#gonna take tylenol and maybe pass out for a while | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tipsyleaf · 18 days

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https://www.tumblr.com/tipsyleaf/747506335018549248/ok-so-hear-me-out-a-relationship-with-leon-and?source=share

love, reading this gave me butterflies 😭😭 ur way of writing is simply amazing! also, imagine that this new girl treats reader badly and Leon defends her (us)...?

xx🪞

Tysm!!!! You have no idea what it means to me when people enjoy what I write!

(I had so much fun writing this, thank you for the ask!!)

You end up kissing linoleum in the break room and there's agents surrounding you in seconds. A few even trying to get to stir. Leon's knelt next to you on the floor, making sure you didn't it your head and keeping it elevated. But eventually they get the agency nurse there to get you to infirmary.

This new girl is watching in shock, mildly irritated by being interrupted but everyone seems to be frazzled so maybe something might actually be wrong with you. So she just goes along with everyone else as the nurse shows up with a wheelchair.

Eventually you come to on the examination table. The nurse explains what happened and she starts asking you questions. After a few questions she asks how stressed you are.

You work as an USSTRACOM agent, when aren't you stressed?

So you give an honest answer and she continues asking. You tell her about being upset before passing out and she takes a breath in, telling you it's probably blood pressure issues. Go see a doctor. So, you take the Tylenol she offers and leave to get back to office work.

The next few weeks are different. Leon starts lingering around your block every time he goes to anywhere that isn't his desk.

Bathroom break? How are you feeling?

Coffee from the break room? You see that doctor yet?

Paperwork for Hunnigan? Hey, we should really go get lunch together again today. It's been a while!

It's nice how much he cares, it makes your heart swell and chest fill with that bubbly sensation. It's almost there's this thick dreamy fog every time he's around. It's suffocating but you honestly can't get enough. You crave it that whenever he's not talking to you or looking your way it's like you're gonna die.

Eventually the new girl, who just so happen to get one of the empty cubicles in your row, starts getting more and more pissed over time. She sees how you look at Leon. Like he's an oasis in the desert and you're a quenched traveler crawling for the last scrap of hope you have. Thirsty, so thirsty...

It's sickening.

She ends up starting to be passive aggressive. Asking everyone in your row out for drinks but you.

Sorry, I just heard you weren't a big drinker. Didn't think you'd be interested.

Sounds reasonable.

Goes out of her way to order everyone lunch while you're out of the office on a case for the day.

I was planning on waiting for you to get back but I mixed up the order date, sorry!

Everyone... Makes mistakes?

She gets a special coffee order and you're finally included! On her way over she drops yours on the office carpet. Hitting your new shoes you just got a compliment on earlier that morning. You look at her and her shocked face... Fake shock, you know a liar when you see one.

Oh my God! I'm so-

It's fine.

You turn back to your work and hear her snicker. She thinks she's sneaky, but she's really not.

One day you're in the break room, grabbing some water from the cooler when she walks in, starting to make small talk. Being fake friendly, typical. You turn to walk out with your water when you here her gasp and a shatter. Water hitting from your feet to your waistline. Freezing you turn back seeing the water cooler toppled over and shattered on the floor...

I'm so sorry, I bumped into it!

It's a glass water cooler... It's SUPPOSE to be heavy. There's no way she just bumped into it and it fell...

The break room door flies open, it's Leon.

The hell is going on in here?

He sees the mess, eyes going wide as he realizes you're soaked from the waist down. The girl immediately tries explaining herself and how she "bumped" into the cooler. Thankfully he's on the same train of thought as you.

There's no fucking way...

Leon, it's fine. It's just water.

Really it was an accident!

Accident my ass! And no it's not fine. It's water and glass. This dumbass could have hurt you.

Dumbass? You've never heard him snap at anyone in the office before. You look back at her, real shock finally dawning her face. It almost makes you grin. She starts to stutter, trying to say anything at all.

Whatever you have to say, save it. And I don't know what petty childish reason you have for doing something this stupid but knock it off. She doesn't need the stress of dealing with you too.

That grin finally graces your lips as her disappointment rears it's head. But quickly you let it drop. Leon ushering you to the locker room to change out of your wet pants. That hazy feeling coming back slowly as he watches over you.

Thank you for sticking up for me. I appreciate it.

What're friends for?

You mess with the handle after trying the combination, jammed... Of course. Leon steps over. Shooing you out of the way and bangs his fist over the latch. Backing off he gestures for a second try. You raise a brow, skeptical over it but your wet ass begs to just try again. So you do, the door opening without fail.

Wow, a true master with his hands.

What can I say? I just have that special touch.

You giggle at his comment, pulling out your uniform pants from your locker. You move to start changing when you glance at Leon, he hasn't even tried budging.

Could you maybe... Turn around?

I've seen you on the brink of death, more than once. And you're scared for me to see you without your pants on?

You've bought me lunch countless times but that feels more like a dinner thing, y'know?

Leon grins, crossing his arms over his chest. His expression change is almost... Flirtatious?

Damn, if I knew it were that easy I would have asked sooner.

Definitely flirtatious.

Leon...

His brows raise as you start undoing the button on your pants. He's... Clearly interested.

I'm wet...

He bites his bottom lip, fingers tensing into his forearms as he squeezes his eyes shut.

Don't... Don't say it.

I'm sorry! You just make it too easy sometimes!

He moves his arms, taking in a breath as he covers his eyes and he turns away.

I'll be good. Just for you.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x fem reader #resident evil x reader #🌿 ivy replies #🌿 ivy writes

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mirkwoodmunson · 1 year

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So I don’t know if you write for steve or not but if you do, could you do a steve x sick reader please? I have the flu and I’m dying

i’ve never written for anyone but eddie so i hope i do steve justice!!! thank you for the request, anon, i hope you feel better soon!!

“anything funny, just… the dumbest comedies you can find…”

“…’dumbest comedies?’”

“don’t question my needs, harrington, i just gotta numb my brain out… oh, speaking of, can you pick up some tylenol on your way?”

“that i can do. might have to ask robin about the comedies… what exactly counts as, ‘dumb comedy?’”

“i dunno, like… howard the duck, toxic avenger…”

“…those are comedies??”

“steve!”

“okay okay okay! i got this, i got this. hang tight, i’ll be there in a bit, okay?”

you hang up the phone and cover your face with the crook of your arm, spread out in your bed. despite your discomfort, you couldn’t help the grin — steve always had that effect on you. he’d called to check in on you, see if he could bring you anything after his shift at family video, and aside from your other requests, really all you needed was him to rub your back. maybe pet your hair a little.

the thought of it was enough to lull you to sleep, as the next thing you knew it felt like you were waking into a heavy dream, that familiar weight at your back scritching comfortable spirals against your spine to get you to wake up.

“steeeeve,” you whine, and his response is a soft breath of laughter.

“got that right,” he murmurs, and then you hear the sound of a plastic bag rustling, rattling of tapes in their cases, followed by soft footsteps padding around your carpet as steve heads to your little vcr tv.

in no time at all he’s got airplane! playing on the screen, before heading out of your room for a few minutes and returning with a large glass of water and meds cupped in the other hand. he sets it all down on your bedside, and then coming to your side he kisses your forehead, tucking hair over your ear.

“think you can sit up for me?”

your response is a tired whine, to which steve just chuckles before kissing you again. he aids your slow movements in shifting up and leaning back against the headboard, wrapping a blanket around your shoulders and pulling another over your legs. rather than watch the movie, you just smile softly and watch him.

his face is set with determination, a light pucker of focus at his lips as he ensures your comfort before picking the water and medicine back up, handing you the meds first and then the glass of water once they’re in your mouth. he grins when you wash it all down and take some extra sips.

“there ya go! robin said this was the good shit, so. get ready to feel… y’know. not sick. hopefully.”

“can’t wait,” you murmur weakly with a thumbs up. steve breathes a chuckles and strokes your hair before turning and picking his things up as though he’s getting ready to leave. you pout.

“steve,” you mewl with nasally insistence. he turns with a raised brow. you pout harder, holding your blankets open in silent invitation. at the sight he grins and shakes his head a little, like he can’t believe how cute and sweet you are. he comes to you with another kiss to your cheek.

“thought i was just gonna leave you like this? no way. i’m making you soup and crackers, and we’re watching dumb comedies all day. i’ll be right back. promise.”

he picks his things up again, procures a can of your favorite soup from the bag, and then heads out of your room for a short while.

and he keeps his promise, of course. he nestles into your blanket cocoon beside you, holding you into his side as you slurp your hot soup and watch the small screen with heavy eyes. he has to act fast at one point to catch the empty bowl as it begins to slide from your fingers, setting it aside before leaning forward a bit to check your face.

you’re passed out against his chest with the most serene expression, snoring gently with your lips cracked open, cheek pressed into him. steve slides down a bit to lay you back, holding you against him all the while and tucking his warm smile into your hair, slowly dozing off with you.

#i’m so sorry this took me a bit and it’s so short i’ve been in such a brain funk the last few days!!!!!!#i hope this is okay anon and thank you for waiting!!!!!!#and for the request!!!!#might be the one and only time i write steve i feel like i’m just in eddie mode the whole time and steve’s personality doesn’t make it thru😞#steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington ficlet #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington sickfic #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #mine

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appalachianapologies · 8 months

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A question from my math homework except I actually write MacGyver blurbs instead because I'm fucking autistic- (pspspsps gav)

So far, every time Mac has reached for the thermometer, it hasn’t been with intention to destroy it. The opposite, actually, so Jack should be proud of him for doing so.

This particular thermometer will not meet its untimely demise and find itself in one of Mac’s strange builds. Instead, Mac has been using it for its exact intended purpose. Like every hour for the past six hours before now, Mac puts the probe underneath his tongue and angles the stick so he can just barely make out the numbers.

He has to cross his eyes a little to manage it, and sure it gives him a slight headache doing so, but it’s for a short enough time that it’s always worth it.

Pen in one hand, Mac starts a timer with his other.

After the first minute has passed, he scratches down the number that the thermometer reads. He waits for the timer to go off for the next minute, and does the same. Repeats the process one more time until the full three minutes have passed.

Mac grimaces when he pulls the thermometer out of his mouth, allowing his tongue to move and roam around his gums to get rid of the feeling that always seems to linger when he has to put the metal tip under his tongue. While he fixes the feeling in his mouth, Mac sketches another small graph on the scratch piece of paper that he’s been using since this morning, comparing it back to the previous ones from other hours.

The Tylenol that Jack’s been incessantly reminding Mac to take has been good, keeping his temperature down. Not enough to be considered healthy, but plenty to avoid having to go to Phoenix Med. Or back to Phoenix Med.

As if Jack’s reading his mind—which at this point Mac would hardy argue with—his phone begins to buzz, Jack’s name and picture taking up the lockscreen. As soon as Mac accepts the call, he puts it on speaker and turns the volume all of the way down.

“Hi, Jack.” His voice sounds raspier than it ordinarily would, but Mac thinks he’s otherwise doing well.

“Hey kiddo. How’re you feelin’?”

“Good.” Maybe not completely normal, but not as bad as yesterday. “Bored.”

“Yeah, I don’t doubt it. When I’m done here I’ll bring back some knicknacks from the lab to keep you occupied.”

“Or I could just come into the lab myself.”

Mac can practically hear his partner roll his eyes on the other end. “Not so fast. How’s that fever of yours brewin’? You take your temperature anytime recently?”

“Just a minute ago,” Mac reports.

“And?”

“After three minutes, the temperature had a positive first derivative but a negative second derivative.” Could be better. Could be worse, though.

There’s a long pause of silence, before Jack replies, “...I’m not even gonna ask.”

#for the record; this means that mac's fever is rising but the rate at which it is rising is decreasing #basic calculus is actually quite simple if you think of it in terms of macgyver (2016)#ANYWAY. mac :)#in which vi actually writes #macgyver #macgyver 2016 #angus macgyver #jack dalton #drabbles #i got 11/11 on my math homework 😎#and as always i don't proof read my drabbles so if there are errors we're both gonna have to accept that

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juiceinpanties · 2 years

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10 Things You Hate About Eddie Munson, pt. 3

Pairing: Eddie Munson/afab!reader

Rating(s): Chapter: R; Fic: E

Tags: eventual smut, penetrative sex, oral sex (both m and f receiving), fingering, subbie!Eddie, masturbation (m and f), fake dating, van sex, secret relationship, antagonistic relationship to friendship to lovers, casual sex, not-so-casual sex, phone sex, drunk reader

Summary: Your best friend, Nancy Wheeler, is absolutely dying to date Steve Harrington, but her parents have the weirdest rule: Nancy can't date until her friends (e.g., you) do. Nancy begs you to date someone, anyone, and eventually you agree. Meanwhile Steve offers to pay Eddie "the freak" Munson to ask you out. What could possibly go wrong??

Notes: This is, quite obviously, a 10 Things I Hate About You au, with a slight twist. Throw in some fake dating, a 90s setting, and here we are. Thanks to @tonybourdain for dragging me in and continuing to enable me. The van scene is partly her doing...

Please note the tags. This chapter is rated R and is sort of smut-adjacent. Actual smut will occur in future chapters, promise.

Feedback is always welcome and appreciated and PLEASE reblog! Completely blank blogs that just like will be blocked because I'm gonna assume you're a bot. I've been here a long time.

In case you wanna read on Ao3 instead

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

You aren't looking forward to seeing Eddie because you have no idea what happened at the party Saturday night, except that Nancy said Eddie was the one who brought you home. You hope to anyone who's listening that you didn't make a complete fool of yourself, or (god forbid) make a pass at Eddie.

You find him Monday morning outside leaning against the building, one ankle crossed over the other. He's smoking, but he puts it out as you approach.

"Hey," he says when you get close enough. "Feeling better?"

"Than Saturday? Considering it's mostly a blank I'm gonna say...yes?"

He grins and tugs at a lock of his hair. "Yeah, you were pretty messed up." His expression turns serious. "Steve and I thought maybe the guy giving you the drinks might've slipped you something. Glad you came to find me while you were still sober enough."

You frown down at your boots, then up at him. "I woke up Sunday morning still dressed with a pounding headache and a bottle of Tylenol and glass of water on my nightstand. Was that you?"

"The headache, no. The rest, yeah. I figured you'd have one hell of a hangover."

"Hm," you say. You look away. Back. "Thanks," you finally manage. "That was nice. How'd you get me past my parents?"

