#all the sleep. all the pain meds. and on Saturday we’ll get to see what we’re working with | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

asterrrific · 6 months

Text

Can I Be Your Favorite Pillow Instead?

-idol Han x reader

-fluff (i hope) angst (if u squint)

——————

“Babyyy, I’m homeeee~” Han announces as he steps inside your home. It’s a Saturday afternoon and he just got back from the company, having another practice run of their new routine for their comeback.

He pads around the living room, wondering where you are, when he catches sight of a pair of socked feet, peeking out from beside the sofa.

Quietly, he approaches your area and he sees you all snuggled up on a comforter on the floor. His spiderman and quokka pillows all around you. Your books and notes from med school left on the coffee table with one of your pens still open. He smiles softly to himself as he watches your chest gently rise and fall from your sleep.

“Look at you, hoarding all my stuff,” he whispers adoringly as he crouches down to on the floor to level with you. He winces a little once he was leveled to you, as his body is still aching from the dance routine Hyunjin and LeeKnow made for them.

“Sleep well, my love. I’ll come to you in a bit.” He whispers before leaving a lingering kiss on your forehead, ever so gently, hoping not to wake you.

But you do wake up, because as he slowly stood back up, he let out a loud grunt when he felt his lower back ache in piercing pain.

Your eyes flutter open almost immediately, and you quickly get up from where you were. You sit on the floor and reach out to Han.

“Baby, what’s wrong? Are you okay? Does anything hurt?” You ramble as your hand find his. He squeezes yours as he led himself to sit on the sofa in front of your little makeshift bed on the floor, his hand never letting go.

“Sorry to wake you up, gorgeous. I’m fine. Just a little ache here and there,” he says while his other hand joins to caress your hand still clasped in his.

You arch an eyebrow at him, not believing anything he’s saying. Not when you see how he hasn’t changed out of his practice clothes yet, and his shirt is a bit damp with sweat. His hair is disheveled, and you see pain relief patches peeking from behind his neck as well.

Sighing, you look at him directly on the eyes. Your heart ached when he looked back. He looked beat, but you can still see how he’s trying to reassure you that he’s fine.

You bring yourself to lay your head on his lap carefully, hugging him from there. You feel him reach out to give you a small pat on the back, then rubbing small circles there after.

“I swear, my love. I’m fine.” He repeats.

You stay there resting your head on his lap for a bit, until you feel him relaxing to you as well. You feel his legs lose their tension, and peek at him from above. His eyes are closed and he’s leaning on the sofa now. His hands still on your back.

Slowly, you get up from the floor and sit next to him, careful not to bump into him as you feel like he’s sore all over.

“Tell you what, Hannie. You rest here for a bit and I’ll go run a bath for you, okay? Then we’ll change your patches and get you some pain reliever and… possibly an early dinner? Would you like that? How does that sound, hmm?” You ask softly while caressing his cheek gently.

He lets out a puff of breath as he reaches out to the hand caressing his face. He leans on to your hold and his eyes flutter open, meeting yours.

“I’m ashamed to say this right now, but that would sound wonderful, baby,” he sighs dreamily, probably already imagining the relief he’d get after all that.

You smile softly at him, wondering how, after all this time, you’re dating THE Han Jisung. The Han Jisung who’s loud and naughty on camera and the stage. The Han Jisung who only lets out this side of him to you and his members whom he trust the most. You stare lovingly at the man you have loved since you were 19, fangirling over their group and especially him. You smile to yourself as you let out a sigh when it hits you that also, after all this time, he’s still shy around you when you want to take care of him. He rarely asks for help or anything from you, because he wants to be the giver when it comes to you.

“Don’t be. Please. Let me take care of you too. It’s always you taking care of me despite your schedules and all that.” You tell him.

“But it feels unfair still. I’m always out and about, and I often leave home during tours so you’re left alone here to study and stuff… I don’t feel like those are enough at all, y/n.”

Your eyes soften at that and you lean in to give him a kiss on the cheek.

“Those are more than enough for me, Hannie. YOU are more than enough for me.” You tell him, as your face still hovers directly over his.

This time, it’s his turn to cup your cheek with both hands. He pulls you closer to him, and he rests his forehead on yours. His eyelashes tickle you as his eyes flutter close and his nose lovingly rubs on top of your own.

“I just want to be good enough so you can be proud of me…” he whispers, a tinge of sadness in his low voice.

Your eyes threaten to spill with tears as he said those words, and he notices it. His hold on your face gets a bit stronger, his thumb caressing your cheeks.

“But baby, I AM proud of you. Loads. I don’t deserve an angel like you. I don’t even think YOU deserve me. But I still love you despite that, okay? I still want to be the best one for you, because that’s what you deserve, and I’m afraid I’m not that yet.” You assure him, spinning the wheel towards you instead.

“Baby, you ARE the best. You are MY best. I deserve you as much as you deserve me. What you don’t deserve is a boyfriend who’s almost always never home, that’s why I’m doing my best to make it up to you somehow.” He pouts.

You’re at a loss for words, so you kiss him instead, hoping that it would relay your thoughts to him for you.

He relaxes into the kiss as his other hand leaves your cheek to find your waist, pulling you closer to him.

“I feel like you’re not taking any of my shit seriously, baby.” He says as you break from the kiss. You giggle at that, making him smile. It makes you feel better seeing him smile.

“I am so not. Don’t you ever say I don’t deserve my Han Jisung ever again. Clear?” You tease.

He smiles fully this time, as he gives you a quick peck on the lips again.

“Okay, Doc.” He teases, making your cheeks blush furiously.

“Don’t call me that. I’m not it yet.” You shyly say as you leave your spot beside him so you can run his bath and prepare his patches and meds.

“Why not, when you’re taking care of me so well? You even have a notebook with all my medical needs, remember?” He further teases, making you remember how, when one time during their last promotions, you rushed to their company after hearing that he fainted from practice, and you ended up bombarding their PD and nurses about any conditions you might have and you wrote them down.

“Shut up, Peter.” You finally say, using his english name.

“Oh, I’m not baby anymore?” He pouts. He followed you to the bathroom as you filled the tub with warm water and bubbles.

“You are definitely baby. One I need to take care of right now or else he won’t be going to practice next week when he still says another ‘ouch’ until Monday morning,” you huff.

“That could work. You don’t have school on Monday right? I think I’ll just call in sick so you could take care of me,” he winks.

You had the urge to slap his arm, but you stop yourself in time, reminding your urges that he needs to be relieved of body pain right now.

So, you let him take his bath. Then when he was done, you fed him and gave him his meds, and gently placed pain relief patches in the areas where he felt the most sore, massaging therapy oil in for good measure too.

By 7pm, both of you are in the living room again. Him lying on the sofa, you still on the floor, sitting cross legged, reviewing your notes.

“Baby,” he says after a few beats. His eyes focused on the back of your head and no longer on the TV screen playing softly in the background.

“Hmm? Do you need anything?” You ask, as you bring your attention to him. You face him, feeling his forehead incase he suddenly got a fever.

“I need…” he starts, looking suddenly shy.

“You need what, baby? Hmm?”

“I need you.” He mumbles, barely a whisper, but you catch it in time.

“Need me to what, Hannie?” You ask worriedly, searching his face with concern.

He scoots even further into the sofa, then sheepishly opens his arms, inviting you to apparently, stay with him.

You chuckle at his child like antics, the one you fell inlove with along with the other things that makes him so unique.

“But won’t you be sore my love?” You ask him as you lean on to the sofa, reaching out to lightly pinch his cheeks.

“No, I don’t think so. It’s just…” he trails off again, dropping his arms.

“Just what, Hannie?” You ask, amusement evident in your voice this time. You want to tease him so badly, but you just decide to be soft with him tonight and give in to his pleas. Your hands find his arm, which you caress reassuringly, urging him to just be open.

“I want to be close to you right now… please?” He asks. He gets the courage to look at you straight in the eyes.

You smile adoringly at him, so not being able to resist, you drop your things on the table, grab one quokka plushie, and carefully climbed on to the sofa with him.

“Can you leave Han Quokka behind? I don’t want to share you right now.” He suddenly teases once you’re snuggled with him, a knitted blanket draped over the both of you.

His sudden outburst made you snort out laughter, much to his embarrassment.

“I’m serious. You’ve been hoarding my pillows too much lately. I’m actually jealous.” He pouts.

You push yourself up as you guide him to his back better, one of your hands on his chest.

“Are you sore here too?” You ask.

“Not really, why?”

“Will you let me use your chest as a pillow then?”

Han then grins, adjusting his arms so he could accommodate you to lie down on his chest. He winces a bit, so you cautiously avoid contact.

“No, no, please, I can take it. Let me be your favorite pillow instead,” he said, strong determination shining in his eyes.

You giggle fondly at your boyfriend, and carefully, you snuggle on top of him. His arms later secure you to him, hands tracing lazy circles on your back.

“I love you…” he whispers after a few moments of silence. His breathing getting slower and more even, letting you know that he’s sleepy.

You push gently from your spot so you can look at his droopy eyes, and your heart aches again, this time with love, as you see in them how much he meant those three little words.

Carefully, you push yourself up to reach out to kiss his forehead, his nose, his cheeks, that corner on his jaw that he’s always so sensitive for, and finally, his lips.

Han smiles into the kiss, gently giving back to you. One of his hands find its way into your hair, gently playing around with it.

And that moment makes you melt into his warmth. His presence. That moment makes you more determined to be what the both of you deserve.

“I love you, Hannie…” you whisper breathlessly after the kiss. His eyes are closed, but he’s still smiling.

“I love you, y/n. Always in all ways…” he whispers.

You reach out to kiss his eyelids gently before retreating back to the comfort of his embrace and back to your now favorite pillow: his chest.

“Get some rest now, my love. I’ll rest with you.” You whisper back, as Han’s breathing becomes slower and more even, letting you know that he’s finally drifted off to sleep.

—-

AAAAA I MISSED WRITING ABOUT STRAY KIDS! This is my first time writing for Han. Been missing him loads, lately. Also, I’m so excited for their comeback!

I hope you love this as much as I did while writing it! I wanted to come up with a soft scenario for Han in my head because (I REALY REALY REALLY) miss his goofy self so much.

As always, if you enjoy my work, please reblog it so other people could find my works too! ^^

Loveee,

Aster :3

#skz fanfic #skz imagines #skz x reader #skz scenarios #skz stay #skz au #skz han #skz fluff #han fluff #han imagines #han jisung fluff #han x reader #han jisung imagines #han jisung au

142 notes · View notes

nevertellmetheodds2017 · 2 years

Text

end of may 2022 update

so a bunch of things -

1) CT showed progression again - in liver, in lungs & in kidneys! - so Trodelvy is not working for me. SAD

2) my oncologist rapidly recommended I move to line 3, gamcitabine & cisplatin. Startal date was unknown until yesterday when I got the call - it’s Thursday June 2. It’s an awful chemo series, & cisplatin makes many quite ill. But it might be more powerful at smashing my cancer hard....

3) on Friday the 27th I spoke with a psychiatriast & got started with an anxiety & depresssion med (cipralex) & a benzo for general “what the fuck???” I had to start the cipralex at 1/4 per day for 4 days, then move up to 1/2, etc etc etc. Gradual, she said. Ok. Not sure I’m feeling everything because this turned out to be a crap part of my time as you’ll see below....

4) Last Thursday the 26th I started to experience quite a bit of pain from my liver. The one with giant meds is getting a real bastard. Thursday & Friday I sort of got through with some naproxen. By Saturday things were getting way worse. That evening I tried a hydromorphone. I slept well but Sunday I was teary, in bed, in pain & just falling asleep all the time. Cry, sleep, whine in bed, repeat. Monday I tried a Tylenol 3 by midday and it worked! I spoke with my oncologist and she signed off on me using the Tylenol 3 and we hope it keeps working.

5) I’m going for blood work today and we’ll find out how bad my bilirubin is. I’m YELLOW all over so um, yeah, thanks liver or whatever the fuck is happening. The liver numbers are worrying me honestly. Who am I kidding. Everything is worrying me.

Between the psych, the meds, the pain, the new chemo starting, the unknown what to do about my trip --- it’s all chaos & leaving me mostly in tears or just passing out to sleep. Like denial will keep me out of things.

I’m also brain a bit out of it. I forget words, I’m very upset. I can’t focus on things. Either the hydromorphone left me or I’ve got some bad stuff happening in my brain (ammonia or brain mets).... or maybe it’s just temporary from stress & meds. I guess we wait and see.

Ok here's my crazy blood report - that bilirubin explains why I'm a yellow person I guess 😟😯 & crap, the liver numbers are all 😮😫

#metastatic breast cancer #triple negative breast cancer #cancer

2 notes · View notes

lyssismagical · 3 years

Note

72 w Parkner pls 🥺

just some bb fluff between the Keener-Parker-Stark family uwu

“I'll see you in a few hours, babe,” Morgan says, leaning up to kiss her partner. “I love you.”

Saylor smiles and gently pushes a strand of hair behind Morgan’s ear. “I love you too. Have fun. Tell them I said hi.”

Morgan and Saylor have been together for three years now, having met in Morgan’s third year of college, studying to become a teacher. Saylor’s in med school.

They live together in New York, only a few hours’ drive away from Stark Towers where Harley and Peter live.

She hasn’t had a day off between school and her job as a teaching assistant, not to mention having just gotten a puppy with Saylor who needs constant attention and care.

The drive to Stark Industries is a little boring, traffic a little heavier than usual on a Saturday morning. She feels a little bad about not spending the weekend with her partner who’s also rarely free, but she also hasn’t made the trip to see her family in quite a while.

Harley and Peter are sitting at the breakfast bar, knees touching and Harley’s laughing bright and loud at something Peter must’ve said. They both look tired, despite the weekend beginning, but she knows the business has been under some heat lately.

Peter’s up, out of his seat as soon as he sees her, pulling her into a warm hug. “I’ve missed you, bug. How are you? How’s Saylor? How’s school?”

“Let her breathe, darling,” Harley says, leaning over his husband to ruffle Morgan’s hair. “You want a coffee?”

“Yes, please, traffic was awful.”

Harley smiles and heads off towards the kitchen, leaving Peter to fuss over Morgan.

“You look tired, have you been sleeping alright?”

“Peter, I’m fine, I promise. I’m twenty-four, you don’t need to worry about me like I’m still fourteen.”

He sighs wearily, it’s obvious it hasn’t exactly been an easy week for him. “I know. But you’ll always be my little bug.”

“I’m good, really, Peter. I’m happy.”

Harley returns, pressing an old Iron Man mug into her hands. “How’s Saylor? I miss that kid.”

“They’re good… Busy, that’s for sure. Med school, the internship at the hospital, taking care of Nova. We’ve both been busy, but they’re happy. They’ve got the weekend off to just play with Nova and rest.”

Peter goes to respond, but his phone ringing cuts him off. “Sorry, I should probably… Hello?”

Harley sighs, leading Morgan to the living room. “It’s been complicated lately.”

“I heard, is everything okay?”

“One of our rival companies, they’re fighting dirty and it’s putting a lot of pressure on us. We’ve already lost a few employees, as well as some investors because of them. But we’re making progress and it’ll all blow over soon enough.”

Morgan nods, pulling her knees up to her chest on the couch, tucking herself into the warmth. It’s the same old couch that Tony bought decades ago, there’s a few photographs of her here when she must’ve been two to four years old, her dad holding her in his lap. On one hand, she knows why they haven’t bothered to replace it, every memory of Tony is important to all three of them and seems almost wrong to get rid of anything that belonged to him. But on the other hand, it really is just a couch. An old, worn-leather couch, with rips in the seams and stains along the back.

“Peter looks exhausted,” she says, watching carefully as Harley’s face shifts into worried sadness.

“He is. You know how he gets when it comes to anything surrounding your dad.”

Peter slips into the room, rubbing a hand down his face. “I’ve gotta go. I’m sorry to cut this short, but PR needs one of us downstairs.”

“I’ll get it,” Harley offers, already bringing himself to his feet.

“No, it’s okay. You took the last one. I’ll go, sort this out, I’ll hopefully be back within an hour or two. I’ll bring takeout for lunch, sound good?”

Harley sighs and Morgan knows she makes the exact same expression as he does whenever Saylor picks up extra hours at the hospital or stays up all night to study.

She’s never really known the two of them apart, she was too young to remember them before they got together, way back when they were eighteen and nineteen. They’ve been together ever since, bar the one time in college where they split up for nearly four months, long-distance having become too much for them.

She’s never known Harley without the permanent wrinkle between his brows from the constant worry of dating a selfless superhero. She’s never known Peter without the messy curls, having given up gel and product when Harley convinced him he looked better without it.

When she was young, she always worried that she’d never find love the way her parents did, the way she saw Harley and Peter, so unconditional, so pure, so endless. She worried she wouldn’t find the person who was clearly meant to be her other half like Peter is for Harley and Harley is for Peter.

But then she met Saylor.

“Bye, bug, I’ll be back soon, I promise.”

She hugs Peter goodbye, settling back into the cushions beside Harley.

“How did you know you were going to be with Peter forever?” Morgan asks. She adores the way Harley’s expression goes gentle and nostalgic and loving.

“Peter likes to say that he knew when we met, that very first time, at the cabin. But I don’t think it was ever quite that simple, you know? I knew I loved him when we were in college and he was in Massachusetts while I was in California, and I woke up one day, and found Peter in my dorm room. He’d flown all the way out, on his long weekend, just to spend time with me. He was sitting next to me, reading the book I had to write an essay on so he’d be able to me. It was so simple, so easy, and it was clear, in that moment, that I could do that forever. Wake up next to him, live in simple domesticity with him.”

“And you wanted to do that forever?”

She knows that moment with Saylor, too. They had come home from a long day at school and a long evening at the hospital, and they had picked up her favourite meal for dinner on the way home. They had curled up on the couch together, eaten dinner, and watched a movie, and smiled when Morgan had ranted about the antagonist of the film.

“For as long as he’d have me.”

“And you’ve never once gone back on that?”

Harley shrugs, eyes far away. “I fucked up in college, I nearly ruined the best thing I’d ever had, and that’s the biggest regret I’ll have to carry with me. That’s the only regret I’ll ever have about our relationship, is hurting him and losing four months with him.”

“I think I want to ask Saylor to marry me,” Morgan says. She’s certain about that, but god is she ever nervous. “I love them more than anything.”

“I know.” Harley nudges her with his shoulder. “Every time you talk about them, you get that same look that I see on Peter’s face constantly. And that- that’s a lot. I see it on Saylor’s face too, when they talk about you.”

“You do?”

Harley’s smile widens. “I do. It’s clear how much that kid loves you. And if you’re even a fraction as sure as I was when I proposed, then you should go for it.”

“How did you do it?”

“It’s about as dramatic as you’d expect from us. He was-” Harley stops, swallows visibly. “He was dying. He’d been hurt while on a mission and I was there, I was holding him and he was- he was dying. Bucky had to physically restrain me while Sam got him to help… It was the most scared I’d ever been.”

“He was okay, though.”

“Yeah, somehow he always is. He was in that goddamn hospital bed and he was so high on pain killers and I just, I asked him to marry me.”

“That simple?”

“That simple.”

Morgan laughs a little. “And he said yes?”

“He did. He said yes. And when he was released from the hospital, he laughed so hard he cried because he couldn’t believe that’s how I asked him.”

