew asked with a hint of disbelief in his voice.

“Well yeah, it’s just rules and equations it’s constant so it makes sense, it’s calming in a way.”

At that Andrew just raised his eyebrows and didn’t say anything else.

“Okay!, we don’t have much left to go through for today about fifteen minutes or so.”

“We’ll go over them tomorrow, i need to eat.” Andrew said as he gathered his things and started to leave, leaving a baffled Neil behind him.

“I’m not waiting for you are you coming or not?!”

“Umm....yeah, yes right behind you.” Neil hurried after Andrew a bit pleased with himself.

“So where are we going?” He asked as they stepped out of the library.

“A Waffle House thirty minutes away from here, get in.” Andrew gestured to a black sleek Maserati car.

“Is that your?!”

“No, we’re stealing it.” Andrew deadpanned

“Damn how can you afford this.”

“Are you getting in or am i going to leave you here?” Andrew asked already bored.

“Fine, fine I’m getting in.”

As soon as Neil closed his door Andrew flew with the car leaving Neil holding on to his door. With the way Andrew drove it took them only fifteen minutes to reach the Waffle House and Neil couldn’t be happier to get out off it.

The Waffle House wasn’t fancy and packed as the ones around the campus, this one was a small almost deserted place with a broken neon sign. Andrew headed for it without a backwards glance towards Neil who followed him silently.

As soon as Andrew opened the door a strong smell of fresh baked waffles greeted Neil and he swore to himself that it wasn’t like anything he’s ever smelled before.

The Waffle Houses around the campus smelled nothing like this they had a stale kind of smell around them that meant that the waffles they served are most definitely not fresh while here you can smell the freshness of the waffles and taste them before they reach your mouth.

They settled in the furthest booth in the place, looking down at the menu Neil found that they’ve managed to include every possible combination of toppings and flavors that anyone can think off, it was confusing to choose as he wanted to try everything.

A young waitress came to take their order as she saw Andrew she beamed and asked him if he wanted his usual, he gave her a nod, when she turned on Neil she smiled sweetly at him, “I’ll just have the regular waffles with chocolate syrup on the side please.”

“Great, you're order will be ready in fifteen minutes.” With that she gathered the menus and left.

“This is a nice place, how did you know about it?”

One, two, three, four blinks was all Neil got in response, he got the feeling that Andrew was bracing himself for something he just didn’t know what it was.

“Was driving around, came across it, tried it, the end.”

“Okay, ummm... so that Maserati how did you afford it?”

At that Andrew leaned forward on the table with a look of clear mischief in his eyes, Neil was kinda startled but intrigued as well.

“How about this, for every question you ask i get a question in return.” Andrew finally said.

“So like a game we each take turns asking questions!”

“Exactly like a game.” Andrew said with a smile plastered on his face that didn’t really reach his eyes.

Neil was speared from answering as the waitress came with their orders, Andrew’s was a monstrosity of a plate, it was a heap of different kinds of ice-cream flavors topped with chocolate chips, chocolate and caramel syrup and strawberries, the waffles where no where to be seen but Neil had to assume that they were somewhere under there.

As soon as Neil took his first bite he was certain that that what heaven would feel like “mmmmmmm, this is soo good!!” He moaned, when he looked at Andrew there was a strange look on his face that he couldn’t quite decipher, “how’s yours?!” He asked but before he could answer Neil’s phone rang and as he fished it out of his pocket and saw the caller he swore

“I know I’m late, I’m on my way.” He said as soon as he picked up then immediately hung up on the caller, “I gotta go, I’m late for practice and Kevin will have my head on a spike, how much do i owe you?”

“Never mind, come i will drive you.” Andrew answered as he threw a couple of dollars on the table and headed out with Neil behind him.

“You really don’t have to, you probably have other stuff to do”

“Get in the car Josten”

The ride back was silent but it was a relaxing kind of silence, Neil really didn’t get the concept of “awkward silence”, it’s like how can silence be awkward it’s just silence.

When they arrived and Neil got out Andrew stayed in the car, “you’re not coming?” Neil asked

“No, if i got in I won’t be able to get Kevin to back off without punching him.”

“Yeah, sure okay” Neil said defeated.

“I will text you when to meet again and next time don’t you dare be late!” Andrew said, raised to fingers to his forehead and gave Neil a mock salute and drove away.

Neil really couldn’t wipe off that stupid grin from his face and no amount of yelling from Kevin did it either.