"Practice," he says with an insouciant grin.

You roll your eyes, but then reach into your bag for something. "So, um. I...well. I made you this. As a kind of thank you, and because I guess it's what people do? When they're dating? Anyway, whatever, here." You push a tape at him, and he catches it before it can hit the ground.

He reads the track list and his expression goes through a series of changes, each one pissing you off more than the last. "Uh...that's—that's nice, but I can't accept this."

"Hm. Okay. It's not an engagement ring. Why the fuck not?"

"It's got—fuck. It's got Tiffany! And Wilson Phillips! And—and—Pearl Jam!"

"I can read, Grove. I made the fucking thing. Your point?"

"Fuuuck. I was hoping you wouldn't remember that."

"I said mostly a blank," you snap. You wish now you hadn't used the stupid nickname. Clearly he doesn't deserve a nickname. "So do you want the tape or not?"

"I can't—I mean—it was nice of you to—but I—”

"Forget it! I'd hate for you to strain yourself." You snatch the tape back from him and spin on your heel. "Clearly this was a stupid fucking idea. I'll tell Nancy to find someone else."

He watches you go in wide-eyed horror. "Wait!" he cries. "Hang on, wait, don't—awww, come on!" This last in response to you flipping him the bird over your shoulder as you disappear inside the building. "Fuck!" he growls. "Fuck, fuck, fuck! A girl gives you a tape, you take the fucking tape! It doesn't matter if it's Kenny G's greatest hits! Fuuuuuck!!"

The door opens and he peers that way hopefully, but instead of you he sees a very annoyed-looking Steve Harrington. "What the fuck did you do?!" he says. "I just talked to the girl I'm paying you to go out with, and she told me to go fuck myself and take you with me."

"Shiiiiit!" Eddie says. He presses both hands to his face and scrubs. What to do, what to do?! He drops his hands and squares his shoulders before casting Steve a steady, stoic look. "There's nothing else for it, my man. I've gotta sacrifice my dignity on the altar of impressing a girl."

Steve snorts. "Sacrifice your dignity!? Dude, have you seen your hair??"

Eddie ignores him. "Your friend Robin's in band, right?"

"Uh, yeah. Why?"

"Gonna need her help." He tugs a lock of hair over his mouth as he paces, thinking. Nancy can get him a copy of your schedule. During band period would be best. He can cut class. His attendance has been decent this year, but it's just one class. And it's important.

It's a perfect plan. He'll win you back, plus some, and then maybe you two can discuss that big ol' crush you had on him that "went away." That's a topic worth exploring further—even if it means enduring mindless pop music and Eddie Vedder.

“You STILL aren’t speaking to him?!” Nancy says a few days later. You’re in the cafeteria having lunch and revisiting your tiff with Eddie.

“He was a jerk!” you say, stabbing your mashed potatoes with your spork.

“He was, but…”

“Nance!” You scowl down at your tray and push it away. “Okay, look. First I made an absolute fool of myself at the party. Got completely wasted and sloppy.”

“That wasn’t your fault!”

“Regardless, it happened. Then he was apparently so NICE, such a GENTLEMAN.” You roll your eyes. “So I made him that stupid tape and he acted like I handed him toxic waste! I spent the whole day on it!”

“Yes, he acted stupid, but—”

“Oh god speak of the annoying devil,” you say. It’s too late to hide: he’s seen you and is heading straight your way.

“Ladies!” he says as he drops down next to you. He gives Nancy a nod and you a smile. “Still craving cheese fries?” he says to you.

You frown. “I’m sorry?”

“Saturday night you were dying for cheese fries, but I thought it was better to take you home instead. Mostly because you passed out in my van.”

You look away, flushing. God how humiliating!

“But I thought if you were still in the mood, we could go today after school.”

Your eyes snap to his face and you scowl. “Maybe I didn’t make myself clear on Monday.”

“Noooo, you did. I just thought you might’ve changed your mind.”

You lean in. “Nope!” you say, carefully popping the p.

“Okay then.” He waves, and a kid from his Hellfire Club runs up. With a guitar.

“What—?”

“You brought this on yourself,” he says and stands. He tosses the strap over his head and strums. The sound fills the cafeteria, and you see another kid by the wall manning an amp.

“Eddie, WHAT are you DOING?!” you hiss.

“This one’s for you, babe!” He launches into a song that you don’t recognize—until he starts singing. “Children behave! That’s what they say…when we’re together!”

“Oh. My. God!”

Nancy grabs you across the table. “Is that—?!”

“Oh my GOD!!” It’s a loud, kinda slowed-down, metal version of I Think We’re Alone Now. Most famously covered by mall princess Tiffany.

"Running just as fast as we can...holding on to one another's hand..." He's really getting into it, grinding on the guitar and singing to her like it's his own personal rock concert. The entire cafeteria is watching, shocked, but the Hellfire kids are into it.

About halfway through the band marches in and starts playing along. The high school marching band. You bury your face in your hands and want to sink into the floor, but when you peek through your fingers at him part of you admits it's kinda cute.

"I think we're alone now! The beating of our hearts is the only sooouuunnd!" As he repeats the chorus he advances closer, and at the last line he drops to his knees and slides across the floor to end up directly at your feet. He unplugs the guitar and stands to take a bow. Most people are yelling and clapping, but a few boos are mixed in. He seems to enjoy those just as much. He flashes a double bird and sticks his tongue out, Gene Simmons style.

"C'mon, princess," he says with a grin. "Let's go get cheese fries."

You have class, but...

With a laugh you grab the hand he's offering. "Yeah, okay. Because that was the stupidest, ballsiest thing I've ever seen."

He grins even bigger, the lines around his eyes and mouth creasing his face. "Stupid and ballsy, the Eddie Munson special."

"Come on," you say as you drag him from the caf and his adoring public. "We'll chat more about your stupid balls over fries."

You're both sitting in the back of the van, doors open, legs hanging over the edge. You're singing his version of the song and he's got his head buried in his jacket.

"Stopppp!!" he cries. "Please! You're so goddamn mean."

You break off, giggling, and throw his pack of cigarettes at him. "How the hell did you come up with such a ridiculous plan?"

"I don't know. It sounded good at the time! And, look, it worked. You cut class to come have fries with me."

"We don't have fries yet," you say, "and I could cut and run at any time."

"Noted. So you hated it?"

You grin and duck your head, then peek at him. "No, I didn't hate it. It was cute. Stupid, but cute. How'd you learn the song that fast?"

He shrugs. "It wasn't that hard. And, I dunno. I'm a fuck-up, but I'm not bad at music."

"Eddie," you say with a little frown. "Don't talk about yourself like that." You poke his arm. "You're not a fuck-up. You're just..."

"Weird?"

You smile and nudge him. "You," you say.

"Right. A squishy, not-scary Muppet monster."

"That's right," you say, your smile widening. "Grover."

"You know, it's kinda growin' on me. The nickname."

"Funny," you say softly. "I was thinking the same about you." You lean in and kiss him softly, easily. It's quick, and you might have gone in for another, but the carhop arrives with your fries.

"Damn," Eddie mutters. "Saved by the cheese."

You giggle and the two of you dig in.

"But," he says after a food-filled silence, "I gotta protest: I might be stupid, but my balls aren't."

"Ohhh. Smart balls, huh?"

"Yup. These babies solve quadratic equations!"

You cover your mouth as you laugh and take a sip of coke. "Maybe you should ask them for help in math."

"Hm. You know, it's funny you should say that." He licks cheese off his fingers and wipes them on his jeans. "You're in AP Chem, right?"

"Mhmm."

"Cool, that's cool. I'm in chem, too. Not AP, of course. Just regular. But, uh. I gotta pass. I HAVE to. I gotta get out of Hawkins High."

"Third senior year," you remark. "It's maybe time."

"You're tellin' me. Anyway, you think maybe I could get some help? Like, uh. Tutoring?"

You consider a moment around a mouthful of cheesy potato. "Yeah, I could do that. Tomorrow, maybe? Unless you're busy."

"No, nope, I'm free. Tomorrow'd be great. We can go to my place after school. My uncle works doubles on Thursdays, second and third."

"Ouch," you say with a wince.

"Yeah, it's killer." He sighs and drops his napkin into the empty fry tray. "So. I gotta try again."

"Try what again?" you say with a frown.

"The kiss. You didn't see my best stuff, princess." He gets up to toss the trash in a nearby can, then boosts himself back into the van.

"Sound awfully sure of yourself," you say, scooting closer. You tug a little at his jacket and slide your hand under it, against his chest.

"You're gonna like it as much as you loved that song. Swear."

You let out a soft laugh. "Didn't love the song, pretty boy. Sorry."

"You liked it," he says.

"Hmm," you say, doubtfully.

He gently cups your face and rubs his nose against your cheek. "You liked it," he murmurs.

"Eh," you say, still playing it cool even as your pulse kicks up and your cheeks flush.

"You liked it," he says, firmly, and turns his head to capture his mouth with yours.

It's slow and easy and lingering, and when he pulls away you’re both a little breathless.

"I liked it," you whisper.

He grins. "I know you did, princess." He kisses you again, a little harder, and you make a soft noise before your hands come up to bury themselves in his hair.

He sucks your lower lip and nibbles gently. You're so soft and sweet; he can't get enough of kissing you, and it's only been two kisses.

You can't believe a boy can have lips this juicy. They're soft and full and he tastes salty like fries and sweet like root beer.

His tongue slides into your mouth and you meet it with your own. Tug his hair a little to pull his head back so you can nip at his jaw. His throat.

"Baby," he rasps. "Baby girl!"

You whine, just a little, and you both fall back into the van and somehow your leg hooks over his hips and you're grinding against each other as the kisses get hotter and deeper. His hand slides down to rest on your hip and creeps up just under the edge of your shirt. He tickles your side and you giggle.

"Ticklish?" he murmurs. "Good to know."

"Use your powers for good, Munson," you breathe and kiss him again. You press closer and rock. His hips fit between your thighs and you can feel... "Oh." You grin a little. "Hello."

"Shit!" he says. "Shit, babe, I'm sorry!"

You laugh a little. "It's okay," you breathe. "It's fine."

"Are you sure?" He's flushed red and sweating. "I'm really sorry."

"It's not like you can control it." You rock against him a little. "I don’t mind." You bite your lip. You want to see it. Touch it, even. But…

"Maybe—" You clear your throat. "Maybe you should take me home. I have a ton of homework."

"Yeah, sure, that's cool. That's good. I’m really—"

"Don't apologize again." You kiss him. "I promise I'm not mad or anything. Having a nice hard cock pressed against me is flattering, actually."

That seems to take some of the pressure off. "It's not stupid, either."

"Mmmm a penis that can do complex math. Be still my beating vagina."

He cracks up. "Wow," he says. "If I'd known it was that easy!"

"You calling me easy, Munson!?"

"...no..." He squirms a little. "Just, uh. Easily aroused?"

"Mmm." You lean in to bite his ear. "Says the boy with the raging hard-on."

"Come on, princess," he murmurs. His hand slides down over your ass. "You tellin' me you aren't wet right now?" He nuzzles your chin. "Throbbing a little, maybe?"

You don't want to admit it, but you've been at least fluttery since that first, quick kiss. Now your panties are soaked and you can feel your pounding heart in your cunt. You wish something else was pounding in that general vicinity.

"Maybe a little," you say. "A tiny bit."

He chuckles and squeezes your ass before he kisses you again. "Come on, baby doll. Lemme get you home. Or back to school?"

You lean away from him so you can grab his arm to check his watch. "Home," you say. "School's a wash for today."

"You got it." He kisses your nose, your forehead. "You're so pretty," he murmurs. "And soft. And smell amazing."

You brush your fingers over his kiss-swollen lips. "You're pretty. And soft...in some places. Fozzie Bear."

He grins. "Wacka wacka." He reluctantly pulls away and helps you up. "Shit," he mutters. "Head rush."

"Uh huh. Not much blood to the brain, huh?"

"Your fault, princess."

"Oops," you say, unrepentant.

He rolls his eyes and lifts you down from the van. "Brat."

"Muppet."

"Touché," he grumbles.

You're laughing as he helps you into the van's passenger seat. Maybe fake dating Eddie Munson won't be so bad after all. He's a good kisser and only pretends to be a jerk most of the time. You can work with that.

#eddie munson #eddie munson/reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #meg wrote this #stfic #emfic #10things

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bellaramseysgf · 2 years

Text

Drunk (B.B)

Warning(s); physical fighting, mentions of alcohol consumption, drunk reader,drunken confession,protective Bucky,fluff.

Pairing(s); Bucky Barnes x (Afab) Fem! Reader.

Summary; you drunkenly call Bucky and he comes to your rescue.

A/n; and….we are back. This wasn’t proofread but enjoy🥰

You definitely weren’t coherent, probably not even truly able to talk but you still pulled your phone out. You stumbled leaning against the red mahogany bar Inside the club, scrolling until you going Bucky’s number. Clicking it, it rang and rang and then his voice came from the other end. “What?” He replied shortly.

You and Bucky didn’t hate each other but you definitely weren’t friends. He got annoyed with you easily and you him. Yet your friends ditched you, Sam was away on a mission and you promptly had absolutely no one else.

“Bucky!!” You yelled and he groaned “are you drunk?” He asked and you paused “…..no M’So sober” he sighed. “Where are you?” You huffed “M’not drunk! Don’ need you to save me!” You babbled slurry into the phone. “Okay, okay you aren’t drunk. Where are you doll?” “Mm’at the club…that one Sam tried to drag you to” Bucky huffed.

Though you couldn’t see it Bucky was up the second he heard the slur in your voice jerking his jacket on and grabbing his bike’s key. “Okay, gotta go.” Was all he said before hanging up you pulled your phone away glaring at his contact on your phone “jackass” you mumbled.

Bucky slid to a stop on his bike not even caring to take the keys out before he stood it up and ran into the small club. He glanced around the bar and the lit up dance floor trying to spot you to no avail. Then all at once he heard your snippy, drunken tone. “Let go of me perv!” You barked out Bucky spun on his heel stalking over to you and a guy who had a hold of your elbow.

“Let her go” Bucky demanded and the guy just rolled his eyes “I saw her first pal” Bucky gripped your other arm “let her go. Now.” He said to the man but he didn’t drop him. “Alright, you asked for it.” Bucky drew his arm back slamming the metal fist straight into the guys jaw. Bucky jerked you to his chest “what in the world are you thinking? You can’t be this drunk alone” he scolded and you just blinked up at him.