And god does Morgan ever want that with Saylor. She loves her partner like crazy, loves them to the moon and back, she never wants to go another day without them, she doesn’t want to spend another second without being able to call her partner, her fiancé.

“I want to marry Saylor,” she says again.

Harley grins. “I’m proud of you.”

“For being in love?”

“For being unapologetically you and going after what you want.”

Morgan leans into Harley, his arm coming up to wrap around her shoulders. “You think they’ll say yes?”

“No question about it, kid.”

“If they do…” She trails off nervously. “Would you and Peter walk me down the aisle?”

Harley presses a kiss to her temple. “We would love to. And I’m sure we could have Nova trained to be a ring bearer in no time.”

Morgan laughs at the thought of her clumsy, bouncy little puppy trying to do anything with finesse.

Peter returns with lunch a little while later.

As soon as he walks in, he drops the bags down on the table and says, “I want a baby.”

“What?” Harley lets out a little surprised laugh and Morgan bursts into giggles at the absurdity.

“Quinn brought her baby in for the meeting because she couldn’t get a babysitter in time,” Peter explains, pouting childishly. “And I want one.”

Harley shakes his head, more dumbfounded than disagreeing. “You want a baby.”

“I want a baby,” he repeats. “I want a little tiny thing with ten fingers and ten toes and a beating heart.”

Morgan laughs again, walking up to hug Peter. “God, I missed how absolutely crazy you are.”

“Okay, darling, how about you eat some food and we’ll talk some more later?”

It’s not a no and Peter grins triumphantly.

“When did you know that you wanted to be with Harley forever?” Morgan asks before she can stop herself.

Peter’s smile widens and he looks to Harley with the softest, most lovestruck eyes she’s ever seen. “I was fifteen.”

“Fifteen? You were seventeen when we met.”

Peter slides a hand over Harley’s shoulder, tucking himself into his husband’s side. “I was fifteen and I was here with Tony. Right here, actually. We were having a lab night and he mentioned something about a potato gun kid. And I asked him to tell me about you. About dumbass Harley Keener who didn’t know when to stop, who was talkative and loud and sarcastic and annoying. Harley who helped save Tony’s life. And I thought, wow, if anybody would know what it feels like to be me, it’d be Harley.”

“Really?”

“I googled you later that day and I scrolled through your mom’s entire facebook, wondering just who was special enough to stay in Tony’s head for so long, so fresh. I told Ned, I said to him, I’m gonna meet this kid and I’m going to marry him one day because who else is worthy of my love than somebody who could save Tony Stark’s life.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m not! It’s all true. Ask Ned, he’ll tell you.”

Harley rolls his eyes in pure adoration. “You never told me that.”

“I was embarrassed and then it didn’t seem relevant anymore.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever stop wanting to learning things about you, Parker.”

Peter grins up at him. “Like how I want to have a baby?”

“You two would be amazing dads,” Morgan says, almost shyly. That part of their relationship isn’t talked about very much, how they might as well have raised Morgan, filled in the spot that her dad left when she was so young. “Any kid would be lucky to have you.”

“Thanks, bug,” Peter murmurs.

“If you take tomorrow off, we’ll start researching, alright?” Harley bargains. A day off is hard to come by with Peter, but with an ultimatum like that, Peter can’t possibly say no.

Peter kisses him in response.

April Parker is the flower girl at Saylor and Morgan’s wedding that fall.

Taglist: @littlemissagrafina @spideyspeaches @romeoandjulietyouwish @c-artara @shadedrose01 @likeaphoenix13 @misskirkstark @you-get-killed-walk-it-off @kitkatwinchester @emo-girl10 @hold-our-destiny @imalivebecauseirondad @spiderman-peterman @dykeragee @maryserrao @heeeyitskay @parknerandirondad @lilacsandlilies4 @loveliestdisappointment @joyful-soul-collector @genderfluid-and-confuzled @fallenstar07 @gyurolls @sdottkrames @you-did-it-sir @not-today-thx @fandomstuffff

{Let me know if you wanna be added or removed}

#lyss writes #parkner #lyss answers #harley keener #peter parker #morgan stark #mcu #spider man #tony stark #parent peter parker #dad peter parker #dad harley keener

65 notes · View notes

whump-town · 3 years

Text

Without A Word

Hotch sits with Emily right after her death.

She spends every Saturday night on his couch, tangled in his unusually long limbs and the blanket he keeps draped across the back just for these nights. Drinking whatever cheap beer she finds at the corner store a few blocks from his apartment until he’s had enough and gets out the wine. Between them, there is no need for long-winded conversations or many words at all. The night turns in and she finds that since stepping into the room neither of them has said a word. Not when he ordered their dinner. Not when she finished his discarded beer.

Not a word.

Those Saturdays are her favorite.

Were.

They were her favorite and they were something she used to do.

She’s no longer allowed these things.

She watches him from the stiff, unforgiving mattress beneath her sore body. Her arm aches where the IV has sat for so long in the crook of her elbow and she knows all she needs to do is say something and they’ll likely move it but she’s afraid of how she’ll sound. To her own ears, all she will hear is the pathetic rasps and whines of such a silly complaint. To the staff, it’s the way they’ll soften and she’ll be forced to see the pity they have for a dead woman.

And, more than anything else, she’s afraid of what Aaron will hear.

To see the quirks of his face as he reasons through what it is that he, himself, thinks. Will he disapprovingly narrow his eyes, tightening his lips as he thinks about his own nightmare. George Foyet and the many nights he spent in the hospital recovering from not just one impalement but nine brutally drawn-out stab wounds. Will he look at her with soft eyes and force her to watch him avoid her eye so she won’t see the pity. Will there be guilt? The hardening of his jaw as he clenches his teeth and cast his eyes anywhere but at her.

It makes her wish she’d never known him.

Not to surpass the worry she feels about his perception of her (deep down she can acknowledge that he must love her to be here now) but to prevent all of this. To pull him from the stiff-backed chair he has restlessly has fallen asleep in and send him home to his son. Go back to a time when she didn’t know what it was like to be hurt -- physically, emotionally, and sexually. To be seventeen again gulping down coffee with no cream or sugar because she thought the bitterness would make her stronger, more of an adult. But life requires one to be greedy about the things in life that feel good.

Reid taught her that, watching him pour mountains of sugar in his coffee. Bitterness is not the measure of adulthood or success. It’s one ability to take one more longing glance at the mug in their hands and decide whatever body part might shut down in a few years is not worth the disgusting sludge in their mug. Indulge while you can before you find there is nothing but bitterness and no sugar to sweeten the mess.

Indulge before it’s too late.

She never indulged herself enough.

“You’re awake.”

She watches the micro-expressions (pain from sitting in that chair, happiness that eats up a dimple, guilt that pulls down his eyebrows like a bar with too much weight on its ends) slip across his face before it settles on passive worry. There’s an intensity to his eyes that makes her aware that she’s being watched, not by Aaron and his soft edges but by Hotch who will fight with nurses and get himself kicked out of the hospital. She wishes she could feel something past the numb itchiness of her nose and the distance of her hands, then she might be able to worm her way into his brain. So she might live alongside his thoughts.

She thinks she’d probably enjoy herself there.

“Emily?”

She looks down where his hand touches her own. Emily. She can’t feel the warmth of his fingers sitting over the top of her own but then he’s always been cold. Blankest always tucked around his broad shoulders. Hands tucked into his pockets. Her favorite part is that he hates summer, despite what could be assumed about its escape from the dreaded winter. But people have a tendency to overcompensate with air conditioners. He fucking hates the summer.

She won’t see that this year.

She’s dead.

��I’m sorry.”

She wonders how it is that he steals the words right out of her mouth. Because it should be her apologizing. For not trusting him despite how many times he’s leaned into her. For running away when she’d called him a coward for wanting to do the same thing. For getting herself killed and hurting him, for making his worst nightmares come true once again.

She opens her mouth and he rises with deep groans from his lower back and his knees old hinges from door frames older than them combined to stretch and get her water. She didn’t even realize how much her throat hurt until she’s greedily pulling from the straw he’s bent to allow her access to the content of the little cup. “Not too much,” he warns softly, pulling away. “Water doesn’t mix well with the meds.” A lesson he learned the hard way when she’d done the same for him when it was him in the bed and her sleeping in the uncomfortable visitor’s chair.

She couldn’t save him from the nausea of her good intentions but he can spare her the pain of too fresh stitches being tugged by a heaving stomach.

“You shouldn’t be here.” Between them, there is no miscommunication. She knows him as she might know her own hand or her favorite book -- as an extension of something past herself. More than Emily Prentiss. He knows her the same. So, there is no need to clarify and even less of a need for her to have to say the words at all.

She’s right, of course. His being here disrupts the flow, it’s a wedge in the crack of the team’s trust, and each time he finds himself here that wedge sinks a little further.

He repeats back to her the words she’d whispered to him only a year ago. “You shouldn’t be alone.” She’s surprised he can remember that at all. There had been only a small debate about who it was that could stay with him that night, but she was glad it was her answering his questions when he woke drowsily with the drugs and when he’d tried to send her home. But insubordinate is a word that perfectly explains their friendship and she’s never been afraid to toe at his “firm” line of what he’s willing to deal with.

She narrows her eyes at him and he does it right back, both baiting the other. He’s right and so is she. She hates it when he’s right.

“Sit.” She croaks pulling her arms up to put weight on them and inch her body to the left so that he can sit.

He grabs her wrist, stopping her. “Don’t,” he commands softly. “You’ll pull your stitches.” Another hard lesson to learn, one he can spare her. He’d done the same for her in the hospital but powered on despite the feeling of the stitches pulling at his skin. The nurses had not liked him very much, he wasn’t very good at sitting still.

Without a word he carefully leans onto the bed, sitting right where her hip is. Close like she wants without actually needing her to move. His eyes wander and he finds himself glued to the heavy gauze wrapped around her abdomen. His mixed feelings are met with a smile from her, “we’ll match.”

He grimaces, “you don’t want that.”

He won’t be there to talk her through healing. The way things burn and itch and ache and that she’ll get so light-headed she’ll nearly pass out. That she might need iron supplements like him and that they taste like death and he’s seen and smelt enough of that to know that it’s a very correct description. How the nightmares ignite the pain and if she thinks the anxiety and the panic are too much she’ll be floored the first time she feels the attack again.

He can still feel Foyet’s hands all over his body. He’d take any punishment, as many tactile nightmares as his body could handle, to save her these things. The betrays of mind and body.

Her body is heavy and she can feel the pain returning. “Aaron?” She needs to say it now because when she wakes up after this she’s going to be in too much pain to think about what she’s left unsaid.

“I know,” he whispers. He knows that she loves him. That she thinks he’s the biggest dickhead she’s ever met in her entire life and no one is as insufferably annoying as he is to her. That someone, preferably Garcia, needs to take care of Sergio and to take care of her plants. That she’s going to miss him so fucking much and she’s not sure how to function when he’s not there anymore.

He knows. God, he knows.

“You’ll be here when I wake up?”

“I have other places to be,” he states, uncharacteristically trying at something playful. She narrows her eyes at him and he caves. “I’ll be here.”

Eyes closed she hums, “it’s not like you have other friends.” The comment is meant to be light but it... hurts. He’s burring his friend. He can’t tell Dave how he really feels. Can’t accept Garcia’s attempts at comfort. He’s sending her away and the false hope that she’ll ever return is more damning than if she’d died.

“No,” he replies thickly. “I suppose not.” Next time, he vows, he will die with her because he won’t survive this again.

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #hotchniss #but not hotchniss

49 notes · View notes

prettyinlimegreenboots · 3 years

Note

“Hold still.” for Sprace? ♡

I’m going back to my favorite headcanon for Spot . . hope that’s okay anonie! Without future ado, here’s an update on Nurse Spottie and Doc Plums. This part of my Life in the ER Series - you can catch up here. Warnings, blood, stitches, hospital visit, cussing.

March 15, 2020 2:00pm

“You suck, Conlon!” A chart was dropped on the counter as Albert collapsed into a chair, giving the head nurse a look. “Why?”

Looking up from his own chart, Spot raised an eyebrow. “It’s actually Higgins-Conlon and has been for almost two months and what did I do now? If I remember, it’s been only a few days since I switched to days, instead of nights. I couldn’t have gotten into that much trouble since then.”

“You’re giving me all the shit cases today.” Albert shook his head, flipping open a chart. “What did I do to make you angry?”

Spot chuckled, shaking his head. “Fortunately, you haven’t done anything to piss me off . . . it’s just how the cards have fallen today.”

“Boys . . . do we have to argue?” Plums asked, collapsing into a chair with a sigh. She was five months pregnant and already complaining about the extra weight she was carrying. “I’m not in the mood to pull you two apart.”

Spot bit his lip, looking over at his longtime friend. “How you doin’ momma?”

“This child is already causing me fits and they’re not even born yet.” She sighed, rubbing her hand over her expanded belly. “Something else to hold over their head.”

Albert slammed that chart he was looking at closed before looking over at Plums. “You and Jack finding out what you’re having?”

“Jack doesn’t want to but I kinda do.” She shrugged. “It’s a daily conversation in the house . . . so when I know I’ll let you know. But we’re working on the nursery this weekend . . . Jack is going to be painting something-”

She was interrupted by the bay doors being thrown open and a stretcher was being pushed in. Grabbing his stethoscope, Spot hopped to his feet with Plums right behind him. Listening to the paramedics fill them in, they sprung into action, getting the patient to centerstage with several other nurses and physicians behind them.

2:45pm

“How about we go down to the café to get something to eat?” Plums asked, giving him a look, snapping her gloves off her hands, sighing loudly. “I know you haven’t eaten anything since you came on at 5.”

Avoiding her look, Spot shrugged, snapping his gloves off his hands. “I’m off at 5 . . . I’ll be alright.”

“Spot, come on.” She tugged on his arm, her eyes sympathetic. “Just grab a coffee . . . take a few minutes. That was a rough one; you need a break, even for a few minutes.”

Nodding, he allowed her to loop her arm through his arm as they made their way down to the café. The patient that the paramedics had brought in was pronounced dead soon after he arrived in the hospital. They tried resuscitation efforts but there simply wasn’t anything they could do.

Grabbing a coffee and a pastry, Spot quickly paid, going to find a table. Kat joined him shortly with a bowl of mac and cheese and a Coke. Spot raised an eye at the Coke as she grinned. “I have mostly given up coffee so this is my one for the day.”

“Your child is going to be wired with all of the caffeine you consume.” He cracked a grin as she laughed.

Kat’s eyes lit up at the thought. “Jack’s going to have his hands full.”

“Ha that’ll be a sight to see - you sleep deprived and your baby hyper.” Spot chuckled. “Luckily this job has prepared you for sleepless nights.”

She groaned. “Ugh . . . I’m just glad I got switched to days. Nights were killing me. Speaking of days, how’s Racer liking your new schedule?”

“He loves it . . . he’s actually happy that we see each other more now than we did before.” Spot smiled. “It’s an adjustment though; my body is still out of whack with sleeping.”

He watched her take a bit of her mac and cheese before sipping on his coffee. “Agreed . . . that’s the worst part. Luckily, I’m exhausted after my 12 hour shift.”

“Yeah but you have more days off than I do . . . I’m working four 12 hour days with three days off. You’re only working three 12s with four days off.” Spot gave her a look, sipping his coffee.

Shrugging, she took another bite. “Perks of being a PA, I guess.”

He couldn’t say anything because at that moment, Albert came running into the café, scanning the area frantically. “SPOT!”

Spot was already on his feet when Albert slid to a stop at their table. “What’s wrong?”

“Race and Jack just came in.” His eyes were wide as he looked between Spot and Plums.

Spot’s heart fell to his stomach as he glanced at Kat. She gave him a look as they ran out of the café heading towards the emergency room, Albert at their heels. “What happened?”

“Race cracked his chin open.” Albert said, glancing over his shoulder at Plums. “Jack’s fine . . . just brought the idiot in.”

Pushing open the doors to the emergency room, Spot gave Albert a look. “Where are they?”

“Bay 4.” Albert said, walking over to the curtain, before pulling it open revealing Jack in a chair and Race in the bed with a dish towel pressed up to his chin.

“Hi Snookums.” Race grinned, wincing as his lips pulled upward. “How are you?”

Snapping on a pair of gloves, Spot shook his head walking up to examine Race, pulling away the dish towel, whistling at how deep the cut was. “Hi yourself . . . What did you do?”

“He’s an idiot.” Jack sighed, as Plums made her way over to him. “We really should look into wrapping him a bubble wrap bubble anytime he goes out. Hi love.”

She sighed, her gaze landing on Race. “Hi babe. Now tell us, what happened?”

“You know I’ve been having that cold and I took some medicine that made me dizzy and I fell.” Race grimaced. “When I got up, I noticed blood on the floor and realized I had busted open my chin.”

Kat joined Spot next to the bed to look at the wound. “What medicine did you take?”

“Sudafed.” Race looked between the two.

“Tilt your head back a bit.” Kat said, pressing near the wound as Race pulled back and hissed at the pain. “How often are you taking them? What’s the dosage? Have you been staying hydrated?”

Race looked over at Spot with wide eyes at all the medical questions. “Spottie told me to take them. They’re the red ones and I take them every four hours. And I’ve been drinking . . . some.”

“You’re probably dehydrated which caused you to get dizzy and fall.” She gave her brother-in-law a look. “What have you been drinking? Water? Gatorade? Coffee?”

“Yes, yes, and yes.” Race replied, grinning cheekily at his sister-in-law.

Groaning, she shook her head, pulling her pen light out of her scrubs before flashing it in his eyes, watching his pupils dilate. “Quit being a smartass. Now, what’s the date?”

“March 15, Saturday.” Race grinned.

“When was your wedding?” Kat continued to flash the light in his eyes.

“January 17, 2020.” He moved his eyebrows up and down, looking over at Spot.

Spot snorted a laugh, shaking his head. “Behave and just answer her questions.”

“Who’s your favorite sister?” Kat asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

Race snorted, immediately after his hand flying to his chin as he whimpered. “You, you . . . can I get some pain meds and stitches?”

“Go ahead, Spot. Clean that out and stitch him up.” Looking at Race, she gave him a look. “You’re lucky . . . I don’t think you have a concussion but let Spot stitch you up.”

She turned and looked at Jack. “Where were you two when he fell?”

“I was at their house . . . we were working on something.” Spot’s head popped up from where he was getting the supplies when he heard Jack’s response.

“What were you two working on?” Spot asked, dropping the supplies on the bed beside Race as he gave his husband a look.

Race looked at him, as he lowered the bed so that Race was lying back. “It’s a surprise . . . don’t worry about it.”

“For me?” Spot asked, flushing out his wound with saline, watching the bloody water flow into the basin he held up to Race’s chin.

Race smirked. “Nope, for Sassie.”

Nodding his head, Spot continued cleaning out the wound. “Enough of your sassiness. Hey Race?”

“Yeah Spottie?”

Spot grinned. “I need you to look over at Kat . . . keep your eyes on her and don’t look at me, okay?”

“You’re going to shoot me up now aren’t you?” Race asked, giving his husband a wide eyed look.

“I’m going to be quick about it but hold Kat’s hand and keep your eyes on her.” Spot gave Kat a look as she grabbed Race’s hand.

As soon as their hands were laced together, Spot quickly numbed his chin, letting the wound become numb before he started the stitches. “Hold still, Racer. I’ll be as gentle as possible.”

Nodding his head, Race gave Spot a look. “Love you Spottie.”

