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redhairedwolfwitch · 2 years

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Doctor Y/n - Attending Orthopedic Surgeon - 3 - Grey's Anatomy x Fem!Reader

"Joey? I know you're not asleep." You peeked your head in the door, spotting Jo asleep on her side of the bed that used to hold three.

"Hm."

"What's wrong?" You frowned, flopping into the middle of the bed as Jo grumbled under her breath.

"I barely get to operate anymore, and when I do, they don't recover enough to go home. Oh, and how could I forget the refrigerator truck full of dead bodies that I get to pass on the way from the car park. The only reason that I am still in bed is that I am paralysed with excitement." Jo's voice was muffled by the duvet, leaving you to sigh as you gently brushed a piece of hair from her face.

"What about Luna?" You whispered, pausing as Jo cracked open her eyes and sighed.

"Dammit!"

You chuckled as Jo threw off the duvet, getting out of bed.

///

Teddy: Tom's in the hospital, he had a seizure as we got him out the ambo

Y/n: Joey is operating on that mom who had the baby growing in her liver

Y/n: and Bailey's mom was just brought to the hospital with covid, it's bad

///

"How's the baby?"

"Ah, yeah, well, he won't let me sleep, but other than that, I can't wait to get back to him." Amelia grinned, thinking about Scout.

"Allison is with Leo at Owen's mom's. I'm just- I miss them like crazy, but with all of us treating COVID patients, it just, it doesn't seem safe. I think Y/n and Jo miss having the kids around too, we were almost this, matrifocal household, and then the pandemic hit." Teddy explained, sighing as she thought about how the pandemic had disrupted everything.

///

Joey: I just delivered a baby, it was amazing

Braces: if you're thinking what I think you are, I am owed money

Joey: what are you talking about

Braces: i said years ago when we were residents about in 5 years, you end up being an ob/gyn

Joey: you're a little shit

Braces: but you love me

Joey: sadly

Braces: rude

///

"So, you delivered a baby today." You smiled as you arrived home. Jo was sat at the dining room table instead of the kitchen counter, a pile of pizza boxes next to her.

"I delivered a baby today." She grinned, taking a sip of her beer, "It happened so quick, I went to check on Luna, and this nurse said that there was an imminent delivery, and in the next second, I was catching a baby. I was literally the first person in the universe to hold him. And then I handed him to his parents, and their faces were just... no wonder Val's so depressed. It's the happiest thing I've ever seen. It was just so pure and simple and perfect. I was buzzing, but it was a total random fluke, and tomorrow, we'll be back to the same depressing crap." Jo monologued, glancing at you as you stuffed a piece of pizza in your mouth.

"Bullshit. Val is alive today."

"Do you think that's why Carina DeLuca is always in such a good mood? She's just, you know, handing out babies, and it shoots her serotonin levels through the roof!" Jo pointed out, stealing a piece of pizza from your box.

"That, plus the masturbation study... she's done a lot of research into the female orgasm."

"What if I changed?" Jo burst out, leaving you to pause in your slice of pizza.

"Then I'd be owed money." You replied, crunching on the crust as Jo began to elaborate.

"Careers, programs... I know I've put years and years into surgery, but if it's not bringing me any joy, then wouldn't it be insane to not change?"

"I think, you should do it."

"I want to be happy." Jo admitted, leaving you to nod and grab another piece of pizza, "everyone's dying. Meredith's... Tomorrow is not promised. Not in marriage. Not in life. I wanna be happy." Jo declared before shoving the piece of pizza in her mouth.

"I want you to be happy too, Joey."

/// Time Skip ///

"Sir, when you have a minute, I was wondering if I could talk to you about something I am considering, career-wise?" Jo asked as she and Webber went over all the patients she had taken on since Meredith got covid and Bailey's mother died.

"Ah, damn it."

"Oh, well it doesn't have to be now, I'm sure that you are dying to go home." Jo reiterated as Webber sounded mad.

"No one's leaving here tonight." Webber sighed, stuffing his phone back in his pocket as he walked away.

///

"Listen up! Seattle Pres has reached capacity. Which means, we should expect to receive about twice the patients per day. We are activating surge capacity protocol. Hey, I'm not happy about it either. We need to double up on every room we can. We are converting this cafeteria to COVID overflow tonight. We need all available hands, including residents. You will not take care of COVID patients. So, call home, make arrangements, check your inboxes for assignments. Thank you." Webber announced as everyone gathered in the cafeteria.