Bucky didn’t know if it was from the drinking or what but you pretty doe eyes made his stomach flutter. “Come on, let’s go” he informed pulling you along with him back out to his bike. “I’m sorry..” you mumbled and he stopped looking back at you “it’s fine, just get on the bike” you nodded and swung your leg over the leather seat.

Bucky was quiet even after you’d arrived back to Sarah’s and you were slowly becoming sober. You definitely weren’t completely back In control though yet. “Why don’t you go shower? It’ll make you feel better” Bucky said sitting his keys back on the counter, his jacket hanging on the coat hanger.

“Yeah..” you sighed still a little off balance, Bucky sat down on the couch with a huff. “Thanks for dining to get me, your not so bad barnes” Bucky nodded “thank you.” You smiled “maybe that’s why I like you so much.” You giggled girlishly and continued up the stares.

Bucky sat wide eyed cheeks flushing, did you mean you like him or do you like him? God, he promised himself not to get attached but maybe he has.

The next morning you groggily made your way downstairs, Bucky still asleep on the couch while Sarah quietly made coffee. “Morning, you got home late” you groaned and sat down next to Sam at the table. “Listen I’ll talk to you about the mission in a little bit. Here” Sam reached into his duffel bag and passed you a bottle of Tylenol.

You downed a few with some water and sighed laying your head on the table. “I’m gonna go shower, feel better” Sam rubbed your back as he passed leaving you. “Gonna run up to the towns bakery want anything?” You nodded “whatever I can get?” You nodded again.

She went to walk out but you grabbed her wrist “hey, I’ll pay you back but can you grab Bucky one of those plum pastries he likes?” Sarah nodded. “No need to pay me back. I’ll gladly get him one” you let her go and smiled.

A few minutes passed and Bucky wondered into the kitchen “morning, how the head?” He asked fingers combing gently though your hair. That’s a first, why’s he being nice? “It’s alright, I can’t remember shit. Just you dragging me out at some point” Bucky’s face fell.

“You don’t remember anything after that?” You shook your head and stared at him for a moment. Bucky watched your face fill with realization and your cheeks turned read “oh my god. Bucky I’m so sorry I didn’t mean for that to come out! It’s gonna be awkward now right? I totally get if you don’t like me back okay? Promise I won’t be-” your rambling fell short when Bucky swooped down and kissed your lips.

His lips were soft and he smiled when he felt you kiss back, pulling away as you blinked at him. “Don’t worry so much. I think I like you too” he admitted and you smiled “really?…” he nodded. “I’m glad I called you then” Bucky chuckled “I’m glad too”, a mutual silence fell while Bucky got a cup of coffee. “Thanks for the pastry in advance by the way” your cheeks went read again and you hid your face with the table.

#bucky barns x reader #bucky fic #bucky fluff #bucky barnes #bucky imagine #bucky x you #james bucky buchanan barnes #bucky x y/n #fem reader

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dogmatik · 3 months

Text

575 words, more hungover rick, mortys trying to be more responsible.

"Fuck, my heads killing me. Why's, wuh-whats, all the fucking, noise about?" Ricks voice is rough with sleep, there's vomit on the collar of his shirt, stained a strange shade of purple. "Thunderstorm I guess. Are y-you hung over?" "I fucking wish. Must've got into that hendler's powder." "Uh, did you take all the, morphine last time? Y-you said that helps." Morty responds from atop one of the kitchen stools. he's rearranging the stuff on top of the fridge, throwing out the empty cereal boxes Rick always puts back. "Shit good idea, where the fuck, where'd I leave it Morty?" "Bathroom I think."

Rick stumbles into the bathroom, hissing when he has to turn on the too-blue light to see. He finds the morphine inside an old Tylenol box, starts to dig underneath the sink for his syringes. Rick can smell eggs cooking as he draws up, pretty sure he hears Morty curse as the liquid spreads cold and golden through his veins.

"Rick? Hey, there's b-breakfast." Rick cracks open an eye, sees Morty in the door way, pigeon toed and holding out a glass of orange juice. "I pass out?" He asks, takes the juice and drains the glass in four grateful gulps. "Uh I dunno, maybe? You, uh, weren't in here that long." "Yeah, fuck. I forget how good earth drugs can be." Morty holds out his hand, helps Rick up off the tile.

In the kitchen there are two plates set at the table. Scrambled eggs and burnt toast with way too much butter. There's a bowl of Cheerios sitting next to one plate, and Rick starts eating spoonfuls before he can sit. He's not hungry, but he can tell his blood sugars dropped. Morty pulls his chair up to the table and starts in on his eggs. They sit in companionable silence, the rain fills the quiet house up.

"Times-it?" "10, Dad'll be back n-noon. Uh, Summers at her f-friends house." "Wanna go somewhere?" Rick asks through a mouthful of eggs. "Uh, maybe later? Wanted to, get some laundry done before muh-mom gets back." "You kissing ass for s-something? She walk in on you finally?" "Gross! No! She obviously k-knows better. I-I'm just, sh-she works a lot! I-it's not l-like dad's gonna d-do it." Morty glares at his plate. "Damn, yeah. You f-finally on my side with the whole J-jerry is fucking useless and y-your mom deserves better t-thing?" "No, but. Rick i-it's not. It doesn't have to be a w-whole, whole thing okay? I just. Wanna help out more, you know, a-around the house." "Yeah, sure. Anyway. I'm gonna g-go see if Ball Fondlers is on."

Rick goes to the living room, reaches around in the couch cushions until he finds the remote. He starts to flick through channels, met with neons and fleshy reds and all sorts of colors that make his vision swim. He listens to Morty's little footsteps and the sink turning on while his world tilts, head meeting the soft but firm texture of the cushion beside him. It's easy, letting his eyes slip closed. It's been a long time since he's fallen asleep so quick.

#fanfiction #r&m #rick and morty #rick and morty fanfiction #rick sanchez #morty smith #g 126 #honestly i love putting them in Situations but i also like them just hanging out #slow day in the smith-sanchez household. kinda rainy and cold #rick gets bored fast. but he does need to sleep occasionally #its easier to sleep with morty puttering around doing chores.

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imhonestlyjustsoconfused · 1 year

Text

Still Breaking Wishbones Over You

Part 1

Chapter 2: Right?

Steve wakes up and the sun is already up. He feels like absolute shit because he's hungover and from passing out on the bathroom floor. He takes more Tylenol and walks to his bedroom. He sees that it's 1 in the afternoon and decides to just sleep the hangover off. He checks his messages before, only one from Robin just checking up on him.

Steve feels bad about that. He clearly is getting worse but he has done a fairly good job of hiding it from the rest of the party. Robin has been starting to notice though. She sees how he sometimes reeks of alcohol when she comes over unannounced, how the dark circles under his eyes seem to be getting worse (even with the concealer Steve uses). The way Steve can zone out and not react to nosies around him, absolutely scaring the shit out of Robin the first time it happened. How Steve can't see to understand people in loud spaces and how he can't hear as well out of his left ear. How Steve has started carrying ibuprofen and Tylenol with him. He claims it's for the kids if they're having a bad pain day but Robin notices the flinches at bright lights and how he squints at things that should be easier to see. She wants to confront him about it but she's still giving him time to come to her himself.

He calls Robin back, says he just had trouble sleeping and might try and catch up on some today. "It's Saturday after all, im off work tomorrow so I think I can sleep. The kids don't need me either so I'm going to relax" he speaks into the receiver.

"Okay Steve, if you want me to come over I can. I know I'm hanging out with Nancy around 8ish but I can stay before then" she responds kindly. Steve wants her to come over so badly. He wants to listen to her ramble on about her love life, the new book she's reading, the plans she has for college. He wants to be with his other half, his one and only soulmate, with a capital P of course; but Steve hasn't showered since before work Friday morning, he slept on the bathroom floor and smells like last night's whiskey. He can't let her see him like this. She deserves to be happy and have fun without Steve falling apart at the seams worrying her to death.

"Nah Robs, I appreciate it but I'm just going to be sleeping" he laughs, "not great company if you ask me. Plus you are gonna have a girls night with Nance, just have fun! I love you babe, going to sleep now. See you at work Monday."

"Okay" she says warily, "I love you too Steve, get some rest, see you soon" she says as she hangs up.

Then Steve is alone again. In this huge awful house because he doesn't want his friends to see him like this and because his parents have been away for like a year and a half already on business trips and aren't coming back anytime soon. So Steve climbs into bed and passes out. Even though he did nothing today, he is just so damn tired.

Steve wakes up screaming and crying. He had another nightmare. This time it was Dustin and Erica being tortured alongside Steve and Robin because they weren't fast enough to escape. He watched all three of his friends die while he did nothing. There was nothing he could do.

Steve's shaking and is trying really hard to get his breathing under control. He sits for 15 minutes doing that breathing technique Robin told him about. He joked about it at the time but it honestly has helped a lot since then.

Eventually, he feels okay enough to maybe walk around and shake the rest of the nightmare off. He still hasn't showered in like two days so he decides right now is a good enough time as any. Plus it'll hopefully make him feel more human since he's drenched in sweat right now.

He glances at the clock on his bedside table. It reads 12 am. Honestly not that late but Steve slept for like 20 hours only being awake for the time he walked to bed and called Robin.

He walks to his ensuite, strips down and turns the water up to boiling. It probably isn't good for his skin but it feels good. A constant reminder that he's warm and okay. Not in the upside down where it's cold, dark, and damp. He washes himself down and just relishes in the hot water for while. The sting of it feels so damn nice.

He starts thinking about Eddie. He wishes he could have gotten to know him more. Steve has his bisexual crisis after spilling his guts about how Eddie had made him feel to Robin. Why he couldn't stop thinking about him even though he barely knew the guy. He wasn't friends with him in school. The Freak and The King never interacted unless Tommy H decided to pick on Eddie that day. After Steve graduated, Eddie didn't exist on Steve's radar untill Dustin, Lucas, and Mike started raving on about how awesome their new dungeon master is.

So Steve struggled for awhile to come to terms with why he couldn't get Eddie out of his head. He kept thinking about those strong ring clad hands with calluses from playing guitar for years. Eddie's buttery deep voice calling Steve big boy. Eddie's long curly hair, how pretty it would look when properly taken care of, how soft it looked even with all the upside down grime in it. Those big brown doe eyes that Steve felt like he could stare at forever... And he never will again.

In the safety of his shower, Steve start sobbing. He'll never get to tell Eddie how pretty he is. He'll never get to see Eddie rough house with Dustin again. He'll never get to see Eddie play guitar. He'll never, he'll never, he'll never!

Steve feels like he's losing his mind. All of feelings he holds within himself are getting too intense. He gets out of the shower, dries off in his room, puts on a pair of sweatpants and goes downstairs. He grabs a new bottle of something. Steve doesn't care what, just something that will make him feel less.

He hates himself as he takes that first long swig from the bottle. He hates that he couldn't save Eddie. That he didn't realize his feeling until it was too late. He hates that he can't move on and get better. Hates that he's worrying Robin and avoiding the kids. He wishes that he could be normal, that he could cope like everyone else is. He sits down on the floor in a horrible mirror of yesterday's events. He's sobbing and so in his own head that he doesn't even notice the sound of a window opening in the living room.

#wishbones series #steve harrington x eddie munson #i speak #steddie #kas eddie munson #kaz eddie munson #eddie munson #steve harrington

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chronicals-of-top-surgery · 2 years

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Day of surgery 5/26/22 Post OP

Pain: 6/10 uncomfortable but not unbearable

Waking up was a struggle at best, it took me quite a while to fight off the anesthesia. I was super woozy and dizzy. I was also super uncomfortable. The nurse was nice enough to humor me as I gradually wanted to be more upright. When I woke up, my piercing was back in and I was bandaged up nice and tight. I didn't notice my drains for a hot minute. I was mostly fading in and out. I think I fell back asleep once but not for super long. Waking up was really hard but they turned off some of the lights to help me and invited my companion back in to help ease me awake while the nurse did some paperwork. They inserted a breathing tube, which I had been told of and is normal, but it dried out my mouth hella bad. Thankfully, they had ice chips to chew on and that actually helped both my dry mouth and nausea but I had to get my partner to feed them to me.

Waking up from anesthesia felt like my entire body was made from lead. Luckily, no one rushed me or made me feel hurried to wake up so it was just me trying hard to wake up at a reasonable pace. I eventually could squeeze my hand, then wiggle my toes. As I got more sensation, I wanted nothing more than to be disconnected from everything and to sit upright which sounded the most comfortable but it was NOT happening since my body still felt so heavy. Eventually, with enough ice and when I could sit upright (I'm not sure how long it took. 30 min maybe??) The nausea was eased. My partner was shown how to take care of my drains as well as general care knowledge for me. Your companion NEEDS to be compassionate and competent, I wouldn't be nearly as comfortable right now if he wasn't doing so much for me. I was informed that I need to be drinking sports drinks, something to replenish electrolytes and the like, not just plain water, I also need a LOT of protein, like as much as I can get, so I'm gonna try and focus a lot more on that.

The heart monitor was taken off, the IV was taken out, and I was VERY glad that I wore shorts and that button up Hawaiian shirt. It was a lot easier than it could have been to get dressed. I also had a mastectomy pillow and pouches to hold my drains which 1000/10 I HIGHLY recommend getting both. The pillow looks like the bottom half of a pillory (stocks) and it made me SIGNIFICANTLY more comfortable while driving home with a seat belt. I also really like the drain bags cause it stretched around my belly comfortably and the drains weren't just hanging around. I'm not scared of them being tugged or squished or something.

I'm glad our temp apartment was only 6 min away because driving wasnt fun. Even the wheelchair ride down to the parking lot kinda sucked. I was still pretty wobbly and woozy but I wanted to be HOME. The nurse pushed me to the car and the assistant and receptionist both waved a cheery goodbye to me and wished me a happy recovery until they saw me for my check up. I felt incredibly loved and safe.

Finally, when we got back to the apartment, I got inside and sat at the table. My lower back hurt since sitting in the bed for recovery wasn't super comfortable. I was damn near falling asleep sitting up because of the residual anesthesia but I managed to stay up long enough to order in some food, eat some, drink Gatorade, take 2 Tylenol, and let my body feel better before I laid down. I was honestly only awake for like 10 more minutes before passing out for a nap.

