#and he stayed up late to watch me and wake me up to take tylenol and drink n stuff. :CCC

[mod2amaryllis]

everyone has to send jose 1,000,000 dollars because he's been nursing me the past 24hrs

#i was so sick last night it was making me anxious #and he stayed up late to watch me and wake me up to take tylenol and drink n stuff. :CCC #i love him fuck..

[measuredingold]

hi, angel <33 back with a request! also also no pressure at all ofc, if you’re not vibing with it just delete 🥰

just had a lil fluff idea, friends to lovers type beat. reader is on tour with the band, tagging along as a friend when she’s out late one night with the guys, gets a lil drunk/tipsy and ends up in the wrong bunk. (Noah’s.) he didn’t go out, he went to bed early. she doesn’t realize and she’s like “what are you doing in my bed?”

neither of them end up moving, and it doesn’t help that she’s a cuddly drunk. plus, he has a hard time saying no to you 🥺💗

anyway, do with that what you will 💖

just friends

authors note: thank you so much lovely anon for requesting this! i enjoyed writing this and kind of want to take it further, but i'm not sure? :) anyways, i hope this is what you were looking for and you enjoy it <3 reminder that my requests are open! also, happy birthday noah :)

pairing: noah sebastian x reader

cross-posted on ao3

word count: 2.6k

cw/tags: fluff (like tooth-rotting fluff imo), friends to lovers, confessions/admission of feelings, drinking/reader is drunk, 18+ minors do not interact

"Easy there, girl."

You giggled as Nicholas helped you onto the bus, his hands pressed against the small of your back to keep you in place. You didn't even mean to drink this, usually not one to do so, but after Folio had challenged you to see how many shots you could take in under a minute you had to prove to him that it definitely was more than two. Now here you were, giggling obnoxiously to yourself as Nicholas guided you onto the bus, feet tripping over one another.

"Nick," You hum, eyes squinting around the bus. "Is the room spinning?"

"It very much is not. You," A finger pressed to your forehead, and you barely registered that Nicholas was now in front of you, a smile tugging at his lips, "are very much drunk, though. Come on, let's get you to bed. Go change and I'll get you some water and Tylenol for that headache that should be kicking in... now."

You go to retort, but there was already a dull pain in the back of your head causing you to wince. Your headaches came a lot earlier when you drank, not waiting until the morning to hit. You give him a grateful smile when he hands you your bag you kept above one of the seats up front, knowing your drunk ass could not get that even if you tried your hardest, and you pulled out a change of clothes and made your way back to the very small, and very tight bathroom.

You change, clumsily, and shuffle your way back to the front of the bus where Nicholas was waiting for you. You take the Tylenol and bottle of water gratefully, swallowing down the medicine in one go. You take a few more sips of water, realizing just how thirsty you were before deciding you were good to go, twisting the cap back on a tossing it onto the couch.

“Good?” You nod, giving Nicholas a thumbs up in response. He smiles. “Alright. I’m gonna meet back up with guys, but Noah’s still here.”

Your brows furrow for a moment before you remember that Noah is still on the bus, opting out of going out with you and the crew after tonight’s show. You give Nicholas another nod as your response.

“If you need anything, just wake Noah up. He’ll get you whatever you need.” He leans forward now, tipping his head down to press his lips to your forehead, and you smile brightly up at him when he pulls away. “And if he doesn’t, hit ‘em upside the head and then call me.”

You laugh, “I’m sure I’ll be fine if I need anything. I’m drunk, not injured.”

He rolls his eyes at you before you gently shove him away, pushing him towards the door. You say your goodbyes and watch the door shut behind Nicholas, leaving you to stand alone in the front of the bus all by yourself. You stay put for a second, the dizziness coming back before a yawn rips from you, and you decide to finally shuffle your way towards the bunks.

All you needed was your favorite blanket and your bunk, and that duck squishmallow Noah had gotten you a few months ago. It’s quiet and you think Noah’s probably asleep already, and you yawn again as you finally reach your bunch, pulling the curtain back. You stare quizzically, though, at the man curled up in your bunk, and he stares right back, brows raised and just as confused.

"What the hell are you doing in my bunk?"

Noah blinks at you before pulling his airpods out, a brow raised. "What?"

"I said," You let go of the curtain to place a hand on your hip. "What the hell are you doing in my bunk, Davis?"

He stares at you for a beat before his lips slowly start curling into a smile.

"How drunk are you?" Noah squints at you.

"Why does that matter?" You argue, words slurring slightly. "I'm drunk and you're in my bunk. Two very obvious and true things. Now answer my question."

Noah snorts out a laugh. "You're right about one thing, you definitely are drunk. This is my bunk, though."

If you were sober, you would realize that yes, he was right. This was definitely not your bunk, yours was right below his, but for some reason in your drunk and hazy mind you were sure that this was your bunk. It looked just like it - just like the rest of the damn bunks on this bus - so it had to be true. You purse your lips, arms crossing over your chest.

“Very funny, Noah. Now get out, I’m tired and want to go to sleep.”

“I’m not moving.” He says more firmly, eyes narrowing at you. “This is my bunk, yours is over there.”

You turn as he points to the bunk across from his, the curtains drawn, and you squint. You look back at him, then back at the other bunk, and a voice in the back of your head is telling you that he was right. That was your bunk, not the one Noah was currently occupying. None of your stuff is there, your pillow isn’t even there, but for some reason the drunk – and very stubborn – part of you was firm on your stance.

Noah was in your bunk.

You turn back to him, arms still crossed over your chest, and you square your shoulders. “I’m just gonna climb up if you’re not moving, dude. So, either get out or we’re cuddle buddies for the rest of the night.”

The two of you stare at each other for a moment and you see the exact where Noah’s shoulders drop, realizing there’s no point in arguing with you because you are right (no, you’re not) and he sighs deeply, though you barely catch the slight curl of his lips.

“Whatever. Get in.”

You climb into the bunk beside Noah, slowly because you knew in your inebriated state that was a disaster waiting to happen, and the boy sighs to himself again, rolling onto his side and pressing his back against the wall to make room for you. You roll onto your side, back facing Noah, and press against him. It wasn't hard to do with how tight the space was, and you hummed to yourself when you finally got comfortable enough to relax, pulling the blanket up to your chin.

"Comfy?" You hear Noah murmur behind you.

You nod, "Very."

"Good."

You feel him shift behind you and if you had been sober, maybe the thought of being so close to him would have your skin blazing, but as your thoughts swirl, the only thing you can really think is how nice he feels pressed against you and how comfortable you are. His arm slings over your waist underneath the blanket and you swear he pulls you closer to him, if that was possible. A pleased sigh escapes him, the air fanning over the back of your neck. Now that has your body firing up, tiny goosebumps scattering across your skin. You melt against him.

"Why didn't you go out?" You ask through a yawn, eyes fluttering.

"Didn't want to."

"Why not? Everyone else did."

"Just wasn't in the mood," He mumbles behind you, his breath fanning against the back of your neck again. "Cold? You got goosebumps.”

You shake your head but feel Noah pull you closer anyways, sweatpant covered legs slipping in between yours. His limbs snake around yours and practically confines you, locking you against him. You're finding out that you like it way more than you probably should for a friend, but the drunken haze of your mind doesn't care too much about the technicalities of it all. 

"Did you miss me?" You ask after another beat of silence, and you feel Noah's body tense behind you.

“…Maybe."

"Maybe?"

"Yeah, maybe."

You pause. "Is that why you're in my bunk right now? Because you missed me?"

Noah lets out a groan and you can't help but smirk, soft giggles escaping you. You feel his hand move down to your hip, pushing your shirt up slightly to pinch at your skin playfully and you squeal, squirming against him. You barely move because this six-three, giant man has you tight in his grasp, and you feel his chest move against your back with his laughter. 

"Oh my fucking god," He grumbles into your hair, but you hear the smile in his voice. "Go to sleep. Please."

"I'm trying." You whine out, eyes slipping shut at the feeling of his hand now spreading out against your tummy, rubbing soothing circles there. "My head hurts too much."

"Did you take anything?"

"Mhm." You hum. "Nicholas gave me some Tylenol and water before he met back up with the guys."

"You drink all the water?"

You shrug. “Maybe like half?”

"Good enough for me." You feel the brush of his lips against the back of your neck and your eyes spring open, freezing in his hold. "You just need to relax. It should start kicking in soon."

You don't say anything, hyper-focused on the way his lips felt against your skin and the way you liked it too much. Even in your inebriated state you knew what that meant, and maybe you always had, but was just too scared to even think of the possibility. You and Noah were just friends... who sometimes teetered the line between friends and something else. It went unspoken for as long as you could remember, and you're not sure why you never said anything. 

You don't know if it's the alcohol, or if you're finally sobering up, but your stomach turns at the thought. Why didn't you say anything? Why didn't he say anything? You feel dizzy again, and there's a voice in the back of your head trying to tell you to shut up and sleep but you've never been a good listener, even to yourself, and your lips move before you can think twice about it. 

"Noah." Your voice is hushed and the feel of his fingers rubbing circles against your bare hip as your head spinning more than it probably should be right now.

"Hm?" 

"You do realize friends don't do this, right?"

It takes him a moment to reply, "Do what?"

"This."

You feel more sober than you did five minutes prior. You're aware of everything - where you are, who you're with, who you're pressed against. Noah lets out a sigh and you feel him nose at your shoulder, a shiver running through your body at the feeling.

"You know we’ve never exactly been just friends."

You can't believe he had just said that as your eyes almost bulge right out of your head, and you try to turn in his arms so that you can face him.

"Noah-"

His grip only tightens on you, and you can't move, stuck where you are, and you hear him huff out a laugh before saying, "Nope. No way. We’re not having this talk right now when you’re drunk as shit, and we’re trapped in this glorified death box. Go to sleep.”

"But-"

"If you remember this in the morning, then ask me again." You feel his lips move against the back of your neck and you shiver again, squirming against him.

"I will." You finally whisper after two beats of silence, trying to settle back against his chest. "I'll ask you tomorrow."

He presses another kiss to the back of your neck and your entire body flushes, and you can hear the smile in his voice when he says, "Okay."

You both lay in silence and it's not long for sleep to find you, body finally relaxing after the long night.

…

You wake some hours later, groaning quietly as you lifted your head up from the pillow. You blink blearily around you before rubbing at your eyes, trying to rid them of sleep as last night’s shenanigans flooded your brain. With another groan you roll onto your back and stare up at the top of the bunk, picking a part your memories.

Going out with the guys, taking way too many shots with Folio, Nicholas having to walk you back to the bus, the Tylenol, Noah… Your mind pauses at the thought of the male, and you realize you’re in the bunk alone. You remember everything clearly, from arguing with him about how this was your bunk – it in fact very much was not – from climbing into said bunk and cuddling with him. You remember him saying that the two of you have never been just friends but refused to elaborate.

If you remember this in the morning, then ask me again.

The bus is quiet, the only sound you hear are Jolly’s snores coming from below you, and the soft sound of the bus’s engine running. You were most likely on your way to the next city. You’re sure Noah’s already up, probably in the front working away on his laptop, and you peel his blanket off your body and do your best to get down from his bunk.

You find him where you expected him, beanie on top his head and hoodie wrapped around his body, headphones on as he typed away at his laptop. You’d make a joke about him always working, but you’re only thinking of one thing right now.

You come stand in front of him and he notices you almost instantly, pushing his headphones off his head as he stares up at you.

“Morning, sleeping beauty.”

You blush, eyes dropping for a moment as your arms come to cross over your chest.

“What did you mean last night?” You blurt out.

Noah pauses but his eyes never leave you, and you watch as he slips his computer off his lap and into the seat next to him. He leans forward, elbows resting against his knees.

“Ask me again.”

“No, I’m not-“ You huff out a groan and brush your fingers through your hair, wincing a bit at the knots that caught between your hands. “I’m not playing that game, Noah. What did you mean we’ve never exactly been just friends?”

“It’s exactly what it sounds like.” He leans back against the couch now, arms crossing over his chest. “And you know I’m right.”

Your heart hammers against your chest and all you can do is nod at his words, cheeks flushing with color. He was right. You two have never been just friends, too close, too touchy to be labeled as platonic. You’d be lying if you said last night was the first time you shared a bed together. But now what? You got the answer you were looking for, but for some reason you can’t even look at Noah, but his eyes are burning into you, watching your every move.

“Okay…” You start, sucking in a breath as you finally moved your gaze back to Noah, eyes locking with his. “If we’re not just friends, then what does that make us?”

He smiles. “People who like each other more than friends but are too scared to admit it?”

Damn. He got that spot on. You blush again, trying to find the right words, but come up short. Your brain is still playing catch up, sleep still very much in your veins, and Noah notices. He leans forward again and gestures you to come closer and you do, his hands reaching out to grab your own.

“We have the next two days off. Let me take you out. Dinner or something. A movie. Whatever you want.”

“And then what?”

He shrugs. “And then we see where this goes. I’m willing to give it a try if you are.”

You can’t stop the smile that’s slipping onto your lips, your fingers curling around his as warmth spread throughout your chest.

“That sounds good to me.”

#bad omens fanfiction #bad omens fanfic #bad omens fic #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian fic #mine #request

[takeeachdayonebookatatime]

Law and order svu fanfiction

Video killed the pedophile part 6

Elliot: pov I ask Fin if I can see Liv to make sure she is okay and why is no one in the room with her. He says someone is Brian's in there with her now, and for me to stop acting like I care, you're the reason she is here in the first place. I'm so mad right now that Brian is on the approved list and I'm not. Fin says ghosting someone does that to you.

Fin: pov Elliot is very upset he can't see Liv. I tell him if you keep acting like this I might not let you visit her at all. Elliot asks if he can talk to her alone. I then open the door and usher Elliot and Ayanna into her room. I put the food down and tell Brian let's go chat with her Dr while Liv lets out her anger on Elliot. I tell Ayanna to watch him because I don't think he can behave.

Liv: pov Fin and Bri go leave to talk with my Dr, i'm now stuck with Elliot in my room, my anger towards him is insane and so is my headache but I'm also grateful he is alive. I'm holding my bear Bri gave me when Elliot says Liv baby I'm so sorry I did not want you to get hurt over this. I angrily say don't call me that detective Stabler. It's Captain Benson.

Ayanna: pov ouch this is ruff and awkward a few minutes later Fin and Brian come back in the room talking. Fin says since Liv can't take anything stronger than tylenol or Advil her Dr is trying to figure something else out, he also says the dark is an issue but with her being sensitive to the light they will have to try and figure out how to solve the issue. Brian says the bear I gave her glows in the dark and can be warmed up, to help her head not hurt as much. Captain Benson says Bri thanks for the gift, you can go home you don't have to stay Fin is. As soon as she says Bri I can tell Elliot is about to explode. Fin says to Brian, I have off tomorrow and dad and munch are stopping by sometime tomorrow in the morning and afternoon, so depending on which one of us gets a case the other spends the night he says fine. Muncy and Joe will visit tomorrow on the way to work.

Elliot: pov fin pulls me in the hallway while Brian says goodbye to Liv I ask if I can have a few of the days to help take care of Liv and Fin says no not going to happen. But I will let you visit her. Fin is getting on my nerves. I tell him I'm her partner and you are not, so stop controlling her and making decisions behind her back. Fin starts to laugh and say behind her back this was her decision she is angry at you don't you get it. She needs time to think, you keep doing stupid stuff like this and losing her trust. Fin says It's getting late and you should get home.