///

"Doctor Altman's in a bad mood." Helm mumbled as she found you standing at the nurses station.

"Can't do anything about that now, Helm, sorry." You apologised, reaching for the hand sanitiser station.

///

"Hey."

Teddy looked up from where she was sat, her head in her hands.

"Hey."

"Have you video-called to see Leo and Allison yet?" You enquired, walking around the back of the couch to grab the lunchbox you'd stashed in your bag.

"Not yet, have you?"

"I don't have Evelyn's number, all the Allison content I get is from Amelia." You admitted, biting your lip as Teddy frowned, taking your phone from your knee so she could add the number.

"You're lucky we're timing it right." Teddy remarked, pressing dial on her phone whilst you froze.

The timing was right?

A smile broke across your face as you heard Evelyn answered, hearing Allison and Leo in the background before they came into video.

"Mommy! Mama!"

///

"Did you quit yet?" Levi enquired as he found Jo sat on a bench outside the hospital, staring up at the sky.

"It's not quitting, it's choosing joy. I wanna choose joy. I wanna bring life into the world. That's nothing to shame me over." Jo retorted, folding her arms.

"I didn't shame you." Levi argued but Jo turned to give him a 'are you serious' look.

"A little bit you did."

"I heard Grey's awake. Did you tell her?" Levi enquired, looking at the ground as the rain crackled all around them.

"No! She would definitely shame me. She was my teacher, she loves to cut more than anybody I know. She would tell me that it's a reaction to the pandemic and that it's insane to quit surgery and on some level she'd be right. But, when I think about quitting, it brings me so much joy! It's like I have a dirty little secret." Jo chuckled, smiling as you walked over.

"Follow joy, Joey. Because even though that makes me the last one in our surgical residency class, I think you would be amazing wherever you go." You smiled, letting out a breath as the wind washed over you.

///

"I told you about Allison, but I never told Owen. I never told Owen that Allison and I were more than best friends... and we named Allison after her." Teddy admitted as she found you outside, basking in the sunlight.

"I wouldn't name my child Danielle, because there's only one Dani. But, I think that at this point, Allison would feel blessed that you named your daughter after her. I think Owen might need to know though..." You replied, closing your eyes to take in the sun.

"Our. Our daughter. She calls you mama, she's your daughter too." Teddy affirmed, reaching for your hand but her pager interrupted her.

"No, no, no, no, no, it's Meredith!" Teddy exclaimed as she ran back inside, pulling on her mask hurriedly.

///

Tags: @nnightskiess @emskisworld @multifandomlesbianic @thegirlwhowishedeveryonelived @inquisitive-nix @fire-and-blood-targaryen @unexpected-character

#grey's anatomy x reader #grey's anatomy imagine #grey's anatomy #jo wilson x reader #teddy altman x reader #jo wilson imagine #teddy altman imagine #jo wilson #teddy altman #tom koracick #miranda bailey #richard webber #owen hunt #levi schmitt #meredith grey

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xmaddestofhatters · 2 years

Text

Febuwhump 2022

Day 18: Forced to watch

Warning: mild torture

Or read on AO3

He unlocks the door, pushing it open with his hip. Pizza boxes precariously stacked in his hands. “Nat, I’m back!” There’s no need to call out. Natasha’s definitely heard him. “I got pepperoni with the stuffed crust,” he makes a disgusted face, “and some of those cheese bites you like.” He tries adjusting the volume on his headphones, but it proves difficult with his hands full, so he drops the boxes on the counter.

The bag with cheese bites topples over and they roll all over the floor. “Aw, no. Shit.” Crouching down, he starts picking them up, blowing on them a little to get the dust off. You can still eat those, right? He’ll just not tell Nat. His head bops along to the music.

Something in his peripheral vision moves and he glances over. Freezing at the sight in front of him.

Natasha’s sitting on one of the kitchen chairs. Arms bound tightly behind her. A gun pressed to her temple. Clint very slowly gets up, taking off his headphones.

The man with the gun pressed to Natasha’s head sneers at him. “Nice of you to join us. Why don’t you take a seat?” He gestures to the empty kitchen chair across from Natasha. Clint glances her over. Taking in every detail. There’s no visible injuries and her expression isn’t giving anything away. Clint stays where he is. The man scowls, pressing the gun harder into Natasha’s temple. “That wasn’t a question.”