When I woke up again, I was still a little woozy and my arms felt like I bench pressed 100 lbs. It sucked, but I needed my drains milked (HATE that term) and I needed my meds and more food. I finished my leftover Gatorade and food, my partner got my drains cleared (they require photos of the levels of drainage, my right side produced more liquid than the left) and I let myself stand and walk for a little bit. When my chest started to hurt again, I went to lay back down.

My voice is really crackly and rough, which makes sense since I had a tube down my throat, and it kinda hurts tbh but I'm not used to drinking anything but plain water so ice chips are the best to soothe it until I don't have to worry about plain water bloating me

I went into the clinic at 8:30, left at about 5 pm, woke up again at 10 and I'm now going to sleep at around 11:30 pm

#top surgeon #top surgery recovery #trans voice #transgender #ftm #ftm surgery

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icantdothisallday198 · 2 years

Text

Loki x Reader x Tony

You had just got back from a long night of partying with the Avengers it was about 2am when you all got back.

You all went out to a bar and got shit face drunk Tony in particular as he tried to strip and dance around the bar naked.

Steve having to carry him out over his shoulder, let's just say Pepper is not gonna like dealing with that in the morning, you guys finally made it back to the Avengers compound somehow in one piece.

You all agreed to go to bed and go to sleep before you guys can cause more trouble *cough* Tony *cough* you walked into what you thought was your room and passed out of the bed just to be woken up a few hours later to someone shaking you.

"w-what I'm to hungover for this" you said not opening your eyes before shoving them away lightly the person continued to poke and shake you until you opened your eyes "what could you possibly want-" you said but stopped as you saw Loki.

"What are you doing in my bed?!" They asked "this is your bed" you asked "yes now what are you doing in it" they asked again "shit I must of gone into the wrong room last night sorry Loki" you said as you got up fast but being hungover and running don't go well together so you ran to the toilet but just ended up gagging above the toilet.

"god I'm never drinking again" (c'mon we all know that's a lie) you said to no one in particular just then you felt someone rub your back as you gagged more yet still not puking (I think that's worst than puking honestly) you turned to see Loki "here drink" they said holding a bottle of water to your mouth you did as they said taking small sips.

"You need to drink more darling" they said rubbing your back and making you drink like a baby "I'm going to get you some Tylenol" they said giving you the bottle of water and leaving to get the Tylenol you had always had a crush on the god of mischief but never told them.

Now here you were on their bathroom floor blushing at the thought of them (that's a great romance story).

You then heard footsteps they were coming back you had to try and stop blushing before they got back but just ended up making it worse "Darling are you okay? Your face is all red" Loki asked as they walked in.

"Yea I'm okay" you said "maybe you need something? Air maybe?" Loki said in a teasing voice and you already knew the little shit had read your mind "did you really feel the need to read my mind" you asked them.

"Yep" they said popping the p "I needed to know what was wrong with you turns out your just horny aren't you Darling" they said teasingly you whined at them as you turned bright red again.

"Don't worry Darling I'll help" Loki said moving closer to you kissing your neck making you whimper they then took your top off then their hands went straight to your boobs fondling them they then went to rub over you thighs.

"Lift" they said indicating that they wanted you to lift your hips you did as asked, they pulled your shorts and panties off they then rubbed over your pussy with one finger making you buck your hips towards their finger.

"You want it Darling" they asked teasingly "yes, yes please" you moaned as they thurst thier finger in to you.

"Fuck! You really want it don't you Darling your so wet" they groaned, they kept thursting their finger into you going faster with each thurst making you moan loudly.

"Loki could you shut the fu-" Tony started only to look up to see you on the floor next to the toilet legs spread wide while Loki sat in-between them fingering you faster and faster to the point his finger was practically vibrating inside you.

Loki stopped suddenly "do you want something Stark" Loki asked in an annoyed voice while rolling thier eyes "n-no" Tony said stuttering while staring at your naked body, Loki noticed and smirked.

"If you want to join just say Stark" Loki said laughing while continuing to finger you, Tony then rushed over sitting beside you and shoving his finger along side Loki's in your pussy making you moan they both found a rhythm you moaning loudly as they both hit you g-spot.

"Right there Darling" Loki asked and did it again making you moan again "I'm gonna cum" you warned both of them they both sped up making you cum around their fingers Loki then undid their pants shoving their cock into you.

Tony got behind you spit on his fingers and shoved then into your ass your head instantly dropped to Loki's shoulder.

Loki stopped while you got used to Tony's fingers inside you soon you were moaning loudly while Tony fingered you with 3 fingers "shit!" You moaned.

"You ready darling, you want to take my cock" Tony asked teasingly "yes, yes please Tony please!" You moaned.

Tony spit on his cock before easing himself into your virgin ass, you breathed heavy almost panting as they both started moving Loki was hitting your g-spot while Tony was pounding your ass into oblivion "I'm gonna cum, fucking hell!" You moaned.

"Cum darling cum all over Loki" Tony said moaning on the edge of cumming himself a few seconds later you were squirting all over them "fuck so hot Darling!" Loki moaned cumming inside you while Tony came in your ass.

Loki cleaned us with their magic and also teleported us to their bed, you grabbed both of them forcing them to cuddle not that they minded though they both cuddled up to you spooning you on each side you all happily cuddled until the afternoon when Steve came to get Loki from the room only to see you all asleep and cuddling.

He decided to leave you guys alone leaving you guys to do whatever you wanted for the night.

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scuttle-buttle · 3 years

Text

WC: 2261

Rated: M

Tags: angst, medical issues, pregnancy complications, hurt/comfort, anxiety, brief mentions of medical procedures but no gore, nothing is technically sad, fluff, papa laszloooo

A/N: honestly tho I am sorry. also i maybe cried a little writing this, which is a first. also also everybody is fine in this it's just emotional

Blame @hardlyinteresting

🧠

"Three weeks…. Three weeks little bean…" you mumble as you rub your protruding stomach after a particularly harsh kick to your ribs. The chair was a sweet relief to your ankles after a long day at work and doing some light chores around the house all afternoon. You had three weeks until you hit 39 weeks into your pregnancy. As much as you were anxious you were ready. Ready to not feel like a bloated whale. Ready to not have sore feet. But most of all, ready to hold your baby girl.

Laszlo had been trying to convince you to take it easy and start maternity leave early, but you resisted. The last thing you were about to do is nothing. Most first pregnancies went late anyway, you'd argued, so you didn't worry about it yet. I’m pregnant, not dying - give me another week, you'd told him.

What you didn't tell him was about the headaches. Or how sore your legs were. Or how absolutely exhausted you'd been feeling the last couple weeks. Whenever he would ask if you were alright or offer a foot rub you would just brush it off as third trimester woes. You didn't want to worry him.

You were sat in an armchair in the parlor, feet propped up, damp rag over your eyes. The droning from the tv had your nerves on edge. All you wanted to do was take some tylenol and feel better, but you had been knocking back more than was probably safe the last few days so you went without.

A sudden pain shoots through you causing the rag to fall onto your chest. “Ohh...ow? OW!” You sit up straighter as the ache persists; the dull throbbing in your upper abdomen unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. Were you in labor early? Did she just kick in a bad spot? No no - surely the pain would’ve died down by now had that been the case. Unless? Can babies kick so hard they rupture something? Did my kid just bust my liver? Your thoughts run rampant as you wait, in vain, for the pain to go away. The pricking behind your eyes and in your temples only made it more hellish. Pressing your palm to the spot does nothing, nor do the breathing exercises you had been taught.

When five minutes have passed by without relief you make the choice to call out for your husband. “Laz?” No response. “Laszlo!” A beat passes; nothing. You swallow through your building nausea.

“I swear to fucking-” you growl as you snatch your phone from the end table to your left. You use all your concentration to dial his number.

It rings four times.

“Bärchen, why are you call-”

You don’t let him finish. “Something’s wrong.”

______

Head thrown back into the flat, starchy hospital pillow you groan in frustration. “permanent bedrest?” You scrub the hand not clutching your belly down your face.

The emergency room Obstetrician gives you a pitying look. “I’m afraid so - your blood pressure is high and we want to keep it under control to prevent outcomes such as pre-eclampsia. I recommend doing as little as absolutely possible; get rid of as many stressors as you can.” He flips through your chart. “You said you’ve been having headaches and fatigue for nearly two weeks? Why didn’t you come in sooner?”

Huffing, you tell him “I thought it was just part of the third trimester. Everyone always complains about how bad it is.” He hums in response.

“Well. I’m going to go take a final look at your labs, make sure everything else is fine before we discharge you. I’ll send in my Nurse Practitioner to give you the run down and anything else you’ll need to know. And should anything else like this happen again - get in here immediately.” He pats you awkwardly on the hand before nodding at Laszlo and leaving the room.

Laszlo.

Sparing a glance from the corner of your eye you see him looking towards his lap, his weaker hand cradled in the other. He’d been quiet since you admitted when your symptoms had first begun. Every single time he’d asked you how you were feeling you had lied to him. Granted, you didn’t technically know you were lying. But it makes little difference when you’re sitting in the ER. He had every reason to be upset.

“Laszlo honey,” you reach over to him. Slowly he takes your proferred hand and stands, coming to stop beside the bulky bed frame. His thumb caresses your wrist.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve examined the signs, kept a better eye on you.”

“Laz-”

“-No-”

“-I didn’t want to worry you, okay?-” Your voice breaks as you defend yourself.

“-I could’ve done something, maybe- I don't know!” His slightly raised voice startles you quiet. The pain in his eyes only makes you feel guiltier. He licks his lips. “I took the liberty of calling your mother. She will be here tomorrow afternoon and will be staying in the guest room as long as we need her.”

Now you look away, indignant. “I don’t need to be watched like I’m a child.” The tears behind your eyelids rush in; a lone drop trailing down your cheek as the embarrassment settles within your gut. You knew that at some point it was likely you would need her here. However you imagined it to be under happier circumstances. A deep inhale fails to calm your sobs. “I just- I don’t want to be a burden with all this.” Your tears flow freely now.

“My dear you could never be.” Laszlo sits on the edge of the bed. He rests his right palm above the swell of your child, his left cupping along the curve of your jaw. He tilts you to face him. “But the health of you and our girl is what is most crucial now. Let us take care of you. Please.”

A gentle kick underneath his palm from your daughter is answer enough.

__________

Two weeks. 14 days.

Lying in bed, sitting in the same spot for hours on end was actually going to be the death of you. You were sure of it.

Your mother truly has been a huge help since arriving. Laszlo wanted to start his paternity leave, but you insisted that he stay until you were closer to your due date. Which couldn’t come fast enough, you might add. Both Laszlo and your mother were prone to pestering you about some things, but at other times if you truly wanted to be alone they gave you your space. Now was one of those times. Laptop to your side, you watch another episode of Grey’s Anatomy. A knock sounds. You turn to see your husband standing in the doorway, the blood pressure monitor in arm.

He gives you a bright smile. “How are you two on this fine afternoon?”

“Cut it with the attitude, bucko. Let’s get this over with.” The words, while harsh, had little bite to them. His brow raises but he says nothing. You honestly felt bad that you’d been in a pretty foul mood since being discharged. On more than one occasion you’d said as much to Laszlo and your mother - they didn’t deserve your ire. Thankfully they understood why you were so frustrated.

You held the strap in place as he secured the velcro and started the machine. Buzzing filled the overall quiet room. Closed eyes you wait. Some days your results were higher than others. Unless you became higher than a certain threshold the doctor said you were safe to be home. At the sound of a beep Laszlo unhooks the cuff, reporting that your levels are within the acceptable range. When he goes to leave you alone you clutch at his sleeve. He waits as you peer up at him. “Stay?”

He never could say no to you.

______

Little bean’s ruthless treatment of your bladder had you up for the second time that night. You waddled to the bathroom to attend to your business and wash your hands. Glancing at the circles under your eyes in the mirror you sigh. “I love you baby bean but you’re giving me a run for my money here, kid,” you whisper as you rub your stomach. Three days, you remind yourself.

The floor creaks as you shuffle back to bed. Suddenly, an odd warm trickling sensation travels down your legs. “What the fuck?” Looking down around your bulging bump you find yourself standing in a small puddle, the glint of the bathroom night light reflecting off the surface. “Shit okay…ah Laszlo? Hey, I need you to wake up.”

He grumbles. With a roll of your eyes you walk over and shake him awake. “Hey- what-” he sits up instantly and blinks at you. “Is everything alright?”

“My water broke.”

He hops into action right away. Moving you to sit on the bed, he pulls out his cell phone to call your doctor. As he talks you watch him move around the room, the phone wedged between his ear and shoulder, as he collects your hospital supplies. You feel useless as you sit. Yet, you know that your priority needs to be keeping yourself calm and that moving around could exacerbate your condition.

He hangs up. Coming to stand in front of you he presses a kiss to your forehead; “I’ll go wake your mother. Don’t move, Liebling.”

As you sit you blow out a long breath. You look down at your bump. “Guess you decided you’re ready to go, huh kid?” The tip of your fingers brush along the side of your stomach. “I know we’re ready for you too. We’re going to love you so much, and your daddy? He’s gonna be the best, you’ll see.” Placing your palms flat she nudges you from within.

_____

The doctors decided that a c-section was the safest route. You both knew it was a possibility, but you had hoped that after weeks of bedrest that your blood pressure would balance out enough for a natural delivery. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case. They monitored you for an hour before your contractions began, officially confirming you were in fact in active labor and dilating. After the fourth hour your blood pressure began to spike again. That’s when they decided to prep you for the procedure.

The operation went smoothly. The atmosphere of the surgical suite was tense with your nerves, but Laszlo’s calming words and his hand squeezing yours kept the anxiety from spilling over. You even found it in you to poke fun at how ridiculous he looked in the puffy blue elastic hair cap he wore.

When the first cries rang out you nearly tried to hop off the table to see your baby. The doctors worked quickly to ensure you were in proper condition while the infant was cleaned.

“Dad? Would you like to come and cut the cord?” one of the nurses calls out.

Laszlo looks back at them before turning to face you. He searches your eyes for a moment; “go,” you nod with a smile. You watch as he did what the nurses instructed as best you could, her soft wails echoing in the small room. He returns to you right after while they finish wrapping her up in a blanket.

“She’s beautiful my dear,” your professor confesses. He leans to give you a lingering kiss. “I’m so unbelievably proud of you.”

“I love you so much.”

“As I love you.”