Fin: pov a nurse comes in the room and gives her some more nausea meds, that way she can eat some soup thankfully it stays in. It's starting to get late, her head is really bothering her, after a while she finally falls asleep with her head resting on Brian's bear. I hope it helps I make sure her blanket is covering her, I know in a few hours a nurse will be in to wake her up. It's now 2 am and I'm woken to the sounds of Liv screaming. She is having a very bad nightmare, i don't want to scare her but she needs to wake up. I calmly call her name and tell her it's okay, you're safe, finally she wakes up crying saying Lewis killed Elliot he tracked him down and killed him. I tell her Elliot is okay, you were just having a very bad dream. Liv is hyperventilating and won't calm down. I think her PTSD is acting up, thankfully they are keeping a night time Dr at the hospital just in case she needs him. I hit the call button and a nurse comes running in.

Liv: pov I'm emotional from the nightmare, i'm having trouble breathing which is scaring me.

Fin: pov I explain the problem to the nurse and she runs and gets the night time Dr. I told him when she was attacked 8 years ago the guy pistol whipped her on the head, among other things and I think the concussion is triggering her. She keeps saying she needs to see Elliot make sure he is okay. She won't calm down and is hyperventilating badly, me and the Dr agree for me to call him because they can't sedate her because of the concussion. The Dr puts an oxygen mask on her face and tells her to take deep breaths.

Elliot: pov in my sleep i hear my phone ringing it must be my dream. I wake up and reach for the phone so I can answer it. It's Fin why is he calling me at 2 in the morning something must be wrong. I ask him if everything is okay with Liv, he says she had a bad nightmare and won't calm down. Since she is hyperventilating me and her DR decided to call you. She needs to see that you are alive. I quickly get dressed and run out the door. A nurse is waiting for me to take me to Liv's room, the nurse says they are only doing this because of Liv's PTSD and nightmares.

Liv: pov a nurse quietly knocks on the door before opening it, Elliot walks in and starts trying to apologize. I tell him to stop apologizing, save it for someone else. Elliot gives me a hug and talks with me for a few minutes. Once Elliot leaves the nurse comes back in to check on me and ask me some questions. My head is pounding. To be continued. ……

#lawanordersvu #fanfiction #tvshows #oliviabenson #mariskahargitay #elliotstabler #christophermeloni #icet #fintutuola #briancassidy #joevelasco #gracemuncy #amandarollins #kelligiddish

[scuttle-buttle]

WC: 2261

Rated: M

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

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

Blame @hardlyinteresting

🧠

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It rings four times.

“Bärchen, why are you call-”

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

______

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

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

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

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

Laszlo.

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

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

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

“Laz-”

“-No-”

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

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

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

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

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

__________

Two weeks. 14 days.

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

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

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

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

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

He never could say no to you.

______

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

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

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

“My water broke.”

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

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

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

_____

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I love you so much.”

“As I love you.”

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

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

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

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

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

Tag list

@hardlyinteresting @lorna-d-m @livvyshmiv @somethingthatsaysbubbles @greeneyedblondie44 @unbeatablecurlgirl @apparrio @marchingicenotes7 @anteroom-of-death @bruhidaniel @lemairepstuff @thehuiabird @zemosimp05 @alindeluce @iamnotthecatladynextdoor @laura-naruto-fan1998 @trelaney @boneheadduluc @i-am-dead-inside-666 @fictionlandslanddreams @that-one-fandom-kid @hb8301 @fandom-princess-forevermore @foggycandywitch @creme-bruhlee @andy-rocks @nonamec0s @everythingbeginsineternity-blog @uncomfortablebagel @rachelicouss @wisia02

#peri psyches #the interpretation of dreams #psychopathia sexualis #laszlo kreizler x reader #papa laszlo kreizler #laszlo kreizler fanfic #laszlo x reader #laszlo kreizler #the alienist #daniel brühl #daniel bruhl #daniel bruhl laszlo kreizler #daniel bruhl x reader #daniel brühl x reader #daniel bruhl fanfiction #pregnancy #pregnancy complications #medical procedure #anxiety #childbirth #scuttle-buttle

[willwriteforhugs]

just a sniffle!- hwang hyunjin

boyfriend! hyunjin x reader- one shot !

word count: 1.6k

genre: fluff, domestic scenario

synopsis: after your boyfriend comes home from a long day, you swear you can detect a scratch in his throat... but he insists he’s fine. fast forward 12 hours, and hyunjin is practically bed-ridden with fever. and now what...

warnings: sickness/a high fever (obviously), minor cursing

a/n: this prompt was requested by an anon!! i hope i didn’t take too long to put this out- it takes me forever to edit when the fic in question is a request, because i just want it to be perfect :’) anyways, to my lovely anon: thank you for the request, and i hope you enjoy!

- - -

earlier, when hyunjin had told you he’d be able to get off early, you’d been over the moon- it was a rare occurrence, after all. your boyfriend has- as many idols do- an extremely hectic schedule, with practices often going late into the night. so when he’d said the two of you would be able to spend the evening together, it had taken all your self-control not to start cheering right then and there. but you had managed to stay calm- and still devise a thorough, detailed plan of how the night would go.

you would make dinner, and it would be ready by the time hyunjin got to your place- because who doesn’t love being welcomed by a warm meal? then, after you eat, hyunjin can run and get cleaned up while you do dishes. when that’s all done, the two of you can get down to business by binge watching all the drama episodes you’d missed. (you never watched them without him, even though you usually fall way behind in the show, due to his lack of free time. he insists that you shouldn’t wait- but you love to watch them with him, so you always let them pile up...)

now, in the moment, you scurry aimlessly about your apartment. dinner is ready, waiting to be served in the kitchen, so you walk around your front room. you know that everything is clean- this is the fourth time you’ve checked. but still, this isn’t an everyday thing, and you want the place to be tidy for your boyfriend. (you also know he doesn’t really care all that much- but it’s the thought that counts, right?)

your train of thoughts ends abruptly when a knock sounds from the front door. already smiling, you rush to answer it- and sure enough, there he is.

hyunjin stands in your front entryway, tilting his head as he looks at you. a smile toys at his lips, and he extends an arm. fighting your own glee, you lean into his embrace, breathing in his familiar scent.

“hey,” you say into his chest. he hums in reply, and you stand there for a moment, simply appreciating each other. after a beat has passed, you speak up again. “let’s go inside.”

the two of you enter, hyunjin closing the door behind him. he’s wearing a casual outfit, made up of just black sweats and a hat. you assume he’s already showered, too, because, well- you won’t lie- he usually doesn’t smell that great after a long practice. but he seems clean, and all for the better- that just means the schedule gets sped up, and more time for the two of you! 

as he usually does, your boyfriend wanders into your bedroom to set down his things, not lingering. he meets you back in the kitchen as you begin to serve the food. you see him smile at the spread, and finally he speaks: “wow, babe. that’s a lot of food.”

at the sound of his voice, you start a bit. it’s much lower than usual, and you detect a bit of scratchiness in it. without looking up, you make your inquiry: “are you feeling well? you sound a bit froggy.”

hyunjin snorts at your description. “froggy? you really are something...”

you smile, bringing two servings of food to the table. as you begin to eat, the two of you settle into comfortable silence. 

as the meal continues, though, you feel yourself begin to frown. despite his obvious attempts to hide it, hyunjin seems to be having trouble swallowing his food. with every bite, you see your boyfriend flinch just a bit. 

not being able to take it any longer, you set your chopsticks down. “really, hyunjin-ah. you don’t seem well, are you getting a cold?”

your boyfriend makes a mocking pouty face at you. clearing his throat, he responds: “i’m fine, y/n. i really am, so don’t baby me.”

you give a half hearted glare. “fine. but if you wake up tomorrow feeling like shit, don’t say i didn’t warn you.”

- - -

you had been right, of course.

and, for the record, you had warned him.

it’s 6:48 in the morning, and both of you were awake. you lean over in bed, switching on the light. laying in a pathetic lump on your other side, hyunjin groans loudly. you turn back around to face him. “hyunjin-ah, seriously. let me feel your head, you’ve been coughing all night!”

the lump that happens to be your boyfriend shifts to face you in bed. you frown once you can seem him clearly- his face is red, and his eyes are watery from the coughing. you place your own cool palm on his forehead, and almost jerk back in surprise. “babe, you’re burning up!”

flinging your blankets away, you spring out of bed. “hyunjin!” you groan. “i knew you sounded off, why wouldn’t you say anything?”

he coughs again, finally managing to clear his throat. in his raspy voice, he manages: “i didn’t want to ruin your night. i knew you were excited.”

you sigh, knowing the feeling, and hating the understanding. hyunjin was overworked, truly. he shouldn’t have felt the need to lie just to spend time with you, no matter how excited you were...

“c’mon.” you say nudging him in the hips. “sit up, i’ll get you some painkillers and water. are you hungry?”

he grunts in response. when you don’t move, he finally mutters into his pillow: “i don’t know.”

a smile tugs at your lips at this. “that’s alright. i’ll get you a bit anyways.”

you know that hyunjin’s dramatics are probably a conductor to this situation, but a tiny part of you is excited at this opportunity to spoil him, even if it’s at his expense. 

in the kitchen, you dig around for the promised medicine and some snacks, then pour a glass of water.

when you re enter your bedroom, you see hyunjin has managed to sit up. his tall figure is slumped as he leans against the headboard of your bed. nonetheless, he smiles as you enter the room. “you’re so pretty in the mornings,” he mumbles.

you gently smack his head as you set down the water glass. “oh, shut up. at least take the meds first so you’ll be able to defend yourself later on.”

at this, he chuckles- but the joy quickly dissipates as the laugh turns into a pained cough. you use your palm to rub circles over his back as he regains his breath. the fit passes, but the tension in the air doesn’t. 

in perfect unison, the two of you sigh.

hyunjin breaks the silence. “i’m so sorry, y/n. i should have just told you i wasn’t feeling well last night... maybe we could have caught it before it got this bad.”

you give him a bittersweet smile. “your pride can be a weakness, my love.”

at this, hyunin puts his hand to his chest in fake shock. “i can’t believe you’d say such things to me. and while i’m ill!”

“it’s just a cold, your highness. take the tylenol and see how that helps.” you pause, knowing that he is probably in more pain than he’s letting on- you can tell because he was covering it with humor, something he rarely does. “do you- do you want a washcloth or something? an ice pack?”

your boyfriend’s expression is warm. his voice is still uneven, and he responds in an almost whisper: “is that alright?”

your heart stutters at his demeanor. “yes, that’s alright.”

when you return with the cold washcloth, hyunjin has slid down a bit- now only half sitting up. his eyes are closed, though you suspect he isn’t asleep, at least not fully. but you can tell he’s exhausted from being up all night with his sneezing and coughing... maybe he really is asleep...

you make your way to him, and pause to admire his peaceful face. he truly is beautiful... you reach over and gently sweep his long hair away from his forehead, allowing your fingers to linger. he’s still very warm to the touch, and you can’t help but worry for him. after a moment, you swap your hand for the washcloth, draping it gently across his already damp forehead. 

you aren’t really sure how to properly care for a sick person, but a cold compress seems to be what all the dramas suggest. so you sit back down and hope for the best. 

a few minutes pass- hyunjin breathing peacefully in the bed, and you in a nearby chair watching him. suddenly, your counterpart’s eyes flicker open, deep brown eyes meeting your own. “y/n-ah?” he rasps.

you almost launch out of your chair. “yes? are you alright?”

hyunjin gives a half-hearted snort as his eyes drift shut again. he continues to speak without seeing you. “i’m fine. but- will- do you mind sitting with me? over here?”

you stare at him for a moment, processing. then you smile. “yeah, i can do that. as long as you don’t get me sick.”

“no promises.”

and with that, you crawl back into bed with hyunjin, his back to you. you scoot up a bit, positioning yourself so you can hug him from behind. you’ve never been the big spoon before- but honestly? you love it, and you bury your face in between his shoulder blades, filled with an overwhelming rush of affection.

“y/n?” comes hyunjin’s voice again, very quietly.

you don’t move, answering into his back. “yes?”

“i love you.” 

and with that, hyunjin slips back into sleep, this time nestled in your arms.

#stray kids imagines #stray kids #stray kids x reader #stray kids scenarios #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin imagines #hyunjin fluff #kpop fics #kpop writing #kpop scenarios #skz scenarios #skz #skz imagines #skz x reader #skz au #bang chan #lee minho #lee know #seo changbin #han jisung #lee felix #kim seungmin #yang jeongin #i.n. stray kids

[billyrussohaven]

My sweet Emilly

Billy Russo / Reader

Rated: PG (for now)

A/N: So I’m feverish and been feeling like absolute rubbish since getting my 2nd covid shot last Thursday. I can’t sleep and my brain came up with a cute Dad!Billy story. I might do a second part if you guys like it, we shall see!

Credit: @mainlysubmv​

Follow me!

“Just where do you think you’re going dressed like that exactly?” Billy asked his daughter sternly, looking up at her over his glasses. Glasses that he was still getting used to by the way. You kept telling him he looked like a hotter version of Clark Kent but it still seemed to hurt his pride. Billy Russo needing glasses, insane right? What was even more insane was just how much his sweet Emily looked all grown up these days. Her seventeen birthday last month had hit him like a train. He stared at her and let a long sigh out.

Emily reappeared, taking a few steps backwards, tugging down on her green hoodie dress and rolled her shoulder nervously the doorway of the living room. A little nervous gesture she shared with her father that always made you smile.

“It ain’t that bad Billy,” you said looking up from your crochet project on your lap to his daughter’s outfit, your step-daughter.

“It is on the short side but she’s smart and careful, isn’t that right, Millie?” You said, giving her a quick look with a wink.

She grinned back at you before turning to look at her dad.

“It’s still warm out Da…and I have a pair of leggings if it gets colder later,” she said, opening up her backpack and showing him a black pair of leggings, smiling back at him. He snorted at her innocent-like face, he knew better, she was after all his own daughter.

“Fine. No heels. Wear those ridiculously worn-out converse of yours,” he said letting it go and dismissing her with a smirk. She zipped her bag up and ran to give her dad a quick kiss on the cheek. She was out of the room as fast as she entered it.

“Back at midnight! I’ll be with Devin!” Emily said loudly already halfway to the front door.

“11PM!” Billy yelled right as the front door closed with a loud thud. He rolled his eyes and shook his head.

“Wait, who? The fuck’s Devin? Wasn’t it that Jay-” he said with a deep frown turning to look at you.

“Jeremy,” you corrected him going back to your crocheting.

“Jeremy…last week?” He continued giving you a stern look for correcting him that made you chuckle. He rolled his eyes heavenward, taking his glasses off and rubbed his tired face with a groan. You reached to caress his soft hair and smiled. You didn’t comment, you knew he could be a bit overprotective of his Emily sometimes but dads were often that way with their daughters. It reminded you of your own dad and  the shit you did in your youth. It was a wonder he still had some hair left…

*****

Billy woke up abruptly and sat up yawning, looking at the alarm clock on his nightstand next to the still turned on lamp.