Clint holds up his hands. “Okay, okay.” He shuffles to the chair, debating whether to risk taking down the guy. Natasha imperceptibly shakes her head. He trusts her, so he sits down. “How about you tell me what this is about?” He directs his attention to the man, who begins laughing humourlessly.

“Of course you don’t remember. But I do. Sarajevo, 2010.” The man scowls at him. Clint’s wracking his brain, but comes up empty. He glances at Natasha, but she’s still giving him that blank look.

“Sorry, not to sound like a dick, but are you sure you have the right guy?” Natasha’s mouth twitches. Clint can practically see the steam coming out of the guy’s ears. The gun leaves Natasha’s temple for a second before coming back with alarming force. Her head whips to the side, a surprised ‘oof’ escapes her. Okay, this guy’s serious then. Clint holds his hands up again. “Alright, Sarajevo. Why don’t you tell me about it?” The man’s breathing heavily, his eyes narrowing.

Clint catches Natasha’s eyes again. Silently asking why he can’t take him down. At first it seems like she’s ignoring him, then he sees her finger tap against her leg. Bomb. She spells out. Fuck, okay.

“Do you know,” the man’s suddenly produced a knife, gun still in the other hand, “how fucked up it is,” he begins slicing open Natasha’s shirt, “to find your wife,” the blade catches and he roughly pulls it down, “bleeding on your kitchen floor?” Blood wells up, staining Natasha’s pale skin red.

Where. He taps out.

“To see her in pain?” Cut. “To hold her while she’s begging for her life?” Cut. “To have her die in your arms?” Cut. Cut. Cut.

Don’t know. She taps back.

Clint’s steadily ignoring the sliced open skin. Natasha herself is giving no indication she’s even feeling it, while blood’s dripping down her front.

“I want you to feel my pain.” The man turns to him, momentarily halting his assault on Natasha. “But death is too good for you.” He points the knife at him. “I want you to watch as I slowly tear her apart in front of you.” Clint tries to act like the words don’t get to him, but he can’t help clenching his jaw. He’d like to say the guy’s full of shit, but there’s a dangerous glint in his eye. One that borders on insane. Those are the most dangerous.

“I’m sorry for whatever happened to you, but taking it out on her isn’t gonna solve anything.” Clint tries. It doesn’t work. A hysterical laugh escapes the man.

“On the contrary! I’m gonna fucking enjoy this.” A maniacal grin spreads his cheeks and he cuts a bloody line across her abdomen. This time Natasha hisses. More annoyed than pained Clint thinks. He can see Natasha working the bonds. She gives him an imperceptible nod. Distract him. He can do that.

“Hey, if you want to hurt me, then don’t waste your time on her. I couldn’t give two fucks about her.” It’s weak, but he only needs to distract the guy a second longer.

He scoffs. “You’re lying. I’ve seen you together.” Fuck, how long has this guy been watching them? Natasha’s almost out of her bonds, but he notices and tangles his hand in her red curls, yanking her head back. Pushing the barrel of the gun against her jaw. “Oh no, none of that.” He pats his jacket pocket. “Remember what happens when you don’t play nice.”

Natasha’s eyes flick to Clint, but he’s noticed. The man just made a trivial mistake. (Not counting the fact he didn’t tie up Clint, what the fuck was up with that?) Clint now knows where he keeps the trigger of the supposed bomb. Pushing Natasha’s head away roughly, the guy stands up straight again. Giving her a disdainful look before ramming the butt of his gun in her face so hard, a loud crack resounds through the room. Clint can’t help but wince. Natasha groans, spitting blood on the floor. He’s gonna have to act fast before this guy breaks something else.

Severely hoping he hasn’t miscalculated this, Clint shoots out of his chair and twists the hand holding the gun behind the man’s back, wrenching it from his grip and sending it skidding across the floor. He ducks away from the swinging knife and knocks an elbow against his nose. Breaking it in return. Clint doesn’t give him time to recover and punches him in the stomach, when he doubles over, Clint makes a grab for the trigger.

And that is where he goes wrong. He didn’t see the guy take out the trigger. It’s in his hand, thumb brushing over the button and before Clint can act, he presses down. “If I’m going down, I’m taking you with me.” He says with a bloody grin.