Here is chapter 2

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xxx-cat-xxx · 6 years

Text

Always Gold

After the rather dark and heavy thing I threw at you last time, here is something more fluffy (well, as fluffy as concussions and broken ribs can get). Tony is injured while protecting Peter in a battle, but he has to pull through to get everyone to safety...

Featuring Peter repairing an airplane, Tony being heavily whumped (as usual), and Natasha being Natasha. Share it if you like it. Tags for Injury, emeto, and a little bit angsty Peter at the end.

Tony comes to when he hears Peter's voice saying his name, muffled through layers of half-consciousness. He hesitantly opens one of his eyes. Reality is awfully bright and loud and he immediately decides that he doesn´t like it. He wearily drags an arm over his face, trying to hide from the world. Everything hurts.

“Is Mr. Stark alright?” Peter asks anxiously, his shadow blocking out the angry lights assaulting Tony´s retinas when he bends over him.

“Yeah, but he's out of commission.” Nat´s voice.

“Am not.” He knows she´s right, but it´s Nat, so disagreeing is a matter of principle. Talking increases the pain in his head exponentially, his voice reverberating like thunder in his ears. Well, hoarse thunder.

“Yes, you are. Shut up and rest, Stark, you can join the discussion once you are able to talk without barfing.”

Tony ignores her and tries to push himself up on his elbows, just to dangerously tilt to the left. Or the right, for that matter, directions are not exactly his strong suit right now. Someone pushes him back down. He squints at the figure and catches sight of a threadbare blanket set against a background of steel and glas before he has to shut his eyes against the pain. Bruce. The quinjet.

“Seriously, Tony. Stay down. Doctor´s orders.” his voice is calm and gratefully low-key.

“Thought you're not that kind of doctor.” The numbness in Tony's limbs is slowly subsiding, and his body doesn´t like what it reveals. He feels like he´s had a wrestling match against the Hulk, without his suit.

“Well, sometimes I am.” Bruce rebutts.

“Then give me some pain killers.” Tony tries to make it sound casual, sensing Peter´s presence around, but it comes out pleading.

“I did, twice, and you threw them up both times.” Bruce states with sigh that´s close to exasperation.

“Oh.” He doesn't remember that. He doesn't remember a lot, actually. But now that Bruce mentions it, his stomach is definitely on the wrong side of funny.

“What happened?” he asks.

“Dude, you forgot again?” Bruce huffs. “I´m done repeating myself, seriously. Peter, come here, you tell him this time.” He gets up and makes for the rear of the jet.

The boy jumps towards the cot Tony is lying on and bends down to his level, eager to help. There´s a small bruise on his temple, but else he seems unharmed. That´s something, at least.

“Well, enlighten me, kid,” Tony sighs.

“We were on a mission, Mr. Stark, and there was a huge amount of Hydra agents, lots of them, and they had crazy tech, like, you know these water guns that you used to play with as a kid - or I did, at least - just like these, only they were real guns, and without the colouring- “

“Geez, just come to the point, kid”, Tony interrupts, “You´re worse than a truckload of grannys on coffee klatch.” He doesn´t want to be rude, but god, he´s tired. And nauseous. He can feel his stomach slowly climbing up his throat.

“Sorry, Mr. Stark.” Peter blushes, and his tone sobers up a little. “Okay, so we were fighting, and I nearly had their leader tied to a street lamp,” he mimics firing his webshooters, “but then he kinda blasted the wall behind me with his gun, which was not a fair move at all, seriously. And then...” he looks down, suddenly appearing guilty.

“...then Daddy came and saved his life heroically, pushing him to safety and getting buried underneath a bulding. Once again.” Nat finishes for him, glancing over from where she´s sitting at the control panel. “God, we should sell the movie rights, your grannys would cry their eyes out.”

“I could have handled it!” Peter protests, the volume of his voice making Tony cringe.

“No, you couldn´t've.” he objects.

“That's not fair! You don´t even remember what happened!”

“Don't need to. I know how you are, pre-K, taking on stuff that's too big for you, trying to be a god-damn action hero.” Tony coughs, wishing for it not to turn into a gag, and his whole body aches with the sudden movement. Peter´s form has become a blur in front of his eyes.

“Who´s the hero here? I didn´t get a concussion trying to protect my teammates!” the boy objects.

“Watch it, kid! I´d lecture you on what's written in the manual about dangerously reckless behaviour, if... if I could remember.” He trails off, swallowing heavily. “Anyways, we won?”

“We got away, and they have taken heavy hits.” Nat interferes. “But no, they aren´t finished off yet, and according to our intel, they might have aerial transport to follow us. We´re on autopilot, but I´m having the scanners run continuously.”