1:25AM

He had fallen asleep in bed reading while waiting for Millie to come home. He turned his sleepy face to you sleeping soundly next to him. He smiled gazing at your serene face and caressed the side of your face softly. He heard a loud thud. He frowned and turned around instantly to the door, listening intently. He quietly got out of the bed, tiptoeing to the door, silent as a cat.

“Ow!” a hushed voice said after another loud thud. Billy yanked the bedroom door open and walked face to face with his daughter. His daughter who definitely wasn’t in her pajamas, dressed exactly the same as earlier and who reeked of alcohol and cigarettes.

She looked up at her dad glaring at her with disappointment etched all over his face. Her dark brown eyes filled with tears and hurt behind her drunken state. She broke down in sobs and hid her face in her hands. Billy’s heart broke at seeing her cry like that. He was very angry and disappointed at her for coming back home so late and drunk on top of it. He sighed and walked to embrace her tightly as she cried. She held him tightly, her warm tears running down his chest. He kissed the top of her head and rubbed her back.

“You know better than that, Millie. Walkin’ home drunk instead of calling me or Y/N,” he said softly yet sternly. He cradled her head in his hand and moved to look at her tear stained face. Her chest was racking with sobs and her lower lip was quivering as she looked up at him. He had a feeling she wasn’t crying only because he caught her drunk and way past her 11PM curfew.

“What happened? Talk to me princess,” he asked with a sad frown, brushing her hair back from her face. She broke down into even louder wails and he had to hold part of her weight to help her stay upright.

You put your mid-thigh satin robe on and walked to see what was going on. The light of the bedroom pooled in the darkened hallway as you opened the door wider and you gave Billy a sad smile. The poor thing was so upset and in no state to think clearly. You took a few steps and rubbed her back.

“It’s okay princess, why don’t Y/N help you get ready for bed and we can talk tomorrow,” he said, giving Emily a concerned look. She nodded as he rubbed her tears away with his thumbs. He gave her a kiss on her forehead and let you take her to her bedroom. You grabbed his hand on the way and gave it a squeeze before letting go.

You walked a wobbly and sniffly Emily to her bedroom where she flopped and sat down on the edge of her bed dropping her bag with a loud thud. You walked to her own connecting bathroom from her bedroom and grabbed a small square towel. You ran it under the cool water and wrung it. You took a bottle of tylenol knowing she was gonna need it in the morning and a tall glass of water too.

You walked back to Millie who was undressing and putting on her pajamas. You were somewhat impressed she didn’t fall on her butt taking her leggings off before stepping into her pajamas shorts.

“Here, drink this you’ll feel better,” you said softly, handing her the glass of water. She nodded and drank half of it before putting it down on her nightstand next to the two Tylenol for tomorrow morning. You rubbed the cool wet cloth on her forehead and neck and she sighed before letting another sob out.

“I’m-I’m sorry I woke you up. I didn’t mean to get home alone so late…Da looked so upset,” she said, hugging you and cried on your shoulder. You hushed her soothingly and rocked her a bit, hugging her back.

“He still loves you, Millie. He’s just disappointed you came home so late and in a very vulnerable state I might add. Now, I’m not gonna scold you, it’s not my place but something could have happened to you baby,” you said brushing her hair back.

“We much rather have you wake us up late to pick you up than having you stumble drunkenly home alone. What happened? I thought you were hanging out with Devin?” You asked, helping her get in bed. She started crying again at the name and you knew right away the poor girl was heartbroken.

“W-we went to this party together a-and it was really fun. Everything was great, we’re great friends and I love when Devin’s around, you know?” She mumbled, looking at you with her father’s dark brown eyes filled with hurt.

“B-but we drank and I-I I thought Devin liked me a lot too and we kissed but-” She didn’t have to finish her sentence, you knew. You sighed and cradled her small frame in your arms.

“She abruptly stepped back, pushing me away a-and calling me names and stuff. S-she left a-and I didn’t have money for a cab because I paid the fare to get there. She was supposed to pay the cab fare back a-and then I didn’t want to call Da and have him angry at me.” She said, wiping her wet face in her pillow. You nodded, brushing her soft hair soothingly.

“Get some good sleep now, we’ll talk more tomorrow, alright? You suggested standing up and tucked her in. She nodded with a sniffle and closed her eyes.

"Thank you Y/N…Nini,” she said softly, watching you walk away to the door. You turned and gave her a warm smile,

“Anytime Millie. Good night sweetheart,” you said before flipping the light switch off and closing her bedroom door.

You tiptoed out of her bedroom and back to your own where Billy was sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting for you. He looked up at you, his face conflicted and tired.

“How is she?” He asked standing up to give you a tight embrace. He really appreciated how you were with Emily, the special bond you had developed with her. It made him love you even more as he kissed your head.

“She’s young, in love and broken-hearted I’m afraid,” you said with a long sigh, resting your head on his chest. You gave him a brief summary of what she had told you. You felt a bit guilty at reporting it all back to Billy but he’d probably know sooner or later too.

“I’m gonna beat the shit out of him when I find him,” he snarled pacing in front of you. He brushed his hair back and thought about the best way to throttle the asshole.

“Devin is a girl, Billy.” You said with a small smile, wondering what his reaction was gonna be.

He stopped pacing abruptly and his eyebrows shot upwards as he looked back at you dumbstruck.

“Oh! Oh,” he said, rolling his shoulders and clearing his throat. You looked back at him with one eyebrow up wondering what was going on in his head at the moment.

“Well, I guess I won’t…punch the brat then,” he said somewhat sheepishly and a bit confused. Not that it mattered to Billy if his little Millie liked guys or girls. It’s just…

“She never really talked about it. She always showed up with  boyfriends before so I guess I just…took it for granted really,” he said with a frown sitting by the bed. After a long silence he looked up at you with a vulnerability that broke your heart to see.

“Am I a bad father for it?” He asked, his voice wavering slightly, he cleared his throat and rolled his shoulder, looking at the picture frame of her on his nightstand.

You took your robe off and stood in front of him between his legs. You cradled the side of his face and tilted it up so he’d look at you.

“No, Billy. It doesn’t make you a bad father, baby,” you brushed a strand of hair away from his eye.

“I guess you two just never really brought it up. I remember when I was seventeen myself, a young woman still in high-school, afraid of being bullied for being any kind of different,” you said with a sigh, remembering how cruel high-school was.

Billy scoffed and sneered at his own memories of it. Lonely guy from the group home with no family or friends beside small pets he’d keep in jars. He smiled warmly with a silent snort remembering how Emily had her own pet snail for a while and how much she took care of the little one.

“She might still be figuring herself out too,” you added with a shrug.

“Yeah, I’ll talk to her tomorrow anyway, maybe she’ll want to open up and chat about all of this,” he said, rubbing his tired face with his hands. You kissed him slowly before breaking the kiss and crawling back in bed in your short satin nightie. He groaned looking back at you, suddenly very awake for almost 3AM. He rolled over on the bed and pulled you flat against his body with a sly smirk. You chuckled at the attention he gave you and kissed him languidly with a moan.

“I’m still gonna scold her ass,” he mumbled over your lips, reaching over you and turning off the light.

A/N: Random Fact. My fiancé’s name is Devin. I remembered him telling me he had a girl classmate once in school named Devin. 😋

#Billy Russo #Billy Russo Imagine #Billy Russo Fanfiction #Billy Russo Fanfics #dad!billy #billy russo x reader #billy russo x you #billy russo/reader #billy russo/you

[equestrianwritingsstuff]

For the BTHB... Villain with appendicitis?

Thank you for the ask!

Rupturing

@badthingshappenbingo

Warnings: appendectomy, fever, anxious character, painkillers, pills, vomit, anesthesia, surgery, IV, needles, refusal of medical care

~

9:01. He was a minute late.

9:05. Five minutes late.

9:15. Hero started to pace around, kicking pebbles with her foot.

9:20. She was starting to get nervous. Villain was never, ever late.

9:30. Okay, this was getting absurd.

Hero stood up, grabbed her phone, and called Villain. It rang, but never clicked.

He didn't answer.

Hero bit her lip, a nauseating pit forming in her gut.

Something was wrong. Villain was always overly stressed about time and always showed up at nine- not a second too late.

So, naturally, being the anxious, paranoid worry wort that Hero was, she went to check up on him.

Of course, Hero spent all her freetime figuring out where Villain lived if there was an instance like the current one.

Upon knocking at the beige door, that nauseous feeling overcame her again. Something was wrong.

She busted through the door and immediately the eerie silence of the home startled her. Even though Villain lived alone, there would surely be a TV playing or the dishwasher going.

Hero searched through the various rooms. It was a normal house. Quaint and small with barely any decor apart from a few spontaneously placed plants. All the walls were painted with the same, dull blue that the sky had right before a storm. It was dreary and perfectly villainous.

"Villain!" Hero called, peeking into a room she assumed to be his bedroom. Apart from a shoddily made bed, it seemed as though Villain hadn't been in there for a long time.

The next room in the hallway was a bathroom. Hero stepped in there, ignoring the horrid stench, and examined the counters. Bottles of Tylenol and Ibuprofen were scattered about. His gnawed on toothbrush was laying by the sink as water slowly dripped from the faucet.

That didn't look spectacular.

Hero stepped out of the bathroom and turned the light off before turning and walking into a large room that seemed to be the kitchen and dining room combined.

"Hey Villain! Are you home?" Hero called again, observing how badly stocked the fridge and cupboards were. Basically, the only food that Villain seemed to store was ramen and some protein powder.

"Villain!" Hero yelled, getting nervous. Based on the state of his bedroom, bathroom, and kitchen, the villain seemed to be in rough state.

Or was that just her nervous tendencies kicking in?

The next room was without doubt the living room, though with those desolate walls, one may beg to differ.

In the center of the gray room was a dark cherry wood coffee table and a small armchair. And that was it.

Except for the body strewn across the ground.

Hero bounded over to the seemingly dead corpse and rolled it over to come face to face with Villain.

"Oh my gosh!" Hero exclaimed, thrusting her fingers by his neck to check for a pulse. It was there, thump... thump... thump...

"You okay?" Hero asked, smoothing the sweaty strands of hair out of his face. Villain blearily blinked his eyes open and shook his head.

"Stomach bug," he whispered.

Hero looked down at him skeptically. No, this wasn't just a stomach bug. He was obviously in pain and was likely running a nasty fever. And he looked so incredibly tired and weak.

"How long have you been like this?" Hero asked, putting Villain's heavy head in her lap.

"M day," he groaned, gasping for breath. "Stomach hurts."

"Where?" Hero asked. Villain lightly brushed his fingers over his right side.

"Oh okay bud. I think you have a fever," Hero said, taking his temperature with her hand. It was burning and he looked so pale.

"Yeah cold," Villain agreed, nodding the tiniest nod.

"Okay buddy," Hero murmured, stroking his flushed cheek. "I think we need to go to the doctor."

She recognized the symptoms. Her sister when they were kids got sick like this and they had to take her to the hospital. Hero was too young to exactly know what was going on, only that it was serious.

But Villain shook his head, aimlessly clawing at Hero's hand.

"No doctor. No doctor," he begged, then winced, whimpered and grabbed his right side. When he looked back up at Hero, there were tears in his eyes.

"Okay we are going now," Hero stood up with Villain in a bridal carry. He protested weakly, but then stilled. Hero stopped walking to see if he was still conscious by shaking him. He groaned.

Hero loaded Villain in the back seat of her truck and buckled him in around his chest and legs so he could safetly rest.

The drive to the hospital seemed longer than what it was. Every moment she got, Hero would look behind her to peer at Villain, and everytime he was still staring at the ceiling with a dazed expression.

Finally, they arrived. Hero barely put the vehicle in park by the time she was leaping out of the door and running to Villain's side.

"Hey! Hey!" Hero called when she ran into the hospital, placing Villain on a bench. Other patients stared at her and receptionists stood up to meet her.

"Bring him into the ER," one of the receptionists said as she grabbed a stack of papers and called the doctor. Hero gathered Villain back in her arms and ran into another room.

The receptionist handed Hero the stack of papers. "Fill these in to thr best of your ability. I'm going to get the doctor."

Hero sat on the raised hospital bed with Villain resting against her shoulder. He sighed contently and nuzzled his cheek to find a perfect spot. Hero looked over at him- he was almost asleep with his whole body splayed out and limp.

Hero wrapped her arm around his shivering body and rubbed his shoulder before answering some of the paperwork.

She was able to answer most of them relatively easily, but got stumped on occupation.

She couldn't just say villainy right?

"Hero, why hello. How is your arm healing?"

Hero looked up to see the doctor sauntering into the room, his blonde hair slightly tousled with pale gray shadows under his eyes- remnants of a busy day.

"Good, good," Hero said, putting the paperwork aside.

"Is this one of your team members?" The doctor asked, running a thermometer over Villain's forehead. He frowned at the reading.

"Not exactly," Hero replied, timidly. She rubbed Villain's hair as he stirred from the cool touch of the thermometer. He near immediately fell back asleep.

The doctor's face paled. "He's a villain? Hero you know-"

"Yes, I know, but look at him Doc," she gestured her head towards Villain's sagging body.

The doctor glanced at Villain for a moment. He then said, "Yeah, he's sick. I'm thinking appendicitis, but he's a villain. The hospital is not required to treat them, unless there's an order. Order as in signed by ten, high-ranking heroes. Besides, it'll endanger our staff."

"He can't even lift his head!" Hero exclaimed. "How is he going to be a threat under anesthesia? C'mon tell me."

"He could wake up..."

"As sick as he is? Not likely."

"A MRI scan could amplify his abilities."

Suddenly Villain coughed, interrupting the conversation. He groaned before expelling his stomach's contents on the floor.

"It's okay," Hero murmured, scowling slightly at the sight, before glaring at the doctor while raising her eyebrows.

The doctor sighed. "Lay him on the bed." Hero complied, laying the villain flat on the bed, adjusting his head to rest on the pillow.

The doctor took his hand and prodded at the right side of his stomach. Villain groaned, breathing heavily.

"He's going to need emergency surgery," the doctor said, standing up and trotting to a phone. "Nurse? I need a team of anesthesiologists for an appendectomy."

Hero grabbed Villain's hand. His forehead was creased in concern as he listened and watched the doctor's erratic movements.

"Hey, it's okay. I'll be right there with you," Hero soothed him. He seemed to relax, but his muscles did not let go of their tension.

"Okay. I am going to go get ready." The doctor left.

Soon after, a couple nurses came in and hooked Villain to an IV. He flinched, watching the small needle go into his elbow.

Hero grabbed his hand and rubbed it.

A couple more people sauntered in and injected a hypodermic needle into the IV line.

"Okay Villain, count down from ten."

"Ten... nine... eight... sev...ven...si." Villain looked over at Hero with pleading eyes before they drifted shut.

A nurse put a mask over his nose and he was wheeled away.

Hero waited in the lobby, twidling her thumb and reading health magazines. Every two minutes, literally, she would look at the clock and bite her lip.

After two hours, the doctor made his appearance.

"The surgery was successful. He is waking up now, so he will be very groggy, but his vitals are good. You can take him home."

"Don't you have to monitor him."

"Come back in two weeks for a check-up."

Hero walked into the ER and to Villain's bed. His eyes were half-lidded and he barely noted Hero's presence.