Clint wastes no time, turning around and grabbing Natasha’s arm, now free of the bonds, and hauling her to the window. Throwing it in with one of the flowerpots. He shoves Natasha out first and then jumps after her, while the apartment explodes behind them. As they’re falling, Clint thanks every deity he can think of that their apartment was on the first floor and then again when instead of smashing on the concrete, they land in a dumpster.

Natasha scowls at him, grabbing her nose between her hands and setting it back with a snap. Clint grimaces, both at the sound and her murderous look. “You’re gonna have to tell me what happened in Sarajevo.” She says, while climbing out.

“No fucking clue.” He replies, following after her.

#febuwhump2022 #febuwhumpday18 #natasha romanoff #clint barton #clintasha #fanfic

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2018shawn · 4 years

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a small, quick write based on a concept me and @cumholland were talking about aka tom being obsessed with naming your unborn child

the day you found out you were pregnant, not only were your excited, but also shit scared terrified of carrying a little human, who literally depended on you for everything. two hours into the discovery, tom was already talking about names because he felt bad for calling him/her “the bub”. unbeknown to you, he’d ordered not one... not two... not three... but four baby name books, next day delivery, because he couldn’t think (nor spell) to save his life and he already had a name on the tip of his tongue, but he’d be damned if he could get the prefect fitting.

what else you didn’t know, is that he’d ordered the books to your name, so when he’d left for work the next morning and you received the package, your eyebrows knitted together and hands immediately got to work on unwrapping the brown package. you couldn’t help the single tear that left your eye as you studied each individual book, opening each book to a random page and picking a random name each time.

you opened your text conversation to tom, typing the four names you’d let your eyes fall over automatically. it was a while before he replied, but that was normal, considering he was a ridiculously busy movie star with a schedule busier than the moon. but when he did reply, your heart warmed at the names he’d returned, although, you were sure anything he said could make your heart flutter and knees fall weak.

when you got to 12 weeks, you both decided it was more than safe enough for you to officially declare yourself pregnant. the news soon spread far and wide, your friends, family and fans soon learning of the information and the incoming tweets, messages and instagram dm’s soon filled your phone, almost half of them being a suggestion of names. as you and tom sat on the sofa one cosy saturday evening, pizza on your legs and tessa giving the best puppy dog eyes, you started to scroll through the infinite amount of messages whilst suggesting the best choices aloud to tom.

“verity?” you asked, picking all the pepperoni off you pizza, even though you specifically asked for it.

“eh.... kinda old fashioned.” he shrugged, his sweat shorts riding high up his thighs and grey nike sweat top clinging to his body perfectly. it was then, you realised, there was no wonder how you got so pregnant so quick.

“okaaaaay...” you scrolled through more, screwing your face up at some suggestions until you landed on another that caught your eye.

“sophie?”

“nope.”

you sighed, grunting until you found another name. “harper?”

“like the instrument?” he asked, picking the discarded pepperoni from your cardboard box and throwing it into his mouth.

you took that as a no, although you weren't sure if he was being serious. “alfie?”

he was silent for a small while, letting himself finish the spiced pepperoni before washing it down with a neck full of beer. nodding, you could tell he was genuinely thinking about it, as if he was spelling out alfie holland in his head, just like you were. the last bite of his stuffed crust drove you insane, and it was almost like your baby’s name depended on this very decision. “alfie thomas holland.”

that saturday night, four weeks ago, was the last time you and tom had talked about baby names and you thought that was okay, you wasn’t putting any pressure on it. 16 weeks in, your baby the size of an avocado (apparently), tom had to fly across the pacific pond for some work stuff and you hated every minute of saying goodbye. he hated it even more. he hated when he had to say goodbye, even when you weren't pregnant, but now you were carrying a mini tom, he fought with everything he had in him to not leave the country although his pleads were denied. tommy, it’s okay. you assured him, we’ll both be here waiting for you. you’d said, watching him walk away with his lonely suitcase as he boarded the plane. that was all it took for you too pull your phone out and send the message.