The doctor interrupts your moment. “Would you like to hold your baby girl?” The question is directed at you, but you look over to your husband. The man you love more than life itself. He stares at the little bundle as if she’s the most incredible sight he’s ever laid eyes on. He can’t take his gaze off her. His irises sparkle with unshed tears as he looks on with wonder.

“Laz?” Finally he breaks away. “Hold your little girl - she’s been waiting to meet her Papa.”

Carefully the doctor shifts his hold on the babe to slide her into Laszlo’s waiting arm. He swallows as he pulls her to his chest. Something caught between a sob and a laugh leaves him. You blink through your own tears at the sight of your husband and daughter, a sight so far beyond perfect there could be no words. Laszlo held her with such delicacy, such reverence. It was as if any moment she could slip away as though a dream.

“Hello there my little dove, I’ve been waiting a very long time to meet you.” He doesn’t bother to wipe away the streams that fall from his eyes. “I’m your Papa and I-” he sniffs, looking towards the ceiling and blinking rapidly to clear his eyes. You rest your hand on his bicep. “I love you so very much. I would give you the world if I could. Your grandfather didn’t...he was not....” he pauses to gather himself. “To me you are the greatest gift I could ever receive. I will be the best father I can for you. A father worthy of you. Mein Gott, Ich liebe dich my darling dove.”

He continued to hold her in his arms until it was time to take you into the recovery room. When he had asked if you wanted her you simply shook your head. You would get your chance, you had a lifetime to do so. But your Laszlo needed this. He needed his little dove.

Tag list

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warmblanketwhump · 3 years

Text

flight plan: part 2

no planes in this one - just some good old-fashioned sickfic! But if you want the backstory, check out part 1 here.

“A, can you hand me my glass of water? Pleaaaase?” B sticks out their bottom lip in a pout, and A can’t help but laugh.

“Okay, you. It’s been four days and I know you’re getting better, because you’re getting pesky again.” A straightens the blankets and slides their hand up to feel B’s cheek. “Still a little warm, but I think you’re on your way out of the woods.”

“So I should milk this while I can?” B flutters their eyelashes and gives a pitifully fake cough, which slips into a real one, sharp and rattling. Concern flits across A’s eyes, and they help B take a few sips from the glass.

Despite the joking, A didn’t kid themselves about how sick B had been, or how awful they’d truly felt after getting off the plane. The first two days had been nightmarish - B barely conscious, shivering with chills and sweating through their sheets, alternating between terrifying fever dreams and inconsolable moaning and weeping.

A did their best to hold them through it, but they had been minutes away from hauling B to the hospital. Thankfully B’s fever had spiked just one final time before settling into general low-grade misery.

“As long as you need me, sweetheart, you’ve got me.” B gives a tired smile and pulls the blanket to their chin, huddling around the new stuffed animal A gave them at the airport.

“Did you call C?”

“Ah, not yet. Too busy with you, ya sick little bean.” A gently fluffs B’s hair. “You rest, and I’ll give them a call now.”

But C doesn’t pick up. Nor do they pick up an hour later, leaving A stuck with the unpleasant task of leaving a voicemail.

“Um, hi…this is A. I just wanted to call and let you know that B’s on the mend. They’re still pretty weak, but I think things are looking up. So…yeah. Thanks for everything you did for B - once they were feeling better, they told me all about what you did. And I…well, I care a lot about them. Obviously. So I appreciate it. I guess you can call back if you-”

The message cuts off, and A groans. Hopefully that was enough. Still, they couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling in the pit of their stomach.

Later, they settle in with B to watch a movie, B’s head cradled in their lap as A combs their fingers soothingly through their hair, reveling in the sheer normalcy of it all. They both end up falling asleep, and when A blinks awake as the credits roll, they notice a missed call from C. B’s still out, so they click to listen to the voicemail.

“Hey, A….sorry I *coughs*…missed you earlier. Wasn’t able to *sniffs* make it to the phone. So glad to hear that B’s *cough cough* doing better. I think they did a little sharing.” C laughs weakly, but A can hear the sheer exhaustion in their voice. “Anyways, glad they had you. And if you’ve got any survival tips, feel free to pass them along…..I’m just kidding. *cough* I’ll be fine. Anyways, I’ll…see you around, I guess.” They pause briefly, like they want to say something more, but a coughing fit steals their breath away, and the message ends with a click cutting off the rough gasps.

The pit in A’s stomach comes back. C sounds sick.

“Who….who was that?” B mumbles from their spot on A’s lap.

“It was C. They called back and they….didn’t sound so good.”

B’s eyes snap to meet A’s, more alert than they have been in days. “Did they sound like me?”

C pauses. They hadn’t thought about not telling B, but in hindsight, maybe they should have. After all, it’d only flood B with guilt, and they needed all the energy they had to get well. But one look at B’s concern, and they knew they wouldn’t be able to lie.

“Yeah. They did.” Immediately B struggles to push themselves up, throwing their blanket off their shoulders and trying to stand.

“Whoa, hold it there. Where do you think you’re going?”

“To C. If they’re sick, it’s from me, and if any hints from the past four days of living with me are any indication, we gotta help them.”

A throws their hands up, pressing B back on the couch. “Hold up. We don’t know them, we don’t know if someone’s already taking care of them, and we don’t know where they live. I’m sure they’re-“

B frantically shakes their head. “You didn’t hear them. On the plane. From what they said…I don’t think they have anyone. I have to go.”

A chews their lip. “Well, let’s get things straight first. You’re in no shape to go help them. Which leaves me. A random stranger they don’t know. And you want me to check on them?”

The question was meant to be sarcastic, but B nods vigorously and fear fills their eyes with a fevered anxiety. “A, you saw how sick I was. You think anyone’s gonna be able to fight through that alone?”

A sighs wearily. They could blame it on the fact that arguing with a sick B was like arguing with a brick wall. But truthfully, what did their heart in was the thought of B alone on that plane, sick and shivering and miserable, if C hadn’t helped.

Fine. They’d send a text.

You okay? You sounded kinda rough on the phone. B was worried….

A few moments later, C responds.

Eh, I’ve felt better. But thank you for asking. And tell B not to feel bad. They were a better seatmate than most.

A smile tugs at A. At least this C was polite.

Is there anything you need? B said something about you being by yourself.

This pause was longer. The dots appeared and disappeared a few times, before a message came through.

I hate to take advantage, but is there ANY way you could bring over some cough medicine? I ran out a couple days ago. No worries if not - I can figure it out.

C’s heart sank. So they were alone. Sure, they didn’t say it - but any good friend or significant other worth their salt wouldn’t leave someone they loved without medicine for days.

I’ll bring some to you! Want to meet somewhere neutral, or just want me to drop it off?

In moments, C sends a response and an address.

Dropping off is fine. You are an actual lifesaver.

A settles B into bed with blankets, a cup of water, hot tea, and six types of medicine on the side table. “Now if you get worse, call me and I’ll turn around immediately. Nothing’s more important than you, okay?”

B shook their head. “I’ll be fine. They need someone.”

A heaves a sigh. “You’re too good, you.” They give B a quick forehead kiss, and head out into the night.

By the time they get to C’s apartment, their stomach is flip-flopping - C is a stranger. A lonely stranger, but a random stranger nonetheless. They come to C’s door and knock tentatively, gripping the paper bag of cough medicine (plus some cough drops and Tylenol for good measure), and hold their breath.

Nothing. A few minutes go by and A knocks again. They’re ready to break down the door if C doesn’t answer soon, but they realize what took so long right after they hear the click of the deadbolt.

A had seen corpses that looked more alive than C did right now. They lean heavily on the doorframe, sweat beaded on their forehead, a thick grey throw blanket clutched tightly around their shoulders. Their face is hollow and devoid of color, lips dry and cracked, their hair mussed and matted to their head. The cool night air hits their fevered body, triggering a round of chills that make them shudder. Despite their misery, a tiny light of gratitude flits across their eyes, and they stare incredulously at the paper bag in A’s hands.

“C….” A’s jaw drops to the ground.

“A, I seriously owe you one.” C tries to laugh, but it turns into a wheezing chest cough, high pitched and tense as they fight to catch their breath. Their eyes blink slowly, and they start to slide down the doorframe, but A grabs them and they both tumble inside.

Even through the blanket, A can feel C’s every bone. C weakly clings to A as they stumble toward the couch, and A deposits them on the cushions before tearing into the package of meds.

“What have you taken so far today?” A asks, trying to figure out the dosages.

“I….nothing…” C mumbles. A meets their eyes in disbelief before cracking open the blister packet and retrieving a proper dose. Grabbing an empty glass on the side table, they fill it before helping C choke the pills down. C greedily gulps the whole glass, breathing heavily once they’ve drained it.

“Water…water’s good.” C smiles blearily - they’re almost completely out of it. A presses a hand to the side of C’s neck, and C flinches at the cool touch. Their neck feels like a bank of hot coals, slick with sweat, lymph nodes sore and swollen. Their forehead isn’t much cooler either.

“C, when’s the last time you ate or drank anything?”

C cocks their head like A just asked them to recite the entire periodic table. “I….not sure? Days….kinda blurry.”

A’s seen enough. “C, you’ve got to go to the hospital. I haven’t even seen your temp, but you’re burning up even worse than B was.”

C frantically grasps at A’s wrists, sharp panic flooding their eyes. “Please…no…no hospital. I can’t. The meds….I’m fine here. Please.” A shiver wracks their body, and they hunch their shoulders, wrapping themselves back up and pulling the blanket over their nose. “Please. You can go now.”

“C, you need help-“

“I don’t.” Their voice breaks on the last word, cut off by a brief hiccuping sob.

Confusion rises through A - one minute C’s a grateful wreck, and the next moment they’re demanding they leave?

“C, I don’t understand-“

“You don’t get it. You think it feels all nice, having people care about you. Making you feel like you matter. And then they leave you. Get tired of you. Decide you’re not worth it. And it hurts worse than if they were never there at all.” C scrubs their eye with the corner of their blanket and sniffles as tears run down their cheeks. “I can’t let it happen again. I have to be alone. So just go. Please.”

A’s speechless. They kneel down next to the couch, hand tentatively hovering above C.

“C, is it okay if I put my hand on you right now?” C’s still sniffling, but they nod and mumble a weak “yes”, and A gently lets their hand rest on this stranger’s shoulder.

“C, I want to respect what you want right now. But you should know that you’re very sick. And you’ve managed in your own way - how, I have no idea - but you need some help right now. Now I can either call the hospital and let them handle it, or take you home with me. It’s up to you. Otherwise, you need to look me in the eye and tell me honestly that you want to be left alone through this.”

They squeeze C’s shoulder, and it triggers a deep gasping sob from their broken, aching body, sending a fault line straight through A’s heart. The sob turns to weeping, and A can barely make out the words C whimpers: "I don't want to hurt anymore."

God, who broke this poor thing? A bites their lip. C’s losing it. They’re running out of options short of forcing C to come with them, and that’s the last thing they want to do to a delirious, love-starved person who’s known them all of 6 minutes.

“C, I’m not gonna hurt you. I want to help you. Heck, even B wants to help you. I had to practically pin them down to the bed before leaving, they were so hell bent on this rescue.”

C’s red, swollen eyes meet A’s. “You mean….they asked after me?”

“Yes. They did. They could hardly stop talking about you once they came to their senses.” A rubs C’s knee through the blankets. “And they’d never forgive me if I left you here alone - they were very adamant about that. So if you want to save me a lot of arguing with and consoling of a very sad B, you’d actually be doing me a favor coming back with me.”

C seems to be weighing their options, all while struggling to stay awake on the couch. “I mean…if it saves you the trouble….”

A’s the one nodding vigorously now. “Please. It would.” Please. Just come back with me. I can’t leave you here like this. But I don’t know what else to do.

C presses themselves up off the couch with a single shaking arm. “Well, if it’d help you, then I accept.” And then they promptly pass out into A’s waiting arms.

It’s late when A gets back home with a limp C, and B is knocked out in their room, light still on - they’d tried to wait up, but their body still craved rest.

A carries C over the threshold and into the house. They gently lay the bundle on the bed and feel their forehead - still too hot, but the medicine seemed to be working. They manage to wake C up enough to take a few sips of broth from a mug before they pass out again.

For the briefest moment, A lets their hand touch C's shoulder again, making a silent promise they barely know how to keep: I don't know who broke you, but I'm not gonna let you hurt any more. I won't allow it.

A wave of exhaustion floods their body as they feel the effects of several late nights and long days of caretaking. They'd be no good to anyone if they didn't get any rest. A drapes an extra blanket over C’s sleeping form and heads for the couch for the night - they’d check back in an hour or so.

--------------------------

B’s awakened by the sound of sniffling. And it’s not theirs. They blink tentatively in the lamplight, sleep clouding their thoughts. Snatching a blanket from the top of their bed, they wrap up, stuffed animal under one arm, and shuffle across the hall to see where the sound is coming from.

It’s C, swathed in two blankets, holding a wad of tissues and trembling like a leaf. B flicks on the bedside table lamp, and C winces at the light. B can see the tear stains on their cheeks.

“Cold,” C whimpers, coughing weakly. Pity floods B - it’s like looking at a picture of themselves just a few days ago. They reach out and put their hand on C’s head, and C leans into the touch.

“Yeah, this part sucks,” B says softly, guilt flooding their core. Sure, they didn’t mean to make C sick. But they did. And they felt a certain responsibility to make sure they made it through okay - just like C had cared for them on the plane.

“Can I get you anything? Another blanket, tea, medicine?”

“Throat hurts…water…please?” B nods and places the stuffed animal next to C before beginning the long, slow shuffle to the kitchen. A’s asleep on the couch, and they can’t bear to wake them up for something this small. But by the time they get to the kitchen, their legs are trembling with exertion. Easy there. You’re still sick, too.

They brace themselves against the sink as the glass fills, and will themselves to make the final journey back to C. By the time they’ve returned, the glass feels like a lead weight in their hand, and their entire body is chilled and shivery all over. They do their best to help C take a few sips, holding the glass with trembling hands, bracing themselves on the bed so they don’t tip over.

“Thank….thank you,” C’s grateful eyes meet theirs, and in a split second B knows the effort was worth it. But the validation is replaced with a bout of lightheadedness that nearly topples them onto C.

“Sorry,” B gasps. “Still not up to marathons yet. Just...need a minute.” They tug their blanket tighter, closing their eyes. “And this body forgot how to stay warm when I do stuff.” C’s eyes flood with concern - even in their fevered haze, they can see B struggling.