“What, you let them go?” he asks incredulously and just a tiny bit disappointed.

“Gosh, Tony, you were buried under a ton of rubble! I had to get you out and make sure that you weren´t dying from brain bleed, and Peter here was basically useless worrying about you as he does. I was glad I got Bruce calmed down from code green and all of you back in the jet before anything worse happened!”

“I wasn´t useless -” Peter speaks up, but Nat cuts him off.

“We already had this dicussion. Anyways, we can save the chit-chat for debrief. Tony, get back to sleep.”

He wants to object, but he´s afraid that he´ll lose the fight against the ever-growing nausea if he opens his mouth again. Also, keeping his eyes open makes him dizzy, so he leans back, hoping he´ll remember the conversation next time he wakes up. Darkness closes in as soon as he lets his head rest on the pillow.

---

“Stark, calm down, you're gonna scare the kid!”

He wakes up trashing, his own hoarse scream ringing in his ear, shadows of the attackers still hovering around him. His stomach is already sitting in his throat, and it´s all he can do to role over and heave over the side of the cot. Liquid splashes into a plastic bag. Someone´s there, holding it open for him, lightly patting his back.

“Just get it all up, okay?” a voice says. He opens his eyes a bit. Red hair and black leather blur into view. He flinches away, taking a moment to convince himself it´s Nat, not an enemy.

“Easy, Tony, you´re in the quinjet. The team's safe. You just had a bad dream or something.” Her tone is soothing, bare of all her usual sarcasm. Tony briefly wonders what he just made her witness.

“I don't - remember you becoming - such a mother hen?” he pants between gags. More comes up and god, it hurts. If anything, it has gotten worse than before. Not only his head, his chest is on flames now as well. He's sure he's got at least two broken ribs on top of the concussion.

“I am not.” Nat's back to her regular snippy self. “Just don't fancy spending the next hours in a plane reeking of your puke. Besides, I thought you'd rather have me than the kid watch you tossing cookies...?” she raises an eyebrow.

Right. Peter. The events come back to him, slowly. He coughs, another heave catching him off guard. His head is spinning. He tries to aim for the bag and catches a bit of her elbow.

“Fuck“, he groans. “'m sorry.”

“Yikes...” she grimaces, but then, more serious “It's bad, isn't it?”

“Na, I'll be good.” he spits and wipes his mouth on the back of his hand, hating how his trembling fingers betrays him. “Had worse and survived.” He sees something flicker in her eyes. They both know what he's talking about.

She grabs his side and guides him back into a lying position, and he can't suppress an outcry.

“What now?” Nat demands.

“Ribs”, he groans between gritted teeth, “Fucking stop touching...”

“Okay, okay.” she lets go and Tony has to bite back a whimper when he falls onto the mattress. “Should´ve told me earlier. Anything else broken?”

"Not that I know,” he pants, “but do I look like a doctor? Speaking of that, where´s Mr. Choleric?”

“I sent him off to dreamland.” Nat motions with her head toward the rear. “He was pretty shaky after the fight. You know, calory burn, all that. Peter´s with him.”

“Hmm.” Tony groans. His head is spinning, and he can´t entirely catch his breath.

“Okay, you think you can keep down some water? We still got a few hours in front of us, don't want you all dried out once we reach New York.” She presses a bottle into his jittery hands.

Tony´s protest is lost in the sudden blaring of the jet´s alarms. Nat´s up and at the consoles in an instant, but before she can do anything, a loud crash sounds from the rear when something strikes the plane hard. The world tilts to the side, and it's all Tony can do to muffle his scream when his body hits the wall and agony explodes inside his head.

----- Peter was playing on his phone next to a dozing Bruce, trying to distract himself. Battles like these are still somewhat new to him and always leave him edgy, and the worry about his mentor isn´t exactly helping his nerves. Suddenly, his spider senses start tingling, causing the hairs on his forearms to stand. He is barely out of the door when a loud crash comes from behind him and a sudden loss of altitude makes his adrenaline spike. He runs to the front, trying not to lose his footing when the jet tilts.

The scene in the cockpit is chaotic, alarms blinking and blaring shrill, boxes and weapons that have come lose slipping around on the floor, Nat running to and fro while trying to stabilize the plane. Tony, apparently awake, is draped over the cot in a weird angle, squeezing his arms over his ears and grimacing in pain.

“What happened?” Bruce stumbles out behind Peter.

“They got us.” Nat replies briskly. She hits a few buttons and thankfully, the alarms fall silent.