“Love you too Racer. Now hold still.” Spot gave him a look as he started stitching him up.

Fifteen minutes later, he was tying off the last stitch before cutting the thread. Gathering up all of the supplies, he threw them away along with his bloodied gloves before grabbing a new pair. “How do you feel?”

“Super glad I have a nurse and a doctor in the family.” Race grinned, wincing at the pain in his chin. “How long is this going to hurt?”

Spot looked over at Kat who grinned. “You’ll be in pain for the next few days. It’ll be tender but Tylenol should help. Stop taking the Sudafed and drink more than you normally do, avoiding coffee. Gatorade, juice, and water should be fine. Spot, you know what to look for.”

“When can the stitches come out?” Race asked, looking between his husband and sister-in-law.

Spot tilted Race’s head back gently, using gauze and some saline to clean up the excess blood from Race’s chin before dropping a kiss on his cheek. “You feelin’ okay?”

“Yea but I’m tired Spottie.” Race whined. “When are you off work?”

Looking at the clock, he saw that it was 3:45 and sighed. “I’ve got another hour before I’m done.”

Whining, Race groaned. “I want to cuddle.”

“We’re both off at 5 . . . how about you guys hang out here and we’ll take you home after we clock out?” Kat asked, looking between her husband and Race.

They nodded agreeing as Spot and Kat took off their gloves. “Also Race, Jack?”

Jack and Race looked up at her amused tone. She locked eyes with both of them, her pointer finger sticking out. “No more Emergency Room visits . . . this has happened too often now.”

Sighing, they both looked at one another before looking at their spouses. “We can’t promise but we’ll try.”

Spot chuckled at Jack’s response before shaking his head. “If you continue on this trend, I’m all for the suggestion of getting bubbles for you both when you go out of the house.”

They left, closing the curtain around the bay, heading for the desk. Collapsing into a chair, Spot started charting everything that had just happened in the room, sighing loudly. “They’re going to be the death of me.”

“You and me both.” Plums collapsed into a chair beside him, looking over her own chart. “I wish I could drink . . .”

Spot laughed. “I’m sorry. Mocktails not cutting it?”

“No but it’ll be worth it in the end.” She laughed, rubbing her stomach, suddenly grabbing his hand and putting it on the right side. “Your niece or nephew is saying hello.”

Spot grinned, feeling the baby kick just below his hand. “That’s absolutely amazing, Plums.”

“It really is.” She grinned, as he removed his hand, continuing to chart. “What are your plans for tonight?”

Spot looked up at the bay doors opening, but didn’t see anything but a few people walking in. “Well, I’ve got to figure out dinner now so we’ll probably order in and chill. Race is going to be a baby with those stitches the next few days so I’ll have to deal with that.”

“If he gets too bad, we’ll take him.” Kat said, smiling sympathetically. “When do you work next?”

Spot printed off Race’s discharge papers before giving her a look. “Uhhh . . . Monday and Tuesday. I have tomorrow off and Wednesday and Thursday off.”

“Bring him over Monday. I’m off but Jack is working. He can hang out with me and fold baby clothes.” She grinned, eyes dancing with excitement.

Spot laughed. “Will do. I work 7-7 on Monday so he’ll be with you most of the day.”

“That’s fine. By Monday night, he’ll be begging to stay at home or going back to work.” She laughed, being way too excited to hang out with his husband while he worked.

“Part of me is scared by your excitement but part of me is relieved that he’ll be with someone while I’m working.” Spot shrugged, pulling another chart over to review. “Thanks Kat, I appreciate it.”

She put a hand on his shoulder. “That’s what family does, Spot. I’m sure my husband is going to be a dumbass soon so he’ll need someone to watch him while I work.”

Spot hummed, grinning at her affection for his husband along with her own. They fell into their own charts for a bit before Spot looked over at her. “I’m going to do one more round before shift change. You coming?”

“Nah, pull Rush. He’s taking over for me when I leave.” Plums grinned. “Make sure you stop by Bay 7 and kick them to the curb.”

Spot laughed, saluting her before making his rounds. He quickly filled Rush in on the patients that were currently in the ER before making his way to Race’s bay, throwing open the curtain. “You’re sprung . . . get outta here.”

“I can leave?” Race asked, feet hanging off the side of the bed with a hopeful look on his face.

Spot nodded, holding up a few papers. “Discharge papers are printed and you’re free. I’ve got to clock out so you can head to the desk. Jack, Kat’s just getting her stuff from her locker so she’ll meet you guys up there.”

He walked over to Race, kissing him gently before offering his arm. “Come on hotshot, let’s get out of here.”

Spot walked him to the nurse’s desk where Kat was standing with her coat and bag. “Kat, can you stay here a few minutes while I get my stuff?”

She nodded, looking over at Race. “You’re looking better than you were a few hours ago. How do you feel?”

“Like I could go tap dancing right now.” Race spatted sarcastically, giving his sister-in-law a look. “Tired and sore.”

Nodding, she gave him a once over. “Take it easy these next few days. You’re hanging out with me on Monday and Spot knows what to look for. Love you Race.”

“Love you too Kat. Thank you.” He gave her a gentle hug as Spot returned with his bag and coat.

Hugs were given before the two left heading to their own cars. Helping Race into the SUV, Spot made sure he was okay before going over to the driver’s side, hopping in.

The drive home was silent, each lost in their own thoughts. Pulling into the driveway, Spot could hear Sassie barking, excited that her humans were home. Parking the SUV in the garage, Spot hopped out, helping Race down from the car. “You doing okay?”

Race nodded as they neared the door. Spot opened it, revealing a very excited puppy, barking loudly as Race groaned. Spot maneuvered Race into the house, down the hallway, before depositing him on the couch with a groan. Dropping a kiss on his head, Spot went into their bedroom, quickly changing out of his scrubs before donning a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, grabbing the same for Race. Walking out of the bedroom, his face softened seeing Race and Sassie cuddling together on the couch. “Do you want to get changed?”

Looking over at Spot’s comfiness, Race nodded, making an attempt to stand up from the couch. Spot quickly joined him, steadying him. “Careful Racer.”

Together they got Race changed before collapsing on the couch once more. Race cuddled into Spot’s arms, sighing in contentment. “Thank you Spottie.”

“You’re welcome. Just rest. What do you want for dinner tonight?” Spot asked, running his hand through Race’s hair.

Sighing, Race looked up at Spot. “Something that’s not going to jar my jaw every time I take a bite.”

“So pizza is out of the equation.” Spot said, looking at his husband. “How does noodles or Chinese sound?”

Yawning, Race shrugged. “Either sounds good. Soup might be good.”

Pressing a kiss to his forehead, Spot nodded. “You rest, I’ll figure something out. Racer?”

Peaking open an eye, Race looked at Spot. “What?”

“What’s hanging above the other couch?” Spot said, noticing the canvas hanging up for the first time.

Race smiled, lacing his fingers with Spot’s. “That’s the surprise Jack was helping me with. I took him one of our wedding photos and he painted it for us - it’s a belated wedding present from me to you.”

“Racer . . .” Spot wasn’t one to have nothing to say, but he was truly speechless at the sweetness of his husband. “It’s perfect.”

“We have photos up all over the house but you have been talking about wanting to get some paintings to switch things up.” Race shrugged. “Figured that would be a great place to start.”

Squeezing Race’s hand, Spot dropped another kiss on his forehead. “Thank you Racer. It’s perfect.”

“You’re welcome, Spottie.” He yawned again, closing his eyes, sighing as he laid against Spot’s chest. “You’ve taken care of me more times than I can count so I just wanted to say thank you and that I’m really happy you’re my husband.”

“Love you Racer.” Spot murmured, sinking deeper into the couch, enjoying the warmth of Race on his chest.

“Love you too Spottie.” Race murmured sleepily, falling deeper into a sleepy state.

With his puppy on one side of him and his husband on the other, Spot sighed, happily. No other place he’d rather be . . . though if his husband wasn’t injured, it would be the perfect end to a perfect day.

Thanks Anonie for sending that in. This was fun to write! Feedback would be wonderful!

#newsies #newsies fan fiction #writing #ask #newsies drabble #Life In The ER Newsies Series #sprace #nurse spot

17 notes · View notes

bittysvalentines · 4 years

Text

Are you partners?

From: @redneterp

For: @jeanjacketbittle

I hope this little story of these giant boys brings you joy!

Rating: T | Pairing: Ransom/Holster| Content warning: injury

When Holster is injured during a hockey game, Ransom is by his side every step of the way (literally), and realizes he has Feelings for his bro. Will those feelings be reciprocated? Will Holster be able to return to the ice? Read on to see how the original D-men Best Bros navigate these unexpected questions.

Friday Feb 12th 2016.

Samwell vs Harvard.

Four minutes remaining in the third period with the game tied 2-2.

Ransom put on a burst of speed to pressure Harvard’s right winger towards the boards, but at the last moment the guy dumped the puck behind the net. Still marking his man, Ransom spun just in time to see Holster rushing back for the loose puck. There was a flurry of sticks and limbs, and then somehow Holster was down and sliding towards the goal at great speed. Fuck, did that asshole right winger trip Holzy? Wait, did he hit the post? Shit, he’s not getting up.

Somewhere in the confusion, Chowder managed to get a glove on the puck on the far side of the crease, and the ref whistled the stoppage in play. Abandoning his mark, Ransom rushed to the goal, dropping to one knee at Holster’s side.

“Holtzy? Bro, are you ok?”

Holster was curled up on his side, stick abandoned, nearly in a fetal position with his right skate still within the goal. He groaned as he turned to face Ransom, his face a ghostly shade of white under the arena lights. “Uggh, fuck, my knee,” he moaned, clutching the joint with his still-gloved hands.

“Shit, did you go knee-first into the post?”

“I think so, yeah.”

“Fuck… Can you move it?” Ransom asked.

Holster tried, shifting his skate an inch or two on the ice, with a wince of pain. “Not really.”

By then the trainers had arrived, sliding across the ice on their shoes, confirmed that Holster hadn’t injured his head or spine, and gave permission for him to try and get up. Holster slowly got up, bracing himself on Ransom, but wasn’t able to put weight on that right leg. He balanced on his left, arms wrapped around Ransom and Whiskey’s shoulders as they carefully skated him over to the bench, where the trainers took over helping him down the hallway. Ransom was tempted to follow him, but a raised eyebrow from Coach Hall reminded him there was still a game to play. While he’d been occupied the ref had sent the asshole winger off with a major for hooking, and Samwell’s power play lines were about to hit the ice.

Moments later, the final buzzer sounded. Bitty had scored on the power play off an assist from Ransom, handing Samwell the victory. Their celebration, however, was muted out of concern for their teammate. As soon as the handshakes were over, Ransom made a beeline for the dressing room, where he tugged off his skates before rushing to the trainers’ room still wearing the rest of his gear. He arrived to find Holster sitting on the bed, stripped down to his UnderArmor with icepacks on his knee, which was visibly swollen. He grabbed Holster’s shoulders in a hug, careful not to jostle his leg. As he was checking in with his bro, Chowder arrived sans leg pads and skates, radiating concern and apologizing on behalf of the goal.

“Wait,” Ransom interjected. “C, you’re not responsible for the goalpost being where it’s always been, blame this on the fucker who tripped him.”

“Yeah, C, you may be one with the posts during the game, but this was 100% not your fault, bro,” Holster confirmed.

“Ok,” Chowder eventually agreed, “but anything I can do to help you, anything at all, you just say the word.”

And with that, trainer Sara shoo-ed them out, sending the back to the dressing room to shower and change with promises they could return after she’d finished examining Holster’s knee.

_X_

Two and a half hours later, Holster slowly made his way up the Haus’ staircase. One arm was slung around Ransom’s shoulder as he half-lifted Holster up the stairs, and Chowder followed one step behind, one hand on Holster’s back for balance. A trip to the small local hospital allowed for X-rays that had shown no fractures, so the team doctor had arranged for an MRI in the city the next day.

Once they reached the first floor landing they paused for rest and the bathroom (“Bro, once we’re in the attic we’re not coming all the way back down for you to brush your giant teeth, do it now.”), before continuing their awkward hop-shuffle up to the attic. With Holster safely perched on the lower bunk, Chowder ran back downstairs promising to get some of Bitty’s after-game peanut butter cookies for Holster as Ransom helped him tug off his tracksuit and prop his leg on a pillow. He tried to be as gentle as he could, but Holster still winced with the movement.

Shortly thereafter, cookies eaten and contacts out, Holster decided to call it a night, and Ransom helped him settle back on the bed. Once the pillows supporting the injured knee were arranged to his liking he turned to go, but was stopped by Holster’s hand grabbing his wrist.

“Stay?” Holster asked.

“Sure, if that’s what you want bro, let me just get the lights,” Ransom replied, doing so before carefully settling on his side beside Holster, whose injured knee was safely up against the wall.

They laid there for several moments, quietly breathing in the dark, before Holster finally spoke in an uncharacteristic near-whisper. “What if this is it? What if I blew my ACL, and I’m out for the rest of the season? This is our senior year, so what if this is it for me, no more hockey? I’m not ready for it to be over, I thought we still had another month at least, then the playoffs.”

Ransom couldn’t deny that similar thoughts had been racing through his anxious brain. He knew enough not to belittle his bro; knee injuries were the bane of hockey players’ careers. Taking a deep breath, he put his hand on Holster’s arm and tried to make his voice as reassuring as possible as he answered. “No matter what, I’ll be here with you, bro, we’ll figure it out together.”

“Thanks, dude,” Holster whispered before drifting off to sleep with an assist from the pain meds he’d received from the doc.

Ransom laid awake much longer, realizing that what he’d said was the absolute truth. Holster was the most important person in his life. As he laid there, tucked in next to him on a too-small bunk bed, he finally asked himself what Holster meant to him. He allowed himself to think of their past and future, and finally admitted to himself that his feelings could be romantic love, not just best-bro-love. The realization brought peace to his mind, and he followed Holster into sleep imagining a future together.

_X_

The next morning, Matt the trainer arrived bright and early to drive Holster to the city for his MRI, and was unsurprised that Ransom planned to join them. The Saturday morning traffic was light, and they made it to the hospital with time to spare. Holster’s knee was still sore, and he didn’t protest being directed into a wheelchair for Ransom to push him through the maze of hallways to diagnostic imaging. Registration completed, the clerk directed them to the changing room. “Are you Adam’s partner?” he asked.

Ransom confirmed that he was, and was allowed to stay. Squeezed into the tiny changing room outside the imaging suite, Ransom helped Holster into a hospital gown that was way too short for his giant d-man self, barely reaching his mid thighs. After removing the tensor bandages to reveal the knee that was still giant and red, they sat to wait again.

“You know,” Holster began, “I think they were asking if you were my partner-partner, not my D-partner.”

Ransom looked into Holster’s eyes. Time for full honesty. “I’d be your partner in every way, if you’d have me.”

“Really?” Holster asked, eyes wide.

“Yeah.”

Before Holster could reply, a technician stepped into the hallway. “Adam Birkholtz? Time to come on in,” she said as she propped open the door so he could wheel himself through. “You can wait back out in the waiting room,” she instructed Ransom, “it’ll take a while.”

Forty-five minutes.

That’s how long Ransom sat in the waiting room as Holster’s knee was being imaged, worrying alternately about what the MRI would find, and what Holster thought of his declaration of feelings. He wanted to pace, but kept himself in the seat next to Matt, knee jiggling. Had he really ruined everything with his bro? He hoped not, but …

Finally, Holster emerged from the back, still in the hospital gown but with a blanket over his lap. Matt directed them through the hospital to a clinic room where the knee specialist would see them. As they walked, Matt explained how the Samwell team doc had sweet-talked the radiologist and the orthopedic surgeon into be available on the weekend to urgently read the MRI and examine Holster, respectively. Once in the room Holster made it onto the small exam bed with a bit of help, leg stretched out in front of him, Ransom standing at his side. Matt stood at the doorway, keeping an eye out for Dr Wong, so Holster spoke quietly.

“Hey Justin?” he asked, reaching out his hand to softly touch Ransom’s hand. “I’d have you. I mean, I want that.”

“Partners?” Ransom asked.

“Partners. Dating. Whatever, so long as it’s with you.”

“Sap,” Ransom said, but still slid his hand to intertwine their fingers.

Minutes later, Dr Wong bustled into the room, followed by an exhausted-looking resident. After asking a few questions, they thoroughly examined Holster’s knee, poking, bending and twisting it as he grimaced and squeezed Ransom’s hand.

“Ok, I think we have good news for you, Adam. I’ve reviewed your MRI with Dr Chadra, and both the MRI and our exam now don’t show any evidence of a ligament injury. It seems you sustained a direct force to the front of the joint, and while your gear protected the patella from fracture, the impact was enough to cause bleeding within the bursa in front of the patella,” he explained, pulling up diagrams on his phone to demonstrate. “With the basics - ice, anti-inflammatories and rehab - I think you could be back on the ice in 2-3 weeks. Although that means you’ll be back in time to face off against my alma mater, BC, so maybe I should make you wait another week?” he finished with a laugh.

And with that, after a few specific instructions from the doc to Matt about the rehab plan and follow-up appointments, they were free to go.

Ransom and Holster settled on a bench outside the entranceway as they waited for Matt who’d run to get the car. It was nearing noon, and the sun was out, a warm enough day for boys from Toronto and Buffalo to sit outdoors. As they waited, leaning together shoulder-to-shoulder, they chatted about the remainder of the season, and the chance that Holster could be back in time for the ECAC tournament playoffs. As they discussed the logistics of getting around campus on crutches, Ransom pulled out his phone to confirm Holster’s schedule and his eye caught on the date.

“Bro, tomorrow’s Valentines day. I should ... can I take you on a date? I’ll need to get back to you on the details, once I figure out where I can take you while on crutches, that hasn’t been reserved for weeks.”

“Such a romantic sap. Yes, you can take me anywhere, anytime,” Holster said with an atrocious waggle of his giant eyebrows.

“Dork.”

“And yet you still want to date me.”

“I do,” Ransom confirmed.

“Well good, because I want to date you too. In fact, I think this is the perfect moment for a first kiss, don’t you?”

“Are you seriously imagining our lives as one of your romcoms right now?”

“Stop fighting it and kiss me, bro,” Holster insisted, leaning even closer.

And so Ransom did just that. Tilting his head to avoid Holster’s glasses, he pressed his lips to Holster’s in a soft kiss, before pulling back to see the giant grin on Holster’s face that surely matched his own. Leaning in again, his hand came up to Holster’s face, fingertips brushing against the day-old stubble he found there as he deepened the kiss.

The moment (and it really was an epic, screen-worthy, moment, Ransom had to admit) was interrupted by a brief toot of a horn. Matt had arrived with his car. Once the passenger seat was pushed forward as far as it would go, Holster slowly slid into the backseat, leg partially-extended in front of him. Ransom jogged around the car to slide into the backseat next to him, pressed up close against his best bro-now-date, fingers intertwined.

Ransom was a planner, and this wasn’t at all in his plans when he woke up the day prior, but he realized there was nowhere else he’d rather be. He was with his favourite person, and they’d figure it all out -- Valentines, hockey, romance, life after Samwell -- together.

#holsterransom #bv2020 #bitty's valentines #omg check please!