"Want to sit for a minute?" C asks softly, patting the open spot next to them on the bed. “I’m still cold, too.”

B wriggles into the spot, propping themselves up on pillows and pulling blankets over them both. "Just a minute - you need your sleep."

C's already dozing. "S'okay. I'll sleep just fine. 'Sides, you're warm." C's nestled themselves into B's side, head resting on their chest, and B wraps an arm around C's shoulder and holds them close. They’re warm, too. Just a minute....

Many minutes later, A pokes their head in to check in on C - and finds two sick peas in a pod curled up together, C's head still on B's chest, B's arm curled protectively around C, stuffed animal squished between them, both tangled in blankets and Kleenexes.

In spite of their own exhaustion, A smiles. After everything that had happened, they had a feeling C wouldn't ever be alone again.

#sickfic #sickfic whump #whump prompt #hurt comfort #soft whump #caretaking #i just couldn't stop writing #so this happened lol #i don't even know who the whumpee is at this point #everyone is the whumpee and everyone is the caretaker #where is the plot?? who can say #anyways enjoy this soft whumpy mess!!

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miracleonice87 · 3 years

Text

Secret

a Mathew Barzal one shot

a/n: and here it is! the recent news-inspired secret baby fic. Huge thanks to all who reached out and encouraged me to write it and to those who gave me ideas and advice. completely fictitious timeline and hockey-related events here, and we’re pretending the pandemic is not a thing in this one.

summary: Mat Barzal and his longtime girlfriend welcome their first baby after keeping her pregnancy well-hidden from the public eye.

warnings: morning sickness and childbirth (nothing graphic or detailed). dad Barzy, which deserves a warning. swearing. super fluff.

_____

Never in your life did you imagine that you would be attempting to conceal your first pregnancy — or any pregnancy — from members of the media.

Then again, you never could have predicted that you would end up being the long-term girlfriend of one of the most recognizable figures in the National Hockey League, and, more specifically, on the New York City sports scene. But if there’s one thing you had learned over the course of your more than four-year relationship, it was that life is full of the unexpected.

Currently, that aforementioned figure was whipping his car as quickly as possible into a private parking area at New York Presbyterian, glancing at you every ten seconds as you breathed through the early stages of labor with your firstborn baby, your water having broken just as you and Mat were settling in for sleep around midnight.

Only a small, select group of people knew that you and Mat were expecting, and as you checked in to the maternity ward just before one o’clock in the morning, you were grateful that there were very few people around you. You were hurried to your private room, Mat faithfully carrying your bags and nearly stepping on the heels of the poor nurse pushing your wheelchair, refusing to let you out of his sight for even a second.

Only once you were settled into bed, changed into a most unflattering hospital gown, hooked up to several monitors, and examined, did you allow yourself to look up at Mat and announce your practically inevitable victory.

“As long as that nurse doesn’t moonlight as a reporter, I think we did it,” you ventured with an incredulous chuckle. Mat shook his head in disbelief as he stood next to your bed, holding one of your hands in both of his.

“Don’t wanna speak too soon, but yeah, I think we did,” he agreed. “I can’t believe we managed to keep this a secret.”

_____

Six weeks

It certainly wasn’t the first time you’d ever had your head hanging above a toilet bowl on New Year’s Day.

But it sure as hell was the first time it had ever happened when you had no hangover to speak of.

In fact, you’d only had two sips of champagne the previous night before you felt weirdly dizzy and passed out in bed watching the Isles battle the Bruins.

The next thing you knew, you were being gently roused from deep sleep by your boyfriend, whose brow was creased with concern as he leaned over you.

“Sweetheart?” Mat spoke softly when you finally opened your eyes, his fingers smoothing your hair against your heavy head. “You okay?”

You inhaled deeply, feeling completely off. “Yeah... yeah,” you insisted softly. “What time is it?” you asked, discombobulated.

“It’s almost midnight,” Mat answered. “How long have you been sleeping?”

You slowly pushed yourself up on your elbows in bed. “Uh... I don’t know,” you admitted. “I watched the first period... I think.”

That wasn’t like you, and Mat knew it. A lifelong hockey fan, you kept close tabs on not only Mat and the Islanders, but the scores from around the entire league each night. Coming from a hockey-loving family, watching highlights on NHL Network was your late night routine. On top of that, you looked flushed to him, and dark circles hung around your eyes, a rarity for you except when you were ill.

“Baby... are you sick?” Mat shrugged off his suit jacket, tossing it on the end of the bed and quickly taking a seat next to you on the edge of the mattress. He put the back of his hand to your forehead and studied you carefully. “You don’t feel fevered.”

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s just a cold,” you replied, remembering the strange feeling that had overcome you when you sipped your champagne earlier. “I do feel kinda dizzy... nauseous.”

Mat nodded, eyes still full of worry. “Maybe you’re getting the flu,” he suggested. “That’s been going around lately.” You nodded too, yawning.

“Well, listen,” Mat continued, motioning for you to lie back as he pulled the covers over you again. “Go back to sleep, and tomorrow if you still aren’t feeling well, I’ll run to the pharmacy and get you some medicine and stuff. Okay?”

You nodded again, overcome once more by exhaustion as you settled back into your bed. “Okay,” you whispered. “Thanks, babe. Hey, did you win?”

Mat smiled. “Yeah, baby, we won. Now get some rest. I love you, sweet girl,” he said, pressing a warm kiss to your temple.

“I love you, Maty,” you breathed. “Happy New Year.”

“Happy New Year, my love,” he whispered, his thumb tracing your bottom lip slowly as you immediately drifted back to sleep.

And now here you were, seven hours later, heaving into the toilet as Mat dropped to his knees behind you on the tile, gathering your long hair into his hands as quickly as possible.

“Oh, honey,” he groaned, rubbing your back. “You poor thing.”

After flushing the toilet several times to get rid of the contents, you finally sat upright, cautiously, slowly.

“God, I feel like shit,” you whispered, pressing a hand to your forehead as Mat ran his hands back and forth down your legs, trying to soothe you.

“I can tell,” he said sadly, standing. You looked up at him helplessly as he said, “I’m gonna go get you flu meds from the pharmacy. Let me just get dressed.”

You nodded once, feeling too lightheaded to move your head any more than that. You didn’t budge from your place on the floor as Mat took his robe from the hook on the door and wrapped it around your shoulders, kissing the crown of your head before exiting the bathroom. You heard him shuffling around in his drawers as you closed your eyes, willing the queasy feeling in the pit of your stomach to cease.

Moments later, Mat called out to you from the bedroom.

“Do you need anything else from the drugstore while I’m there, baby?”

You opened your eyes to glance around the bathroom, trying to keep your head as still as possible. You saw toothpaste, Tylenol, and... did you have enough tampons?

You reached next to you to open the drawer that held your monthly supplies, and you were surprised to find two boxes of tampons, not even opened, along with a plethora of pads and liners.

Finally, it hit you like a crashing wave. Suddenly, your world started spinning, and it wasn’t because of the nausea.

“Holy fuck,” you whispered, slamming the drawer shut.

“Maty...” you called out hoarsely, causing him to rush back toward the bathroom. Your heart was racing.

“What’s wrong?” he asked anxiously as he appeared in the doorway, ready to take up residence on the floor with you again if necessary.

You bit your bottom lip and inhaled a shaky breath before answering, sounding much more calm than you felt.

“I need you to buy me a test,” you said matter-of-factly.

At first, Mat wore a blank expression. “What kinda te— wait…” he said as you watched the wheels turning in his head. You couldn’t help but allow a small smile to spread across your lips as the realization hit him, too. He froze, mouth slightly agape, wide eyes searching yours to try and determine whether you were serious. Reading him, you nodded, which caused his eyes to widen even further.

“A pregnancy test,” you confirmed in a shaky voice.

“Holy fuck,” he whispered familiarly, his own smile beginning to play on his lips.

_____

“That was Liana,” Mat said, sliding his phone back into the pocket of his sweats after ending the brief call. “She’s catching a flight in the morning.”

You nodded gratefully as Mat returned to your side, dutifully grabbing your hand and running his other over your rounded stomach.

“She said to tell you she loves you, and baby, too,” he added with a warm grin. “And that she—“

Mat stopped short the second he heard you groan softly, the smile you’d worn upon hearing Liana’s name having morphed quickly into a wince.

“Another contraction?” Mat asked, hastily pulling the stool by the bed closer and taking a seat.

“Mhm,” you confirmed tightly, rolling on your side to look into his eyes, seeking a diversion. The pain in your face absolutely shattered Mat’s heart. He despised how helpless he felt watching you.

“Just look at me. Breathe, baby,” Mat coached before breathing in and out just as your Lamaze instructor had taught you both, nodding his head to urge you to mimic him. You did your best, squeezing his big hand hard enough that Mat saw his fingertips turning white, though he was too smart and too concerned with your labor pains to point that out.

“Good girl. Breathe, sweetheart. Good girl,” Mat encouraged. “That’s my girl,” he added softly, lightly dragging his fingernails along your scalp, combing his hand through your hair, in an attempt to comfort you.

“I seriously hate you right now,” you spat between pants and gasps. “You did this to me.”

Though he tried to hold back, a breathy laugh passed through Mat’s nose. “Yeah, my mom warned me you might say that,” he told you. “I’d hate me right now, too,” he added, running his fingers along your forearm lightly as you grimaced in agony.

Finally, your muscles relaxed as the contraction passed. Your face softened and your eyes fluttered open to see Mat staring at you intently, concern etched into his gorgeous features. You reached out your hand to run a thumb over his strong jaw.

“I’m okay,” you whispered, giving him your best smile as you caught your breath.

Mat nodded. “I just hate seeing you hurting,” he whispered back. You gave him an understanding look and then grinned brightly.

“But it’s gonna be worth it,” you assured, making Mat’s eyes light up. He kissed your palm and you asked, “Now what else did Liana say? Distract me.”

With a smile, Mat said, “That she can’t wait to meet this little one.” He leaned his head forward to kiss your belly sweetly as you smiled softly, leaning back against the mattress to rest up momentarily before the next wave, as the memory of telling Liana the news months ago came to mind.

_____

Twelve weeks

Your phone buzzed on the dining room table, vibrating against the glass top. Normally, you would never answer a call during a Valentine’s Day dinner with Mat, even at home, but these particular circumstances allowed for an exception.

“It’s Liana,” you smirked, swiping to answer the FaceTime call as Mat muttered, “Nice of her to call you and not her own brother.”

You ignored his complaint and smiled at the woman who was basically your sister-in-law.

“Hi, Li,” you said happily. “Happy Valentine’s Day!”

Liana didn’t even let you finish your greeting before she asked hurriedly, “What the fuck is going on?”

Mat leaned closer into you in order to be included in the camera’s view. “That’s rude,” he chirped, trying to sound angry, but being betrayed by the smirk twitching at his pink lips.

“No, seriously, you guys,” Liana continued, sounding anxious. “What does this mean?” She lifted the card from the full bouquet of blush pink roses before her. “‘Happy Valentine’s Day, Li,’” she read. “‘We’re so excited to give you another member of the family to love this August.’ And it’s signed from you guys and ‘Baby B...’”

Liana’s eyes flicked back up to your own and she couldn’t stand still, pacing her kitchen. “It’s not funny to joke about this,” she insisted, sounding confused and slightly offended.

“It isn’t a joke, dude,” Mat giggled. “We’re having a baby.”

Liana started screaming after “having.”

Laughter racked your body as you watched her jump up and down, tears streaming down her face as she squealed and asked a dozen times whether you were serious. You nodded each time until her hysteria finally subsided.

“Do Mom and Dad know?” Liana asked with a quaking voice, wiping the dampness from her cheeks.

“Yeah, they know,” you confirmed, swiping at a couple of your own fallen tears. Damn hormones.

“But listen, Liana,” Mat interjected, putting on his most serious tone. “They know, and her family knows, but past that, we haven’t told a soul. We honestly might not tell anyone else, depending on how soon she starts to show. We don’t want crazy fans or, God forbid, the media to get ahold of it and just be intrusive. We’ve seen how that goes. We just want this to be as private as possible. So you can’t post anything, can’t tell any of your friends. Okay?”

Liana nodded, sniffling throughout her brother’s command. “Yeah, totally,” she immediately concurred. “I get it. I think you guys are smart for doing it this way. This is like Kylie Jenner shit.”

You and Mat both snickered at that comparison for multiple reasons, then Liana began truly processing the news.

“Wait... so,” she began. “How far along are you?”

“Twelve weeks,” you replied. “So barring anything out of the ordinary, that kind of means we’re in the clear, risk-wise.”

“And you’re okay? Everything is okay?” Liana asked nervously.

Mat nodded, appreciating his little sister’s obvious concern for you and the baby. “She’s okay, Liana,” he assured as you smiled at him. “She’s perfect,” he added, picking up your hand to press a kiss to your fingers, causing Liana to tear up once again.

“You better take such good fucking care of her, Mat. You hear me? She doesn’t have her mom or any of us nearby, so she needs you,” Liana said firmly to her brother. You warmed at her display of womanly solidarity, ever thankful to have an ally in her.

Mat rolled his eyes. “Yes, Liana, I’ve been taking care of her for years,” he said, unamused.

“Yeah, well, it’s different now,” Liana pointed out. “Now she’s carrying my niece or nephew!”

You and Mat grinned at each other once more, Mat rubbing his hand slowly across your lower belly, which was mostly still flat, save for a slight, bloated curve.

“Yeah, she is,” Mat said airily, gazing into your blue eyes deeply as his sister resumed her squealing in the background.

_____

“Can I please have more ice chips?” you asked as you came down from yet another contraction, sounding whinier than you meant to and slightly hating yourself for it.

Mat smiled warmly down at you, pushing some of your hair back from your forehead and tenderly placing a kiss to your temple.

“Yes. You get all the ice chips you want, sweet girl,” Mat cooed, nuzzling his nose in your hair before stepping back and winking at you, grabbing the ice bucket from the bedside table. If there was one thing you had enjoyed most about the experience of pregnancy and labor, it was the way Mat spoiled you, ever attentive to your needs and wants. “I’ll be right back. Don’t have that baby while I’m gone,” he instructed, pointing at you.

Despite the discomfort you felt, you still breathed a laugh and rolled your eyes at him, Mat positively beaming at you as he walked backwards out of your suite, then turned down the hall.