two days into tom’s work trip, you were knee deep in contracts and invoices that your boss had sent, with firm instruction that they all must be completed by the time the sun sets. tom was sat in a beauty chair, gushing to his hair stylist how perfect of a mum you’ll be, while you poured yourself a fifth cup of tea. you’d forgotten what a personal phone is, you’d forgotten what daylight looks like and you’d forgotten you were meant to be eating for two, letting the occasional lunch slip your mind. it was nothing new when you email notification sounded, the ping filling the room and making you roll your eyes, yet again. although, further research into the new email made your heart flutter and mouth smile, fully aware it was not from your boss, or let alone, any work colleague.

what about isaac for a boy?

evangeline for a girl?

love you soooooOooOooOOoOoO much

ps remember to eat

as a well known instagram poster, it was when you decided to go live that you decided tom was a total doofus, as if you hadn’t considered that summary beforehand. speaking to the zillion and one incoming messages, you answered as many questions as you could, trying to ignore the blue tick that kept appearing in the comments, bold capital letters threatening to take over the screen.

EMMA

IRIS

HUNTER

HANG ON...

NIKKI

BC MY MUM

in the midst, was a thousand and one people commenting how cute he was, only spurring him on to comment more names and as much as you tired to ignore it, you couldn’t. it was hard to answer any normal questions, your entire feed flooded with baby names and comments about tom and of course you weren’t mad, by any stretch of the imagination, but for once you though instagram might pull you back into normal life.

MARIE

LIKE THAT CAT

you finally gave in one night, agreeing to join tom at one of his live interviews and although you wouldn’t be appearing on the screen as such, you felt nervous for being in front of such a large audience and crew. tom had stayed with you as much as he could, before hair and make up beckoned him but even then, you stayed with harrison, who was able to calm you nerves and keep your mind occupied.

tom, of course, appeared on the guest sofa looking like a complete snack as always, leaving you pining behind the camera. it began with many questions about the film, but when the guests had drunk a couple of sips of whiskey, the collars started to loosen and questions started to flow.

“so, tom, we have a name generator....” the host pulled out a fish bowl, full of folded up pieces of paper. “and we think, whatever you pull out you should name your unborn child...”

tom immediately looked for you, finding you just behind the camera man with a shocked, but amused expression. when you nodded, tom knew it was more than acceptable for him to play along, giving everyone what they wanted. his hand dipped deep into the bowl as he secretly wished for a name that he hoped would not only be super cute, but one that you'd already chosen together. he pulled out a single paper, the crowd and host on the edge of their sit as he unfolded.

“thomas jr... really?!”

tom taglist: @imaginashawnns @fallinallincurls @mendesficsxbombay @cosmicholland

also thank u to @shawnsmoose for providing my drunk ass with names lmao

#tom holland #tom holland blurb #tom holland imagine #tom holland oneshot #tom holland fic #dad!tom #dad!tom holland #dad!tomholland

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shiyaki · 7 years

Text

Symphony 1

Pairing: Vishous / Butch aka Dhestroyer

Fandoms: Black Dagger Brotherhood

Summary: “I can’t believe I’m asking this, but I guess weirder things have happened, true? You’re in a time loop?”

Warnings: Temporary character death, swearing, violence

“Hey Cop, feeling better?”

„V, already finished your rounds?” Butch raised his hand in greeting, but didn’t bother looking away from the TV in front of him or providing an update on his current state of health. “Hey, do ya know anyone who’s good at playing the piano? Or making ice sculptures?”

From the corner of his eye he noticed Vishous stop in mid-motion, the gloveless hand no longer seeking a self-rolled cigarette and the right foot still raised from nudging the door closed. Even without seeing it, he could vividly imagine the current ‘what the fuck’-expression on his best friend’s face. Butch’s lips curled into a wistful grin. Incredulity was a good look on the other male; every expression was a good look on him except for that one. The one burned into Butch’s soul and which he never ever wanted to experience again.

“Why? Did the transition knock loose more than a sudden appreciation for chocolate? What’s up with the sudden art enthusiasm?” V ribbed after a short moment of silence and lowered his hand, the cigarette apparently forgotten for the moment. He approached the couch, where he spent a full minute watching Bill Murray tinkling the ivories on the widescreen. “You’re watching Grounddog Day…”

“Yup.” Ignoring Vishous’ judgingly raised eyebrow, Butch stuffed a bite of the huge, extra-cheese pizza, with cheesy crust into his mouth. He didn’t even feel guilty about the amount of fat he was currently consuming. Besides a vampire’s ridiculously quick metabolism, which would be the envy of every and all eating contest participants worldwide, the calories wouldn’t be a problem for more than a few days.