39 notes · View notes

fanfic-scribbles · 5 years

Text

Lunch Buddy: Chapter Thirteen

Masterlist

<<Previous Chapter Next Chapter>>

Overall Story Facts:

Fandom: MCU Captain America/Avengers

Story Summary: Steve Rogers makes a friend. A prickly, generally people-averse friend, but they’ll both take what they can get.

Quick Facts: Friendship (/Eventual Romance) – Steve Rogers & Reader (leading to Steve Rogers/Reader) – Female Reader

Story Warnings: Reader-insert that verges on OFC, written in 1st person past tense

Chapter 13: Hurt

Chapter Summary: Steve gets hurt and everybody else has to deal with the fallout. Jerk.

Chapter Word Count: 5197

A/N: I know what the next chapter is going to be and we are continuing our trajectory for ~softness~

I was sitting in bed on a beautifully lazy Saturday morning when my phone rang. I glanced over, expecting to have to tell Steve that I wouldn’t be putting on real pants for anything short of the end of the world and he had to come over or nothing, but it was Sam’s name that showed up on the screen.

“Hi Sam,” I answered and paused my game.

“Hey. I’m sorry to call you like this, but I need to tell you– Steve’s fine now, but he got hurt pretty bad.”

I put down the controller and felt a cold something creep through my body. “How bad?”

“He’ll recover just fine,” Sam said. “But some of his injuries–” He inhaled sharply and I gripped my comforter so hard my hand hurt. “Last I heard, he was still in a medically induced coma, but they were planning to take him out of it soon. It’s actually kind of a good thing though; he was hurting really bad and nothing they did was helping.”

“Because pain meds don’t do shit for him,” I said and held my face. How bad was that bad?

“Yeah,” Sam said, sounding regretful. “I had to get back to DC so I couldn’t stay, but he was doing a lot better when I left. Stable, and on his way to healing up. He’s going to be okay.”

Sure, right, yeah; aside from maybe almost dying before I knew anything about it. Not that I was important enough to know– I was just a friend– but… “Do you think they’d let me visit?”

“I think so. There are SHIELD agents keeping watch but…have you met Natasha yet?”

“No. I’ve met Pepper?”

“She might be able to help if you need it.” He sighed. “I’m sorry I can’t be there.”

Me too, but that was selfish. “Don’t worry Sam, I’ll figure it out. Thanks for letting me know.” I looked at my closet. “Fair warning though– when he’s out of the woods and I stop being freaked out, I’m gonna kick his ass.”

“Nat has dibs I think. He was covering her from an explosion.”

“Fine,” I said. “But if she doesn’t do a good enough job, I’ve got second dibs.”

“I’m not contesting that,” he chuckled. “I gotta go. I’m sleeping on my feet.”

“Are you okay?”

“Don’t worry; I’ll take a nap.”

“Sam.”

“I’ll be fine when I get a chance to sleep for three days. And I’m going to, I promise you that.”

I didn’t have time to nag. “You better. Bye Sam.” As soon as I hung up I jumped out of bed, put on real pants, grabbed some essentials, and bolted out the door so fast I got halfway down the hall before I realized I had to go back and lock it.

I spent the whole trip there panicking and trying not to panic. Sam said he was going to be fine, so Steve was fine, right? But he was in a hospital, and what kinds of injuries could keep Steve in a medically induced coma? The guy fought aliens and broke bones that healed in half the time and once stubbed his toe on the doorframe and didn’t even flinch.

I tried really hard to think about stubbed toes and slammed elbows rather than the myriad reasons one would be admitted to a hospital. Those thoughts carried me into the building, to the map where I could find his wing, and over and into said wing, up until I almost ran into someone. I pulled back to get around them. “I’m so sorry; I–”

They put themself right back in my path and I jerked back to see not just one but two very imposing, militarily inclined men. “Uhhhh….”

“This area is off-limits to unauthorized visitors,” one of them said.

Right; the SHIELD guys keeping watch. “I’m here to see Steve Rogers,” I said and told them my name in vain hopes I might be on a list or something.

The first guy, a sandy blond who looked like he wanted to drop-kick me out the window, shook his head. “Authorized personnel only. The Avengers probably have an address for fans to send well-wishes.”

Even though they had no reason to know who I was, I bristled at his snide tone. “I’m not a fan; I’m his friend.”

The other guy– dark hair, looked like a washed-up TV action star– snorted and he shared a look with the other guy that very clearly said what they thought of me.

“Ma’am,” Blond said. “Please leave or you will be escorted out.”

I felt sick. Steve was hurt and I couldn’t see him and the embarrassment of being seen as some sort of gross hanger-on was almost too much. Almost. I was too worried to be completely mortified, but I still had no recourse. They were dicks, but they were doing their jobs, and for the moment Steve was…safe. I turned, intending to text Pepper and wait in the cafeteria until she could help me (and maybe get a dusty bagel to help soak up the misery), when I almost smacked right into Tony Stark.

What a day.

“I’m– sorry,” I said lamely and moved aside to get around him.

“Who are you?” he asked.

I sighed and told him my name. “I’m a fr–”

“You’re Cap’s little lunch friend,” he said. He knew who I was? Stark waved a hand. “Pepper and Rogers have mentioned you. Well, Pepper mentioned; it feels like Cap brings you up all the time. You going in to visit?”

“I was going to, but–”

“Chickened out?”

“Not allowed, apparently,” I said and jabbed my thumb in the direction of the gargoyles. At least the assholes pretended to be more professional then and stopped snickering, but even Tony Stark (aka Iron Man) peering expectantly at them from the top of designer sunglasses just made knockoff-Stallone shake his head.

“No unauthorized visitors allowed,” he repeated.

“Oh come on; what’s Cap going to say when he finds out you chased off his BFF?”

They looked at me like they still didn’t believe it for a second. Blond said, “I’m sure Captain Rogers will understand we’re just doing our jobs.”

The worst part was that they were right, damn it.

“What does she need? A note from home?” Stark waved his hand. “I can write one; who has paper. We still do paper sometimes, right?”

“She needs proper authorization,” the guy on the right sneered.

“Consider this authorization.”

We all jumped at the sudden appearance of a man in a suit, whose calm smile made him look like the dictionary definition of ‘mild mannered.’ The two guards, however, stood very rigidly at attention. “Sir.”

The new man said my name and extended his hand. “I’m Phil Coulson.”

I shook his hand and introduced myself properly. “I’m sorry but– am I allowed to–”

“You can visit Captain Rogers whenever you like,” Phil Coulson said and looked right at the guards. “Understood?”

“Yes sir,” they said, much less enthusiastically than their initial acknowledgement to him.

“Not that Captain Unblemished is going to be here that long, but hey.” I suddenly had a small bouquet of flowers in my hands, thanks to Tony Stark. “Since you’re allowed all-access now, can you give these to Cap? I’ve got things to do.”

“Uhh, sur–”

“Thanks, nice meeting you, etcetera et al,” Stark said and left with a dramatic turn.

Somehow I had imagined a little more mocking, maybe a few accusatory points about me ruining some of his fun in poking at Steve, but the guy seemed…annoyed. And not necessarily with me. I turned my head to Coulson, who only shook his. “This last assignment got…complicated,” he said and opened his arm towards the hall. Understatement, but at least I was finally going to get to see Steve. The two…gentlemen…parted, and my second savior (wait until I told Steve who the first was) walked with me.

“He’s right in here,” Phil– Coulson– Phil Coulson said, standing next to an open door with no room number. The inside was very dimly lit, and the curtain drawn halfway over the door blocked the bed from sight, but I felt less like a tension rod.

“Thank you, Mr. Coulson,” I said. “I’m sorry if I caused problems.”

“It was no problem for me, and there won’t be more for you,” he said like it was a promise. “And please, Phil is fine. I was on my way out earlier and I’m afraid I still have to go, but it was nice to finally meet you. Hopefully next time we’ll see each other under better circumstances.”

“Yeah, next time. Thank you,” I said and stepped in.

It was so quiet, and mostly dark, aside from a single light off in the corner. Steve was very still in the bed, bruised and bandaged, but I could see his chest moving. He looked roughed up, but he didn’t look comatose. He didn’t even look like he had come close to death. He just looked like he was sleeping.

I set the flowers down on the nearest flat surface and walked slowly, quietly, to the chair next to his bedside, and perched on the edge of it. I wasn’t sure, at first, if I should stay– he was sleeping; was this creepy?– but the more I looked at him the more I settled in. One of his arms was completely wrapped up; there was a bruise on his jaw, closer to his neck than his chin; a strip of stitches on his neck; one, two, three, four, five scratches that I could see, plus a patch of skin that was raw, like it had rubbed against concrete. He didn’t look as bad as I’d expected him to, which I assumed meant all the terrible things had happened on the inside.

But he was breathing. He wasn’t even on oxygen; nothing about the machines around him said he was in dire straits. With a little bit of makeup he could have looked like a hospital patient in a Hallmark movie, ready to wake up and be released at any moment.

But he had been hurt. He had been hurt badly enough that it was a blessing he had been out for the healing process. I didn’t know why I hated that idea so viscerally, but it made me want to punch something.

I sighed. A small tuft of hair hung at a weird angle over his forehead and I brushed it back into place. Then, just to reassure myself, I let my hand hover over his mouth and felt a warm, steady pulse of air.

“They took him out of it earlier.”

I jumped so hard I hit my feet and had to windmill so as not to crash into one of the monitors. Miraculously, I didn’t knock anything over or otherwise make a lot of noise, and Steve didn’t show any signs of waking. Once I was done with my quiet heart attack, I turned to face the woman standing at the end of the bed. She had red hair and eyes sharp enough to cut. I had a sinking feeling I knew exactly who she was.

“Uh…hi,” I said and forced my hand down, away from my heart and to my side. I told her my name and waited for her to finish looking me over.

“Natasha Romanoff,” she said.

Yup. “It’s nice to meet you,” I said. “Steve says a lot of good things.”

She barked a laugh. “Did Rogers pay you to say that?”

That was surprisingly harsh, so I kept quiet. I was batting a thousand today. But she sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’m sorry.” She straightened out and looked completely composed. Neat trick. “It’s been a long week.”

“I bet,” I said. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” She moved her eyes to Steve and frowned. “Annoyed, but that’s not fatal.”

“Yeah, I’d have been dead a long time ago if it was,” I said and shrugged. “But I also would have taken a few jerks out with me, so…win some, lose some, I guess.”

She made a small noise that was neither this way nor that and I shut my mouth before I could embarrass myself further. She walked around to his other side. “Who called you?”

“Sam.”

“Did he tell you what happened?”

“Not…exactly,” I said. I didn’t really want to tell her because I wasn’t sure her current sense of humor would allow for me to fake-threaten our mutual friend, but she looked at me so hard I got my bank information and social security number ready to go just in case she wanted them. “I got upset and made a joke about having dibs on kicking Steve’s ass when he’s better. Sam said actually you had it first since Steve was covering you in some explosion?”

Her lips pressed tight for a moment as she stared at Steve. “He didn’t have to.”

“But he’ll probably argue it when he gets up.” I looked at him. “He’s a jerk like that.”

“Yes. He really is,” Natasha said. She started to reach for him, but then abruptly stepped back. “I’m– I can’t deal with him yet.” She started to leave, but stopped at the edge of the curtain. “Are you staying for a while?”

“I think so.” I pulled out my book to show her and set it on my lap. “I don’t really have much else to do today.”

She nodded curtly. “Good. The rest of us do, but Steve…he doesn’t have the best reaction to waking up in medical. It’ll be better if he has a friend.”

I couldn’t imagine anyone having a great reaction to waking up alone, in a hospital, after almost dyi– “I’m on it,” I said before I could delve too deep into those thoughts.

“Thank you,” she said with a brief burst of warmth that almost made her seem like someone else. Then she was back to being aloof. “I’m sure I’ll see you later.”

I didn’t even have time to say “Bye” before the curtain swooshed behind her and settled into place like she was never there.

It was a couple of hours before Steve began to stir, and I had only left my seat to stand up and stretch a few times. I didn’t know he was awake at first, until I saw part of the pillow shift, and I put my book on my lap to find him staring at me. Drowsily, but definitely staring.

“Hi.” He squinted and frowned. “Am I dreaming?”

I snorted and put my bookmark in before I set the book on the table. “No. I’m pretty sure your subconscious isn’t that mean to make my face the first one you see.”

He frowned deeper. “My subconscious definitely isn’t that mean to you.”

“Hey, I call it like I see it.” I leaned in closer. We were both quiet, and I was content to stay that way. “I’ve been looking up photos and your teammates are pretty. I mean, Sam alone would be a good sight.”

“Sam is very handsome,” he agreed so easily it made me smile. “But it’s not so bad to wake up to you. Not bad at all.”

“Do they have you on pain meds?” I asked.

He shrugged, and winced as he did so. “Doubt I could tell if they did. I don’t hurt as much anymore, though.”

“Good. That’s good.” I swallowed. “I’m glad you're okay.”

He got a small smile. “Soft.”

“Only right now. You scared the shit out of me.”

Steve lost his smile and opened his eyes wider. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s not your fault, it’s just…” It felt like my throat swelled, so I took a second to try and compose myself.

But Steve was alert now and sat up. “Hey, no; come here.”

I didn’t quite know what he meant, until I saw his arms open and, well, why not. I couldn’t help but glance at the door but there was no new noise and nobody I could see, and I leaned in to hug him as gently as I could. He wrapped his arms around me, warm and breathing and feeling like normal. “I’m okay. I’m sorry I scared you.”

“You scared a lot of people,” I said and stayed there until his grip loosened and I could pull back. “But since I’m selfish, yeah; mostly me.”

He smiled weakly and squeezed my hand. “I’m sorry you had to find out.”

“I’m not,” I said. “I’m glad; I…I guess maybe it’s weird for you that I’m here–”

“It’s not,” he said. “It’s definitely not. I’m just sorry I upset you.”

“It’s an upsetting thing.” I shrugged. “Emotions. They kind of suck.”

“Sometimes,” he said. Someone knocked on the door and we both looked when someone came in. I winced as the lights were turned on, but I suddenly realized Steve had still been holding my hand up until that point, when he released it to rub his eyes.

“Oh, sorry Captain,” the doctor said and she smiled at me. “I didn’t realize you had a visitor.”

“Oh, hi Dr. Sherazi,” Steve said, sounding a little brighter. He introduced me to her and we shook hands. I was getting a little tired by all the new people, but I tried not to let it show too much. Steve was worse off; I could be okay for him.

“When I said don’t be a stranger this isn’t quite what I meant,” she said and started checking monitors. When she turned to me, face already expressing apologies, I knew what was coming and I looked at Steve.

“Go home.” He reached out and touched my arm. “I’ll be okay.”

And I didn’t hide myself that well, apparently, because he gave me a Look that said he knew I’d rather be gone. I wasn’t sure whether to feel bad about that or not. “Are you sure?” I asked.

“Yeah. I’m going to call Sam and after that I’ll probably be besieged by people wanting to yell at me.” He cringed. “I…don’t want anyone to see that, really.”

I nodded because I didn’t want to be obnoxious, but after I packed up I asked him, “Is it okay if I come back tomorrow? I don’t– I don’t have any plans, really; but it’s okay if you don’t…”

“I’d like that,” he said and opened one arm. I hugged him one more time and took a real breath for the first time since that phone call.

The next day I pre-planned my morning and set off with a few extra supplies. I stopped by a pastry shop on the way and stood in a long line to get a drink for me, fill a thermos for Steve, and buy a few treats which I shoved in my bag with his tightly-lidded coffee. When I got to the hallway and saw the same two guards I braced myself, but they looked resigned when they saw me.

“We apologize for the misunderstanding yesterday,” the dark-hair one said and his partner muttered something similar. “And for our reactions; it was uncalled for.”

I tried to smile as brightly as I could. “It’s okay; I can be a bitch sometimes too so, hey, kindred spirits,” I joked.

He frowned. Deeply. My smile fell. “It was a– I was just kidding; I meant–” I sighed and gave up when his face didn’t change. “I’m sorry,” I said and left.

Steve looked bright-eyed and bushy-tailed when I came in and threw the curtain back into place behind me. “Even when I try to be nice I fucking suck at it,” I said and dumped my bag on the chair.

“Good morning to you too,” Steve chuckled and put his fork down. “What happened?”

I opened my mouth and stopped. He looked normal, healthy, but he was still in a hospital bed. “Don’t worry about it,” I said and put my drink on the side table so I could rifle through my bag. “Here,” I said and handed him the thermos.

“You're my favorite,” he said fervently and took it.

That made me smile again. Pretty big, too. “Also here,” I said and put the two white bags on his tray. “This place didn’t have strawberry so I got you a chocolate and a plain croissant.”

“You’re my favorite person ever,” he said and pushed the hospital’s plates aside so he could dig in.

“Yeah, yeah; eat it before someone else walks in. I didn’t bring enough to share.” I was the best. My smile was almost painful, but luckily Steve was too distracted to notice while I wrestled it under control. “How are you feeling?”

“Better. The burns are gone.” He held up his arm to show me skin instead of gauze.

“I guess you’re not going to be the mummy for Halloween.”

“No, but I could be Frankenstein’s monster maybe.” He extended his neck to show me the scar where his stitches had been.

“Tch.” I sat back. “It’ll be gone in a few days.”

“Like nothing ever happened,” he quipped, too lightly, but that was an issue I didn’t know how to tackle.

“Except for my new blood pressure medication from the heart attack you gave me.”

“Were you that worried?” he asked jokingly.

“Yes,” I said. He went silent and stopped eating. “Looks like I’m not the only one who doesn’t know how to deal with actual concern.”

“I could learn,” Steve said with a softer smile.

“You’ll need to with friends like yours,” I said. “They were all pretty worried.”

He shrugged. “Most.”

Maybe– I hadn’t met all of them– but I was pretty sure I knew who he meant. “I don’t think I would have been allowed in without Tony Stark’s help when he came to visit,” I said. Steve’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “There are some SHIELD guys making sure not just anybody can come in and some random chick claiming to be your friend naturally didn’t make the cut. But when I was about to leave, Tony Stark came up on his way in and made it a thing until Phil Coulson came by and said I could be here.”

“Oh,” Steve said. “I’ll have to thank Tony.”

“Me too, but I’m trying to figure out how,” I said. “I’m thinking the cheesiest fucking card I can find but I don’t think he’d get that I’m joking. That would be awkward.”

Steve smiled. He was about to say something but I caught sight of the book in his lap and I jerked to attention as I suddenly remembered. “I brought you books!” I said and got them out to hand to him. “Just in case you get bored. I almost forgot.”

“Thank you,” he said, laughing, and set them aside. “Did you ‘just remember’ because you know I was going to say something sincere?”

Huh. “No, but wow, I got lucky.”

“Steve, you’ve got to get some friends that aren’t emotionally constipated.”

We both looked to the doorway to see a man with two butterfly bandages on his cheek, a smudge of dirt on his throat (in blatant contrast to his obviously recently washed hair), and a bouquet of flowers in his hands. The price sticker was still on the cellophane wrapping and I snorted at the sight. Perfectly coifed spies and billionaires were something else. This guy was an unmistakable disaster. I could handle that.

“But then how would he relate?” I asked as the man came over to give Steve a hug and place his flowers next to the set from Tony Stark.

“I’m way better with my emotions than you are,” Steve said, looking at me as his friend stood up.

“That’s like saying you’re taller than the ground,” I said. His friend laughed and I…took a little pride in that; sue me. Steve then introduced me to Clint Barton.