“Bruce, headphones, bathroom.” she commands, not looking up from the monitors.

“I- ” he starts.

“Now!”

He doesn´t protest again, and Peter is grateful for it. They all know what's going to happen if he hulks out in the small space of the quinjet. Apart from that, Bruce Banner might be one of the world´s most brilliant scientists, but in his human form he isn´t usually of much help in combat situations.

Another hit makes the plane jump in the air, and Peter has to grasp the wall as not to keel over.

“Shit!” Nat glares at the screens that have suddenly gone black and mumbles something unintelligible that sounds a lot like a Russian curse. “System´s down." She presses a few buttons and kicks against the console, but nothing happens. “Stark, you conscious?”

“No.” comes a muffled groan. “But do I have a choice?”

“Not really. Weapon control´s is down, I gotta take them out manually from the rear before they blow us to pieces.” There is a bit of empathy in her voice when she continues. “You need to hold us stable, Tony, and get the system back online. Can you sit up?”

“If you tell me which way is up...” But he pushes himself onto his elbows and makes to sit. Peter is taken aback by how bad his mentor looks, white as a ghost, sweaty, ready to pass out. He doesn´t have time to think about it, though, because another explosion shakes the plane in its core and makes him and Nat reel on their feet. “They are nearly up to our level.” The assassin shoots Tony a look.

“Go, I got this!” he ensures, and Nat bolts to the storage to grab a monster of a gun that looks half as long and nearly as heavy as Peter. She positions herself near the loading ramp, hooks the weapon into its designated place and starts to shoot.

Peter turns back to Tony, who is now sitting hunched over, looking just about to be sick again. “What can I do?” he asks frantically, wanting to help but not knowing how. There´s too much input, the situation so different from the battles in the field where, despite the danger, there is always an emergency escape plan. And a mentor he can turn to who isn´t in danger of passing out any minute.

“Sit back. Be quiet.” Tony replies uncharacteristically brisk. He swallows heavily.

“But I want to help!” Peter protests. Tony doesn't look like he can see straight, let alone fly an airplane. Apart from the worry about his mentor, Peter is painfully aware that their all survival currently depends on the man´s ability to maneuver them out of the situation.

“A, this is not a video game, Parker, you can´t just learn to fly an airplane within a few minutes. At least not if you´re not me.” Tony slowly gets up, grasping for something to steady himself, then frowning as if he is trying to remember what he wanted to say. “And C”, he continues, “I´ve been getting along working on my own for 30 years, I think it´ll do for another few hours.”

Peter just stares at him.

“What?” Tony huffs, swaying on his feet.

“Your - your left pupil is blown, Mr. Stark. And you just skipped the second letter of the alphabet. I think you need some assistance.” Tony chooses this moment to lose his balance and unceremoniously crumble onto his butt, which Peter would find extremely funny if the situation wasn't that serious.

Tony´s hand flies to his mouth as he bends forward and gags. Sick drops down from between his fingers onto the floor. “Shit” he gasps, retching painfully once more. A trickle of bile is added to the small puddle on the ground. “Help me up.” he urges, still swallowing thickly, wiping his hand on his pants.

Peter hurriedly gets the engineer back to his feet and supports him into the pilot seat. Tony takes only a few seconds to manually alter their flight path and bring them far above the swarm of Hydra´s drones attacking them, which earns him a grateful thumbs-up from Nat who is still busy taking them out on her own.

Tony turns to the panel that hosts the jet´s AI, but is stopped by a coughing fit that knocks the air out of him. He wheezes, clutching his chest with one hand, trying desperately to inhale enough oxygen. Peter can practically hear broken ribs shifting against each other.

“Mr. Stark....” Peter trails off, his heartbeat speeding up. He is not a doctor, but he knows that this cannot be a good sign.

“I´m okay, kid.“ Tony coughs again, squeezing his eyes shut. His face looks even paler than before and his breathing goes ragged and sounds painful. He squints at the control board, then sighs. “Fine, if you´re not gonna leave me alone, make yourself useful.”

He connects a tablet to the plane´s computer with shaky fingers and holds it out roughly in Peter´s direction. “Need to override the system to restart it, just enter whatever I´m telling ya. I´d do that myself, but the world is kinda... ” he draws a spinning movement into the air.