V’s piercing gaze wandered from the side of Butch’s head to the half-emptied bottle of Lagavulin and the stack of DVDs on the coffee table, then he picked up the latter. His diamond colored eyes quickly skimmed the synopses on the back covers and with each one the furrows on V’s forehead became more pronounced. Finally he dropped the movies back onto the table and eyed Butch bemusedly.

“You must be really bored. A time loop marathon, Cop?”

Butch silently stared back at Vishous, chewing away on another mouthful and using the time to ponder the situation. Did he want V to know? It wasn’t like it was going to help his plight, but… Well, who was he kidding? Of course he wanted him to know. He wanted him to know and keep knowing and he wanted a lot of other things that were out of his reach.

“It’s kinda soothing.” Butch averted his gaze from V’s half lidded eyes and hissed in annoyance when he shifted and irritated his still sensitive skin. “They’re caught in a loop, forced to experience the same day time and time again, while everyone around them forgets. It’s slowly driving them insane, because they have no idea how to escape and they’re starting to do stupid things, but…” A pair of black boots appeared in front of him seconds before two heavy hands settled on his shoulders.

“Butch?”

“… But in the end they fix whatever the fuck needs fixing and then they’re on their merry way to the future,” Butch finished and closed his eyes. His mouth had run away with him, but he honestly didn’t care, he was just so tired and sick of this.

“You don’t sound all that soothed,” Vishous assessed. It seemed more like an afterthought, though the squeeze to Butch’s shoulder felt earnest. “I can’t believe I’m asking this, but I guess weirder things have happened, true? You’re in a time loop?”

Butch wasn’t too surprised that V had jumped to that conclusion based on his ramblings or that the other vampire seemed to give the idea some real consideration. He was great like that. “Always knew you were a smart guy. Or, I guess, bright spark fits you better, with the glowy thing and stuff.” The remark earned him a punch to the shoulder, but he just grinned.

Vishous fetched a still unopened bottle of Grey Goose and a tumbler from the kitchen and threw his leather jacket over the backrest of the couch, before he dropped down next to Butch. While unscrewing the cap, V side-eyed him, his gaze filled with curiosity and concern.

“So… how long have you been at this?”

“Can’t really say. A year maybe?” Butch put the rest of his pizza slice back into the box and wiped the grease off his fingers with one of the tissues he had located nearby for other, more personal substances. “It’s hard to keep track, especially because it’s not just a day but nine. The loop begins during my transition, which sucks ass by the way, and lasts until the day of my initial initiation into the Brotherhood.”

Vishous forwent the tumbler and took a pull right on the bottle. Then another one. “Tell me everything, maybe we can find out what’s causing it.” “Oh, I know what started all of this. Your-… uh… the Scribe Virgin apparently had some-“

“Wait! My what?” V narrowed his eyes at him, but Butch firmly shook his head and cursed his slip of the tongue.

“Nope, forget what I just said. Buddy, please believe me when I say that you don’t want to know. And honestly? I don’t want to tell ya, especially not now. The last time I was there to witness you getting this information ya went all phoenix or dragon or some shit and turned several buildings into dust.”

Vishous was full out glaring at him now and looked about ready to shake or punch the truth out of Butch, but that hadn’t intimidated him (much) when he had still been a human and it certainly wouldn’t now. Five minutes into their staring match, V huffed and his glare subsided to a ‘This ain’t over’- narrowing of his eyes. Butch barely managed to suppress his grin.

“So, as I was saying, before you so rudely interrupted me, the Scribe Virgin had some sort of vision after my initiation, but things weren’t right for it to come true, so she started this damn time loop and it won’t stop until I achieve whatever it is that leads to her picture perfect future. And because she’s an unhelpful bitch, she refuses to tell me what she saw. Only on the last day, by the way, before then she has no clue what’s going on.” Butch had never seen V’s eyes get this big and he had seen a lot of expressions on the other vampire’s face. Huh…

“Please tell me you have never called her that to her face, Cop,” Vishous muttered despairingly into his hands, after he’d buried his face in them. The shock had apparently dissipated the remaining irritation completely.

“I did actually. Once. Didn’t end well, but it’s still the truth. Anyway, I’m taking this loop off, as they say.” It was still ridiculous that he could say such a thing in any plausible context.