“Hawkeye,” Clint said and grinned wolfishly. “But if you don’t know who Captain America is then I’ve got no chance.”

I glared at Steve. “You told people about that?”

“It’s funny,” he said, his smirk nearly matching Clint’s grin for deviousness alone.

But Clint’s face fell when he sniffed the air. “Hey,” he said. “It smells like chocolate in here.”

“She brought me a chocolate croissant,” Steve said.

“Aw.” Clint deflated.

“Yeah, it’s all gone. Sorry,” Steve said.

Clint narrowed his eyes. “You're not sorry at all, are you?”

“Nope,” Steve said cheerfully.

Clint looked at me and jerked his thumb in Steve’s direction. “This guy.”

“Yup, he’s an asshole,” I agreed. I looked at Steve. “But for some reason we like him anyway.”

“For some reason.”

Natasha was apparently the queen of sneaky entrances, but I didn’t jump this time. She was a little steely, until she saw me looking, and then she gave me a real smile and greeted me with a hello.

Maybe she was like a shark waiting to bite, but I hadn’t done anything wrong, so I smiled back. “Hello Natasha.”

“How are you?”

“Oh, I’m all right. You?”

“I’m much better, thank you.”

“I don’t like this,” Clint said, creeping towards the door.

“You two have…met?” Steve asked, not taking his eyes away from Natasha. Smart.

“Briefly,” Natasha said.

She and Steve stared each other down and I looked around but Clint was gone. Oh. I looked at them. “Should I leave?”

Steve opened his mouth. “Please,” Natasha said politely, without looking at me. “We won’t be long.”

“Okay.” I stood up and left my bag at the chair, but I hesitated. However the way they looked at each other– Natasha ready to strike and Steve ready to defend– made this completely out of my league. I slipped out the door and shut it behind me.

“Oh geeze,” Clint said.

I sighed and stared at the door. I didn’t hear anything, but that wasn’t necessarily good. “I can’t believe I was so worried about him almost dying only to lose him like this. Unfair.”

Clint patted my shoulder consolingly.

But only a couple of minutes passed before Natasha opened the door, and she wasn’t covered in blood. That seemed like a good sign. Then again, strangling someone wouldn’t cause a whole lot of blood loss. I couldn’t help but peek in first and Clint did the same, but while Steve looked a little stunned, he was still alive.

“Wow,” I said and went back to my seat.

“I have excellent self-restraint,” she said and leaned against the wall with her arms crossed. “At least we finally got to meet you.” Her tone dipped into teasing. “Steve has been so sly, stealing away all the time for his lunch dates.”

Steve turned red and ducked down. “Come on, Nat.”

“Not very sneaky are you?” I said, even though it was true.

“No, he really isn’t.” Natasha’s lips were tinged with amusement. “But I hear you’re pretty direct yourself.”

I shrugged. “Guilty.” I looked elsewhere. “I don’t have the best filter.”

“You’re fine,” Steve said.

Maybe, but most likely not really. He was probably just being nice to me because I had fallen to pieces the day before. I cleared my throat and sat back when I realized I was leaning close to Steve. I could do this; I could make nice with his friends. I hoped. “By the way Natasha, thanks for that photo of Steve chucking Sam into the water. It’s my desktop background.”

“It’s what?!”

I ignored Steve and so did Natasha, but Clint laughed. Natasha smiled. “I’m glad you appreciated it. It is one of my favorite photos I’ve ever taken.”

I realized something then and dared to get my hopes up. “Steve. Surfing. Is there video?”

“Of course” and “Of course not” came in unison from Natasha and Steve respectively, and he whipped his head in her direction so fast I heard his neck crack.

“Natasha,” he pleaded.

“That’s very valuable blackmail though,” she told me. “I have stories that would unseat politicians I’d charge less for.”

“How much to peek at stills?”

“I’m sure your job is lovely, but it’s still probably more than you make.”

“A recounting of the experience?”

“Hmm…how detailed?”

“I’ll take subject-verb-object at this point.”

“Steve surfed wave.” Her lips curled devilishly. “Wave surfed Steve.”

“Two sentences?” I gasped.

“Well, I like you,” she said.

“Hey Clint,” Steve said. “Do me a favor and tell the doc I want those experimental pain meds she was trying to talk me out of. Or just, anything that makes me unconscious so I don’t have to hear Nat get sweet-talked into giving up that video.”

“Wow, you really do believe in me,” I said. “It’s okay though, my imagination can take it from here.”

Steve’s mouth screwed downwards. “I have no friends. Everyone I love is dead to me.” He looked thoughtful. “Or dead.”

That was so delightfully dark it shocked me into laughter, and Clint too by the sound of it. Natasha, however, punched him so hard he actually said “Ow!” and rubbed his arm.

I stayed with them for a couple of hours, until my patience began to fray and I started checking the clock. Not that Natasha and Clint weren't great (I might have fallen a little in love with her when she made a “Die Hard” joke so wonderfully dumb that Clint got caught up in a groan while he laughed) but I was just…getting tired. Before I could attempt some pathetic excuse, though, my phone buzzed and I pulled it out.

Pepper: You might want to warn Steve that Tony is on his way.

“Oh boy,” I said and fired off a quick ‘thanks.’ When I looked up they were all staring at me, and I looked at Steve to get my grounding. “Pepper just said Tony Stark’s on his way.”

“‘Oh boy’ is right.” Steve grimaced. “You should probably go before he gets here.”

I hesitated, because that seemed a little crappy, however…I knew my limits. “Yeah, I– I don’t think I have the energy for him.”

“Don’t worry.” Natasha took a seat. “We’ll supervise.”

“Aww,” Clint said, but he showed absolutely no sign of moving. How someone could lean almost 180 degrees in a chair that was very solidly 90 degrees (if not less) and even pretend to look comfortable I had no idea, but more power to him.

I packed up and stopped to hug Steve. He held me a little longer than I expected. “Don’t worry; I’ll be out by tonight,” he said and let go. “And as soon as I’m done with debriefs, I’ll let you know. I still owe you lunch.”

“So you better stick around.” I stood. “I’ll collect. Someday.”

“I won’t hold my breath on that one,” he said.

I held my heart and looked in Clint and Natasha’s direction. “He’s learning.”

I got a pillow to the face, but Natasha got a new cushion. And while Steve may have been annoyed…he was okay. And he was going to continue to be okay.

Win-win.

<<Previous Chapter Next Chapter>>

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers & reader #captain america fanfic #avengers fanfic #reader insert #lunch buddy

118 notes · View notes

kiritella · 5 years

Text

The Long and the Lost [5]

Title: The Long and the Lost: Part Five

Word Count: 2.4k-ish

Warnings: Mentions of blood, cursing, nothing else I can think of my friends, this is fluff with a sprinkle of sadness.

Pairings: Father!Bucky x Daughter!Reader

A/N: Hey everyone, I know this one is a bit longer than the others, but I think it still works. I am a little disappointed at how this one turned out, but please let me know what you think! If you want to be tagged, just let me know. This series is updated every Saturday at 12 pm CST.

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

Previously…

Bucky gives the doctor a weary look before glancing down at the paper, his breath hitching the second he begins reading—

Patient: Y/n Y/m/n Barnes

DOB: August 17, 1939

Mother: Anna Elizabeth Davis

Father: James Buchanan Barnes

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

Now…

The second he reads your name on the paper, Bucky’s mind stalls, as he continues through your date of birth, then lastly to your father, his heart rate picks up and a million questions start running through his head, not daring to hope it is true. He stumbles back a few steps before lifting his eyes, the world around him lacking importance when your worried gaze meets his. His voice shakes as he speaks, “Are-are you sure?” he asks the doctor who merely nods, “She’s—You’re—y/n?”

You quirk your head in confusion, the name resurfacing memories. Images dance before your eyes, the man from your past picking you up, sitting across from you, kneeling at your bed, tickling you, his wide smile beaming at you. He gets upset that you aren’t in bed, he hands you a purple-frosted, glitter-coated cupcake, he kisses your forehead, the same name repeated for each memory, “y/n.”

Bucky quickly stands in front of you when you close your eyes in confusion, hope sparking in his chest as the doctor leaves to give both of you privacy, “Princess? Sweetheart?” his voice low and shaky, his hands hovering over the side of your face and then over your arms as though if he touches you, you will vanish, “Y/n, I—You…” He doesn’t know what to say, how to say what he is begging to be true, you are alive.

“Why do I remember you?” you finally whisper, your chest aching in hope and fear. How can it be possible?

Bucky’s eyes widen slightly and the tension in his shoulders eases up a little, “Y/n, Sweetheart,” he finally rests a hand on the side of your face gently and he lets out a choked breath when you don’t turn to mist like in his dreams, then presses a kiss on your forehead, carefully wrapping his arms around you tightly, the feeling bringing more memories to the surface of your mind. You want it to be real. Please be real.

“Why do I know you?” you manage to choke out, tears brimming at the corners of your eyes from both confusion and memories, but most of all from how this all feels right, like the way it is supposed to be, “Why does this feel safe?”

Bucky doesn’t respond, or rather, he can’t as he fights the lump in his throat, so he resorts to hugging you tighter. He found you, after believing you to be dead, he gets a chance to be with you, to get to know you the way he has been wanting to since he remembered you. He gets a second chance.

It is only after a couple minutes longer of Bucky holding you that he lets you go and speaks, “Y/n, I’m—you’re my daughter,” he finally says and the way your eyes widen in response makes him think he’s messed up by telling you so bluntly, “The-the doctors ran some tests to see who you were, and the results confirmed that I’m—I’m your dad,” he adds quickly, unsure of your reaction.

Little does he know how scared, but excited, you are about that simple fact. The man in front of you is the same man that you remember from so long ago that used to kiss your forehead at night, your father. As that information sinks in, it is shock and confusion, but joy and relief. Maybe it shouldn’t be though, after all, you don’t really know much about these people, and their methods of punishment could very well be similar to Hydra’s.

Bucky takes your lack of response as a bad sign and reluctantly pulls away from you completely, but the instant the cold hits your arms from where he let go, you to hop out of the bed you are sitting on and scurry back into his arms, at last wrapping your own arms around him. You don’t want him to let go...not yet. A relieved sigh escapes him as he holds you tightly, refusing to let go unless he absolutely must, hoping, begging with everything he has that this is all real, that he isn’t going to wake up in his bed in a moment to realize this is a dream. He will break if he has to lose you again.

It isn’t much longer before Steve comes bursting into the room, his wide eyes find Bucky’s tear glaze ones and seeing him hold desperately to you confirms what the doctor had informed him, you are Bucky’s daughter, the little girl he had grown fond of the second he saw you in Bucky’s arms at the hospital, “y/n?”

You pull away from Bucky as he slowly releases his hold and turn to face the man behind you, “Hey, Steve.”

Rogers walks up to you carefully, looking you over again and again as if he is unsure of your existence before wrapping you in a hug, “We thought you were dead.”

You bury your face in his shoulder when his grip tightens around you, “I’m alive,” you assure, despite not knowing who he is very well, only flints of images of his face...he looked a lot different back then.

Steve releases you and now you are kind of awkwardly standing between the two super-soldiers, unsure of what to do, how things are going to unfold. Your entire life had been with Hydra, what are you supposed to do now? Where are you going to live? How will you provide for yourself in a world you have had so little contact with? What does being Bucky’s daughter mean for you?

Bucky keeps his gaze set on you, hope running through him at the thought of him being able to get to know you, to raise you as much as he can, but a sudden thought occurs to him: your screams. His stomach twists and he feels like throwing up as he remembers everything that has happened to you over the course of your life, especially over the last week. He recalls your anguish and the blood that stained your shirt, the wounds he helped you stitch, the empty gaze in your eyes every time you were thrown back in the room with them. Now, seeing you in front of him so confused and lacking any experience in the real world, any knowledge of common kindness or civility, it breaks his heart. This isn’t the life you were supposed to have. You were supposed to grow up with his family, go to school and make friends. You were supposed to get married and have your own kids, grow old with someone you love. You were supposed to have a good life, not this, it wasn’t supposed to be like this. Bucky’s heart nearly shatters in his chest, but he composes himself before it shows.

The doctor peeps back in the room once he sees that the reveal is complete and everything is settling down, “I have your prescriptions here, these will prevent your injuries from getting infected and help with the pain,” he says while handing the prescription papers to Bucky and takes a moment before speaking again, “Biologically, you are about sixteen years old, your body is slightly stunted from lack of proper nutrition, but once we get you some food, you should be running for the better.” After a few more minutes of speaking to Bucky, the doctor clears you to leave the Med Bay and exits the room.

“C’mon, let’s get you to your room,” Bucky says and leads you out of the hospital room and to the elevator. The doors slide open several floors up and Steve and Bucky direct you out. You walk down the hallway a moment before entering an apartment-like place, the door opening into the living room. There are a couple couches making an “L” shape and two single seats facing said couches with a coffee table in the center. In front of you, on the other side of the room, there is a kitchen, nothing fancy looking, but nice. Bucky leads you past the furniture and down a hallway to the right containing several doors.

“That’s Sam’s room, this is Nat’s, the redhead woman you saw earlier, Steve’s, and this one is mine, ” Bucky says pointing out the rooms before stopping in front of the door next to his own, “This one’s gonna be yours.”

He walks into the room and you are planted at the door in shock, you’re staying on the same floor as them? In a room? What is the logic in doing that?

Bucky notices your hesitancy, “You alright?”

“What is the tactical advantage in placing me in a room with no locks and minimal security on the same floor on which you claim to sleep?” you question and there is a sense of sadness in Bucky’s eyes you can’t understand, you switch your gaze to Steve and the same expression rests on his face.

“There is no tactical advantage, there aren’t any major defenses on this floor because this is our home, and there are no locks because you aren’t a prisoner,” Bucky says, walking up to you, “You’re not a prisoner here.”

“I-I don’t understand,” you mumble, why would everything change so drastically?

Bucky lets out a shaky breath and wraps a hand to the back of your head and presses a kiss to your forehead, “You will, Sweetheart, I promise that you will.”

If you are hearing correctly, his voice sounds a little weak, like he’s holding something back, but you can’t make it out, adding further confusion to the insane day you have had. It started out with you being tortured, continued till Steve bust into the room, then the hospital, and now they are offering you a room without locks and chains with full access to the rest of their home. Why?

Bucky leads you around the apartment showing you where everything is before the three of you end up standing in the middle of your bedroom, “I know it isn’t anything impressive, but tomorrow we’ll go and get you some things to make it your own,” Bucky says then takes notice of your clothes, shit, he hadn’t even thought about that, “We’ll get you some new clothes too, here, um—just, stay here, I’ll be right back,” he says before rushing out of the room, leaving you in the room with Steve.

You look around the room, analyzing different things, Bucky says it isn’t anything impressive, but geez, it has everything you need. A bed rests in the far right corner and it is on some sort of frame keeping it off the ground, there is a chest of drawers on the opposite end of the wall containing the bed with a mirror resting above it, on the far left side there is a couch with a lamp next to it and coffee table in front. It’s really nice.

“You should know, you are the most important thing to him, he still talks about you,” Steve says and you turn to face him in curiosity, “The day you were born he wrapped you up in a little pink blanket and carried you around everywhere, the guy refused to set you down even for a moment. The doctors actually had to work around him when they were checking on you.”

You smile, hearing something about where you are from beside the dungeons of Hydra gives you a sense of peace, like maybe you belong to something somewhere outside of what you know. That would be nice, to belong to something better than the evil causing pain in every corner and crevice of the earth. Bucky comes back in the room, “Here,” he says handing you a set of clothes, “You can shower and change into these, probably help ya relax a bit.”

Bucky shows you how to operate the shower when he notices your look of utter confusion when you notice the multiple handles instead of just a button in the wall, then leaves the bathroom and closes the door. Privacy. For the first time since you can remember, you have been given privacy. It’s weird.

You shower quickly, surprised at how hot the water can actually get and at first it is stained with dirt and blood, but it eventually runs clean. When you exit the bathroom Steve is gone and it is just Bucky sitting on your bed.

He stands when he hears the door open and you come out, “Hey,” he whispers, “Better?”

“Yes,” you say, it is strange, the genuine care in his voice, “What—” you start hesitantly, “What happens now?”

“We can talk about that in the morning, alright? It is late and you look like you’re going to pass out,” he says softly, “I know you’re confused and probably scared as hell, but...everything’s alright. We’ll talk in the morning, I’ll explain everything, okay?” You nod and he lingers a moment, “Can...Can I—” he reaches out a hand, “I just need to know you’re here.”

Despite being a little confused, you nod and the second you do Bucky wraps you in another hug, his grip tight. You wrap your arms around him when he holds your head against his chest, the feeling running through your veins relaxes the tension in your muscles bringing your mind to a single conclusion. Everything else might be falling apart, things may be spiraling out of control, the entire world might be crumbling down, but right here with Bucky is safe.

When Bucky leaves your room, he heads straight to his own, and when he’s resting in his bed staring into the black of the night, his brain finally has a chance to catch up to the events of the day and the last week. No one really attempted to hurt either him or Sam, that was your job, and that being said, he can’t take it, he cries. This isn’t how it was supposed to be. You weren’t supposed to have had such an awful childhood. You were supposed to be happy. Every time he remembers your screams, the injuries, the blood, it breaks him even further. He checks your room several times throughout the night, making sure that you are still there, that this isn’t a dream. He doesn’t know everything that has happened to you over the course of your life, but he is going to make certain he undoes the damage Hydra caused. You are going to know the kindness the world has to offer, you will see the beauty in the little things, and he is going to make damn sure you know what a family feels like. You are going to know that people love you.

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

Tags:

@darkphoenixrisingwrites @afictionaladventure16

#bucky #buckybarnes #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes #bucky x reader protective #father!bucky #father!bucky x reader #father!bucky x daughter!reader #james buchanan barnes #james barnes #bucky fluff #protective bucky #bucky x abused!reader #fluffy bucky

276 notes · View notes

thegoodthebadthesickly · 5 years

Text

Stitches- Winn Schott

A filled request from my Wattpad for @badthingshappenbingo

Fandom: DCU/Super Girl

Request: Stitches

Requested by @ MANGO_CHEESE_ on Wattpad

(Stars are complete, Swirls are requested)

I'm sorry if this is incredibly out of character; I've only seen a few episodes of Super Girl and am mostly going off of what I know from Tumblr! Please don't hate me if this is awful!

"You couldn't have let the bullet proof alien take the, you know, bullet?" Alex asked, dabbing alcohol onto a sterile pad.

"It was instinctual; plus, it's just a flesh wound." Winn defended. He tried not to look at his arm, he already felt woozy and he definitely didn't need to add passing out to his rap sheet.

"This time," Alex admonished. "a few inches over and you could have been looking at permanent nerve damage." Alex brushed the sterile pad across the gash on Winn's arm, blotting away as much of the blood as possible.

"Agh!" Winn hissed. "Warn a guy!"

"Would it have hurt any less if I'd warned you?" Alex asked, her voice echoing off of the walls. They were the only two in the med bay right now, everyone else was still somewhere in the city and fighting yet another crazy guy in a suit of armor. When Winn had gotten shot she'd basically dragged him back to the DEO.

"That's not the point." Winn blushed and rolled his eyes.

"If you thought that was painful, you're really gonna hate me for this next part. You need stitches." Alex sucked at her bottom lip.

"No-no. I don't think so. It's not even that deep. Just slap a band-aid on me and send me home." Winn laughed nervously, trying to push himself off of the hospital bed. This turned out to be a bad idea when Winn was reminded, by a blinding pain in his right arm, that he had indeed been shot recently.