As you rested your hands against your belly and your head back on the pillow, spotting the big bouquet of flowers Tito had sent for you, another memory from the past several months flashed in your mind.

_____

Twenty weeks

“I’m sorry,” Tito choked out once he stopped coughing on the Easter ham you’d made for a small group of the Isles boys, who had just begun playoffs and therefore weren’t traveling for the holiday, and their significant others. “You’re what?!”

You and Mat giggled, Mat squeezing your thigh under the table reassuringly. Sydney, late in her own pregnancy, jumped from her seat, tears springing to her eyes, and squealed as she ran to you, throwing her arms around your shoulders as you sat grinning at the others — Tito, Marty, Anders, Grace, Josh, and Meg — whose mouths hung open as they tried to process your announcement.

You turned back to Mat, the same broad smile seemingly permanently plastered on his handsome features the past few months stretching across his face once again.

“You wanna show them?” he asked softly, the tone in his voice telling you the decision was yours completely. You nodded, grasping the fabric of your knit sweater, the same casually chic, baggy style that you’d stocked up on to hide your growing stomach.

Sydney let go of you, allowing you to stand from your chair, as she nearly shouted, “What do you mean, show us?! How pregnant are you?!”

You bit your bottom lip, still smiling from ear to ear, and turned sideways, lifting your sweater to reveal your noticeable, ever-rounding bump beneath your high-waisted leggings.

A collective gasp sucked the oxygen from the room, Mat smirking at your friends, as you quietly admitted, “I’m twenty weeks...”

Tito pounded a fist to the table in disbelief and let out a holler. Anders raised his own fists over his head so fast that he knocked off the black baseball cap he wore. Josh and Marty couldn’t stop yelling, “No!” and “No fucking way,” respectively. Meg and Grace immediately leapt to their feet, too. “You’re halfway?!” they shouted in unison.

All Mat could do was beam proudly at you, bringing your waist close as he pressed a reverent, chaste kiss to your stomach over your sweater.

“Surprise!” you sang softly to the onlookers, your voice watery as a couple of happy tears escaped your eyes. The girls all embraced you, taking turns rubbing your belly, as the guys uttered boyish praises to Mat, joking that they didn’t know he had it in him.

Besides your and Mat’s parents and siblings, you still hadn’t told any friends of your pregnancy — making this sacred time that much more special for you and Mat.

But it was time to tell this circle. It had gotten more and more difficult and complicated to refuse drinks when the wives and girlfriends met for brunch, and even Mat was struggling to come up with excuses for why he wanted to rush home from the arena when the rest of the guys his age wanted to go to the bar to celebrate big wins. This close-knit group knowing the truth would help combat that.

You certainly didn’t plan to tell the whole team — quite frankly, there were some recently-added guys you just didn’t know well enough yet, along with some newer girlfriends who seemed a little suspect when it came to keeping team matters close to the vest. You and Mat agreed that you’d tell your close group of Isles friends and leave it at that. And that group, this group, these friends who had become much more like family — these felt like the right people to let in on the secret.

_____

“I’m scared,” you whimpered. “I don’t know if I can do it.” The pain was excruciating now, the pressure was building, and your doctor had just informed you that it was time to push. You felt like crying, but you were so paralyzed by the fear that gripped your chest that no tears were flowing.

“Hey…” Mat began softly, gently taking your face in both of his hands and angling it to look up at him, his eyes radiating confidence and pride. “Listen to me, okay? You’ve been so strong throughout this whole pregnancy. I know better than to believe that that’s gonna end now. You can do this, my love. I know you can,” he encouraged. “And I’ll be right here the whole time.”

You nodded, still feeling completely unprepared but somehow strengthened by Mat’s faith in you. As the doctor approached, gowned and gloved, she looked at you with anticipation.

“You ready, sweetie?” she asked. With one last look up at Mat, who nodded and kissed your knuckles, you turned back to her with a nod of your own. She patted your knee and said, “Okay, let’s have a baby. On the count of three, I want you to push, just the way we talked about. Daddy, you hold this knee. Ready? One… two… three… push.”

_____

Twenty-three weeks

The Isles had lost in the second round of the playoffs. Mat was obviously disappointed, but he was also more excited for this offseason than he’d ever been for a summer before, which certainly softened the blow. You were having his baby in just three more months, and he absolutely could not wait. Mat was ready to commence full dad mode — getting the nursery ready, reading the books, and most importantly, keeping a close eye on you every moment that he could.

On the same day the guys were cleaning out their lockers and giving final interviews following the end of the playoff series loss, Mat had scheduled a meeting with the coaching staff and team public relations executives to inform them of your pregnancy. He wanted them to be aware of the situation in case the news got out before the birth, especially as your baby bump was getting harder to hide. Since the two of you had decided to stay in New York for the summer instead of returning to British Columbia, to avoid travel late in your pregnancy, he knew that the chances of someone spotting your round stomach and starting to talk about it was higher on Long Island than in Coquitlam. It wouldn’t be the end of the world if the news got out, but if you and Mat could help it, you’d much prefer that it didn’t. He wanted this experience to be peaceful for you and as enjoyable as possible.

The meeting had gone well, which was unsurprising. The staff was thrilled for the two of you and promised to keep a tight lid on the information until you were ready to share it publicly after the baby had been born — they also agreed to evade any questions that their office might encounter on the topic during the summer.

Mat had thanked them profusely and said his goodbyes before leaving the building, heaving his heavy equipment bags into his trunk, and heading back home to you. A few minutes later, his phone dinged with a text from you and he glanced down at it at the next stoplight. It was a photo of the two of you in front of Big Ben on a rare sunny day in England, Mat hugging you close to his chest.

“This just popped up in my memories. Four years ago today we were in London and you told me you loved me for the first time. Look at us now. 💋”

Mat grinned at the message before returning the phone to his cupholder, his mind traveling back in time to that first big vacation the two of you had taken together. He knew your affinity for English culture — the fashion, the history, and, of course, the royal family, so he decided to take you on a trip across the pond a couple of months after you started dating.

It was one of the best decisions he’d ever made, as it brought the two of you much closer in those early days of your relationship — so close, in fact, that he found himself professing his love for you over a candlelight dinner on your last night in London. You had frozen, just for a moment, before a broad smile lit up your face, your eyes sparkling.

“I love you, too, Maty,” you’d said softly, allowing Mat to finally exhale as he basked in the knowledge that you felt the same way as he.

London was a landmark in your love story. Mat blinked a few times at that thought, an idea suddenly coming over him.

London…

_____

London Riley Barzal, named for the city where you fell in love and given your current last name as a middle name, was born August 15 at 8:13 p.m., after twenty hours of labor.

You and Mat had never known a love like the one you found the moment your baby girl was laid on your chest, and he had never been more fiercely in love with you than he was as he watched you snuggle her close.

“God, she’s so beautiful,” Mat breathed, voice quivering as he realized that this tiny girl belonged to him — to both of you.

“She’s perfect. Just perfect,” you agreed as her strong cries suddenly quieted into small whimpers.

Immediately, Mat looked you in the eye. “She knows your voice,” he said in astonishment.

As your baby blinked and squinted before opening her eyes for the very first time, she seemed to look directly up at her daddy. You smiled knowingly at Mat, who was frozen in place as he locked eyes with his baby daughter for the first time.

“I think she knows yours, too,” you suggested, the two of you smoothing your fingertips over her tiny face and hands in wonder.

You spent several minutes soaking it all in as a brand new family of three, both talking to London softly and placing kisses on her tiny head, before the nurse took her from your arms to take her vitals and give her a brief exam.

As you watched your healthy, gorgeous baby being fawned over by the medical team, you breathed a deep sigh of relief and a silent prayer of gratitude before opening your eyes again to see the love of your life staring down at you in absolute amazement.

“You did so good, baby,” Mat said through tears of pure joy. He pressed his lips to your damp forehead, cupping your cheek in his hand. “You did so good. You’re unbelievable, you know that? I’m so goddamn proud of you,” he praised.

“We have a baby, Maty,” you said with an awestruck, tearful chuckle. “I just had our baby.”

Mat nodded, grinning. “We have a daughter, my love,” he said. “Our little London.”

_____

One week later…

683 notes · View notes

kpopsickies · 3 years

Text

bathtub cuddles

sickie: Felix

Caretaker: Chan

pairing: Chanlix (ft dramatic baby Felix, and whipped Chan)

Felix p.o.v

I’m dying, I’m 100% sure of it. I must be, it is the only other explanation. I can’t breathe, my head hurts, my lungs are burning. I am 100% positive I am on death’s door.

and above all. I need cuddles, from my Channie. but he’s at the studio. I want to call him and ask him to come home, but I know he’s busy and I don’t want to bother him.

after a solid 20 minutes of debating with myself I finally texted Chan hyung with simply, “when you are on your way back can you pick up cough drops” I knew I could pass it off to just overworking my voice, that way he won’t be worried about me. and I was not surprised at all when Chan blew up my phone with “are you okay? Are you sick? Do you need me to come home? ect.”

when suddenly my phone rang. It was Chan, of course. “hey baby” I say answering my phone. “oh Lixxie, your voice sounds so rough”

“I just overworked it yesterday” I choke out, coughing lightly into my fist. “I doubt that”

“why?”

“because you’re also congested, and you sound sick”

“I’m fine”

“uh-huh, sure, I’m on my way home now”

“wait! No!!! babe I’m fine” I say, coughing again, harsher this time. “yeah whatever baby, I’m on my way, I’ll stop at the store on the way home, so It’ll take longer than usual.”

“seriously Channie, I’m fine”

“liar. I’ll be right home”

“n-”

“I love you, see you in a few” he said before hanging up

ugh, I swear this man will be the death of me, and yet I’m not complaining, I could really use some cuddles right now.

About 20 minutes later Chan came in with a bag. He dumped the bag out onto the foot of the bed. Cough drops, tissue boxes, Tylenol, and pocky spilled out onto the bed. He came over and placed a soft kiss on my forehead, his brow creasing in concern. “Lixxie, I think you have a fever”

“really? I don’t think so”

“I’m pretty sure you do, I’ll be right back I’m gonna go grab the thermometer”

“okay” although now that he mentions it I do feel kinda feverish, like that cold but hot, achy, tired feeling. He came back a second later with the thermometer in his hand. “open” he said a slight command to his voice. “yes sir” I say with a hint of sarcasm. He places the thermometer under my tongue, “now don’t move, I’ll be right back” I nod. As we leaves I sigh softly, I hate sitting still.

Chan still wasn’t back yet and this damn thing still isn’t done. I whimper quietly, why do I feel so awful? Where is Chan? I want cuddles. Finally the thermometer beeps, and Chan comes in only a few seconds after. He plucks the thermometer from my mouth and reads it. After a few seconds he smiles softly and kisses my forehead. “Lix, baby, you have a really high fever”

“I do?” I say surprised, I mean, I knew I had some sort of fever but I didn’t really think it was that high. “yep, 102.3, I think you should take a cool bath to lower the fever”

“fine, but only if you bathe with me” he blushed a little bit but agreed.

While he fills up the bathtub I strip down to my boxers. Chan does the same. The two of us climb in. He sits behind me, I lean into his chest, he wraps his arms around me. “i love you” He says before kissing the top of my head gently, with much love. “you’re so cute” I say taking his hands.

“I’m not cute, you’re the cute one”

“okay if I’m cute then you’re sexy” I say kissing the back of his hands. He blushes bright red. I giggle softly at him. “are you laughing at me?” he asks with fake indignation in his voice. “maybe a little” I say smirking. He is quiet for a second before suddenly attacking my back of my neck with kisses. I let out a soft squeak of surprise.

We sit in a comfortable silence after his evil mischievous attack. When suddenly there is a tickle that pricks the back of my nose. I know I’m about to sneeze but Chan has his arms around me tightly, pinning my arms at my side. “Channie”

“yes baby”

“i ne-ehtshhu echshhu hetshu-”

“bless you”

“thanks, and ummm.... sorry” I say softly, noticing that I had literally sneezed directly on his arms. He smiled warmly at me. “it’s okay honey, you didn’t mean to” He says softly, reaching out of the bathtub to grab a handful of tissues, he wipes off his arm, and holds a few up to my nose. “blow”

“n-no” I say shyly. He rolls his eyes. “you’re so cute when your shy” he says, handing the tissue to me. I wipe my nose.

He leans down to kiss me on the lips. I quickly cover his mouth. “HEY!!!”

“no kissing I don’t want you to get sick”

“I don’t care, I wanna kiss you”

“No!”

“let me kiss you!!”

“I might sneeze in your mouth”

“I don’t care”

“that’s gross”

“I don’t care, I love you, I want to kiss you” He says suddenly closing the gap between us. I melt into the kiss for half a second before pulling away. “I SAID NO KISSING!!!”

“don’t lie, you enjoyed it”

“.....no”

“liar”

“okay, fine, i liked it, but I don’t want you to get sick”

“I appreciate the concern, but I’m not going to get sick, I have an immune system of steel”

“uh-huh, only because you built up an immunity to everything by never sleeping.”

“I sleep”

“Channie, baby, you fell asleep during dinner yesterday and face planted into your salad.”

“that..... doesn’t prove anything”

“uh-huh, sure, whatever” I say laughing softly, curling up against his chest.

“I love you”

“I love you to” he says kissing my forehead, “you know, I think your fever has gone down, if you want we could go cuddle in bed instead”

“I’d like that”

We both climb out of the bathtub, and head to our room, “Channie, baby, can I wear one of your hoodies?”

“I don’t know, those are special to me” He says, but he’s already gone to his closet to get his favorite one. I reach out and make grabby hands toward it. He smiles fondly, kisses my forehead, then hands it to me.

After we finish getting dressed we climb into bed and curl up together. “Do you want to watch a movie?”

“nope, I just want to cuddle” I yawn “and sleep” He kisses my forehead (for like the thousandth time) “sounds good to me”

The two of us curl up Chan’s comforting arms wrapped around, like a warm blanket of safety. I am dozing off, half asleep, when suddenly Chan sneezes.

“I TOLD YOU THAT YOU’D GET SICK”

part 2 anyone?

#stray kids #stray kids sneeze #idol snz #idol sickfic #chanlix

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sisterspooky1013 · 3 years

Text

Only One Choice, Part 2, Chapter 10

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

From: [email protected]

Sent: April 28, 1997 10:46am

To: [email protected]

Subject: Coffee?