“But-“

“No. V…” Butch dragged a hand through his hair and uttered a bone-deep sigh. “I know this is new for you, but I promise, I’ve already told ya all of this. Repeatedly. I’ve told you and the rest of the Brotherhood and Marissa and… Hell, I talked to Rhevenge once or twice. I’ve tried so many different things and I always wake up to the feeling of every damn bone in my body breaking and the knowledge that I have yet again failed at whatever the Scribe Virgin wants me to do. I just… Please don’t get on my case for a few days of time-out.”

For a long, almost unbearable moment, silence was Butch’s only answer. He didn’t dare look at Vishous’ face to gauge his reaction, so he startled a bit, when the other vampire got up. Instead of leaving, however, V swapped the DVD in the DVD player and sat back down. He pressed the play button on the remote control, when the main menu popped up and settled his legs on the table after snatching one of the pizza slices.

“I don’t know anything about piano playing or ice sculpturing, but I can show you some blacksmithing, true?”

Some of the tension drained out of Butch’s body, enough for a small grin to appear on his lips. “And baking bread?”

“What?” V raised a disbelieving eyebrow. Totally unnecessary in Butch’s opinion.

“Well, you… not you you obviously, but a you said that ya bake awesome bread. I’m curious if that’s the truth.”

V mouthed ‘a you’ and shook his head. “Stop talking, before I get more of a headache than I already have. But okay. I guess, we can put baking bread on the list, too.”

~*~

Vishous was utterly frustrated with the situation and being covered in flour from head to toe didn’t even factor in. Though how Butch had managed to turn the kitchen into a winter wonderland or a cocaine drug bust gone wrong (depending on the one being asked) was still beyond him.

No, the main reason was this whole time loop business.

Sure, it was hard to wrap his mind around the concept, but V did believe Butch. The expressions he had seen on his best friend’s face the previous night would have been enough to convince him, but the cop also moved like he had had a fuckton of time getting used to his new body. There were also the new skills in dematerialization, knife throwing and the Old Language. Not to mention the information Butch evidently was and shouldn’t be privy to.

V didn’t know which issue to tackle first. The apparent connection he shared with the Scribe Virgin and finding out what other stuff Butch had dug up on him? Just imagining that the cop knew about his lovely five-star stay in Bloodletter’s camp turned his stomach.

Maybe he should first focus on puzzling out how to stop this time loop shit, before Butch really went loopy. He was already on his best way to the loony bin, it seemed. Why else would they be standing in the Pit’s kitchen, channeling girl scouts? What next? Would they collaborate with Rhevenge and sell hash cookies in ZeroSums for a good cause?

Anyway, Butch had mentioned… other Vs (what the fuck?) coming up with ideas, which had ultimately ended in failure, but that didn’t mean he would just sit around on his ass and twiddle his thumbs. He would indulge Butch’s wish for a week-long time-out, though, because he really, really looked like he needed one and V was pathetically whipped, when it came to the cop. Hopefully he wouldn’t come up with anything too outrageous, like robbing a bank… Huh, that could be pretty interesting, actually. Not the ski-mask wearing, bank clerk threatening take on things, of course, more of an Ocean 11 kinda thing.

“Sorry about dumping this on ya,” Butch muttered, looking up from the dough he was kneading dutifully. He looked fucking ridiculous with the wannabe salt and pepper hair and the smudge on his cheek. “Know you have enough on your plate at the moment, buddy.” His gaze flickered to V’s twitching eyelid, which was usually covered by his, well, their Red Sox cap. Vishous hadn’t bothered wearing it in the Pit. Butch probably knew all about it, anyway, including what his nightmare was about. That was a whole new nightmare in the making to be honest…

“Don’t rack your brain about it, Cop, true?” V nodded to the dough, while his hands deftly worked on a self-rolled. “Throw a towel over that and leave it alone for an hour or so.” A smirk curled the corner of his lips. “You can use that time to play Cinderella and scrub the kitchen clean.”

And Vishous would spend it working on… something, as long as he was far away from Butch and the cop’s growing problem.

Fucking post-trans horniness.

#vutch #black dagger brotherhood #black dagger #butch #butch o'neal #dhestroyer #vishous #slash #fanfiction #vishous/butch #butch/vishous

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