“Okay, okay, I can do that.” Peter says, taking a deep breath and trying not to panic at the thought that the man who's currently flying the plane can't see straight. Spiderman is needed now. Tony starts dictating him lines of code while keeping the plane on a more or less steady flight path, changing height and directions whenever Nat tells him to. Peter tries his best not to make mistakes, but a few times he misspell lines of code and Tony grunts angrily, apparently frustrated over his own lack of capability to complete the task.

“Mr. Stark? What now?” he asks and turns his head when Tony suddenly falls silent. The older man is gazing into space, one hand cradling the side of his head, the other curled loosely around the flight controller.

“What?” he blinks confusedly. “Good work, Parker, well done,” he rambles.

“No, Mr. Stark....the code. What should I enter next?”

“Huh?” he stares at Peter for a moment, then seems to remember. “Oh, ya you´re right. What's it saying on the screen again?”

After another ten minutes of tensed work, blue lights finally appear at the control panel and Peter lets out a breath he hadn´t realized he´s been holding.

“Welcome, Mr. Stark, Mr. Parker.” Friday´s voice greets them.

“About time!” Nat shouts over to them. “I was running out of ammo here. Friday, take over the flight control and focus on the targets. Take them out at my command!”

“Mr. Stark, we made it!” Peter exclaims, a proud grin spreading over his face.

But Tony doesn´t react. He is sagged into his seat, head leaning against the backrest, breathing fast and shallow, sweat beading his brow. His gaze seems to linger somewhere in the distance, eyelids slowly drooping.

“Mr. Stark, you're not going to pass out, are you? “

"I..." he trails off, nausea and panic crossing his face in rapid succession.

"Okay... We´ll get you lying down, I guess.” Peter says frantically, worry edging up in him. Tony's head lolls forward, and he retches, a slim streak of bile soiling his lap.

“Nat, Dr. Banner?” Peter calls out, “Can - can someone help, please?”

He watches anxiously when Bruce carries the engineer to the cot and starts to carefully sweep his ribs. Tony moans in pain and tries to curl into himself, only half-conscious and barely realizing what´s going on around him. It nearly breaks Peter´s heart to see him in a state like this. He knows Tony wouldn´t want him to watch it, but he can´t bring himself to turn away, either.

Suddenly guilt takes over. It´s his fault that his mentor is injured this badly, from all he knows, Peter should have been the one to be hit by the wall, he should be lying on that cot in pain right now. His knees grow weak beneath him, and he sinks down to the floor, shaking soundlessly.

“Are you okay, Peter?” Bruce asks in a soft tone.

“It´s - it´s all my fault.” he brings out. His throat is tight, his stomach a knot. He feels like he´s going to throw up, too. "He - he got hurt because of me."

“Na, kiddo. Stop talking bullshit”, comes a weak voice. Tony attempts a grin that quickly turns grimace. He shifts his head a little so he can face Peter directly. His brown eyes are rimmed by barely concealed pain, but they focus on Peter just as intensely as they always do.

“I´d lie if I said that I enjoy feeling like the leftovers of a car crash, and boy, I´m gonna give you hell you if you´re not more careful next time. But... we all make mistakes, and the important thing is that we learn from them.“ He coughs dryly, his voice sounding hoarse from vomiting when he goes on.

“I mean, you´re speaking to the guy who spent nearly twenty years of his life selling weapons for a living. People make stupid decisions, Peter, but just trust me, you´re gonna go mad if you hold yourself responsible for everything bad that happens around you.” His eyes hold onto Peter´s for a moment longer before drifting shut, exhaustion taking over, and Peter senses something deeper beneath these words. He doesn´t ask, though, knowing that now is not the time.

Instead, he shifts his body so that he is leaning directly against the cot. He crosses his arms at the height of Tony´s knees, leaving enough distance not to make him uncomfortable, but staying close enough to let him know someone is there with him. Peter rests his tired head on his elbows, deciding that he won´t move from Tony´s side anymore until the man gets medical attention. Despite everything, he feels safe for the first time that afternoon. The jet´s movements have become incredibly smooth, and he slowly succumbs to the exhaustion.

He wakes up in the same position when the quinjet touches down to earth, a little confused, a little tired, and comfortably warm thanks to a black leather jacket that is draped across his shoulders. The remainders of a nightmare waft through his head, and he quickly sits up to look at his mentor. Tony is still asleep, looking pale, weary, and hurting, but gladfully alive.

The quinjet´s ramp recedes, and Tony´s eyelids flutter open when a swarm of medics enter and lift him onto a stretcher. His gaze flickers around for a moment, then settles on Peter, and he winks at him once before he is carried out. Don´t worry kid, I´ll be alright.

And for now, that´s all Peter needs to know.