"Hey buddy," Hero cooed, stroking his head. "You scared me."

Villain didn't reply, just blinked very, very slowly. Soon, his blinks became longer until he drifted off.

Nervous, Hero called for a nurse. "Why is he sleeping?" She asked.

The nurse shrugged. "The effects of anesthesia hasn't worn off yet, so he'll be in and out for a while."

Hero nodded and sat back down.

"You can take him home, you know," the nurse said. "We don't keep villains for monitoring or over-night stays."

Hero groaned and looked at the nurse. "Well you should."

"But we don't. Please take him home, he's occupying beds that could be used for more important patients."

Hero rolled her eyes, but obeyed. She picked Villain up and helped him into his jeans, but left his shirt off to not irritate the stitches. Then, she rolled him to her truck in a wheelchair.

It was nearly midnight by the time Hero got Villain to her house and changed into something comfortable. He was dozing, but every movement seemed to awake him. He was totally and completely silent, allowing Hero to tuck him on her bed before sliding in next to him.

She wrapped her arms around Villain and pulled him in tight. He drifted off to sleep instantly, and Hero was not far behind.

When Hero awoke the next morning, she was sprawled across her bed with Villain laying on her stomach. She smiled and watched the slow rise and fall of his chest before carefully removing his head to go downstairs and prepare breakfast. After a quick research, she decided to make a bowl of pudding with toast and avacado.

Villain came down the stairs stiffly, groaning with each step, just as Hero put the bread in the toaster. She looked up just in time to see him lean heavily against the wall.

"What are you doing?" Hero scolded and gently led him to the couch to sit on.

"Heard you- engh," Villain winced, holding his side. "Downstairs."

"Okay," Hero sighed. "Do you remember anything from yesterday?"

"No not really. Just you and the hospital. Everything else is just a blank."

"You had an appendectomy," Hero explained, brushing the hair out of Villain's face. He jerked back and Hero pulled away. He was so cute and vulnerable when he was out of it.

"What's that?" Villain asked, but Hero had a sense that he knew and just wanted to fill the silence up.

"Your appendix was removed." The toaster clicked, so Hero went and grabbed the food.

Villain spooned at it for awhile before putting it towards the side. His face was pale.

"Not hungry," he said.

"You gotta eat."

"No," Villain slowly laid on the couch, his body seizing with every motion. "I'm tired..."

"Yeah, you had surgery, but please eat something so I can give you some painkillers."

Villain rolled his eyes, but allowed Hero to feed him some avocado and pudding. However, by the end of it, he was too exhausted to resist Hero putting two large pills in his mouth.

Between the pain meds and fatigue, it only took a few minutes for Villain to fall sound asleep.

Hero idly ate her own pudding and stared out the window. After finishing both her's and Villain's chocolate desert, she went to do dishes.

Then she showered.

Then she playing monopoly by herself.

And then she ate lunch.

All the while waiting for Villain to regain consciousness.

He did, eventually, and very slowly.

"How are you feeling."

"Bit dizzy," Villain admitted, rubbing his eyes. "How long was I out?"

"About," Hero looked at her phone. "Five hours, give or take one."

Villain groaned and quickly murmured an apology.

"Don't be. You are still a bit feverish and just came out of surgery."

Villain closed his eyes. Hero thought he might've fallen back asleep, but then he spoke,

"Thank you for taking care of me."

Hero smiled.

#bad things happen bingo #feverish villain #drugged villain #hero caretaker #hero x villain #heros and villains #anesthesia #appendectomy #writing #villain whumpee

[karlsjackbox]

the end. | irl!quackity x gn!reader

A VIEW OF two people falling out of love.

type: angst

warnings: taking pills (brief, not much context), swearing, fight, death threat

w/c: 1.6k

quackity pushed his hair out of his face, fingers placing themselves in a rhythm on the keyboard. music played through his headphones, placed on the second to last volume to help soothe his aching headache. eyes traveling to the corner of the screen, his eyebrows furrowed at the sight of it being 4:57am. rubbing his eyes, he leaned back and let out a sigh. saving the document he was writing on, quackity shut off the monitor and shuffled his feet.

the door across the room opened. snapping his eyes forward, quackity was met with his s/o holding their cat, tired smile adorning their face. quackity mirrored the smile, pushing himself off of the chair and standing beside his love. “you’re awake late.” he muttered, though his words slurred together. y/n looked at him with a lopsided grin, pressing a short kiss to his lips. “couldn’t sleep without you.” quackity gasped, using his hands to cover tiger’s eyes.

the paired laughed, dragging themselves to the bedroom.

it had been a few weeks. y/n’s eyes forced themselves open, bed empty beside them. quackity was laughing down the hallway, having to ignored the text from y/n asking him to tone down just a little. rubbing their eyes, y/n sat up and tapped on their phone. 4:23 am. muttering a curse to themself, they laid back down. shutting their eyes, y/n eventually fell asleep to the sound of their boyfriends muffled laughter and curses.

quackity ended the stream near 5am. he leaned back with a sigh, rubbing his face as the discord call eventually dropped. grabbing his phone, he check notifications and read the text from y/n with a frown. he texted a quick sorry ! just saw this :( coming to bed now <3. with no text back, he pushed himself off of the chair and shuffled his way to the bedroom. tiger rubbed against his leg, the mexican biting a smile back. y/n laid curled up, body facing the wall as they snored quietly. 

quackity shuffled out of his day clothes, sliding into pajamas as he laid beside y/n and fell asleep.

y/n danced around the kitchen, music playing quietly through their phone as they made their breakfast. they hummed along, carefully pouring their cereal into their bowl. scratching their chin, they turned at the noise of somebody behind them. quackity stood in the doorway, hair messed up from sleep. “hi, my love.” y/n greeted.

taking a minute to answer, quackity shut off his phone and sighed. “good morning.” he sat down at the table, rubbing his eyes. “whats up?” y/n asked, pouring their milk and grabbing a spoon from the drawer. they sat across from quackity, who had picked up his phone as it buzzed. 

“tommy wants me to record today and george wants me on his stream. i’m trying to make them both work and i just don’t know if i can.” quackity explained, using his hand for more emphasize. y/n swallowed the cereal before answering, crossing their legs at the ankle. “i think you need a day off.” they huffed, eyes rolling. “i wish.” quackity responded, standing to make his own cereal.

“i’m serious. we haven’t spent time together in forever.” y/n shrugged, getting no response. “i can try for soon, but definitely not today.” quackity kissed y/n’s temple before he sat across from them again.

quackity didn’t talk to y/n until the next afternoon.

y/n sat on the couch, holding a mug of hot cocoa. their legs were crossed, eye trained to the television screen as rapunzel played. they hummed along to the songs, turning at the sound of footsteps. quackity held his phone to his ear, laughing at something somebody said.

y/n smiled at him and gave a short wave, quackity repeating the wave and making his way into the kitchen. the refrigerator door opened and closed, y/n turning their head and resuming the movie. 

quackity took out the strawberry container from the fridge and made his way into the living room, standing at the doorway as he listened to karl talk. eventually he tossed the container away, finishing the strawberries and going back upstairs to his recording room.

by the time the movie finished, the sun was barely kissing the horizon. turning spotify on through the tv, music started to play through the playlist, ‘y/n & quackity!!’. y/n smiled at the memory of them sitting together and making the playlist on their second date.

making their way into the kitchen, y/n opened the cabinet and pulled out the pasta noodles. pulling out a pot and filling it with water, they began to boil it and dump in the noodles. their phone gave a simple ding! and another notification came through.

alex<3: can u plz turn music down? streaming soon x

y/n frowned, though gave a simple thumbs up. they tapped the spoon on the side of the bowl and left it to drip, entering the living room and shutting of the tv in a whole. tiger sat on the couch, head peeking up with a quiet ‘mrrp?’ as the noise suddenly ended. cooing, y/n walked over and scooped him up, cradling him as they made their way into the kitchen again to stir the pasta.

setting tiger down on the floor after 15 minutes, y/n scooped the pasta into two seperate bowls and ran butter through them. deciding against sauce, y/n placed the bowls on the table and texted quackity.

you: made pasta !! <3

the food was still untouched by the next morning.

it had been a while since then. y/n woke up before quackity. they were faced with his back, black sweatshirt hugging his body. they sat up slowly, sun fading through the curtains and hitting the blanket. they shivered a little, blinking hard a few times to try and wake themselves up. after a few more moments, they pulled their legs out from underneath the blanket and carefully moved away from quackity and out of the room.

quackity woke up an hour or so later, groaning softly as the sun had now positioned itself to hit his eyes directly. he sat up, head turning to look at y/n. frowning as nobody was there, he picked up his phone and drug himself out of the room. the house was empty as he searched around for his s/o, frown adorning his face.

standing in front of the fridge, a sticky note hung to it.

quackity ripped off the sticky note, crumbling it in his pocket as he opened the fridge to search for his breakfast.

y/n returned home that night to the noise of muffled swears and laughter, though y/n wore mainly a frown. their bones ached and a headache roared. sighing, they dropped their bag and kicked off their shoes and made their way into the bathroom. they opened the medicine cabinet and took out tylenol, swallowing the pill with sink water in their mouth.

rubbing their nose, y/n made their way upstairs to their bedroom. they grabbed clean clothes and made their way into the bathroom, turning on the shower and letting the water run until it was hot. they stripped and dropped their clothes onto the floor, pushing them into the corner before stepping into the shower. y/n couldn’t help the sigh that escaped their mouth as everything from the day washed away, lathering their hair with shampoo and conditioner.

quackity ended the stream around the same time that y/n stepped out of the shower. he sat at his desk for a moment longer, chatter with his friends slowly dying down. “hey guys, i’m gonna head off now.” after a wave of goodbyes, he left the discord call and stood up.

quackity made his way into the bedroom, y/n sat on the edge of the bed. sliding off his beanie, quackity ruffled his hair and let himself fall beside his s/o. they didn’t talk, y/n texting somebody before shutting off their phone. they let out a sigh and rubbed their face, tossing their phone beside them.

curling up, y/n and quackity fell asleep facing each other for the last time.

they woke up at the same time. y/n sat up and rubbed their eyes, yawn falling from their mouth. there was a tension in the room quackity couldn’t figure out. “hey, wanna watch a movie?” y/n asked, scratching their nose as they met eyes with their sleepy boyfriend. “mm.. i can’t. i have homework and i have to be on a stream,” quackity slurred, missing how y/n’s eyebrows furrowed. tsking, y/n stood. “right.”

quackity’s head shot up at their tone. “what do you mean?” he questioned, choosing to stay silent on their eye roll. “you haven’t spent time with me in ages. i’m shocked i even fell asleep with you beside me.” the younger shrugged, opening their closet to pull out a sweatshirt.

“yeah, because its my job? the fuck do you mean?” quackity sat up, leaning his weight on his hands. “okay? you can still make time for me. i’m not just somebody who feeds you, alex.” y/n turned to meet his eyes, hands resting on their hips. “i can handle myself, you know.” quackity rolled his eyes.

“i wanna see you fucking try.”  y/n looked the older up and down. “you just mooch off of me anyway. if you’re so pissy about me working then leave.” quackity seethed, anger radiating off of me. he froze as the words fell out of his mouth, y/n’s hands dropping. “i hope you fucking starve. waste of space.” y/n cursed, turning and grabbing their bag from the closet.

“y/n, i didn’t-- we didn’t mean that.” quackity apologized, stepping towards the younger. y/n stayed silent, shoving random clothes into their backpack. quackity didn’t try to fight them, standing and watching them pack with tears brimming his eyes.

“..is it the end for us?” it was silent. the silence pushed against quackity’s skull, taunting him in a way he would remember forever. y/n turned, face blank as their eyes were puffy.

“it was the end a long time ago.”

#quackity x reader #quackity x you #mcyt x reader #streamer x reader #streamer x you #mcyt x you #dsmp x reader #dsmp imagine #dream smp imagines #dream smp x reader #dsmp imagines

[house-md-obsession]

Shake [James Wilson x Reader] Part Three

153 hours prior.

The talking on the TV jolted her awake. Some rerun of a sitcom found itself playing on the television. Her eyes flit open as she gained awareness of her surroundings. She felt the warmth of the soft quilt James keeps on his couch, it offering the comfort of the late nights she'd spent over there. The smell comforted her— cedar wood... and... Chinese food?

She glances to her right, to see James slurping down lo mein, chopsticks sitting in his hands. When he realizes she's awake, he hastily sets the food down on the coffee table in front of him, and flashes her a smile.

  "Hey, ___. How are you feeling?" He asks, sitting up and readjusting his position. He leans forward a little, finding himself a little closer as she tiredly pushes herself upright. She wipes the sleep from her eyes, and feels her hair tie at the end of a long-fallen ponytail. Her hair was nothing short of a mess, but that was the last thing she'd worried about. She had long given up on how she looked once she had gone two nights without sleep.

  "Honestly? Foul." She muttered, her voice raspy. He struggled to keep for letting out a soft laugh. She tried running her fingers through her tangled hair, and found her fingers caught. She pouted.

  He felt his heart nearly skip a beat.

  "I bought some takeout. I snagged you some sweet and sour chicken if you get hungry. You don't have to eat but I figured I've seen you eat very little since this last case."

  He stood up and walked towards the kitchen.

  "Oh, and here's some Tylenol. You took some earlier but I can't imagine it's still working."

  She suddenly once again felt the headache that had creeped up on her earlier, as if the mention of Tylenol had served as a reminder.

  "Thank you." She said, hoarse voice finding itself softened as he walked back towards her. His soft brown hair was a little askew— small strands of his normally well kept hair hung in front of his softened, mature features. His cheekbones caught the light of the buildings that shone through his opened window. The sun was setting and the orange in which that faintly painted the room was welcomed as the brightness gradually softened and her eyes eased.

  "Yeah, of course." He said, in which she noticed he had grabbed a glass of water for her in the time he ventured over. He handed it to her, his gentle hands making sure her tired ones had a grasp on the glass before letting go, the mildest of touches graced her fingertips.

'His hands are warm.' She thinks to herself.

  He sits down on the couch next to her as she swallows the pills, downing half the glass as well. He laughs softly, no hesitation this time.

  "Should I look into purchasing you a water tower?" He jokes. She flashes him a smile and softly smacks his upper thigh.

  "What time is it?" She asks, and he flicks his watch up at him. She see finds herself for a split second studying his forearm, almost admiring its masculinity. 'Let's not be weird, ___.' She thinks, and her eyes avert.

  "Seven fifty-eight." He says, and she stretches before finding herself back where she was, their upper arms touching as she was just a little closer than before.

  "How long was I out? Time tends to blur together after the first day."

  He glances up at the ceiling for a moment, before turning his gaze to the TV that was on.

  "Hmmm, about four and a half hours I'd say. You passed out in the car, and it took a while to get you in. And you fought with me over offering you my bed."

  "Yeah, offering to let me crash in your bed is a little weird." She said, dryly.

  "Oh yes, God forbid I look out for one of my best friends that couldn't tell if something six inches from her face was within reach less than four hours ago." He almost upsettingly muttered, and relaxed once he glanced over and saw a small smile decorated upon her younger features. He watched for a moment as her eyes drifted closed, her seemingly lost in her own train of thought. He watched as her eyes opened once again and he quickly retrained his focus back onto the TV.