"Agh!" He yelled, grabbing his arm and falling back against the pillow. "Dammit!" He cried, tears clouding his vision.

"You know, for a genius, you can be pretty dumb sometimes." Alex cringed.

"Hey! You can't be mean to me, I just got shot!" Winn groaned.

"And who's fault is that?" Alex asked, spinning around on her stool and getting up to go find a suture kit.

Winn grumbled something that Alex didn't quite catch.

Honestly, Alex was glad to have Winn back here where he couldn't be hurt anymore. Everyone that fought beside her and Kara was either bullet-proof or highly trained in combat. Winn was neither of those things. He was just so soft and human. Alex would be lying if she said that the thought of him getting hurt hadn't kept her up at night, especially after night's like this, when he was too brave for his own good. Of course, she would never admit any of this to anybody, especially Winn.

Alex walked into the medical supply closet and, after searching through a mountain of labeled blue boxes, found a suture kit and went back to make sure Winn wasn't trying to jump out of the window or otherwise escape.

To her surprise, Winn was exactly where she'd left him. On closer inspection, Alex thought he must have been asleep. For the first time all night, Alex really looked at Winn. His face was twisted in a grimace of pain, even in his sleep and he was scary pale. Alex swallowed back the ball of fear that was bubbling in her stomach and shook Winn's leg lightly.

"Winn?" She whispered.

"Hmm?" Winn opened his eyes.

"Just wanted to make sure you hadn't died on me. That would be so much paperwork." Alex smirked.

"Nope. Just trying not to think about the hole in my arm. Finding my happy place." Winn laughed, his breath hitching when the movement aggravated his injury.

"Where exactly is Winn Schott's happy place?" Alex asked, opening the suture kit and finding the needle and suture thread.

"It-it's stupid."

Alex figured it was decidedly not stupid, but felt like she shouldn't push.

Both were quiet for a moment as Alex worked to thread the needle.

"All right, on the count of-"

"Woah, woah, woah! Don't I get morphine or something?" Winn jerked away from the needle.

"I thought it was "just a flesh wound"." Alex mocked.

"Flesh wounds still hurt!" Winn exclaimed, his voice rising an octave.

"Alright, fine." Alex put the needle down onto a sterile pad and went to look for the local anesthetic. "Baby" She muttered under her breath as she walked away.

"I heard that!" Winn called.

Alex smirked. She found the stacker where the various syringes and bottles of medication were kept and, picking out the local anesthetic and something for the pain that Winn would surely be in after the adrenaline wore off, she went back to Winn.

"Happy?" Alex asked, shaking the two little bottles of liquid at Winn.

"Don't I get the pill option?" Winn asked, eyeing the syringes in Alex's other hand.

"Oh, so getting shot is no big deal, but a little needle is too much?"

"There is nothing little about those needles." Winn gulped.

"Pony up, Schott." Alex sat back down on the stool and uncapped one of the syringes, putting the needle into the bottle of codeine and drawing up the liquid.

"Easy for you to say!"

"Shh! I need to focus." Alex hushed Winn. "Don't tense up, it'll only make it worse."

"You're not the one having a needle waved at them. I don't think you get to say anything about being tense."

"Would you rather go without?"

Winn took a deep breath. "Lesser of two evils." He closed his eyes.

"Now, this is codeine, so you're probably gonna feel weird for a while, but it's better than being in pain."

"Let's get it over with." Winn closed his eyes.

"Alright." Alex took a breath and held Winn's arm steady with one hand and carefully aimed the syringe needle into his arm above the wound.

Winn hissed, his breath hitching, but he didn't open his eyes.

"Good. Now I'm going to do the local anesthetic." Alex said, keeping her voice as even as possible.

Winn didn't open his eyes or move.

Alex capped the used syringe and reached over to put it into the biohazard bucket over the bed Winn was sitting in. Once she was settled back on the stool, she uncapped the other syringe and pushed the needle into the rubbery cap of the anesthetic bottle. She carefully drew up the liquid and pulled the syringe out, taking a steadying breath.

"This'll sting." Alex said, aiming the needle closer to the edges of the wound this time. She slowly moved the syringe around the wound, making sure to numb the entire area. When she was done, Alex realized that Winn hadn't moved or spoken for the past few minutes.

"Winn, breathe." Alex commanded, seeing that his jaw was clenched and his breathing was coming in short, shallow gasps.

Winn, seeming to notice that he'd quit breathing for the first time, inhaled deeply through his nose and coughed.

"Go back to your happy place?" Alex asked.

"Ha, yeah." Winn blushed, which was made even more evident by how pale he was at the moment.

"The meds should kick in in a few minutes and we'll get you patched up."

Winn sat back and closed his eyes and Alex grabbed her phone and started scrolling through her messages.

Alex thought Winn Schott must have been a lightweight, which was honestly so predictable, when he started giggling uncontrollably a few minutes later.

"How're ya feeling, Winn?" Alex smirked.

"I have no idea why I'm laughing." Winn giggled.

"I'd say the meds are working."

"Oh yeah. They're working big time!" He smiled.

"Okay, I'm going to start suturing the wound. I need you to stay very still, Winn. Do you understand."

"Yeah." Winn tried to look serious, but sputtered and started laughing again.

Alex couldn't help but laugh with him for a moment before regaining her composure and picking up the needle again. Steadying her hand, Alex started suturing.

After that, Winn was quiet except for the odd giggle. Eventually, he closed his eyes and Alex thought he might be drifting.

"Just go to you're happy place." Alex muttered.

"I's not real."

"What's not real?" Alex asked, pausing her stitching and looking up at Winn.

Winn's eyes were half lidded and he was oddly droopy when he spoke, definitely a lightweight. Alex made a mental note to have someone add that to his medical file.

"M'happy place." Winn said, his head lolling to the side as he tried to look at Alex.

"Okay?" Alex said, confused. "What exactly is your happy place?"

"Breakfast."

"Winn, breakfast is very much-"

"With m'parents." Winn slurred, cutting Alex off.

"That could be a memory."

"Nope." Winn was quiet for a moment. "Not this one." He giggled again. "You wanna know m'happy place?"

"Sure, Winn."

"It's, a-it's breakfast with m'parents. Before my dad-" Winn's eyes got darker for just a moment. "It was a Friday night. Saturdays were always pancake days. That's my happy place." Winn slurred. "My dad never put the bombs in the bears and my mom never left. We just had a normal Pancake Saturday."

"That's, um, wow. That's a good happy place, Winn." Alex stuttered.

Not really sure what to say after that, Alex went back to silently suturing Winn's arm and Winn was quiet too, not even giggling anymore.

"All done." Alex said, putting a strip of sterile gauze over the sutures and taping it in place.

"'M tired." Winn mumbled.

"I'd say the adrenaline finally kicked it. Get some sleep, Winn." Alex patted Winn's arm.

Winn obediently closed his eyes and within a few minutes his breathing had evened out enough for Alex to see that he was asleep. Dimming the lights, Alex left the medbay to go wait for Kara and the others in central command.

Somewhere around an hour later, Alex heard the elevator and stood as Kara and James stepped out.

"Hey. How'd it go?" Alex greeted.

"After you and Winn ducked out, it was just a matter of getting someone in to dismantle the server that was accessing the robot." James explained.

"Basically, I just had to keep the robot busy while someone found the server." Kara chimed in. "Barely even broke a sweat." she smiled.

"How's Winn?"

"Resting. It wasn't as bad as it looked in the field, flesh wound." Alex led them back to the medbay where they could all see Winn sleeping. "Major lightweight when it comes to meds, though." Alex laughed.

"Figures." Kara and James said in unison.

"I'm sure you're both exhausted. Go get some sleep. I'll stay here tonight and make sure Winn doesn't manage to get himself into anymore trouble." Alex said.

"Are you sure?" Kara asked.

Alex nodded.

"Alright. See you in the morning." Kara hugged Alex and went back to the elevator. James waved goodbye and followed closely behind.

Alex stretched and realized how tired she was as well and, after changing into a set of sweats she kept at the DEO for late nights and the odd coffee disaster and curled up in the bed opposite Winn's.

The next morning, Alex was walking Winn to the elevator. One of the DEO doctor's had seen him and given him the all clear to go home.

"So, exactly how much of last night do you remember?" Alex asked.

"Everything's mostly clear after I got shot, until you gave me the shot of whatever that was-"

"Codine."

"Yeah. After that, things get fuzzy. I didn't do anything stupid, did I?"

"Besides take a bullet for a bullet proof alien? No." Alex rolled her eyes and smirked. She'd decided not to mention what Winn had told her last night, he hadn't meant to tell her. It wasn't as if she hadn't read his file when Winn'd been brought on at the DEO, but reducing someone down to a few words never quite told the full story. He could tell her if and when he was ready to talk about it.

Winn huffed a laugh and adjusted the sling cradling his arm.

"I did find out that you're a major lightweight when it comes to meds, though. You're a giggler." Alex laughed.

"Oh, God." Winn smiled ruefully.

"Oh yeah. You're never living this one down." Alex smiled as they stepped into the elevator.

"Aren't you staying?" Winn asked.

"I refuse to work in sweat pants." Alex gestured to her attire. "Also, I'm dying for a hot meal. Care to join me for breakfast? My treat."

"Sure." Winn smiled and nodded and then grabbed at his shoulder, hissing sharply. "Also maybe more meds?"

"Sure thing." Alex said as the doors closed and the elevator started it's ascent.

#badthingshappenbingo #prompt fill #prompt: Stitches

4 notes · View notes

laceandhockeyskates · 5 years

Text

What the hell I’ve been up to?!

I don’t even know how to make an introduction for this hot mess but I guess we’ll go month to month more or less because let me tell you 2018.... really fucked me up. Both in good ways, but also in terrible ways? I don’t know... I feel like it’s all worked out in the end but damn was it a mess to get to this point.

January- lovely, lovely January. Aka the last time I’ve posted anything of real value on this blog. I had my first trip out of the country!! Other than that uneventful?!

February and March (since nothing happened)- I turned 25. I don’t remember anything besides grabbing lunch with my grandma for it... so clearly it was a huge deal. Besides that though.... nothing.

April.... this is when things got.... interesting- we found out in April that the retail company I worked for was going out of business. Which was absolutely terrifying. I had no idea what I was going to do, how long it was going to take to find a new job... I knew nothing. That very day that we were told I put in 25 job applications. Within a week I had 4 job interviews lined up for one day that I had off of work, and at the end of that day I had a new job.

May- and it gets worse. May 4th was my last day at the store before I started my new job on May 5th. It was somewhere that I had applied to several times and never got a call back from, and it was only a three minute drive from my house so I thought everything was going to work out. Right? Wrong. I HATED it. With every fiber of my being it was the worst. I sat in my car on my lunch breaks crying more often than I wasn’t. It was honestly awful, and some greater power that be must have recognized how miserable I was because I was only there for less than 2 weeks. I started on the 5th and I worked my last day there on the 17th. I was scheduled to have that Friday, Saturday, and Sunday off already which I was thankful for and had all these plans. So since about November-December I had these back pains that started right between my shoulder blades and wrapped around my stomach every few weeks. At first I thought I had a strange strand of the flu, and then I thought I was just sleeping on my back wrong.... well neither was accurate. That Friday night I was sitting on the couch watching tv when the pain hit me again and at that point it was more of an annoyance thing because like seriously?? So I just did what I always did and took pain meds and prepared myself for a night of no sleep and taking a hot bath every two hours to pour steaming hot water over my back (aka the only thing that really helped), by Saturday I wasn’t any better and my dad offered to take me to the ER. I thought he was just tired of listening to me whine about the pain and not really worried but I did let him drive me to Walmart to get a heating pad and more pain killers. Which again... helped.... but only for so long. I actually got to sleep that night and woke up at 3 am in literally the worst pain of my entire life. I quickly got in the tub hoping that the hot water would work or the heating pad or really anything. By 5 am though I knew that something was terribly, terribly wrong and that’s when I asked my dad to take me to the ER. Which I don’t think he took me seriously until 7 when my mom woke up and I asked her to go. It took less than 5 minutes at the ER to be told I have pancreatitis and gallstones and I’m basically screwed. By the time I came back from chest x rays I was being admitted. And let me tell you... that shit sucked. My Er nurse asked me how I was feeling and I literally laughed and told her I was just happy that it wasn’t all in my head. Which she very much assured me that it wasn’t. And that I actually have a high pain tolerance considering anyone else would be screaming in pain, and that if I had waited another few days I’d be going in with a raptured gallbladder. That first day... sucked to put it kindly. Because I had a gallstone blocking my pancreas I wasn’t allowed food (I ended up going from 5 pm Saturday to 2 pm Monday without food) or water (4 am Sunday to 2 pm Monday). Do you know it’s like to go that long? I was the biggest asshole because all I truly wanted was applesauce and water. To top it off though they couldn’t figure out a pain med that actually worked for me. Morphine lasted about as long as it took to get to my toes (a few seconds at best) so I was miserably in pain the entire time. Monday wasn’t too bad. My mom came and visited me, and for the most part I was left alone with the occasional check in minus my surgery consult. Tuesday.... was a day. I’ve never had surgery before and to say I was anxious would be an understatement. I had been waking up around 5-6 am anyways and was just watching the news when I realized there were two people standing outside my door.... I had originally been told my surgery was the 3rd of the day and I wouldn’t be going until about 11 am which gave my parents enough time to get my brother off to school and to be back in time to see me off... that’s not what happened. They had bumped me up to #1. Which meant my labs hadn’t been put in as needed ASAP and had to be run again but as soon as that was done? I was being wheeled away. What I didn’t know was that my mom had a nightmare that I had been taken to surgery early and that I died on the table... so you can imagine her reaction when I texted them that I was actually going to surgery early... needless to say my dad sped all the way to the hospital. Actual surgery though? I don’t remember a ton. I remember going to the holding room and being introduced to a bunch of people that I knew for all of five seconds before going into the OR. I remember moving from my bed to the table and then being wrapped up in a bunch of warm blankets and given the mask. I wasn’t told to count down or anything but within seconds I was out. I remember vaguely waking up to be moved from the table to my bed and I THOUGHT I had only fallen back asleep for the ride to recovery... apparently it was a lot longer than that. I woke up once in recovery and could have sworn they cut me open side to side but nope. It was a successful surgery with only four tiny incisions that hurt like a goddamn bitch let me tell you and then I passed back out... when I finally woke back up again I was awake long enough I was allowed to go to my room where my parents were relieved to see me. I was up walking within an hour (I was told I wasn’t allowed food unless I moved around and got the gas out of myself and had bowl movements. They recommended walking. I wanted food.) and that day was spent between doing laps and sleeping. The next day? The day I was suppose to go home? My labs came back with a high white blood count... and I lost it. Despite my parents visiting me every day I was tired of feeling alone. Luckily though Thursday I was finally released.... in time for my baby brother to graduate high school. Which was a fun ceremony when you’re hopped up on pain meds.

June- was a hot mess of dealing with medical leave at the job I hated, but mostly? It was spent enjoying the summer. Once I was cleared for activity I was swimming nearly every day and soaking in the summer with my two baby cousins who turn 12 soon. Despite the physical pain I had to deal with and the stress of work I wouldn’t have traded that in for anything. It gave me so many fun memories to look back on and enjoy.

July- I was suppose to go back about the 8th but medical leave was... a mess. And tbh at that point it wasn’t worth the stress to keep that job when for the time being I was making enough by doing side jobs for my family to pay my bills. I did start applying for new jobs though while I spent more time enjoying my summer with my kiddos. By the 27th though I was starting my new job, which is where I’m currently at while I type this long ass post but we’ll get into that a little farther down. Two days later though as I was about to start my first full day at my new job I got the text message I never wanted to get. I had to call my cousin/best friend. Long story short her mother had passed away meaning that she had lost both of her parents in seven years. Something I can’t even imagine. But not only that but it meant that my grandma had also lost her sister and best friend, and my great grandmother had to do the one thing no parent should ever go through.

August- was honestly a really intense blur. Between two weeks of dealing with the fall out of losing my aunt and starting my new job I didn’t have a life. In late July/early August though I knew something was up with my car but I honestly thought it was just a tie rod going bad... no. Apparently my entire undercarriage was more or less rusting out and I was screwed. I didn’t have any money saved up for a down payment, I had no idea if I could even afford a car payment yet (despite working a better paying job with more hours but I was use to basically barely making ends meet with maybe $20 left over). Luckily my parents who are the real mvps of my life stepped up and helped me figure everything out and I had a new car within a week of starting to search (she’s my baby girl. I’m obsessed. She’s literally everything I wanted minus the fact that she’s white and my previous car was white and I wanted to avoid that: but besides that... I’m happy with her and she’s worth the pretty penny I pay every month).

September- was a goddamn mess work wise. It’s all I did. Work.

October- I took my first major road trip on my own (driving 2 and a half hours by myself on the interstate. It was a big deal.) and saw FOB in concert which was... life changing. I completely recommend seeing them if you ever have a chance (also machine gun kelly was there and despite the fact that I don’t care for rap.... he was pretty good.). Other than that though October was more work craziness.

And now for November, and if you guessed work was insane... you’d be right. When I was hired in July it was all “oh it’ll only be busy until like October” and now my boss is like “maybe by March we can get our sanity back for two months?” Which don’t get me wrong I’m grateful. I’m making a $1 more an hour, actually working full time, and I don’t hate a majority of my coworkers (there’s still a handful though that if I had a shopping cart at work I’d run of their bare toes but that’s more because they make my life unnecessarily stressful) but I’m actually happy???? Like as stressed out as I am basically 24/7 I’m doing alright. I have a majority of my Christmas shopping done and wrapped which like?? And idk... I’m just.... I’m in a good place. And I won’t lie I still check myself once and awhile going “okay something is bound to go wrong.” But also maybe all the good is outweighing all the bad that I had to deal with. Anyways so that’s the life update. If you actually read that... bless your soul. Message me. We’re now best friends. And hopefully in the coming weeks I figure out what the hell im doing with this blog.

December update I wanna die lol! We had two people quit in three weeks leaving us with four people to cover 24 hours 7 days a week....it’s a great time.

#if you read all of this hi message me you're my new best friend

3 notes · View notes

mindingmyownbusiness · 7 years

Text

Stay

Pairing - Bucky x Reader

Summary - When you are certain no one notices what you’re going through your favorite supersoldier steps in to save the day.

Prompt: #31. “I love you so much, you saved my life.”

Warnings - wee bit of angst, but I make up for it with fluff

Word Count - 1776

Notes - For @bucky-plums-barnes 8,000 Followers Writing Challenge - congratulations on your milestone Gen! This fic idea has been rolling around in my head for awhile and I’m so glad you put all this together cause it gave me the push I needed to finish it and put it out there. I started this fic on one of my really down days (which coincidentally occur during my period go figure) and those are the emotions I’m channeling here. If only we all had a Bucky to be there for us like this...

My Masterlist

You couldn’t stop crying. And it didn’t make sense. You couldn’t really pinpoint why you felt the way you did, on a normal day you were a regular ray of sunshine, always with a kind word or encouragement for your teammates, quick to whip up someone’s favorite cookie or make an impromptu Starbucks run. But today, today you were the one out of sorts. You were the one who needed someone, anyone, to just notice that you hadn’t shown your face today. To notice that you hadn’t posted anything on social media. Just to notice you. At all.