#sickfic #hurt tony #hurt tony stark #injury #concussion #emeto #emetophilia #irondad #spiderson #peter parker #tony stark #natasha romanov #bruce banner #h/c #hurt/comfort

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you-andthebottlemen · 7 years

Text

13 - Two POV’s

Request: “Hey can you do one where you're a singer and you pass by van in between festival sets with a brief hello while with your crew? And afterwards Van is just like enamoured with you and there are just nervous encounters”

I really enjoyed writing Van’s POV for this one! Hope you enjoy anon x

*****

‘Your’ POV:

Spain was amazing, but it was so fucking hot. Every set was like a game of Russian Roulette, the loser getting heatstroke. You all got sunburnt, though; sun screen was in high demand. You only felt sorry for the thousands of people gathered in the crowd to see you. You loved playing festivals but this one was a killer.

Your hair was drenched in sweat but you poured a bottle of water over your head before the last song anyway. Your hair whipped around your face as you jumped around singing and it was a slight cool relief. After your set, you gave the crowd your biggest thanks and dragged yourself off stage to rehydrate. You couldn’t wait to get back to the bus and change out of your sweaty clothes.

As you walked off with your crew, the next band on was prepping for their set. They seemed to be English; all of them unprepared for the burning hell that was the stage. One was wearing a black hat, all of them were dressed in black shirts and jeans. One of them, in particular, was wearing a long sleeved sweater type thing; he was going to die. You’d seen him standing side stage watching you earlier but had no idea he was in a band.

As the two groups walked past each other, you nodded and said a brief hello to the Englishmen.

“That sweater was a mistake. Bloody hot out there,” You said to the guy with the long sleeves.

He looked up at you, almost stunned that you’d spoken to him.

“Um, yeah. Well, at least he’s not wearing his velvet shirt,” he laughed awkwardly, pointing to the guy in the hat.

��Right. Well good luck out there,” you smiled. He nodded a thanks and began to walk away.

“Are you gonna watch our set?” He said as he quickly stopped walking and turned on his heels to face you, one hand knotted in his hair as if he were nervous or unsure about what he was asking.

“Sure, why not,” you told him and he smiled.

When his band finally entered the stage, the crowd went fucking mental like you hadn’t seen in a long time.

You sat down on a gear case, with a cold cloth on your forehead and kissed goodbye that craving to retreat to your air-conditioned tour bus. You chatted with your crew and band, they were all talking about how good the next band were. Catfish and The Bottlemen, they were called. What a weird name. The guy with the long sleeves you learnt, was Van the lead singer. And heavens, could he sing. He belted out every line with precision and thrashed himself about the stage. He stopped every so often to check on the crowd and see how they were doing in the heat. He even got security to pass out water bottles that were meant for the band, to people who weren’t doing so well. You admired his compassion.

Every so often Van glanced in your direction, seemingly to check if you were still there. When he saw you he winked, you laughed and rolled your eyes at his showing off.

“Reckon he’s got a crush on you that one,” his guitar tech said with a laugh, nodding towards Van. He was kinda small and had long hair held back by some kind of headband around his forehead.

“Does he know I’m older than him?” You asked, feeling kind of flattered but still finding it funny.

“No idea. He won’t care, though. He was in love with a 26 year old when he was 17...so...” the guy bent over laughing, what a sight.

.............

The next day was even hotter if you could believe it. Yet Van was still in long sleeves which astounded everyone.

When their set was over, the boys rushed off stage and quickly tried to cool down. Van was dripping in sweat, his sweater was sticking to him and his hair clinging to his forehead. He stood in a corner bending over with his hands on his knees and head down, trying to catch his breath and not pass out. You walked over to him and offered him a cold cloth and bottle of water.

“Here, take these,” you said.

“Cheers, love,” he responded, still out of breath. He’d have heat stroke tomorrow for sure.

He took one sip of the water before pouring it all over his head like you did yesterday, running the cloth around his neck. When he finished, he handed back the empty bottle. He stood there for a second, looking like he was about to say something but didn’t. His eyes quickly darted away from you and he rocked on his heels.

“Amazing set by the way,” you said to break the awkward silence.

Van’s eyes snapped back to yours and his face perked up into a goofy smile.

“Really? Thank you very much. Yours too y/n, you er, sing like an angel you know?” Van said, licking his lips. Okay...so he knew your name.

"Thanks, Van," you laughed, he was sweet.

He stood there staring at you for a bit longer than was normal but you didn't catch him out on it. Van’s crush was so obvious. His band manager began shouting his name, calling him back to their bus. He shook his head when he realised his name was being called as if he was waking out of a daze.