  "Thanks for taking me home and letting me stay here for a little while. I appreciate it, James." She said, her eyes trained on him again as he watches the TV. 'He seems to be so focused on the show. I wonder if he'd even notice if I left.'

  Her mention of his name had him trained on the way it left her lips. He doesn't know what, or why, but it failed to leave his mind.

  A click of the doorknob down the hall jolted her upwards.

  "Of course. I just hope you don't think you're going home yet." She turned around, to be greeted by the rugged features of her boss, as he made his way towards the two. The tap of his cane against the hardwood was a familiar noise that simultaneously relaxed her but kept her on edge.

  "Well, I have work at six in the morning. I should probably make my way home." She said, vaguely confused.

  "No you don't. Forced vacation. If you show up to the hospital for any reason for the next week other than to fawn at your old-man crush Doctor James Wilson, you're fired." He said, before walking towards them. She felt a hot flash radiate over body she became flustered with his words. 'He has a creative way of getting under my skin.' He motions for the two to part, as he plops down in between them. The words her boss spouted hardly even registered. It was just the generalized annoyance his presence brings in which she rolled her eyes.

  "Leave her alone. Someone in their twenties can be friends with someone in their forties. It's not a wild concept, House."

  "No. Only reason someone as attractive as her would befriend someone in their forties is because she's into old men. Someone to pay her debts from medical school because they've paid off their own."

  "House, seriously?" Wilson asked, dumbfounded. He could feel her shutting down from across the couch.

  "You're an ass." She says, and finds herself walking towards James room, in which she closes the door behind her.

  House glances over to his friend, whose lips have curled up into a smile.

  "You're good at that." Wilson says.

  "Annoying her so she will finally take care of herself for once? I've done it a time or two." House said to his friend.  "Besides. I need her. You may want her to be around but I actually need her. To save lives and stuff." House teased. Wilson scoffed.

  "Of course I like having her around. I mean, in the same regards I like having you around. I care about her, I'm going to want her to take care of herself."

  "Yeah, but you almost parent her. It's like a weird fatherly fetish."

  "This has nothing to do with our age difference of maybe ten years. She is twenty-nine. She is more than an adult and also, I do not parent her. I just want what is best for her. Same way I do that for you." James explained, but House wasn't biting that explanation, and neither was he.

  "Whatever. She's hot. You're like every other man and like to look without commitment. I'm sure if you asked she'd send you nudes so you can see more and stop pretending to care." House said. Wilson felt himself get frustrated with that comment.

  "I'm not like you, House. I can have real friendships, as well as ones with the opposite sex. So what if she's attractive? That doesn't matter to me. I mean yes, it's nice to... look. But for me not every relationship I foster is purely sexual." Wilson said, standing up, walking away from the couch.

  "Whatever helps you sleep at night!" House loudly called.

  "SHHHH! She's trying to sleep!"

147 hours prior.

  She awoke to the familiarly loud buzzing of her phone. Sitting up, she found her phone plugged in on the nightstand next to her. 'James must've plugged it in for me at some point while I was asleep.' She thought, and further noticed a glass of water once again on the nightstand as well as a bottle of Tylenol and a note.

  She glanced to see the caller identification was none other than her friend, Remy. She tiredly picked up the phone, and was greeted by the familiar voice.

  "Hey, how're you feeling?" Her soft voice asked through the phone. ___ sat upright, letting out a grunt as she did. Her body seemed to feel even heavier than when she was sleep deprived. ‘Waking up is going to be a bitch.’

“Tired. As fuck. I need to get up and around but I don’t know if I can muster the energy to. James bed is…. so comfy.”

“Well, good thing I’m right outside. We’re getting coffee.”

#gregory house #james wilson #house md #house #house m.d. #house imagines #james wilson x reader #greg house #house md imagine #house md imagines

[dejunectar]

everything i wanted | Jaehyun

«« genre »» hurt/comfort, angst, fluff

«« pairings »» jaehyun x reader

«« warnings »» major character death, mentions of self-harm, suicidal ideations, alcohol abuse

«« summary »» 5 months after the death of your best friend, ((jungwoo {this ties into THIS jungwoo fic})) your boyfriend comes to visit you for the first time in awhile, worried and finds you in shambles & worse than he thought

«« song/inspiration »» everything i wanted by billie eilish & the anon who came up with this absolutely lovely idea <33

————————————————————

5 months. 3 weeks. 5 days. 19 hours. 43 minutes.

All the time that had passed since your best friend, your go-to, your number one person in the whole world, had decided to leave this life. The decision to leave his life. The decision to leave your life.

From the moment you got the phone call from Doyoung, who was short of breath and barely able to make a sentence, you knew your world was crumbling around you.

You’d never driven so fast in your life, but no matter how quickly you made it to the hospital, it would never make a difference. There was nothing you could do. There was nothing the boys could do. There was nothing the doctors could do.

You held onto your boyfriend, Jaehyun, for dear life as you watched the doctor walk towards your group with a grim frown. You listened in horror as he told you that there was no way to save him. They tried their best but it was too late. Jaehyun had to hold you up as your knees gave out on you, but even he barely had strength for himself.

You didn’t sleep that night. You didn’t sleep the next two weeks as a matter of fact. The only way you could get yourself to sleep was a Tylenol and a bottle of beer.

You spiraled. You were quickly losing touch with reality, waking up each day and forgetting that you couldn’t go to call Jungwoo to hang out. Each time the voicemail came up and you heard his voice it only shattered you more. You were turning into dust.

After a month, you moved out of your old apartment and left to a cabin in the woods that your parents used to own. They’d left it for you but you never visited until then. You thought moving out into the woods would help you clear your head.

Instead, you couldn’t escape it.

You were trapped in your own thoughts.

Each night only got progressively worse and worse.

Jaehyun made it a plan to drive up and visit you twice a week to make sure you were okay. Although things had gone tense between you two, neither of you wanted to break up. It was the last thing either of you needed. When he stayed with you in the cabin, you spent hours wrapped in each other’s arms.

One of you crying, the other consoling. Sometimes you both cried. Sometimes neither of you cried. Regardless, you spent the time wrapped up in each other, clinging as if the other were close to slipping away.

Unfortunately, Jaehyun hadn’t been up to the cabin to see you in just over a month. Your brain blamed you and your depression only made it worse. You began drinking again, but this time it was much heavier and much more often.

After you went through your beer supply, you slowly started going through the wine supply that your parents had kept away for celebrations.

One night, you couldn’t contain your thoughts and it all got too loud to handle. Crying led to yelling. Yelling led to throwing things. Throwing things led to glass being shattered around the entire place. The thoughts kept taking over. No matter how hard you tried to block them out, they refused to leave.

At last, you lifted a glass shard from the wooden floor and brought it to your skin.

Jaehyun finally made it up to your cabin. It was supposed to rain that night, and he was worried about you since you hadn’t returned his calls for a week. He blamed it on your poor service but made the trip up anyway.

He already had a key, so he let himself in, carrying groceries with him. As he made it into the door, his eyes scanned across the cabin.

Books were scattered, vases had been broken, glass covered a majority of the floor, and the furniture had dark and light stains all over it. He carefully set the groceries on the floor and hung his key beside the door before stepping into the place.

“Y/N? Y/N, I’m here!” he called out, walking in further. The farther he walked in, the more mess he saw. A deep sigh left his lips.

A loud thumping noise sounded from upstairs, causing him to look around once more before making his way up the stairs. When he entered the hallway, he noticed all of the pictures that once littered the walls were now taken down, leaving a lighter shade than the rest of the walls.

“Babe?” he called out once more, walking down to your room and swinging the door open. His eyes scanned the room for any sight of you. He didn’t see you anywhere but he heard a soft crying sound coming from your closet.

He breathed heavily before slowly moving towards the sound. When he finally approached the closet, his eyes fell to see you slumped to the ground with red everywhere. Your arms. Your thighs. The bottom of your feet.

“Oh God, Y/N—” he cursed under his breath and quickly pulled you up into him. Your blood painted his white shirt and jeans but he didn’t care. You continued crying, beginning to grow louder. “Why, why, why?” he hissed as he carried you to the bathroom.

You left your eyes on the ground, afraid to look him in the eye. Once in the bathroom, he sat you on the counter and began running bathwater. As he began to undress you, you shook your head and cried harder, leaning against his shoulder, “I can’t— I’m s— I’m so sorry, Jaehyun!”

He shushed your cries and ran a thumb across your cheek. “It’s okay, I’m here now, yeah? Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Once you were naked, he carefully led you into the bathtub and stopped the water. You didn’t hiss or flinch at the burning sensation the warm water caused towards your open cuts. You sat there, weakly leaning against the bathroom wall as Jaehyun searched for soap and a rag to clean you.

When he finished bathing you, he wrapped bandages around your arms, thighs, and feet. The cuts on your feet had come from the glass, and for this reason, he made sure to clean that up as well. Whilst you got dressed, he ordered pizza for both of you and began cleaning up the empty bottles that were scattered around the house.

It hurt to walk, so he demanded you stay sitting on the couch while cleaning up. Even though you offered to help countless times, he rejected the idea and reassured you that he wasn’t upset with you and wanted you to rest.

Sure enough, you dozed off for the first time in weeks, without the help of medicine or alcohol.

When you awoke, Jaehyun was beside you, watching a program on the TV. You didn’t speak up until he noticed you were awake and pressed a kiss to your temple.

“I’m sorry I’m putting you through this, I know you didn’t sign up for any of—”

He turned off the TV and hushed you. “Y/N, I love you. I know you’re not okay right now, and that’s okay. I’m not okay either. We lost someone we loved and we’re grieving. I’m not saying that I’m okay with you excessively drinking or hurting yourself, but I’m telling you that you don’t have to apologize to me for anything. If anything I should apologize to you for not coming up here sooner, okay?”

Tears welled up in your eyes and your lip trembled. You refused to look into his eyes, not feeling worthy enough. Jaehyun only sighed and pulled you in closer to him, pressing several kisses to your head and humming.

“I love you. Everything will be okay. It might not be okay right now, but it will be. I promise,” he mumbled and wrapped both arms around you. You took comfort in his arms and carefully crawled into his lap, wrapped your own arms around him.

For the remainder of the night, things were as they usually were. You both spent the time together in each other’s arms or just in each other’s presence. You were still shattered, but Jaehyun being there was enough to begin finding the pieces and gluing them back together.

It stormed heavily. Rain hit the windows and roof and lightning struck around the night sky, making claps of thunder rumble the world around you.

With the darkness surrounding you, your heart thudded against your chest with fear. Jaehyun felt you tense up in his arms as you laid in bed and automatically began humming softly to lull you to sleep. Within mere minutes, you were surely drifting back off into slumber.

———————————————————

#nct #nct jaehyun x reader #nct jaehyun #jaehyun x reader #jung jaehyun #nct fluff #nct hurt/comfort #nct comfort #jaehyun comfort #nct u #nct 127 #nct blurb #nct short story #Spotify #dejunectar request #dejunectar

[221bshrlocked]

One Too Many

Pairing: Marcus Pike x Fem!Reader

Words: 1541

Warnings: Drinking. Awkward confessions. Spiraling thoughts. Cuddling.

Summary: Perhaps that last drink was one too many...

A/N: For @autumnleaves1991-blog Writer Wednesday Picture Prompt. I feel like I might just turn these prompts into little Pike oneshots. Sorry this was late I'm not myself lately for some reason. Let me know how I’m doing in the comments please and thank you. Add yourself to the taglist here.

"Are you kidding me?" You throw your cards on the table and relax back into the couch, taking a long sip from the beer can in front of you before standing up and pulling off your tank top. You shake your head as you add it on top of the pile of clothes you've been losing for the past couple of turns.

"Guess I underestimated you Pike," you lay back again and tilt your head to the side to rest it on the pillow behind you, watching as Marcus does everything in his power to avoid looking at your exposed skin.

"And I thought you'd be better at this," he replies as he mirrors you and shugs down the rest of his drink, all the while refusing to acknowledge how almost naked you are.

"Go on then, deal." You point at the cards as you lean forward again and push the beer cans aside.

"Maybe we should stop..." He collects the cards and sets them on the side of the table, barely meeting your eyes for a few seconds before he feigns checking his phone.

"What? You're not getting shy on me now, are you Pike?" You smile when he blushes underneath your scrutiny and huffs in irritation.

"N-no, we just had too many drinks, and I...and you look cold so-"

"I'm sitting in front of you in nothing but my bra and panties, and you're worried about me being cold? God, who are you?" You stand up and make your way to the fridge to bring out some more beer.

"No no, that's enough for you." Marcus runs behind you immediately and shuts the door to the fridge before filling up a glass of water and handing it to you.

"Wha-"

"Drink the damn water...please," Marcus whispers, and you frown at him as you drink the cold liquid. Marcus can't look away from the way your throat bobs up and down as you drink, and he almost moans when a few drops of water escape the corner of your mouth and roll down your neck. When you put the glass back on the counter and turn to him, you find the blush from earlier much darker. As you follow his line of sight, you smile to yourself and raise an eyebrow at his shameless staring.

"See something you like, Agent?" You tease him and try not to giggle when he drags his eyes away from you and apologizes for making you uncomfortable.

"You didn't make me uncomfortable. You never do. It's why I like you so goddamn much actually. You're always so kind to everyone, even when they don't deserve it. And you're really good at your job, and you make sure everyone knows how much you rely on them to do theirs even though you probably don't need any of us because you're smart and- and...ugh, now I probably made you uncomfortable. I- I can't help it, I'm sorry. You're just so perfect. Perfect and sweet and- and pretty."

Marcus doesn't know what to do other than stand still as you continue to lean into him. His breath hitches when he feels the palms of your hands on his cheeks, and he feels bad for not shaving earlier because the last thing he wants is to cause your soft hands discomfort. He's grown even quieter somehow and shuts his eyes as soon as he feels your thumb caressing his lower lip.

"And you have the most kissable lips I've ever seen. I've wanted to kiss them for so long..s-so long." Marcus thinks you're going to do it, and he prepares himself to feel your lips against his. But then you're pulling away from him and leaning back on the counter, whispering something beneath your breath and making Marcus open his eyes. He watches as you hug yourself and try to appear smaller, and when he stretches out his hand to try and bring you into his arms, you wriggle away from him and apologize.

"I'm s-sorry, I- I think I had one too many drinks. I should go and- oh god, what did I do?" You're talking to the floor, and Marcus finally realizes the power dynamic between the two of you. Before you spiral any further, Marcus walks around until he's standing in front of you. He takes hold of your shoulder and shakes you lightly to grab your attention.

"Sweetheart, I need you to listen to me. Can you do that?" He asks calmly and waits until you nod at him before he continues.

"Here's what's going to happen. I'm going to give you some change of clothes, and you're going to stay for the night. I'll take the couch, and you can take my room alright? There's a lock on it so you don't have to worry about-"

"I'd never think you'd do anything to me, Marcus." You cut him off suddenly and Marcus feels his heart skip a beat at how angry you sounded.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry. We can talk about all of this tomorrow morning, yeah? You're not in trouble sweetheart. You and I had too many drinks, and we need to discuss this with clearer heads. Does that sound like a plan?" He looks at you in a way that makes your stomach twist and you nod at him before you move across the living room. Ever the gentleman, he throws his suit jacket around you as he helps you walk to his bedroom and once you're inside, he hands you one of his pajamas and tells you to change into them. As you do, Marcus heads back to the kitchen, grabbing some Tylenol and a glass of water before returning to his room. He stops at the foot of the door when he sees you in his pajamas, gulping nervously and trying to calm himself as he approaches you.