Your stomach was in knots. Daring to crack your eyes open you glanced at the clock to see that it was well into the afternoon and you remembered that you hadn’t eaten anything since the night before. Not that you would want to. You felt hungry but also nauseous and couldn’t think of a single thing tempting enough to get out of bed for. If Wanda were here she’d wonder why you hadn’t taken anything to help with your cramps and the splitting headache you currently had. But she’s not. A minor mission had pulled away about half the team and the other half were probably busy or something, too busy to worry over where you were or wonder why they hadn’t seen or heard from you yet today.

Shifting in bed you realized you really ought to take an overdue trip to the bathroom and gingerly sat up, dragging yourself to the toilet and muttering curses under your breath along the way. You briefly considered showering but since you were convinced no one was gonna see you today anyway (and honestly you simply didn’t have the energy) you waved the thought away, opting instead to crawl right back into bed. You groaned as you laid back down, burrowing into your nest of blankets and pillows, feeling fresh tears form as you fell deeper into your pit of physical and emotional pain.

Bucky had seen the team off that morning and gone out for a run followed by an extended workout. He had considered texting to see if you were up for joining him but figured with it being a Saturday that you were taking advantage of the alone time to sleep in. After a quick shower and lunch alone in the common room Bucky started to worry that he hadn’t seen or heard from you all day. Maybe you had gone out? Clearing away his dishes he made his way towards your room, hesitating before knocking thinking if you were in there maybe you didn’t want to be disturbed. That’s when he heard it. You were… in pain? Concern overriding everything else Bucky burst into your room, eyes adjusting to the darkness, scanning the room in search of you.

“(Y/N)? Where are you? Are you okay?” He had an edge of panic in his voice that couldn’t be missed. He was about to call out again when he saw a hand waving weakly from the center of the bed. He stepped quickly towards you, determined to assess any damage. What he found nearly broke his heart. You looked so small, such a contrast from the strong and bubbly person he saw every day. Buried in blankets up to your neck, even in the dim lighting Bucky could make out your anguished, tear-streaked face. He sat carefully on the edge of the bed, reaching for you but not sure where it was okay to touch you, finally settling on brushing a lock of hair behind your ear. His voice was quieter, gentler than before. “Hey doll… sorry to barge in but I heard you cry out and my instincts took over...” He gave you a small smile. “What’s going on?”

You took a deep breath, trying to pull yourself together a bit, wiping leftover tears from your face. “It’s nothing you can do anything about, Buck. It’s just a girlie thing… you know… I’ll get over it in a couple days, I’m fine...” You risked a look in Bucky’s direction and decided then and there that Bucky looking flustered and blushing was your favorite thing ever. He fidgeted for a moment, rubbing the back of his neck and opening and closing his mouth several times as if to say something. He took another look at your face and you could see him making up his mind.

“I may not be able to stop what’s happening to you but I’ll be damned if you think I can’t do anything about it. I spent enough years taking care of Stevie to understand that.” He looked you over carefully. “Lemme guess, you haven’t eaten anything today?”

“No..” you mumbled, looking away from him.

“Then that’s our first order of business. I’m gonna fix ya somethin’ and then we’ll see about getting some meds in you to help with the pain.” He stood and grabbed the remote from your side table. “And here, while I’m gone pick something for us to watch. And none of that sappy dramatic stuff either, we’re either gonna laugh or watch people blow stuff up.” He set the remote down next to you and lifted your chin slightly so you’d look at him. “It’s gonna be okay, doll.” He smiled and then headed for the kitchen.

By the time Bucky returned you had shifted to a sitting position off to the side of your bed, still curled up in a ball but with enough room for Bucky to join you. “It’s the best I could do in a pinch but it should help…” He set down a tray of chicken noodle soup, crackers, and a ginger ale then sat on the bed next to you, leaning on your headboard.

You ate slowly under Bucky’s watchful eye, still not feeling up to it but knowing you needed to, taking some pain meds as soon as you finished your soup. Parks and Rec was queued up on your Netflix, a show Bucky had never seen before, so you spent some time explaining who everyone was. By the third episode he was laughing right along with you and you were definitely feeling better.

By the fifth episode you were curled up into Bucky’s side, his warmth helping to ease your cramps. You only wish that quieting the voices that kept screaming in your head was that easy. Logically you knew that those negative thoughts were lying to you, logically you knew that your friends cared about you and you were a valuable asset to the team. But during this time of the month your logical self tends to be drowned out by thoughts you’d rather not think. That if you died the team would be better off without you, that you were worthless, and ugly, and all your friends are just pretending to like you. Including Bucky. He was just being nice to you out of pity. He’s got better things to do than sit around playing nurse all day. You could feel the tears welling up again so you cleared your throat and made to sit up in an effort to keep them at bay.

His voice was a low rumble in his chest, laced with concern. “How are ya feelin’ there, doll?” You couldn’t look at him. If you looked at him then you wouldn’t be able to stop your tears and the last thing you needed was more pity.

“Okay…. um, better. Listen, thanks for checking on me, y-you don’t have to stay or anything. I’m sure you’ve got stuff to do so don’t let me keep you...” You scooted away only to have a cramp hit you and cause you to cry out.

“Hey, hey now.. where are you going? You need to lay back down.” He gently took your wrist and tugged. “And I’m not going anywhere, you’re stuck with me doll..” He grinned towards you, the grin fading a bit when he saw the tears threatening to fall from your eyes. “Sweetheart, what is it? Have I done something wrong?”

“N-no, of course you haven’t, you’ve been perfect.” You wiped a stray tear away in frustration. “I’m just letting you off the hook. You’ve filled your quota of doing nice things today cause you feel sorry for me. I’m good.” You gritted your teeth as more tears fell silently against your will and you furiously wiped them away.

Bucky didn’t say anything for a moment. Then he reached out, sweeping your hair over your shoulder and turning your head to face his. “Doll, (Y/N), please look at me.” You sniffled once, then twice, then gradually lifted your gaze to meet his. He was looking at you so tenderly, hiding nothing which was unusual for the soldier. “Please hear what I’m about to say and for God’s sake please believe me. I am not here because I feel sorry for you, I am here because I feel something for you. And that something is far more than just concern for a teammate and a friend.” Bucky used his thumb to brush another tear away. “I didn’t happen to walk past your room earlier, I’d been thinking about you all day. I didn’t stay because I needed to keep an eye on you, I stayed because every minute I get to spend with you is a gift. I hate, hate that you feel this way but to be honest I’m secretly thrilled because it gave me an excuse to hold you close to me.” You took a shuddering breath as Bucky brought up his other hand to cup your face. “If you still want me to leave I understand. We can forget this whole conversation ever happened. But, I hope you don’t. I hope… I hope you’ll ask me to stay…”

Your heart swelled at Bucky’s words as they dissolved every single ugly thought and replaced them with warmth and hope. Leaning forward slowly you pressed your lips to his, salty and sweet, and smiled whispering, “Stay…” Bucky smiled back, returning your kiss and then some before settling back down onto your bed and pulling you into his arms. You laid there on his chest, listening to his heartbeat and feeling the gentle rise and fall of his breathing, the rhythm of it making it hard to keep your eyes open.

Somewhere between asleep and awake you murmured into his chest, “I love you so much, you saved my life.”

He pulled you closer, rubbing your back and stroking your hair. “I love you too, doll,” he whispered in return, kissing the top of your head as you both fell into a peaceful sleep.

Perm Tags: @dianelogan @bucky-plums-barnes @buckyywiththegoodhair @ilovebeingjoyful @cate-lynne @avengerofyourheart @sebspocketsquare @sgtbxckybxrnes @bionic-buckyb @plumfondler @ms-potts-to-you @chaneltheavenger @imaginingbucky @sexonastickstan @angryschnauzer @the-witching-hours12-3 @palaiasaurus64 @supersoldier-buckybarnes

Fic Tags: @destofcookie @beautifulbrookie1013 @smsimoes @learisa @teen2walker @trinityjadec (cause y’all all liked the WIP post - thank you for motivating me!)

#Gen’s Writing Challenge #bucky-plums-barnes #bucky barnes x reader #my fic

499 notes · View notes

corrahdarling · 7 years

Text

The Cure - Ch. 1 - The Actor

TITLE OF STORY: The Cure CHAPTER NUMBER/TITLE/ONE SHOT: Chapter 1 of ? AUTHOR: WHICH TOM/CHARACTER: Actor!Tom and OFC Olivia GENRE: Romance, Angst, Smut FIC SUMMARY: After Tom has to take his sick niece to the pediatrician, he strikes up a fancy for the beautiful Doctor. The more he finds out about Olivia (Livi), the more he wants to know. How will he react when secrets about her past come to light? RATING: Explicit WARNINGS/TRIGGERS/AUTHORS NOTES: None as of now, but we’ll deal with some tough, adult stuff in later chapters! FEEDBACK/COMMENTS: Feedback is always wanted and valued! Please let me know what you think about this new story!

_________________________________________________

“Where in the world did this fog come from?” Livi said out loud, as she slowed her car’s speed. Since moving to London three months ago she had tried to get used to the weather, but this December’s cold wetness was absolutely chilling her to the bone. With one hand she carefully steered her red Volkswagen Golf down Whitechapel Road, and with the other she tightened her cream colored chunky knit scarf around her neck… today was absolutely freezing, and the heating didn't exactly work very well in this cheap, used car.

Her destination came into view… an enormous blue, glass building— The Royal London Hospital. Livi had been spending a lot of time at this hospital since arriving in London, so she could have glided into a spot in the parking garage with her eyes closed. She pulled her bright red woolen peacoat tightly around her body, grabbed her coffee and her bag, and made her way inside, smiling and greeting the people she met along the way. She truly loved going to her job everyday, never minding her long hours, or any of the other hazards that went along with her career choice.

“Morning, Claire! What kind of appointments do we have on the schedule this morning?” She asked the blonde nurse, as she entered the office. Not only was Claire Livi’s nurse, she had become a very good friend. “Morning, Dr. Beckett… so far, we’ve got 3 sore throats, a possible case of pink eye, and a sprained ankle…” “Well…That’s doable.” Livi grinned as she slipped out of her thick coat, revealing baby blue scrubs and a white and gold stethoscope curled around her neck. “Mm-hmm.” Claire agreed. “So, what did you do this weekend, Doc?" Livi tried to brush off the question. "Oh... I went to a party downtown... you know... at that club.” "Um... that club? Righhht." Claire could see right through her. "What did you really do?" With an exasperated huff, Livi answered. "Fine... Saturday I worked the A&E clinic, and Sunday I binge-watched Netflix. Is that okay with you?"

Claire giggled. "I admire you, Doc. You give your Saturdays to this hospital— unpaid Saturdays I might add, to work in that clinic... but really, you've been here for three months. Isn't it time you met some people? Got out of that flat and had some fun? Spent some time away from this hospital?" Livi took her white lab coat off the hook on the wall, pulling a loose thread out of the navy embroidery that read ‘Dr. Olivia Beckett, Paediatrics.’ “For your information, Dr. Phil, I love what I do... I don't mind working Saturdays... so just get off my back, will you? Now, give me 10 minutes, and bring back my first patient, please.” “You got it, Doc.” The blond nurse winked, before turning back to her computer screen. Livi walked into her office, and closed the door behind her. She sat behind her dark wooden desk— at least, she thought there was a desk beneath underneath all that paperwork— and pulled her thermos of coffee and plastic baggie of weetabix cereal from her bag. “Mmm… breakfast of champions.” She rolled her eyes as she took a big swig of hot, strong, black coffee, and popped a couple pieces of the chocolate cereal into her mouth. She booted up her computer, and looked at the schedule… yup, 3 sore throats, pink eye, and a sprained ankle. Let’s get this show on the road. She saw her first two patients, both young boys, with a viral infection that had been going around at the same school. She gave them each a prescription for a cough syrup, and told them to take paracetamol for their fevers… basic stuff… and sent them on their way. Olivia stood at the nurse’s station in the center of the examination rooms, filling out the last patient’s chart, and heard a very worried, deep, male voice coming down the hall. “Yes, I gave her paracetamol last night and this morning, but her fever hasn’t broken yet…”

She could tell that the man was distressed and nervous, as most people were when their children were sick. She glanced back to the dark blond-headed man, who carried a young girl in his arms. His face was pained and his eyes were narrowed, as he looked down on the girl. “It’s going to be alright, sweetheart.”

Livi watched as Claire led the man and girl into an exam room, and after a few minutes, she came out and handed her the file. “So, what’s going on?” She asked the nurse. “High fever… won't eat… headache.” Livi nodded as she began to walk toward the exam room, before she heard Claire behind her. “Doc, you know who that is, right?” “Um… no. Who?” “That man… that’s Tom Hiddleston… you know, the actor. I tried my best to keep my composure as I asked him questions.” Claire blushed. “Ohhh… okay.” Livi didn’t know who Tom Hiddleston was. She didn’t have much time to go to movies, and she kinda kept to herself for the most part because she worked so much. She knocked on the door, and peeked in. The man sat on the pink plastic covered bench with the small girl’s head in his lap. His blue eyes perked up with she entered the room.

“Hello. I’m Dr. Beckett. It’s nice to meet you.” She extended her hand to the man, and he took her hand, reciprocating the greeting. “Likewise, Dr. Beckett. I’m Tom.” “Okay, Tom, so what do we have going on here? Is this your daughter?” “Oh, um… no, no. This is Kate, my niece. My sister went out of town for three days and entrusted me with her daughter… she’s sick, and I’m a nervous wreck. I don’t know what to do! I can’t get her fever to break, and she won’t eat or drink. I’m... I’m... worried!” Livi nodded, and went to her knees before the sick girl. “It’ll be okay.” She smiled up at Tom, trying to calm him, before turning her attention to Kate. “Hi, sweetie. We’re going to help you feel better, okay?” The small girl nodded. “So your name is Kate? What a beautiful name. My middle name is Kate.” The small girl smiled slightly at the doctor, who was now sitting on the floor in front of her. “Should she get on the exam table? Would that help?” Tom asked. “Oh, no… I can tell that she feels terrible. Let her stay where she is.” Tom smiled warmly at the brunette doctor. Usually doctors weren’t this personable… or this pretty. “Okay, I’m going to look in your ears, first. Then, we’ll move on to your throat.” She looked into little Kate’s ears as she grimaced at the sight. “Has she been having trouble sleeping?” She asked, as she gazed up at Tom. “Yes, I’d say so. She hardly slept at all last night.” “Mmm-hmm… and how old is she?” “She’s six. Is everything okay?” Livi nodded her head. “She has acute otitis media.” “Oh, no! Is that bad?” He asked. “She’ll be fine! She’s got an ear infection. Her poor little ear is so red inside, and she has quite a bit of fluid trapped behind her eardrum. Everything else looks okay, and that explains all her symptoms. I’ll write her a prescription for an oral antibiotic, and some medicine to drop into that ear to help clear all the infection and fluid out. After the first couple of doses, she should feel much, much better. Keep giving her paracetamol to help control her fever.” “Oh, thank goodness.” He rubbed Kate’s head lightly. Livi continued. “Until then, make sure she’s getting plenty of fluids…” She looked down to Kate. “Make your Uncle buy you some popsicles, okay? The strawberry ones are my favorite!” She winked at the small, blond girl, making her giggle slightly. Livi sat down on her stool in the exam room, and began to write the prescriptions. “Okay, Mr. Hiddleston-” “Please, call me Tom.” “Okay… Tom.” She smiled at the man. “Here’s the prescriptions. Get them filled quickly so she can get started on her meds. She’ll feel better very soon, I just know it.” Now that she could get a better look at Tom, she noticed that he was, indeed, very attractive. She watched his twinkling blue eyes behind his glasses as he spoke, now a little brighter because he knew his niece would be okay, and his huge, pearly white smile. She could see a navy sweater peeking out from beneath his wool coat, and he wore dark jeans, and grey suede boots. “Thank you so much, Dr. Beckett… I feel much better now.” He grinned up at her as she handed him the slips of paper. “I’m so glad. Please let me know if I can help in any way… and let me know if she doesn’t get any better in the next day or so.” Tom nodded as he slipped the papers in his back pocket and helped Kate up. “Come on, little darling, let’s get you to the car.” “Feel better, Kate!” She heard a small English “thank you” come from the little girl, and smiled at her sweet face, as the pair walked through the door, and out of Livi’s small part of the clinic. “See, I told you!” Claire said as she took Kate’s chart from the doctor. “Told me what?” “That he was cute…” Livi laughed. “Oh. Yeah… just another patient.” “Uh-huh… well, if I wasn’t married, I’d be flirting with that man.” Livi shook her head and snickered. “Let’s be professional, here… You’re so bad.” “Mmm-hmm… I would be… with him.” Claire winked. “Ohhkayy… why don’t you stop daydreaming, and go get my next patient?” After two more appointments, three walk-in patients, and spending way too much time adding their information to their charts, Olivia traded her lab coat for her winter coat, and slowly climbed back into her car, feeling the affects of the long day in her sore feet. She sighed, and turned the car key, bringing the car to life… well, as much life as the poor car had left, anyway. Sometimes, the headlights didn’t exactly work as they should, which was the case tonight. She grumbled quietly, as she pulled to the curb in front of her building. The one bedroom flat she was renting wasn’t the most elegant place, but for the amount of time she was here, it worked just fine. It was actually nicer than some of the places she had seen, so she was thankful for that. As she made it to the fourth floor of her building, she let her bags fall to the floor as she plopped down into her fluffy chair. She should be used to being on her feet a lot, but these long days still got to her sometimes. She kicked her shoes off, and stripped her scrubs from her body as she padded to the shower. She knew that would make her feel much better, and as she washed her medium-length brunette hair, she thought back through the day. Immediately, she thought of little Kate. She hoped the sweet girl felt better soon. And then… she thought of Kate’s Uncle. He was such a sweet guy, and she could really tell that he loved his niece very much. Her eyes drifted closed as she washed the rest of her body… he was so tall and handsome, even as his dark brows furrowed with worry. Apparently, he was a celebrity. Livi didn’t know how big of a celebrity though, as she didn’t really keep with Hollywood. She was much too busy, and either worked, or slept. Claire sure seemed to like him. Livi giggled at the remembrance of her friend salivating over him earlier. Hmm… she wondered what movies Mr. Celebrity had been in? Looks like an investigation on Netflix was in order! She hurried to get into her pj’s, which tonight consisted of an oversized Little Mermaid sleep shirt that she had picked up at Primark, and twisted her damp hair up into a topknot. She popped a pod of coffee into her Keurig, and grabbed a couple chocolate biscuits as she waited on her coffee to brew. She grabbed her mug of black coffee and her laptop, and headed to her sanctuary… her bed. She took a bite of one of her biscuits, flicked the crumbs off her fingers, and typed his name in the search box. Tom Hiddleston. Several different things came up, but she quickly got sucked into the addictive black hole that is Wallander. She got comfortable in her bed, and smiled widely as she first saw Tom on the screen. He looked very different then, and he played a sweet, young, sometimes sassy character named Magnus Martinsson. She giggled at his curly hair, and before she knew it, she had been up all night watching it. She repeated the next night with Thor and Unrelated, and the next with War Horse and Midnight in Paris, finally collapsing from sleepiness the fourth night after The Deep Blue Sea and The Avengers.