"Oh shit, sorry y/n. I have to go for an interview. Will I see you at the after party tonight?" He asked, sounding way too hopeful.

"Yes Van, you will," you smirked as he dashed off like a puppy, completely unaware that you saw him run into the distance whipping his shirt off and swinging it in the air around his head like an excited cowboy.

Van’s POV:

Yeah, I was lucky to be in Spain, but what really got me was this band in front of us on the set list. The female lead was gorgeous; in looks, sound, attitude, everything. I sat side stage for their set just watching, completely enamoured by her. Couldn’t take my eyes off her. The way she strutted around the stage was dead sexy and the way she smiled at the crowd was heart warming. She seriously sang like a fucking angel. Christ.

Larry came up behind me and slapped my shoulder, I jumped and he laughed.

“Is Van in love?” He teased me.

“Honestly mate, I might be,” I still couldn’t take my eyes off her.

“What’s her name?” I asked Larry.

“Y/n,” he responded with a smirk.

She announced their last song and as the guitar intro started, she poured water all over her head, soaking her hair completely. The crowd cheered and she whipped her head around, the dripping strands sending droplets all around her. As if she couldn’t get more attractive. My eyes widened, I was enthralled.

“Christ lad, get a grip,” Larry, was in hysterics at me but I didn’t care.

I began preparing for our set when she and her band walked off. I was careful not to look at her, I was too filled up with nerves and that’s not even something that happens to me.

“That sweater was a mistake. Bloody hot out there,” She said to me as our crew passed hers. Her accent killed me.

I looked up in surprise. Her cheeks were flushed red and all her makeup had melted off, but she still looked beautiful. I started to get all jittery and blabbed out the first thing that came to mind.

“Um, yeah. Well, at least he’s not wearing his velvet shirt,” and pointed over at Johnny Bond. Fuck.

“Right. Well good luck out there,” she smiled at me, ignoring my awkwardness.

I nodded at her and said thank you, walking off. I really hoped she would watch our set; see how great Catfish are. Should I ask her? Probably not, its hot as hell out here. Oh fuck it. I stopped dead in my tracks and turned around.

“Are you gonna watch our set?” I asked as I turned around to face her, running my hand through my hair subconsciously.

Please let her say yes, fuck.

“Sure why not,” she smiled at me, without hesitation.

That was all I needed to walk on stage feeling like a fucking king. The crowd lost their shit and so did I.

I couldn’t help but look over her way every so often through our set. She was sat with her crew side stage, sitting cross-legged on a gear case and a cloth over her forehead. She looked dead cute.

Every time she caught me glancing at her, I sent her a wink. Probably a bad move but being on stage always boosted my confidence. She just laughed anyway, don’t think any harm was done. Although, the last time I saw her before she left for press, Larry was talking to her and he was bent over laughing. That couldn’t be good.

.......

Maybe y/n was right; the long sleeves were a mistake. Today was even hotter than before and that set nearly killed me. I rushed off after thanking the crowd, breathless and dizzy. I stood in a shaded corner and tried to steady myself with my hands on my knees.

“Here, take these,” a gentle voice said. It was y/n.

“Thanks, love,” I responded, taking the bottle and cloth from her, still having trouble breathing slow and my chest was burning.

I took a gulp of water then decided it was better used elsewhere. I tipped it over my head and soaked my hair, letting it drip down and cool me off. It used the cold cloth to cool my neck down; sweet relief. I handed back y/n the bottle, which in hindsight was probably weird.

Feeling nervous and embarrassed for looking so filthy, I struggled to meet her eyes. I wasn’t sure what to say and I knew if I looked at her I’d just stare for way too long.

“Amazing set by the way,” she said, clearly feeling the tension.

I looked at her, feeling ecstatic. She liked us! And she stayed to watch us two days in a row, I must be doing something right.

“Really? Thank you very much. Yours too y/n, you er, sing like an angel you know?” I couldn’t shake the grin on my face so I took a leap of faith and gave her a compliment.

“Thanks, Van,” she smiled, laughing a little as if she thought what I said was cute.

I knew it. Shouldn’t have looked at her. I was studying her face and taking her in. She was so, fucking gorgeous. Suddenly I heard my name being called, I think they’d been trying to get my attention for a while but I was more than distracted by this beautiful woman in front of me.

"Oh shit, sorry y/n. I have to go for an interview. Will I see you at the after party tonight?" I felt bad about leaving y/n there, but man did I want to see her later.