"These are for when you wake up tomorrow. Do you need anything else?" He asks as he tucks you in, smiling when you shake your head and shut your eyes as you feel him brushing your hair aside.

"T-thank you." He barely hears your murmur and nods at you before standing up and heading out of the room.

"Good night sweetheart." Marcus calls out just as he shuts the door to his room and he clenches his fist on the knob when he hears you call after him in return.

"Good night Marcus."

He stands in the middle of his living room and looks around. Marcus begins to clean up shortly after when he realizes that there's no way he will get any rest tonight. He tried his hardest not to get attached to a colleague again but you were different. Just hearing you talk about him made his heart flutter and he hoped that it wasn't the beer talking. He wasn't sure what he'd do if you woke up tomorrow morning and told him that none of what you said was true.

So busy moving back and forth from the kitchen and the living room, Marcus didn't notice you coming up behind him and standing in the middle of the hallway. When he turns around and sees you standing there, he stops what he's doing and approaches you slowly.

"Everything okay? Do you need anything?"

"I- I don't want to be alone tonight." You break the silence and Marcus' breath hitches when he registers what you're asking of him.

"Sweetheart, I- I don't think I should- you've had a lot to drink and you probably need some space to-"

"Please," the soft whimper shakes Marcus to his core and he immediately nods before shutting off the lights and following you back into his room. You waste no time at all and slither back underneath the covers. Marcus grabs his sweatpants and moves to the bathroom to change. His nerves are eating him up, but he reminds himself that you needed him to be his usual self right now. Walking out in his white undershirt and sweatpants, Marcus moves around the bed and slips into the covers. As soon as he shuts off the nightstand lamp, you're crawling across the bed and into his arms, not bothering to say anything as you rest your hand on his chest and nuzzle into his side. It takes him a few seconds to collect his bearings before he wraps his arm around you and leans down to kiss your forehead.

"Is this okay sweetheart?" He asks and shuts his eyes when you somehow grow closer to him.

"Y-yes."

"Alright, sweet dreams baby." Marcus knows he shouldn't be calling you such intimate pet names but he can't hold himself back, not when you were touching him like he was yours. Like you were his. He doesn't have to wait for too long to hear your soft snores and against his better judgment, he turns on his side and faces you, immediately wrapping his other arm around your back to bring you into his chest.

Having you in his arms, with your hands fisting in the front of his shirt, makes Marcus realize that his previous efforts were all in vain.

He was already attached to you. And he hoped to god that the feeling was mutual.

Pedro Pascal (and any of his characters):

@pastel-0-princess @feelmyroarrrr @libbymouse @its--fandom--darling @spideysimpossiblegirl @princess76179 @cheekygeek05 @miraclesoflove @purple-mango @freeshavocadoooo @metalarmsandmanbuns @acthenerd @greeneyedblondie44 @cannedsoupsucks @purplepascal042 @talesfromtheguild @f0rever15elf @vibin-hippie @onesmokinbabe @leaiorganas @words-way-of-life @kideyz @lovesickmadsadpoet @niall7inches @rosiefridayrogersunday @tati-adventures @sleep-tight1 @itsfreeekinbats @cybergroupie @vibin-hippie @marsplsstop @mouthymandalorian @diogodxlot @janebby @juletheghoul @bii-aan-ckaa @nohartandsole @djjarins @lamelyssher @giselatropicana

#writer wednesday #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike #marcus pike/reader #the mentalist #pedro pascal

[my-robot-heart]

“you obviously can’t be trusted to take care of yourself, so let me do it for you.” RED TO LIZZIE PLEASE 🥺

Um okayyy okay okay - this one brought to mind a lot of things. Hah. Also I immediately knew Red to Lizzie bahah (however the opposite also has possibility, so... 😏) and just thank you for choosing such a good one lol. Okayee. Also my level of angst is pure minimum so I hope everyone just accepts that as Robot™

"You obviously can't be trusted to take care of yourself, Agent Keen, so let me do it for you." Reddington approached her bed, his gaze never breaking away from hers. She clutched the sheet tightly, half scared and half turned on (well, maybe slightly more than half).

As he neared her, he removed his hat and placed it carefully on the nightstand. Her eyes followed his hand as it left the hat behind and reached for her-

Here, Lizzie awoke with a start. She looked around, disoriented. What the-- it had been a dream. She let out a huff of breath, noticing that her body was soaked in sweat, and- was she trembling? Jesus. Where had that come from? And why the hell did she have to wake up just then?

She switched on her bedside light, frustrated and knowing she wouldn't be able to fall back asleep right away. It was fine. Everything was- fine, she told herself, unconvincingly. She'd just had a weird, erotic dream about FBI's most wanted. That was fine. Brains did funny things. Dreams were crazy. Sometimes she'd dreamt she could fly. So, there was that. Just because she'd wanted to see what came next, didn't mean-

Her phone started buzzing insistently, nearly leaping off the nightstand beside her. She grabbed it and checked the number: it was him.

"Hello?" She answered, before taking the time to think it through.

"Elizabeth. It's Dembe. I am sorry for calling you this late."

"That's fine, Dembe. What's going on?"

"It's Raymond. He is... drunk."

Drunk? "Drunk? But what-"

"And he is on his way to your apartment, Elizabeth. He is planning to... tell you something. I wanted to warn you. So you wouldn't be surprised. He's walking there now, he wouldn't let me drive-"

"Oh my god. Okay. Thanks for- thanks for calling. Do you want me to bring him home, or...?"

"It might be best if he stays with you until the morning," Dembe suggested, tone apologetic.

"I understand. Oh god, I think I hear him. I'll let you go." She hung up and grabbed a housecoat from the closet before heading to her door, where she could definitely hear someone approaching.

She opened the door just as he had his arm raised to knock.

"Reddington. What are you doing here? Come in, come in," she ushered him inside.

"Elizabeth," he said, with a bit more volume and vim than usual. He may have been drunk, but he was definitely still coherent, at least. "Agent Elizabeth Keen."

She shot him a look. "Okay, you should sit down. Come here," she gestured to the couch, and realized he needed more than just the suggestion. Taking his arm and placing it around her shoulder, she walked him slowly over to the couch and watched him sort of flop down onto it.

"Dembe called me, Red. What were you thinking?"

"Thinking?" He repeated, looking at her in surprise. "I was thinking of you, Agent Elizabeth Keen. Lizzie," he added, as if trying out the sound on his tongue.

She narrowed her eyes. "Don't call me Lizzie. I'll go make some coffee - it's not like I'm going to get any sleep right now, anyway," she muttered, walking into the kitchen.

She set the coffee to brew and walked back in, offering him a glass of water. "Here. I have Tylenol in the bathroom cupboard too, if you think it would help."

But he was preoccupied with something. "Elizabeth Keen," he said again, "You are wearing a housecoat. Bewitchingly so."

She looked down at her housecoat with embarassment, remembering what had happened right before Dembe had called. Let me do it for you. She shook her head. Nevermind that.

"Yes, I am wearing a housecoat because it's the middle of the night. You woke me up." She went back into the kitchen to check on the coffee.

"From a pleasant dream, I hope," he called out after her. She came back in holding his coffee.

"It was... about you, actually." Shit. Why had she said that?

His previously semi-glazed eyes suddenly became quite sober. "About me?"

Shiiiittt. Why was she like this? She handed him the mug. "Yeah."

"Hmm," he said, seeming to enjoy the thought. He took a considering sip of coffee. "And, what was I doing in this dream of yours, Lizzie?"

She licked her lips, suddenly feeling like her mouth was too dry to talk. His eyes followed the movement.

"I'm more curious about why you're here, now, in the middle of the night, frankly," she said, trying to regain control of the conversation.

He didn't seem to have an answer. "I wanted... to see you, Elizabeth Keen."

"Okay," she said. "Enough with the Elizabeth Keen already. Maybe Lizzie isn't so bad."

He smiled, and because he could really only focus on one thing at a time, he forgot all about his coffee and the mug fell to the floor with a loud crash, breaking into pieces and spilling coffee in a large, angry looking puddle.

Lizzie looked up at the ceiling. "Why...?"

She glanced back at Red, who was regarding the pieces of broken mug with a sadness only felt when very very drunk.

"Good god," she said, mopping up the mess. "You obviously can't be trusted to take care of yourself, Red. It's lucky you made it here in one piece." The words from her dream came back to her suddenly, and she blushed.

This, he noticed. "Elizabeth. Lizzie. You're blushing. What was that dream about, I wonder?"

She shook her head. "Maybe I'll tell you one day. Not tonight. Tonight, you need coffee, and the couch."

He nodded obediently, and she took a seat beside him, close enough that she could curl her back up against the side of his body.

Maybe she would stay here tonight, too. Just to keep an eye on him, she told herself, unconvincingly.

#codewordpumpkin #omg i hope you like it #i used the prompt for both of them #it just kind of happened #and i loved it #lol #lizzington fanfic #prompt #angst and #other things #lizzington

[pink-flame]

Scoot Over

This is for @chickwiththepurpleguitar who deserves all the good things but all I can provide at the moment is a little Sunset Curve sickfic. We needed something vaccine related but I couldn't bring myself to make it real world 2020/2021 so this is what we get. I hope this makes you feel a little better, my friend! (There's Luke/Bobby if you squint because Lilly's fics have done that to me within a very specific context but you absolutely don't have to read it that way)

It had been a particularly bad flu season and in an effort to keep the school from having to shut down like the neighboring school distract had, the principal had organized a clinic at the school giving out the flu shot.

Which according to Alex was a good thing since none of them wanted to end up stuck inside their houses, feeling like crap for two weeks.

Only Luke’s argument was that any reason to close school was a good one and if he had to be miserable for two weeks he would just as soon it be at home with his guitar rather than the usual misery of attending classes.

None of the guys had dignified that point of view with a response though and given the fact that he was still on thin ice with his parents after his latest blow up with his mom, he accepted his fate more or less without protest when she handed him the signed permission slip.

They were scheduling the shots by last name so Alex, Luke and Reggie all got theirs on Wednesday while Bobby would have to wait until Friday. So the majority of Sunset Curve got their flu shots on the same day and that was fine until they were gathered in Bobby’s garage for rehearsal that night and Luke started feeling...off.

He didn’t say anything at first, never one to be the reason a band practice was cut short, but the longer it went on the harder time he was having acting like everything was normal.

His arm ached where he had been injected and every time he strummed his guitar the ache spread all the way down to his fingertips. He was also just tired. The kind of tired that usually only came the morning after they snuck out to play a club at 2am, crawling out of bed to go to school only a few hours after finally tumbling into it. He had already missed his cue to come in during the bridge of Bright three times and he could see the looks his friends were exchanging out of the corner of his eye like there was something wrong with him but there wasn’t he was fine...only maybe he wasn’t.

Because his head hurt and his arm hurt and he was so damn tired.

So against all previous precedent Luke didn’t argue when Bobby said it was time to call it a day, just propped his guitar up and then dropped heavily onto the couch.

“You ok, man?” Reggie asked, concern clear in his voice.

Luke sighed. There was no denying it at this point. He felt like crap.

“I think that shot gave me the flu.”

“You can’t get the flu from the flu shot,” Alex corrected.

“I think he just means it made him feel bad,” Reggie countered helpfully.

“Well, I just think we should be scientifically accurate,” Alex said firmly. “That’s step one.”

Luke reached up to rub at his aching forehead and hoped they would tire themselves out soon so it would be a little quieter. He was the type who usually never met a silence he didn’t feel the need to fill but in that moment he was dying for a little peace.

Maybe a nap.

“Ok, you two, chill,” Bobby stepped forward to take charge. “You stay there, I’m going to go get you some Tylenol.”

Luke tried not to let Bobby mother him too often, even though it seemed to be Bobby’s natural state and even though if he was being honest Luke kind of loved it. But he was too tired to pretend he didn’t want to be fussed over so he merely nodded and then tipped his head back and closed his eyes.

It felt like only a few seconds later that Bobby was shaking his shoulder to get his attention, Luke forcing himself to raise his head sluggishly. Bobby handed him two pills and a bottle of water and stared down at him expectantly until Luke mustered the energy to swallow them, immediately tossing the bottle of water off to the side and letting his head flop back against the couch.

“You’re going to wake up with a messed up neck,” Bobby said disapprovingly though Luke didn’t bother opening his eyes to check his expression.

“Don’t care,” Luke managed to grunt out stubbornly.

“Maybe you should just go home,” Reggie suggested.

“Yeah, Luke, you don’t look comfortable,” Alex added.

And Luke knew that what they were saying was logical but that didn’t mean he was ready to hear it. Would he be more physically comfortable at home in his bed? Probably. But mentally there was nowhere he felt more comfortable than here, in their studio with his boys, even their nagging giving him a warm and fuzzy feeling in the pit of his stomach. Not that he was about to tell them that.

“Nah, I’m good here,” Luke said flatly.

“Oh scoot over,” Bobby sighed plopping down beside Luke and nudging him over slightly, careful to avoid his sore arm as their sides pressed up against each other.

Bobby reached up to guide Luke’s head down to rest on his shoulder, and yeah, Luke grumbled a little, but he went willingly enough, wiggling his head slightly until it slotted perfectly against the soft spot between his friend’s neck and shoulder.

“I want to cuddle too!” Reggie insisted immediately, his weight dropping onto the couch and jostling Luke a little prompting a groan to escape his lips.

“You’re not even sick,” Alex reminded him as Reggie laid down with his head in Luke’s lap.

“I got my shot today too,” Reggie argued, his voice indicating just how pleased he was to be part of the growing pile of bodies on the couch.

“That doesn’t mean...ok, whatever,” Alex gave up quickly. “Watch out.”

Then Alex was squeezing into the last bit of couch real estate left, pulling Reggie’s feet up to rest across his legs.

Luke smiled contentedly, hoping he was subtle about it but not really caring that much,  and let his eyes slide shut again.

His arm hurt and his head hurt and everything kind of hurt but Bobby had brought his arm up to slot behind Luke’s shoulders and Reggie was snuggling happily into his lap and Alex was muttering about the misconceptions about vaccines and it was good.

After a day or so Luke felt so much better it was like his reaction was a distant memory. He couldn’t wait to show up for Saturday rehearsal until he showed up to find Reggie and Alex lingering around in the garage and Bobby nowhere to be seen. It wasn’t like Bobby to be late to rehearsal, especially when his commute was about five steps, so Luke instantly spun on his heels and headed for the main house at a quick pace, Reggie and Alex trailing after him.

They hovered just in front of the porch, looking up at the window they knew led to Bobby’s room, though it gave them no clues about their friend’s whereabouts.

Luke stride forward and gripped the porch railing, prepared to hoist himself up to the roof.

“Whoa, whoa, what are you doing?” Alex demanded, reaching out to grab his arm and halt his progress.

“Climbing in his window,” Luke explained like it was the most natural thing in the world. “He could be dead!”

“There’s a simpler solution,” Alex rolled his eyes.

“Ooh, ooh we could throw rocks in a pattern, like Morse code!”