____________________________________

The next morning, she woke and stretched as much as she could. It was Friday, and for that she was so glad. Maybe she’d be able to catch up on her sleep over the weekend. She promised herself no more movies with Mr. Celebrity in them. He was much too distracting…and she was thankful that she’d never have to see him again. She didn’t usually share Claire’s tastes, especially in men, but she agreed with drooling over this one. She showered, had some breakfast, and went to her closet to pick out her clothes for the day. Fridays were short, as they were only open half the day, so she opted for actual clothes underneath her lab coat instead of scrubs. Today she picked out a thin black sweater, tan skinny jeans, and tall, black riding boots. With a chunky statement necklace, a quick fingering through her wavy hair, and a smidge of makeup she was ready to go. She made it to the hospital in record time, and was greeted by a smiling Claire as she walked into the clinic. “Morning, Doc!” “Morning, Claire. What does this morning look like? Busy?” “Not too bad… five appointments.” Livi yawned. “That’s good.” “Why are you so tired, Olivia?” The nurse looked at her with a knowing look on her face. “Have you been staying up late?” 

“Of course not… I’m not tired! I just haven’t completely woken up yet. I need my coffee.” “Hmm… have you been staying up late watching a certain someone on Netflix?” Livi’s mouth dropped open as a vivid crimson blush spread across her cheeks. “Oh, come on, Claire. No!” Claire giggled as she watched her friend hurry into her office, slamming the door once she was safely on the other side. _______________________

The day was going normally and Livi just had one more appointment left, and then she was off for the weekend... she couldn't wait. Before she could go into the exam room, Claire stopped her. “You’ve got a phone call, doc.” “Oh? Who is it?” She asked as she watched a wicked grin crop up on the nurse’s face, making her blue eyes sparkle wildly. “It’s Mr. Celebrity.” “No!” Livi said as her stomach lurched up into her throat. She dropped her voice to a whisper. “What the hell does he want?” “How should I know? He didn’t ask for me, he asked for you!” Livi tried to calm herself as her fingers wrapped around the handle of the clinic telephone. “Doctor Beckett.” She answered confidently, though inside she was anything but. “Doctor Beckett, hello, Tom Hiddleston, here.” That deep, velvety voice quite literally dripped through the mouthpiece of that old phone, and landed in a puddle of sex right at her feet. “Hello, Tom. What can I do for you? Is Kate not feeling better?” “Oh, no, Kate is perfectly well, thank you! She’s gone back to my sister already. She began feeling better that very night. We went all over London looking for those strawberry popsicles you mentioned. She’s convinced that’s what made her well.” He laughed into the phone. “Oh, well that’s great, those popsicles work wonders! So glad she’s better. Is there anything else I can help you with?” I twirled the once-white-but-now-cream-colored phone cord around my pointer finger. “Yes, actually there is. I’ve had a bit of an accident.” “An accident?” “Yes… you see, I began the second leg of Coriolanus at the Donmar last night… to make a long story short, a few minutes ago I was in my dressing room and I had bent over to grab my bag at the same time the door was opened, nipping me in the head.” “Your… head?” I asked, unbelieving. “Ehehe… yes, it seems I have a bit of a gash in my forehead.” “Um… a gash? Why are you on the phone with me? Shouldn’t you be getting that checked out?” “Well, yes, but I go on stage in a few short hours, and I don’t really have the time to visit A&E, and I can’t miss this performance. Do you think you could come by the Donmar and look at it for me? I may need a stitch… or two.” “Tom… I’m a pediatrician.” He laughed. “I know that. How many children’s chins have you stitched?” “Too many to count.” “There you are… same thing! I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t trust you.” “Well…” “You’d be doing me a tremendous favor, love.” Well, that’s just playing dirty. “Fine… I have another appointment now, but I can be there in an hour or so.” “I owe you one… really.” I sighed. “Yes, you do. Where’s the Donmar?” “Really? You don’t know where the Donmar is?” He asked with a hint of surprise in his voice. “No, I don’t! I’ve only been here three months, and going to the theatre hasn’t exactly been at the top of my priority list.” “Ouch, darling! You just stomped on my tender Shakespearean heart!” He hissed, making me laugh. “Earlham Street… It couldn’t be but maybe 10 miles from the hospital. Just come to the stage door down from the entrance.” I breathed deeply, wondering if I was really agreeing to do this. “Okay. I’ll see you in an hour.” “Can’t wait… oh, and by the way, Doctor Beckett, I’m bleeding profusely, so please hurry.” I giggled. “Oh, dear… I’ll try.” With a “fantastic!” he hung up. He actually had a sense of humor when he wasn’t worried sick about his niece. “Claire, hurry and bring back my next appointment! Apparently, I have a bleeding actor to go save…”

#tom #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fanfiction #hiddleston #tom hiddleston fandom #tom hiddleston fan fiction #doctor #olivia #beckett #lovecorrah #cozycorrah

36 notes · View notes

thfrustration · 7 years

Text

The Cure - Ch. 1 - The Actor

TITLE OF STORY: The Cure CHAPTER NUMBER/TITLE/ONE SHOT: Chapter 1 of ? AUTHOR: loveCorrah WHICH TOM/CHARACTER: Actor!Tom and OFC Olivia GENRE: Romance, Angst, Smut FIC SUMMARY: After Tom has to take his sick niece to the pediatrician, he strikes up a fancy for the beautiful Doctor. The more he finds out about Olivia (Livi), the more he wants to know. How will he react when secrets about her past come to light? RATING: Explicit WARNINGS/TRIGGERS/AUTHORS NOTES: None as of now, but we’ll deal with some tough, adult stuff in later chapters! FEEDBACK/COMMENTS: Feedback is always wanted and valued!

______________________________

“Morning, Dr. Beckett… so far, we’ve got 3 sore throats, a possible case of pink eye, and a sprained ankle…”

“Well…That’s doable.” Livi grinned as she slipped out of her thick coat, revealing baby blue scrubs and a white and gold stethoscope curled around her neck.

“Mm-hmm.” Claire agreed. “So, what did you do this weekend, Doc?“ Livi tried to brush off the question. “Oh… I went to a party downtown… you know… at that club.”

“Um… that club? Righhht.” Claire could see right through her. “What did you really do?”

With an exasperated huff, Livi answered. “Fine… Saturday I worked the A&E clinic, and Sunday I binge-watched Netflix. Is that okay with you?”

Claire giggled. “I admire you, Doc. You give your Saturdays to this hospital— unpaid Saturdays I might add, to work in that clinic… but really, you’ve been here for three months. Isn’t it time you met some people? Got out of that flat and had some fun? Spent some time away from this hospital?”

Livi took her white lab coat off the hook on the wall, pulling a loose thread out of the navy embroidery that read ‘Dr. Olivia Beckett, Paediatrics.’ “For your information, Dr. Phil, I love what I do… I don’t mind working Saturdays… so just get off my back, will you? Now, give me 10 minutes, and bring back my first patient, please.”

“You got it, Doc.” The blond nurse winked, before turning back to her computer screen.

Livi walked into her office, and closed the door behind her. She sat behind her dark wooden desk— at least, she thought there was a desk beneath underneath all that paperwork— and pulled her thermos of coffee and plastic baggie of weetabix cereal from her bag. “Mmm… breakfast of champions.” She rolled her eyes as she took a big swig of hot, strong, black coffee, and popped a couple pieces of the chocolate cereal into her mouth. She booted up her computer, and looked at the schedule… yup, 3 sore throats, pink eye, and a sprained ankle. Let’s get this show on the road.

She saw her first two patients, both young boys, with a viral infection that had been going around at the same school. She gave them each a prescription for a cough syrup, and told them to take paracetamol for their fevers… basic stuff… and sent them on their way.

Olivia stood at the nurse’s station in the center of the examination rooms, filling out the last patient’s chart, and heard a very worried, deep, male voice coming down the hall.

“Yes, I gave her paracetamol last night and this morning, but her fever hasn’t broken yet…”

Livi watched as Claire led the man and girl into an exam room, and after a few minutes, she came out and handed her the file.

“So, what’s going on?” She asked the nurse.

“High fever… won’t eat… headache.”

Livi nodded as she began to walk toward the exam room, before she heard Claire behind her. “Doc, you know who that is, right?”

“Um… no. Who?”

“That man… that’s Tom Hiddleston… you know, the actor. I tried my best to keep my composure as I asked him questions.” Claire blushed.

“Ohhh… okay.” Livi didn’t know who Tom Hiddleston was. She didn’t have much time to go to movies, and she kinda kept to herself for the most part because she worked so much.

She knocked on the door, and peeked in. The man sat on the pink plastic covered bench with the small girl’s head in his lap. His blue eyes perked up with she entered the room.

“Hello. I’m Dr. Beckett. It’s nice to meet you.” She extended her hand to the man, and he took her hand, reciprocating the greeting.

“Likewise, Dr. Beckett. I’m Tom.”

“Okay, Tom, so what do we have going on here? Is this your daughter?”

“Oh, um… no, no. This is Kate, my niece. My sister went out of town for three days and entrusted me with her daughter… she’s sick, and I’m a nervous wreck. I don’t know what to do! I can’t get her fever to break, and she won’t eat or drink. I’m… I’m… worried!”

Livi nodded, and went to her knees before the sick girl. “It’ll be okay.” She smiled up at Tom, trying to calm him, before turning her attention to Kate.

“Hi, sweetie. We’re going to help you feel better, okay?”

The small girl nodded.

“So your name is Kate? What a beautiful name. My middle name is Kate.”

The small girl smiled slightly at the doctor, who was now sitting on the floor in front of her.

“Should she get on the exam table? Would that help?” Tom asked.

“Oh, no… I can tell that she feels terrible. Let her stay where she is.”

Tom smiled warmly at the brunette doctor. Usually doctors weren’t this personable… or this pretty.

“Okay, I’m going to look in your ears, first. Then, we’ll move on to your throat.” She looked into little Kate’s ears as she grimaced at the sight. “Has she been having trouble sleeping?” She asked, as she gazed up at Tom.

“Yes, I’d say so. She hardly slept at all last night.”

“Mmm-hmm… and how old is she?”

“She’s six. Is everything okay?”

Livi nodded her head. “She has acute otitis media.”

“Oh, no! Is that bad?” He asked.

“She’ll be fine! She’s got an ear infection. Her poor little ear is so red inside, and she has quite a bit of fluid trapped behind her eardrum. Everything else looks okay, and that explains all her symptoms. I’ll write her a prescription for an oral antibiotic, and some medicine to drop into that ear to help clear all the infection and fluid out. After the first couple of doses, she should feel much, much better. Keep giving her paracetamol to help control her fever.”

“Oh, thank goodness.” He rubbed Kate’s head lightly.

Livi continued. “Until then, make sure she’s getting plenty of fluids…” She looked down to Kate. “Make your Uncle buy you some popsicles, okay? The strawberry ones are my favorite!” She winked at the small, blond girl, making her giggle slightly.

Livi sat down on her stool in the exam room, and began to write the prescriptions. “Okay, Mr. Hiddleston-”

“Please, call me Tom.”

“Okay… Tom.” She smiled at the man. “Here’s the prescriptions. Get them filled quickly so she can get started on her meds. She’ll feel better very soon, I just know it.” Now that she could get a better look at Tom, she noticed that he was, indeed, very attractive. She watched his twinkling blue eyes behind his glasses as he spoke, now a little brighter because he knew his niece would be okay, and his huge, pearly white smile. She could see a navy sweater peeking out from beneath his wool coat, and he wore dark jeans, and grey suede boots.

“Thank you so much, Dr. Beckett… I feel much better now.” He grinned up at her as she handed him the slips of paper.

“I’m so glad. Please let me know if I can help in any way… and let me know if she doesn’t get any better in the next day or so.”

Tom nodded as he slipped the papers in his back pocket and helped Kate up. “Come on, little darling, let’s get you to the car.”

“Feel better, Kate!”

She heard a small English “thank you” come from the little girl, and smiled at her sweet face, as the pair walked through the door, and out of Livi’s small part of the clinic.

“See, I told you!” Claire said as she took Kate’s chart from the doctor.

“Told me what?”

“That he was cute…”

Livi laughed. “Oh. Yeah… just another patient.”

“Uh-huh… well, if I wasn’t married, I’d be flirting with that man.”

Livi shook her head and snickered. “Let’s be professional, here… You’re so bad.”

“Mmm-hmm… I would be… with him.” Claire winked.

“Ohhkayy… why don’t you stop daydreaming, and go get my next patient?”

After two more appointments, three walk-in patients, and spending way too much time adding their information to their charts, Olivia traded her lab coat for her winter coat, and slowly climbed back into her car, feeling the effects of the long day in her sore feet. She sighed, and turned the car key, bringing the car to life… well, as much life as the poor car had left, anyway. Sometimes, the headlights didn’t exactly work as they should, which was the case tonight. She grumbled quietly, as she pulled to the curb in front of her building. The one bedroom flat she was renting wasn’t the most elegant place, but for the amount of time she was here, it worked just fine. It was actually nicer than some of the places she had seen, so she was thankful for that.

As she made it to the fourth floor of her building, she let her bags fall to the floor as she plopped down into her fluffy chair. She should be used to being on her feet a lot, but these long days still got to her sometimes. She kicked her shoes off, and stripped her scrubs from her body as she padded to the shower. She knew that would make her feel much better, and as she washed her medium-length brunette hair, she thought back through the day. Immediately, she thought of little Kate. She hoped the sweet girl felt better soon. And then… she thought of Kate’s Uncle. He was such a sweet guy, and she could really tell that he loved his niece very much. Her eyes drifted closed as she washed the rest of her body… he was so tall and handsome, even as his dark brows furrowed with worry.

Apparently, he was a celebrity. Livi didn’t know how big of a celebrity though, as she didn’t really keep up with Hollywood. She was much too busy, and either worked or slept. Claire sure seemed to like him. Livi giggled at the remembrance of her friend salivating over him earlier. Hmm… she wondered what movies Mr. Celebrity had been in? Looks like an investigation on Netflix was in order! She hurried to get into her pj’s, which tonight consisted of an oversized Little Mermaid sleep shirt that she had picked up at Primark, and twisted her damp hair up into a topknot. She popped a pod of coffee into her Keurig, and grabbed a couple chocolate biscuits as she waited on her coffee to brew. She grabbed her mug of black coffee and her laptop, and headed to her sanctuary… her bed.

She took a bite of one of her biscuits, flicked the crumbs off her fingers, and typed his name in the search box. Tom Hiddleston. Several different things came up, but she quickly got sucked into the addictive black hole that is Wallander. She got comfortable in her bed, and smiled widely as she first saw Tom on the screen. He looked very different then, and he played a sweet, young, sometimes sassy character named Magnus Martinsson. She giggled at his curly hair, and before she knew it, she had been up all night watching it. She repeated the next night with Thor and Unrelated, and the next with War Horse and Midnight in Paris, finally collapsing from sleepiness the fourth night after The Deep Blue Sea and The Avengers.

____________________________________

She showered, had some breakfast, and went to her closet to pick out her clothes for the day. Fridays were short, as they were only open half the day, so she opted for actual clothes underneath her lab coat instead of scrubs. Today she picked out a thin black sweater, tan skinny jeans, and tall, black riding boots. With a chunky statement necklace, a quick fingering through her wavy hair, and a smidge of makeup she was ready to go. She made it to the hospital in record time, and was greeted by a smiling Claire as she walked into the clinic.

“Morning, Doc!”

“Morning, Claire. What does this morning look like? Busy?”

“Not too bad… five appointments.”

Livi yawned. “That’s good.”

“Why are you so tired, Olivia?” The nurse looked at her with a knowing look on her face. “Have you been staying up late?” 

“Of course not… I’m not tired! I just haven’t completely woken up yet. I need my coffee.”

“Hmm… have you been staying up late watching a certain someone on Netflix?”

Livi’s mouth dropped open as a vivid crimson blush spread across her cheeks. “Oh, come on, Claire. Are you serious? No!”

Claire giggled as she watched her friend hurry into her office, slamming the door once she was safely on the other side. _______________________

The day was going normally and Livi just had one more appointment left, and then she was off for the weekend… she couldn’t wait. Before she could go into the exam room, Claire stopped her. “You’ve got a phone call, doc.”

“Oh? Who is it?” She asked as she watched a wicked grin crop up on the nurse’s face, making her blue eyes sparkle wildly.

“It’s Mr. Celebrity.”

“No!” Livi said as her stomach lurched up into her throat. She dropped her voice to a whisper. “What the hell does he want?”

“How should I know? He didn’t ask for me, he asked for you!”

Livi tried to calm herself as her fingers wrapped around the handle of the clinic telephone. “Doctor Beckett.” She answered confidently, though inside she was anything but.

“Doctor Beckett, hello, Tom Hiddleston, here.” That deep, velvety voice quite literally dripped through the mouthpiece of that old phone, and landed in a puddle of sex right at her feet.

“Hello, Tom. What can I do for you? Is Kate not feeling better?”

“Oh, no, Kate is perfectly well, thank you! She’s gone back to my sister already. She began feeling better that very night. We went all over London looking for those strawberry popsicles you mentioned. She’s convinced that’s what made her well.” He laughed into the phone.

“Oh, well that’s great, those popsicles work wonders! So glad she’s better. Is there anything else I can help you with?” I twirled the once-white-but-now-cream-colored phone cord around my pointer finger.

“Yes, actually there is. I’ve had a bit of an accident.”

“An accident?”

“Yes… you see, I began the second leg of Coriolanus at the Donmar last night… to make a long story quite short, a few minutes ago I was in my dressing room and I had bent over to grab my bag at the same time the door was opened, nipping me in the head.”

“Your… head?” I asked, unbelieving.

“Ehehe… yes, it seems I have a bit of a gash in my forehead.”

“Um… a gash? Why are you on the phone with me? Shouldn’t you be getting that checked out?”

“Well, yes, but I go on stage in a few short hours, and I don’t really have the time to visit A&E. I can’t miss this performance. Do you think you could come by the Donmar and look at it for me? I may need a stitch… or two.”

“Tom… I’m a pediatrician.”

He laughed. “I know that. How many children’s chins have you stitched?”

“Too many to count.”

“There you are… same thing! I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t trust you.”

“Well…”

“You’d be doing me a tremendous favor, love.”

Well, that’s just playing dirty. “Fine… I have another appointment now, but I can be there in an hour or so.”

“I owe you one… really.

I sighed. “Yes, you do. Where’s the Donmar?”

“Really? You don’t know where the Donmar is?” He asked with a hint of surprise in his voice.

“No, I don’t! I’ve only been here three months, and going to the theatre hasn’t exactly been at the top of my priority list.”

“Ouch, darling! You just stomped on my tender Shakespearean heart!” He hissed, making me laugh. “Earlham Street… It couldn’t be but maybe 10 miles from the hospital. Just come to the stage door down from the entrance.”

I breathed deeply, wondering if I was really agreeing to do this. “Okay. I’ll see you in an hour.”

“Can’t wait… oh, and by the way, Doctor Beckett, I’m bleeding profusely, so please hurry.”

I giggled. “Oh, dear… I’ll try.”

With a “fantastic!” he hung up. He actually had a sense of humor when he wasn’t worried sick about his niece.

“Claire, hurry and bring back my next appointment! Apparently, I have a bleeding actor to go save…”

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston fanfiction #tom hiddleston rpf #the cure #lovecorrah #actor tom #olivia #ofc olivia #romance #angst #smut #doctor ofc #chapter 1 #multis #mature #submission

17 notes · View notes