“Yes Van, you will,” she responded with a small smile, or was it a smirk? I don’t care.

I raced off behind the band, feeling rejuvenated. Fuck yes! I ripped my shirt off and swung it around my head cheering as I ran, not caring what people thought. The angel would be coming to the after party and I’m gonna sweep her off her feet.

#catb #catfish and the bottlemen #van mccann #van #vanfic #vanfiction #fanfic #fan fiction

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tsuki-chibi · 7 years

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willbakewithbitty replied to your post “I guilted myself into signing up for the blood donor clinic on campus...”

I'm very sorry you don't like needles, but as a person who has received a transfusion that saved my life, I thank you in advance for someone else and send you happy thoughts. I mean it sincerely...

Thanks. I don’t even know what my blood type is, but I hope it will be useful?

dexterousdawdler replied to your post “I guilted myself into signing up for the blood donor clinic on campus...”

Good job! I used to donate blood, but wasn't able to for a while. Donating actually helped relieve some of my needle related anxiety as it was something I chose to so rather than something I had to do. I hope you get a nicer nurse next time

It would be nice if I could get over my fear of needles, as it’s both frustrating and embarrassing (I could tell my coworkers just did not understand my issue. They kept telling me it wouldn’t hurt. Like guys, pain is so not the problem!). At this point the jury is still out on whether there’ll be a next time - we’ll see.

ohgreatblackbunny replied to your post “I guilted myself into signing up for the blood donor clinic on campus...”

Congratulations! I'm like you and not a fan of needles at all. If it helps next time turn your head away and not look at the needle area a all. Unfortunately moving your fingers helps the blood flow, my local blood donation center gives me a stress ball to rotate or squeeze. Did you donate with red Cross? My friends and I all have had bad times with them, if you can I'd suggest finding a local donation company for next time. After you donate you should sit for 15 minutes and have a snack and water/oj. My local place and even the mobile donation centers at my undergrad offers snacks. If you feel dizzy after eating and drinking something I'd call the donation place and ask for advice. Hope you feel better❤ I've donated blood many times but the last time I did I was pretty jittery anxious the entire time for some reason. I'm glad you donate and I hope you'd think about donating again 2/2

I tried not to look as much as possible (though the nurse was saying something to me at one point and I couldn't hear so I instinctively turned my head and yup, saw the needle - ugh). I donated with Canadian Blood Services; pretty sure there are no local donation companies up here. And yeah, I was kinda lightheaded and shaky after so I probably should've sat longer. The funny thing is, I have mild rosacea (I think) in my face, so to someone else I didn't look white, but when I looked at myself in the mirror afterwards I was shocked. I've never seen myself that pale. I drank some water and I probably should've eaten, but my chest and stomach were so tight from adrenaline/nerves I couldn't.

likeanelephantfootprint replied to your post “I guilted myself into signing up for the blood donor clinic on campus...”

You're so brave! I'm scared of needles too and am working my way up to donation because I know it's so important. Well done, this complete stranger on the internet is proud of you <3

I actually felt the opposite of brave; it's embarrassing to be so upset your hands are shaking in front of people. But in retrospect, I'm glad my coworker came with me because being able to chat with her was a welcome distraction - so you might consider bringing someone with you too. And in all honesty, today I'm like "I can't believe I did that. Did I really do that?"

pardonmynerdgasm replied to your post “I guilted myself into signing up for the blood donor clinic on campus...”

Go chibi! Proud of you! Im too scared to do it ever cuz needles kinda freak me out too.

For me the worst part was definitely the anticipation? Like when I got to the chair and sat down, I told the nurse I was terrified of needles. But he still left me sitting there for what felt like forever (probably 5-10 minutes) because he and another nurse were fussing over a girl who'd almost fainted. And I understand that and appreciate it, but I was like DUDE. I AM FREAKING OUT. CAN WE GET THIS PROCESS MOVING. In retrospect I should've said something - like, "if you don't fucking do it I'm outta here" - but then I probably would've cried, so yeah.

ellendd replied to your post “I guilted myself into signing up for the blood donor clinic on campus...”

Good for you! (((hugs))) You did a wonderful thing for someone today.

Thanks! It seems terrible to say that part of what kept me in the chair was pure curiosity over what my blood type is, plus the fact that I didn't want to go back to the office and admit I'd chickened out...

#dexterousdawdler #willbakewithbitty #ohgreatblackbunny #likeanelephantfootprint #pardonmynerdgasm #ellendd #responses #personal

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