Alex and Luke both shot Reggie a slightly judgemental look for that suggestion.

“Or we could just knock like normal people,” Alex sighed, jogging forward to do just that probably afraid to give his friends time to do anything else dumb.

He knocked and nothing happened for just long enough for Luke to be ready to go back to his original plan when the door creaked open and Bobby’s form appeared, slouching and wrapped in a blanket.

“Hey, man, did you just wake up?” Alex asked with concern.

“Yeah,” Bobby croaked. “I think that shot hit me hard yesterday too.”

“They hit you?” Reggie asked in horror. “They were pretty gentle with me.”

Alex rolled his eyes and Bobby sighed but Luke only chuckled and stepped forward to wrap an arm around Bobby’s shoulders and lead him back into the house.

“Come on, I’m going to get you some Tylenol.”

And if they all ended up in yet another cuddle pile in Bobby’s bed, overcrowded and jostling yet cozy...none of them were complaining.

#sunset curve #sickfic #jatp #just an attempt to make my friend smile #have some words

[artificialqueens]

Drunk in Love (Gottrosenali) - Writworm42

A/N: Mik gets very, very drunk and acts even dumber than usual. His boyfriends come to reign him in. TW for heavy alcohol use/drunkeness. Thank you x1000000 to Holtz for beta-ing <3 title from Drunk in Love by Beyonce.

Rosé had never thought of himself as old, not really. Sure, he jokes about it, especially on days where he sleeps wrong and strains his neck or his back hurts for no reason, or nights where he just can’t keep his eyes open past eleven. But he can still party, still drink, still recovers quickly from even the most stunt-heavy gigs. So he’s not old, or so he used to think.

Then he and Denali started dating Mik.

Mik isn’t unreasonable; he’s happy to spend a quiet night at home now and again. But ninety percent of the time, even when he’s not working, he wants to go out to the club or the bar, some friend’s party or some event he saw on Instagram. And that’s fine; Denali and Rosé will come along, make an appearance and have fun for a few hours.

It’s when it’s the fourth night in a row that Mik expects them to be out until 3 AM that’s the real problem. As young and hip as both of them still claim to be, keeping up with Mik is like trying to play tag with the energizer bunny. The kid can drink them both under the table and still be up the next day with only a mild headache, and he can dance in heels for the entire night without needing to take them off. Hell, Rosé has seen Mik up at 4:30 AM before while looking completely unbothered, and when he wakes up at noon the next day he’s not even so much as a little bit groggy.

So it’s no surprise that sometimes, Denali and Rosé have to bow out to recover from the adventures Mik drags them into, instead staying home to watch the news and head to bed early.

Not that that makes them old. It doesn’t.

Really. It doesn’t.

Unfortunately, his body doesn’t seem to agree with him when he’s snapped out of sleep one night by his phone ringing, his eyes sore from the strain of being kept open as he gropes around in the dark for the source of the blaring noise.

“Wha—Rosie?” Denali stirs beside him, rubbing sleep from his eyes as he sits up and watches Rosé answer the call.

“It’s 2 o’clock in the morning, Kandy, what could you possibly need?” he hisses, too tired and pissed to care if Kandy hears him clearly over the thumping music in the background.

“You need to come get your man!” Kandy practically screams, causing Rosé to jerk back and bring his phone away from his ear. “Like, now!”

Jesus Christ.

Rosé is about to ask what Mik has done, but he’s cut off by screaming in the background, a very familiar one that he instantly recognizes as his boyfriend’s.

“ Whozzat Kandlee whozzit whozzit OH MY GOD IS IT PIZZA? Gagged oh my gag, I want pizza can you call pizza make it extra pep—Pepe—fuck, just make it cheese—“

Rosé pinches the bridge of his nose when the next thing he hears is a series of thuds and then a little WHOO followed by peals of Mik’s drunken laughter.

“We have to go get him, don’t we?” Denali flops back down onto his pillow with a groan, and it almost pains Rosé to nod, poking his partner to get him up again.

“Send me the address, we’ll be there ASAP.”

—

The club is loud and dark, flashes of coloured lights exploding every few seconds but still not quite managing to illuminate much more than the silhouettes of people packed into every square inch of the room, dancing against each other or standing with drinks in hand, yelling over the beat vibrating the floor under Rosé’s feet as he walks. Behind him, Denali’s hand squeezes his shoulder, the other man holding on tightly so as not to get lost as they scan through the chaos to try and find their boyfriend.

Not that they have to look for long; they’re only about halfway through the dancefloor when Mik’s voice catches their ears, loud and hoarse and slurring so much they can hardly understand what he’s screaming.

One look at who he’s screaming at, though, and they already know that whatever’s going on can’t be good.

“Hey, hey, asshole! Hey, I said fight me! Come on, you afraid? Fight me fight me fight me!” Mik is screeching in the face of a man twice his size as he fights against Kandy’s hold, trying to get closer to the guy. To his credit, the stranger doesn’t even bat an eye, just ignores Mik like he’s a fly buzzing around him. Which, size- and muscles-wise, Mik pretty much is.

“Oh, fuck, thank God you guys are here,” Kandy grunts as Rosé and Denali push themselves over to the scene, sighing deeply in tandem as Mik continues to wriggle in his friend’s arms. “I don’t even know what his problem is, he just saw this guy and decided he want to fight him--”

“That’s right, that’s right-- HEY!” Mik catches sight of Denali and Rosé and immediately stills, grinning widely, and for a moment, Rosé thinks it’s over, that just the sight of them has tamed drunk-Mik enough that he won’t antagonize the meathead still miraculously ignoring him any more.

It’s wishful thinking, though, because not even a moment later, Mik is turning back to the guy, eyes narrowing as he hisses, “My boyfriends are here now, they’ll fuck you up, you wait and see--”

Of course, it’s just their luck that it’s that threat that finally wakes the troll, the guy turning to stare at he and Denali and frowning deeply before he puts his drink back down on the bar and stands up from his seat, immediately towering over them.

“Listen, I don’t know what your guys’ problem is--” the man clenches his jaw, fists balling by his sides, and wow , his pecs are huge, like size-of-Mik’s-head huge, and if one of them doesn’t say something fast, Rosé just knows that all four of them are gonna wind up getting thrown through a wall.

So he smiles, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply before stepping forward and laying a hand on the guy’s shoulder.

“Listen, mama. I’m gonna level with you, okay?” He locks eyes with the man, who doesn’t look particularly impressed, but who nonetheless listens as Rosé continues, “It’s two-thirty in the morning. I just got here. My back hurts just standing right now, and I’m going to wake up with a splitting migraine tomorrow. My boyfriend is drunk out of his mind, and between you and me, even when he’s not, he’s an absolute idiot. Neither of us came to fight you. We just wanna take him home, put him to bed, and then possibly ground him for the rest of his life after he wakes up and has nothing but Advil for breakfast tomorrow. What do you say, baby, can you let us off scott-free just this once?” he winks, hoping that seals the deal, and either it works or the man just doesn’t care enough, because he rolls his eyes, breaking free of Rosé’s touch and climbing back into his seat with a huff.

“Whatever, man. Just get his drunk ass home.”

Unfortunately, that doesn’t seem to be a satisfactory answer for Mik, who finally breaks free from Kandy, surging forward and pointing towards the man.

“Hey, asshole! This isn’t over, I’m gonna--”

Before he can finish, though, Rosé picks the younger boy up and tosses him over his shoulder without another word, ignoring the kicking and screaming and tossing one last apologetic smile and wink to the man before following Denali back through the crowd and out of the club.

The ride home is tense, Denali having to turn up the radio all the way to keep himself awake at the wheel while Rosé attempts to keep a singing Mik from unbuckling his seatbelt to climb up front. Thank God the club isn’t too far from their apartment; by the time they’ve parked, Mik isn’t even singing the same songs as the radio anymore, and the not-so-dulcet screeches aren’t exactly music to Rosé’s ears, especially not this late, when he’s this annoyed.

“Can you just please, please be quiet?” he growls as he unbuckles the younger man, scooping him up again to carry him towards the building’s door. There’s no real need for the request, though; because the minute they reach the elevator, Rosé realizes with a jolt that Mik has gone completely quiet.

“Is he asleep or dead?” Denali peers over as Rosé looks down at the man in his arms, genuinely wondering the same. But then Mik lets out a quiet snore, and both Rosé and Denali breathe out a sigh of relief.

Good; it means tomorrow they’ll be able to kill him themselves.

—

It’s almost eleven o’clock the next morning when Mik finally trudges out of bed, squinting and frowning against the sunlight that trickles in through the kitchen window.

“Well, if it isn’t sleeping ugly,” Rosé teases, grinning in petty delight when Mik doesn’t respond, only flips him off before collapsing into the seat beside him at the table. “Feeling good after last night?”

“I legitimately feel like I’m going to die.” Mik groans, putting his head down on the table in front of him.

“Here, have some water instead.” Denali suggests kindly, coming around the kitchen counter to put down a large glass full of ice water in front of the younger man, followed by an extra-strength Advil and extra-strength Tylenol tucked in a napkin. Mik takes them both in one big swig, gulping down the water like he’s found a stream in the desert and not stopping until the glass is empty save for the few cubes he hasn’t sucked into his mouth to crunch on.

“Was I really that drunk?” Mik asks, wincing at the tiny thump the glass makes as he sets it back down on the table. “‘Cause honestly, you guys, I don’t remember any of it, but I don’t usually get this hungover--”

“When we came to pick you up, a dude the size of Everest was about to pound your ass into the ground, and not in the good way, so yes, you really were that drunk.” Rosé snorts, and he has to admit, it’s kind of satisfying to see Mik’s eyes bug out of his head when he realizes the trouble he’d caused, the danger he’d put himself--and, by extension, Rosé, Denali, and Kandy--in.

“Holy shit,” he starts, “Guys, I’m—“

“We know,” Denali ruffles Mik’s hair before walking back into the kitchen, opening the fridge and scanning its contents, “It’s okay.”

“As long as you’re safe.” Rosé affirms, and as much as he wants to keep being bitter, he means it—he really would take a thousand sleepless nights for the man sitting beside him.

“Thanks for understanding.” Mik sighs out in relief, leaning back in his chair.

In the kitchen, Denali begins to take food out of the fridge, placing coconut oil, flour, and vegan bacon on the counter, and Rosé can’t help but roll his eyes and smile when he sees Mik eye the ingredients hungrily.

“Tell you what, baby, how bout you go back to sleep, and we’ll call you when breakfast is ready, ‘kay?”

Mik just nods, licking his lips, before standing up and beginning to head back towards the bedroom. He stops, though, when he hears Rosé’s voice piping up one more time.

“Oh, and Kade?” Rosé’s petty streak comes back just a little when Mik freezes at hearing his real name, satisfaction tickling at Rosé’s chest when Mik turns around to face him again, swallowing hard.

“Yeah?”

“You ever pull that shit again, Kandy’s stuffing your ass in an Uber and you’re sleeping on the couch.”

#rpdr fanfiction #gottmik #denali foxx #rosé #denali x gottmik x rosé #canon compliant #sluff #poly #s13 #writworm42

[aerynwrites]

This Unspoken Thing

Based off of my own idea but it also fits with the request: “Is that my shirt?” with Javier.

Author’s Note: Okay guys I was so excited to write this little Javier One-shot that was inspired by the song Temporary Bliss by the Cab. I highly HIGHLY recommend listening to this song either as you read or before, it was literally the reasoning behind this one-shot and I hope you all enjoy!

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: Angst, fluff, sexual innuendos.

////

You huffed as you threw the covers off of you, the incessant knocking at your apartment door not giving you much of a choice. It was almost two in the morning, and even though you weren’t able to sleep, your late-night visitor was still unwelcome. You walked quickly from your room to the living room and to the front door, the knocking continuing nonstop the entire time. When you finally reach the source of the intrusion, you rip the door open, not even bothering to check to see who it was first.

“What the fuck do you - Javi?” you cut yourself off as you take in the familiar figure at your door. He’s leaning heavily on the door frame, swaying dangerously and reeking of alcohol. 

You sigh, “What do you want Javier?”

He tries to stand up straighter, “We, uh - we had a date tonight, remember?” he informed you, words slurring together as they slipped past his lips. And despite his less than sober state, he managed to shove his way past you and into your apartment.

You rolled your eyes before closing your door and turning to follow him, “I told you I didn’t want to do this tonight Javi, remember?” you mock his earlier question.

He doesn’t respond to your statement, seemingly trying to rack his inebriated brain for the memory of that conversation. You turned, leaving him to think for a moment, while you walked into your kitchen. You grabbed the bottle of Tylenol from the counter and dumped two capsules into your hand before grabbing a glass and moving to the sink. As much as his presence annoyed you, you weren’t going to let him drive home in this state. You knew why Javier was here. You both had fallen into some unspoken agreement a year ago - he came to you or you went to him when you both needed the physical comfort of another person. It had all come about after he saddled up to you in the local bar, and as per usual for Javier, you ended up at his place. From there, it all just fell into place, this...unspoken thing. But the longer it had gone on, the harder it became for you to keep this relationship strictly casual. You had fallen hard for the bachelor DEA agent, and you knew that he could never feel the same about you. He just came to you when he wanted a good fuck, something to take his mind off the horrors of his everyday life - and it was slowly killing you.

“Is that my shirt?” a familiar baritone filled your ears as his arms wrapped around you from behind, breaking you from your thoughts.

His sudden appearance and close proximity to you made you jump, nearly dropping the glass in your hand into the sink. His question caused a blush to creep onto your cheeks, along with the fact that he was trailing his lips from your ear down your neck as his hands wandered down to the hem of the t-shirt you were wearing. You were in fact wearing his shirt. It was one he had left at your place after one of your weekly rendezvous, and despite your conflicted feelings about your relationship with the man, it brought you comfort since his scent still clung to the soft cotton material.

 A startled gasp slipped past your lips when you felt his hand slip up under the shirt and toy with the waistband of your underwear. You gripped his wrist harshly and pulled it away from you, turning to face him and pushing him away from you slightly.

“Javier, stop,” you bark, “I told you I didn’t want to do this tonight - and you’re drunk.”

He stumbles away from you, swaying unsteadily before watching himself. You take this moment of distraction to hand him the glass of water and two pain killers.

“Take these,” you instruct, watching as he does so without hesitation.

You tried to ignore the way his adam’s apple bobbed when he drank, tried to ignore the sliver of skin showing from where the top buttons of his shirt were undone, you tried to ignore the way he made butterflies erupt in your stomach just by being near you. Javier has always held this silent power over you - you would do anything for him - which is why this needed to end. You knew it could never be more than what it was. Javier wasn’t the settling down type, and who were you to change that?

Javier finished the glass of water just as you pushed off the counter and moved into the living room. He set his glass down and followed you, because even in his inebriated state he could tell something wasn’t right.

“Did I do something wrong?” he asked as he entered the living room with you, steps still uneven as he tried to approach you, just wanting to touch you - feel your warmth under his fingertips.

You weren’t looking at him, you were facing your window, leaning against the couch. His fingers brushed your shoulder, sending goosebumps across your skin in their wake and you jerked away from his touch.

“I can’t keep doing this Javier,” you say finally, turning to face him but not meeting his eyes, “I’m calling off...whatever this is.”