Hi Monica,

It’s Dana, from pathology. I was wondering if you’d like to get coffee tomorrow around lunchtime? I have a break in classes from 11-2, so anywhere in there would be fine.

I hope things are going well with VICAP.

-Dana

From: [email protected]

Sent: April 28, 1997 10:48am

To: [email protected]

Subject: Wednesday/Thursday

Hi,

I’m mildly shocked that you hadn’t already emailed me before I got in today. Are you alive?

If you’d like to meet up for lunch or coffee this week, I can do Wednesday or Thursday, sometime in the 11-3 timeframe. Let me know which works for you and I’ll block the time out so nothing else ends up on my schedule.

From: [email protected]

Sent: April 28, 1997 11:12am

To: [email protected]

Subject: RE:Coffee?

Hi Dana,

I’m so glad you reached out. I’d love to get coffee tomorrow; I can meet you just outside the autopsy bay at 1pm, if that works?

I look forward to it.

-Monica

From: [email protected]

Sent: April 28th, 1997 12:16pm

To: [email protected]

Subject: RE:Wednesday/Thursday

Hi Scully,

I see that my exceptional self control has paid off in spades. I am alive, and have resisted emailing you this morning through a combination of sheer will and a two-hour budget meeting.

Wednesday sounds perfect, I’ll be there at noon. Don’t ask me how many hours that is from now because I haven’t calculated it and I have no idea.

———

About an hour after returning from her coffee date with Monica, which was very pleasant and is something she hopes to repeat, she starts to feel just a little bit achy. She pushes through the rest of her work for the day and by the time she slumps through her apartment door at six, there’s no denying that she’s sick. She takes some Tylenol and goes to bed, hoping it will have passed in the morning, but when she wakes up it’s even worse. She calls in sick to work and goes back to sleep.

When she wakes again, the phone is ringing. She ignores it, only for it to start ringing again the moment the machine picks up. Dragging herself out of bed with a pained moan, she trudges to the hallway, retrieving the cordless phone and walking back to her bedroom as she answers.

“Hello?”

“Scully! Are you okay?”

“What? Yes. Mulder?” She burrows herself back under the covers with the phone tucked against her ear.

“Yes, it’s me, you didn’t answer my emails all morning and never showed up for our coffee date. I was worried.”

“Shit, Mulder, I’m sorry. I came down with something yesterday and called out sick. I totally forgot we were having coffee today.”

“You’re sick?” he asks, clear concern in his voice.

“Yes, just a virus or something, I’ll be fine.”

“Can I bring you something? Soup? Juice? Bad movies?”

She chuckles a little. “No, you don’t need to do that.”

“Who's gonna take care of you?”

“Mulder, I’m a grown adult with a cold, I can take care of myself.”

“Are you sure?” She can tell by his tone that he wants to do this more for himself than for her.

“Yes, I’m sure. I don’t want you to see me all sick and disgusting, Mulder. It’s too soon to ruin your image of me,” she says somewhat sarcastically.

“Seeing you sick is not going to change how I feel about you, Scully,” he says very tenderly, and she knows he means it. Still, she doesn’t like the idea.

“I’ll call you tomorrow, okay? Sorry to make you drive an hour for nothing. Rain check?”

He sighs noisily. “Okay, fine. I think you inadvertently left ‘stubborn’ off your list of flaws, though.”

“Well, I didn’t want to ruin all the surprises,” she replies with a smile.

He reluctantly says goodbye, and as soon as he hangs up, she calls the first number on her speed dial.

“Hello,” calls Missy in her typical singsong greeting.

“Missy, can you come over?” she whines, little sister mode in full effect, “I’m sick.”

Missy arrives forty five minutes later and fusses around, gathering a glass of water, Tylenol, and the thermometer that is buried in the bottom of a bathroom drawer. Dana has relocated to the couch, and makes a face around the thermometer propped under her tongue when Missy sets four crystals of different shapes and colors on the coffee table, along with two herb-filled capsules. The thermometer beeps angrily and Missy plucks it out of her mouth, shaking her head.

“One hundred and two,” she says with a frown, “here, take these,” she holds out two Tylenol and two of the herb capsules with a glass of water.

Dana takes the Tylenol and leaves the others.

“Whatever those are, I’m not taking them. And you can pack up your crystals,” she says to Missy as she pops the Tylenol and chases them with a big gulp of water.

“They’re just echinacea, Sis, they won't kill you. And neither will the crystals.”

“But they also won’t help,” Dana says dryly, setting her water on the coffee table and burrowing back under her blanket.

“Well, I’ll just leave them right here,” Missy says, standing and going to the kitchen. “Why’d you call me, anyway? Shouldn’t playing sick maid be Mulder’s job now?” She’s looking through cupboards, pulling out a pot and a can of soup.

“It’s too soon for him to see me all congested and disgusting,” Dana replies, stifling a shiver. “He wanted to come over, but I told him not to.”

There’s a knock at the door. Dana sits up, exchanging confused looks with Missy.

“Did you order food?” Dana asks, and Missy shakes her head, moving to the door.

Dana watches from the couch as Missy opens the door to find no one on the other side. She looks at the floor, then down the hall one direction and the other. She stoops down and picks something up, then walks back to the couch with a paper bag.

“What is that?” Dana asks, and Missy shrugs, setting it on the coffee table and sitting at Dana’s feet. There’s a sheet of paper stapled to the bag, and Missy plucks it off, opening it while Dana explores the contents; a carton of tom kah gai soup.

Missy’s face is a mask of confusion as she reads whatever is written on the paper.

“What does it say?” Dana asks, and Missy hands it to her.

Every atom of your flesh is as dear to me as my own: in pain and sickness it would still be dear. Your mind is my treasure, and if it were broken, it would be my treasure still.

Dana’s chin puckers as her bottom lip sticks out in a pout. “Oh my god,” she gushes, “it’s Mulder.”

“What the hell does this mean?” Missy asks, taking the paper back and reading it again. “Does he write poetry or something?”

“No,” Dana answers, pulling the lid off the container and breathing in the spicy coconut smell, “it’s a quote from Jane Eyre.”

“Oh my god,” Missy says with a disgusted look, “you two really are meant for each other. This is sickening, Dana, you realize that, right?”

Dana is smiling, taking sips of the hot Thai chicken soup that he somehow knew she needed. “Yes, he’s also a giant nerd, if that’s what you’re saying. But beyond that, I don’t think we have much of anything in common, actually.”

“You both work for the FBI,” Missy offers.

“Yes, but in totally different areas. And he’s an atheist, and believes in unverifiable phenomena like aliens and spontaneous human combustion. And he’s impulsive and easy going, and he makes decisions with his gut,” Dana lists off Mulder’s attributes like she’s describing the trim level on a car. He’s cute, and he has a leather interior.

“Well, I certainly wouldn’t use any of those words to describe you,” Missy says pointedly, setting the note on the table, where Dana plucks it back up and reads it again. “But there’s something to be said for being with someone who’s different from you.”

“I don’t really buy into the idea of ‘opposites attract,’” Dana says flatly. “I think that’s just a lie people tell themselves to justify horribly mismatched partnerships.”

“I think ‘opposites attract’ implies that your qualities clash, like the odd couple. One is messy and the other is clean,” Missy replies, propping her elbow on the back of the couch. “But I heard about this idea of ‘perfect opposites’ which is more like someone who complements you, or helps kind of level you out. So perhaps you lean to the extreme in some areas where Mulder leans to the other extreme, and you learn to meet somewhere in the middle.”

Dana gives her a doubtful look. “What is the middle between believing wholeheartedly that Bigfoot exists, and knowing that he doesn’t?”

Missy takes this under serious consideration. “I think,” she says without a hint of sarcasm, “that the medium would be accepting that it’s possible that he exists, and possible he doesn’t, but there's no way to know for sure.”

“So a Bigfoot agnostic?” Dana asks, and Missy nods in confirmation.

Dana shakes her head. “Maybe you should have gone out with him, I think you two might be better suited.”

“Don’t give me any ideas,” Missy says with a coy smile. “Speaking of which, does he have any single friends?”

Dana shrugs around a gulp of soup. “I don’t know, I haven’t met any of his friends.”

“Well, when you do, keep an eye out would ya? Now that I’ve lost my single buddy, I may as well get back out there. God knows it’s torture enough hearing your lurid tales from the bedroom.”

“Missy, I haven’t told you a single lurid tale,” Dana chastises.

“I know, what’s up with that?” Missy retorts in mock offense, “speaking of, what happened when he took you out to dinner Sunday night?”

Dana shakes her head.

“Oh come on, Dana. I have no life, let me live vicariously,” Missy whines.

Dana shakes her head again. “The only thing I’ll say is; maybe don’t eat off the kitchen counter,” she says before giving Missy a guilty look.

Missy’s mouth drops open.

“Wow, I’m not sure if I’m more grossed out or jealous,” she says as she stands, “I’m gonna get out of here, if you’re good. I think I need to go pick up a guy at a bar for some meaningless sex.”

“Yeah, I’m okay. Thanks for coming by. If you need a condom there are some in the bathroom,” she adds with a sarcastic smile, and Missy sneers at her.

“Ha, ha,” Missy replies as she slips on her shoes and opens the door, “last time I checked, you can’t get pregnant from a vibrator.”

Dana gives her a sympathetic pout and Missy pulls the door closed behind her.

———

It’s a quarter past eight when the phone rings, and he pushes Priscilla onto the floor to retrieve it from his desk.

“Hello?”

“I can’t find it,” says a garbled voice.

“Hello?” he asks again, “who is this?”

“It’s really cold. It’s also too hot,” the voice says around a sound like fabric moving over the mouthpiece.

“Scully?”

“Yes?”

“Are you okay?”

There’s a pause. “Mulder?”

“Yeah, I’m here. Are you okay?”

“Mulder, where are you?”

“I’m at home. You called me at home. Is Missy there?”

“No, she had to take her vibrator to a bar,” she answers, and it’s clear that she’s completely delirious.

“Scully, I’m coming over,” he says, standing up to find his shoes and wallet. “Hey, Scully, I need you to do something for me, okay?”

“Hmmm?”

“Can you stand up, and walk to your front door?”

She sighs. “That’s very far.”

“I know it is, but I need you to unlock the door so I can get in. I don’t think your super would be very happy if I broke it down.”

He hears her groan and her voice becomes quieter, then disappears. He waits, and just when he thinks she may have hung up, she picks the phone back up.

“Hello?”

“Hey, did you unlock the door?”

“Mulder?”

“Yes, it’s me.”

“Mulder, where are you?”

He snickers a little. “I’m on my way over, did you unlock the door?”

“I...I don’t remember,” she says, and she sounds exhausted.

“That’s okay, go back to bed. I’ll figure it out. See you soon, okay?”

“Okay, bye, Mulder.”

He waits but the line doesn’t go dead. He hears her shuffle around a bit and then it’s quiet for a long time. Setting the phone on its cradle, he drives over to her apartment.

The door is, thankfully, unlocked, and all the lights are off.

“Scully?” he calls out, not wanting to scare her. “Scully, are you awake?”

When he gets no response, he slips off his shoes and makes his way to her bedroom, calling out her name intermittently. He finds her twisted up in her sheets, and one touch to her forehead has him jerk his hand away with how hot she is. He strips the blankets off of her, finding her in only a T-shirt and panties underneath. Next he finds a washcloth in the bathroom and soaks it with cold water, then grabs two Tylenol and a glass of water. When he returns to the bedroom and drapes the cloth over her forehead, she starts and opens her eyes momentarily, but then closes them again.

“Scully,” he says softly, shaking her shoulder, “I need you to wake up, honey. I need you to take these.”

Her eyes open slowly and she blinks at him with heavy lids.

“Mulder?” she asks groggily, and he gives her a sympathetic smile.

“I’m here. Can you sit up and take these?”

He helps her prop herself up just enough to swallow the Tylenol and a sip of water before she collapses back against the pillows.

“I feel like shit,” she complains, but her eyes are already closed and she’s on her way back to sleep.

“I know. Get some rest. I’ll be here.”

———

She wakes up to harsh beams of sun pouring directly through her eyelids. Her first thought is that Ethan forgot to close the blinds again, but then she remembers that she and Ethan aren't together anymore and he doesn’t live here, so she must have forgotten to close them. She moves to roll out of bed and is met with the shock of aching muscles, and remembers that she had been raging with fever last night. She probably shouldn’t have let Missy leave, but thankfully the fever seems to have broken during the night. She rolls away from the window, no longer motivated to get up and close the blinds, and finds herself nose to nose with a sleeping Mulder.

“What the hell?” she says out loud, and he opens his eyes and smiles at her.

“Hi,” he says softly, “how do you feel?”

She gives him a perplexed expression. “Confused. How long have you been here?”

He chuckles “I knew you were out of it, but I didn’t think you were that far gone. You don’t remember?”

She shakes her head ruefully.

Mulder rolls to his back and stretches, then turns back to face her. “You called me last night, totally out of it, and I came over to make sure you were okay.”

“How did you get in?” she asks skeptically.

“You let me in.”

Her eyes widen.

“You were burning up, I just force fed you some Tylenol and kept an eye on you. Around 3am you started shivering, so I think that’s when the fever broke.”

She is quiet for a moment, taking in her surroundings. “Mulder...am I not wearing pants?”

He holds up his hands in self defense. “That’s how I found you, Scully, Scout’s honor.”

“What time is it?” she asks, feeling disoriented.

He peeks at his watch. “A little after nine.”

She sits up too quickly and gets dizzy. “I’m late for work,” she says, one hand to her head.

“Scully you were delirious with fever six hours ago, you’re not going to work. I called for you,” he says, sitting up too.

She gives him an incredulous look. “You called out sick to work for me?”

He nods.

She sighs and looks away from him. “I got the soup, and the note,” she says, “thank you.”

“Of course,” he answers, rubbing a palm over her back.

She looks back at him, taking in his sleep rumpled hair and second day stubble. She furrows her brow, a slight scowl on her mouth.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“You’re my boyfriend, aren’t you?” she says with a defeated tone, and he laughs.

“I’d sure like to be, if you’ll have me.”

She groans and slumps against him, sighing as he wraps his arms around her, petting her hair.

“Okay, fine,” she says flatly.

“Well don’t sound so excited about it,” he teases, and she pulls back and smiles at him.

“Thanks for taking care of me,” she says softly.

“Thanks for letting me,” he replies.

#the x files #txf #dana scully #fox mulder #gillovny #msr #sculder #x files fanfic #alternate universe

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