His brain can’t keep up with what you’re saying, he doesn’t fully understand that you’re telling him but his mouth moves before he can stop himself, “Bonita, please, I -”

His words are slurred, and he moves to step closer to you but the toe of his shoe catches on the corner of the couch and sends him falling forward. He collapses unceremoniously onto the couch and for the first time tonight, you realize that you had never seen Javier this messed up before. He was usually good about holding his alcohol, able to drink you under the table several times over. Something must have been troubling him greatly for him to have drank so much.

You move around to where he lay on the couch, pushing on his shoulders when he tries to get up, “Stay there,” you order, “you need to sleep this off.”

Javier didn’t seem to argue, apparently lying down showed him how tired he actually was because he relaxed back into the cushions and threw an arm over his eyes. You rolled your eyes at him before kneeling down and pulling his shoes off, setting them at the end of the couch. You then pulled a blanket off the back and unfolded it, laying it over him gently. You heard him murmur something as the fabric settled over him and you leaned towards him slowly.

“Did you say something Javi?” you asked gently, not prepared for the words that fell from his lips.

“I love you, bonita,” he mumbled, warm brown eyes looking at you as he pulled his arm away from his face.

Your heart seemed to stutter in your chest and your breath hitched in your throat. Those words, the ones you had dreamed of hearing him say had finally slipped past his lips. You felt tears burn at the back of your eyes, too much happening for you to comprehend. You take a deep breath and turn away from him, standing quickly.

“You’re drunk Javi,” you whisper, walking away from him and towards your bedroom, “I’ll see you in the morning.”

The minute you reached your room and climbed into bed, the tears started to fall from your eyes. You had wanted to hear those words for months, so the fact that he finally said them broke your heart. Because even though he had said them, you knew he didn’t mean it, not when he was completely hammered about to pass out on your couch. This night couldn’t get any worse it seemed.

The only hope you had as you drifted to sleep was that by morning, Javier wouldn’t remember anything.

***

The feeling of warm skin and light breaths is what woke you from your slumber the following morning. It didn’t take long for you to realize that at some point before you had woken up, Javier had slipped into your bed, and now - in the early morning light - his fingers were trailing up your arm and his face was tucked into your neck.

Neither of you say anything for a while, weighing your words before you speak. Finally, you decide to break the silence, causing his hand to fall and rest on your hip, thumb rubbing soothing circles on the skin exposed by your shirt that had ridden up.

“What do you remember?” you whisper, afraid that if you speak too loud you’ll break the delicate moment you two are sharing.

Javier doesn’t respond right away instead opting to press a few kisses to your neck before letting out a sigh, “Enough,” is all he offers.

You feel tears begin to collect in your eyes once more and you try to blink them away to no avail. You turn to face him and sit up forcing him to do the same.

“I can’t do this anymore Javier,” you whimper, wiping furiously at the tears falling from your eyes.

A confused look crosses his features, brows furrowing together as a hand comes to rest on the back of your neck, “What do you mean, querida?”

You let out a frustrated groan and rub at your eyes, still wet with tears before gesturing between the two of you, “This, Javier. Whatever the fuck this unspoken deal we have is. I just -” you take in a shuddering breath unable to meet his eyes, “It isn’t just casual for me anymore. I want more than these temporary meetings in the middle of the night, I want more than a quick fuck, Javier - I feel more for you than I know you feel for me,” you explain, “but then you come in here drunk off your ass last night and you touch me and you talk to me and you just - Fuck! You just do whatever it is you do when you’re around me,” you’re rambling now, voice wet with tears that won’t stop coming as you pour your heart out to the man who holds it in his hands.

“You’re like a drug that I can’t get enough of, but I know I can never have you the way I want, and I had finally come to terms with that - finally told myself that it was time to end things an then you -” you finally look at him and you shove his shoulder roughly, sadness turning into frustration, “You come over here, completely fucking drunk and tell me that you love me and it made everything worse because I know you didn’t mean it, but I do Javier!” you cry, “I love you - god, I love you so fucking much and it’s killing me to know you don’t love me back.”

By now you’re full-on sobbing, completely unaware of the shell shocked man sitting in front of you until finally, he moves from his statue-like position. He lunges forward, lips capturing yours in a kiss that was unlike any others you had shared as he pins you under him. It’s like he’s a drowning man who has finally found the air he needs to survive, as his lips move against yours hungrily. He finally pulls away, thumb brushing along your cheek as he takes in the swarm of emotions pooling in your eyes.

“I know what I said,” he finally tells you, “I remember - and I meant it. I love you bonita, so much.”

Your mouth opens and closes, unable to form words at this confession until you finally manage to sputter out, “W-what?”

Javier just gives you a smile before pressing a small kiss to your lips before trailing down your jaw and just below your ear, “I love you,” he whispers.

At his reassurance, you finally bring your hands up to wrap around his neck and tangle in his hair, pulling his face back to yours and kissing him again, “I love you too Javi,” you breath against his lips.

You both smile into the kiss until Javier sits up on his knees pulling you with him so you’re straddling his lap. You let out a small gasp at the sudden change in position and look at Javier who is giving you a shit-eating grin as his fingers toy with the hem of the shirt you're wearing.

“Now,” he hums, “as much as I love my shirt on you, I think you’ll look even better without it,” he says, nuzzling into your neck as he inches the shirt slowly upwards.

And for the first time since he came over, you don’t stop him.

////

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#javier pena x reader #pedro pascal x reader #javier peña #Pedro Pascal #narcos x reader #narcos

[chicgeekgirl89]

The Way Our Horizons Meet: Chap. 2

Fandom: 911 Lone Star

Characters: Carlos Reyes, T.K. Strand

Rating: T

Summary: Carlos’ perspective through the aftermath of T.K.’s shooting. Follows the events of episodes 1x08-1x10

Read Chapter 1 Here

Days passed. Carlos went to work, did his job, went home. It was like T.K. had never existed. If it weren’t for the sweatshirt left on the back of his couch, T.K.’s preferred coffee mug still in the sink, it would have been like their relationship never happened.

Would anyone even think to let him know if something changed? If T.K. didn’t wake up…or if he…took a turn for the worse? Would they call him? Or would he just hear about it on the news like he was nobody?

And then, after six days, he was on shift when his phone buzzed. 

Message from T.K. Strand

Lightning shot through him. He nearly dropped the phone, couldn’t move his fingers fast enough to get it unlocked so he could read the message. 

Hey.

Carlos blinked a few times. “You okay?” Sarah asked from her desk opposite him.

“It’s uh, it’s a text from T.K.,” Carlos said, trying to process a thousand feelings at once. His brain seemed to have stalled out.

“What does it say?” Sarah asked.

“It just says ‘hey,’” Carlos told her, holding up the phone so she could see.

“Well that’s a good sign right? It means he’s awake?” 

“I guess so.” Carlos stared at the message.

“Are you going to text him back?” Sarah asked.

“I—-I don’t know,” Carlos said.

“Carlos you’ve waited days for this,” Sarah said.

“I know, I know I have I just…what do I even say? ‘So I guess you’re not dead?’ ‘How’s the bullet wound healing up?’”

She raised her eyebrows. “You could just say ‘hey’ back.”

He didn’t have the chance. They got a call and by the time his shift ended two hours later he still hadn’t responded. Instead he called Michelle.

“Are you serious right now?” she asked. “Stop being such a coward and text him back!Or, better yet, go over there!”

Apparently the surprises weren’t done for the day. “He’s home?”

“Strand said he was released this morning. That’s probably why he texted you.”

Before Carlos could stop himself he flipped on his blinker and took a right in the opposite direction of his condo. He gripped the wheel tightly, anxiety racing through him so fast he felt like his whole body was vibrating. 

He pulled up to the Strand’s house and it was only then that he realized what a terrible mistake this might be. What if the captain was home? What if T.K. wasn’t feeling well or didn’t want to see him?

If he didn’t want to talk to you he wouldn’t have texted, Carlos lectured himself sternly. Maybe it was a little presumptuous to just show up on the guy’s doorstep, but…he needed to see for himself that T.K. was all right.

Belatedly he realized that T.K. might be sleeping or immobile and unable to answer the door. But he’d already rung the bell and he heard the slow and slightly unsteady footsteps of someone moving around. The door opened and there he was, eyes open, face still a shade or two too pale, but alive, whole, and blinking against the sunlight. “Hey,” he said, smile slowly spreading across his face.

“Seriously?” Carlos barked out a sharp laugh, tears pricking at his eyes again. “You’ve been in a coma for a week and that’s all you can think to say? Hey?”

“Well like you said, I was in a coma,” T.K. said, smile now a full on grin that tugged at Carlos’ heart. “I’ll try and come up with something better for next time.”

Carlos shook his head. “God please don’t even say that.”

The air around them seemed to buzz with that same strange energy Carlos always felt around T.K.; like he wanted to bare his soul, tell him every secret he’d ever kept buried in his heart, and also rip his clothes off all at the same time. God damn this man made him a little crazy.

Carlos almost reached out, almost put a hand on T.K.’s face, his shoulder any part of him that would make this feel real. But he still wasn’t sure of anything at all so instead he simply curled them into fists at his side. “Are you okay? They sent you home so you must be healing, right?”

“I mean I still have a hole in my chest,” T.K. said. “But yeah, everything is functional.”

“Good,” Carlos said, uncertainty running through him. “I’m…I’m really glad you’re okay.”

“Thanks,” T.K. said. 

“Cool.” Carlos was at a loss now and the silence between them was growing awkwardly long. This had been very stupid, he should have just texted back. “So I guess, I’ll see you around then?”

T.K. nodded. “Yeah, yeah I think you will.”

Carlos turned and started back toward his car, confusion swirling through him. Somehow he’d imagined…well he wasn’t sure, but not this. Damn Michelle and her stupid ideas. He should have known better than to listen to a woman who violated her restraining order on a regular basis. Usually he was more level headed than this, how could he have been—

“You really came all the way over here just to leave without coming inside?” T.K. called from behind him.

Hope sparked in his chest and he turned back to see a shit-eating-grin all over T.K.’s face. His own smile spread wide, relief crashing over him and making him feel almost dizzy. He shook his head. “Oh my god you suck,” he said, walking back to the door.

“You’re in your uniform. I like to see you walk away,” T.K. said, stepping back so Carlos could come inside.

He suppressed a chuckle. “Glad to see your brush with death hasn’t changed you.”

“It would take a lot more than a bullet for me to stop thinking you’re hot,” T.K. told him as he resettled himself on the couch, unable to completely hide a wince despite the cocky bravado he’d put on. 

Carlos sat next to him, leaving some space between them so T.K. could move as he needed to to get comfortable. “Where’s your dad?” he asked, eyes taking in the pill bottles, empty granola bar wrappers, and water bottles on the coffee table.

“The station,” T.K. said. “I couldn’t take having him around anymore. He hovers like you would not believe.”

“So you’re just here by yourself?” Carlos was slightly horrified. Coming from a large family he couldn’t imagine being left alone after such a grave injury. He’d come home with sprained ankles, bruised ribs, and concussions and it never failed that within minutes of his arrival some well meaning family member was knocking on his door. 

“Well not anymore,” T.K. said, flashing that grin again just before he leaned into Carlos, settling against his chest so Carlos had no choice but to wrap his arms around him.

They sat that way for a long time, the TV playing some daytime soap opera that likely neither of them were paying attention to. At least, Carlos definitely wasn’t. He was too deeply wrapped up in disbelief. He’d spent the last week trapped in a haze of anxiety and now…the person he’d most wanted to see in all the world was literally in his lap. And he didn’t know what to do with that.

He had questions, things he wanted to say, but he could tell T.K. was nodding off so instead he sat quietly, just holding him, letting the moment, a moment he’d been uncertain would ever happen again, live around him.

After about forty minutes T.K. startled himself awake and then immediately tensed, letting out a low groan of pain. Carlos rubbed a hand up and down his arm, worry pinching in his stomach. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” T.K. said, his voice strained. “Yeah just give me a second.”

Carlos continued to rub his arm soothingly, pressing his lips into T.K.’s hair as the other man breathed through the pain. “What can I do?” he asked as the minutes ticked by and T.K. still didn’t relax. 

“There’s uh, there’s some maximum strength Tylenol in the kitchen,” T.K. said. “If you don’t mind—“

Carlos was already easing out from behind him, moving slowly so as not to cause him any more pain. “I’ll be right back.”

He found the medication quickly and grabbed a few more bottles of water while he was there. T.K. was lying flat out on the couch when he returned, a hand over his face, his whole body stiff. 

“Hey,” Carlos said softly, kneeling by his head and cracking open the bottle, dumping two pills into his palm. “Just sit up for me a little bit, okay?”

He helped T.K. lift his head a few inches to swallow them down with a sip of water. “Oh god,” T.K. groaned as he reclined fully, face pinched in pain. “Sorry, I’m not much of a host right now.”

“It’s all right,” Carlos assured him, reaching up to gently card his fingers through T.K.’s hair. “I’ll go so you can get some rest.”

He started to stand but T.K. caught his hand. “You don’t have to,” he said and something in his eyes stopped Carlos in his tracks. He sank back down beside him, sitting cross legged on the carpet and rubbed his thumb soothingly over the back of T.K.’s hand. “I’ll be right here.”

T.K. slipped back into sleep not long after that for which Carlos was grateful. Sleep was far better than agonizing pain. 

Carlos straightened up the living room a bit, bagging the water bottles and wrappers, adjusting the pillows and blankets. He was clearly his mother’s son, fussing and fidgeting around even though a zonked out T.K. didn’t require a lot of help or supervision. But he couldn’t just sit and do nothing when the house lay in disarray.

As T.K. continued to sleep Carlos checked his watch and realized it had grown late. Before he could decide about waking T.K. to say goodbye he he heard a key in the front door lock and Captain Strand stepped into the house. Their eyes met and surprise registered on his face. “Officer Reyes. I didn’t realize you’d be here.”

Carlos shifted his weight nervously back and forth. “Yes sir. I just wanted to make sure he was all right.”

The captain came a few steps closer, eyes looking past him to where T.K. was sacked out on the couch. “Looks like you’ve done a fine job taking care of him.”

Carlos swallowed. “Yes sir,” he said again. “I should get going.”

“Well don’t leave on my account,” the captain said. “You’re welcome to stay for dinner.”

That was definitely boyfriend territory and since he and T.K. hadn’t really had that conversation yet, Carlos thought it best to bow out. “Thank you. Maybe some other time.”

The captain seemed to understand. “Well thank you for coming by. I’m sure my son appreciated it.”

“Could you let him know I had to go? I didn’t want to wake him.”

“Of course,” the captain said, though his eyes seemed to say a lot more than that. 

“Have a good night.” Carlos let himself out the front door. He got in his car and gripped the steering wheel tightly, relief and uncertainty mixing viciously in his stomach. He’d thought coming here and seeing T.K. was all right would somehow make things clear. But if anything he felt more confused than ever. Were they something? Or was he just a convenient hand to hold?

He shook himself. T.K. had been through a trauma. They all had. It wasn’t fair to expect anything of him right now. They would have time to talk. Carlos just wasn’t sure if he could survive the waiting. 

#911 Lone Star #Tarlos #Tarlos Fic #Whump #Hurt/Comfort #911LS #Carlos Reyes #T.K. Strand