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mostly-imagines · 20 days

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Guard Dog vol. II

jason todd x fem!reader

aka don’t fuck with jason’s gf pt. II

3 in 1 blurbs

warnings: mild standard gotham violence, in the 3rd section: attempted sexual assault and panicky thoughts afterwards from reader

“Sweetheart, this is…not good.”

You turn your head over to him, where he’s frowning, hands on his hips as he inspects your bedroom window.

You tilt your head, looking it over from your place on the couch. “What’s wrong with it?”

He sighs, “Well for one, the lock is broken. But even if it weren’t, this thing would be so easy to break.”

“It’s the lock the place came with.” You shrug. At least it has a lock. In Gotham that’s kind of asking a lot.

“Yeah, I can tell.” He frowns at the window once again, moving over to stand behind the couch. “I’m getting you better locks.” He looks to you, “I can install them tomorrow?”

You tilt your head up to look at him, “You don’t need to get me new locks, Jay…”

“Okay.” He kisses your head, “I’m getting them.”

You sigh in defeat, though your smile makes it lose its credibility. “Tomorrow’s fine. I assume you’re staying the night, then?”

He makes his way to the kitchen as he says, “Well, I’m not leaving you alone here with this piece of shit the only thing between you and Gotham.”

“I’ve lived here for two years.” You say flatly.

“Don’t remind me.” He mumbles as he moves behind the counter. “Actually, your door chain’s broken too, isn’t it?” It is, but that’s his own fault.

You had a long day a couple weeks ago and had a very long, very hot shower the second you got home. Unfortunately, it had slipped your mind to text him that you were home safe and he’d broken through the chain in one try to make sure you were okay.

You hum, “It wasn’t doing much anyways.” Clearly.

He grimaces as he heats up the stove for dinner.

You laugh lightly, “What?”

He looks back at you with a frankly adorable frown, “I don’t like that.”

You’d never thought much of it. You hadn’t had any—well, many—problems living here before, and you still had your deadbolt and handle lock.

“It’s okay. I’m safe here.”

He looks like he strongly disagrees. He comes back over, sitting next to you, taking your face in his hands. “Will you please let me set up some security measures around here?”

“Did Jason Todd just say please?” You say in faux-shock.

He rolls his eyes at you, “I’m serious.”

You sigh, contemplatively. “I don’t want my apartment looking like the Home Alone set.”

He laughs at that, “It’s not going to. You won’t even notice most of them. Just do it for me, please?”

“I’ll agree, but only because I know you’re going to do it anyways and I’d like to pretend I have control over this.” That’s not true, you’d agree to literally anything if he said please that sweetly again, but that’s your business.

“Fair enough.” He smiles, kissing your cheek.

No, it’s not fair at all.

It’s late. You’re not even sure how late but the city has calmed from its usual noises, indicating that your boyfriend will be home soon.

You’re coming up heavy on cramps tonight and according to the mockingly empty spot in your medicine cabinet, you’re out of ibuprofen. Yeah, it’s late, but the store on the corner is a three minute walk and fuck your stomach hurts. Jason wouldn’t like it if you went out without telling him though, so maybe you should wait until—

The sound of the living room window sliding open breaks you away from your thoughts, followed by a clatter of something hitting the ground.

You walk back into the dimly lit room, finding your boyfriend sliding the window shut again, holsters abandoned on the ground. He turns and collapses onto the couch face first, body immediately gone limp.

“Hey, baby.” You bite back a laugh, coming over to rub his muscled back from behind the couch. He groans into the cushion in response. “Why don’t you go get in bed?”

He hums almost imperceptibly, sitting up and rubbing his eyes roughly with his palms.

He stands and takes your hand in his as he passes by, tugging you towards the bedroom. The deep ache in your abdomen reminds you of your earlier train of thought. You pull your hand back, stopping in your tracks.

He turns back to you with a frown, wanting to know what could possibly be getting in his way of falling asleep, holding you close.

“I gotta go pick up some ibuprofen. I’ll be right back.” You say quietly, not wanting to disturb the quietness of the night for him. His frown deepens as you head towards the door, watching you.

You’ve got your purse in hand and are reaching for the handle when you hear his footsteps following in suit. “Hey, it’s okay. Stay here, I’m just going to the 24 hour store on the corner.”

He shakes his head, “You’re not going out in Gotham alone at two in the morning. Put your coat on, it’s cold.”

You do as you’re told, shrugging the coat on as you glance over at him. “Jason, it’s okay. You’re exhausted, go to sleep.”

He ignores you, throwing a sweatshirt on to cover up his armor, and follows you out the door; albeit far more sluggish than usual.

He was right though, the night air is bitter and slaps your face with every step forward you take. He lingers a few steps behind you, honest to god almost falling asleep mid step a couple times.

Frankly, you’re not even sure what kind of fight he’d be able to put up in this state. Though, he’s surprised you plenty of times before. In any case, his head snaps up every time there’s any sign of movement around, instantly on alert.

He trails behind you as you browse through the narrow aisles, hands stuffed in his sweatshirt.

As you’re standing at the store counter paying, his neck is craned forward, resting on your shoulder. You rub soothing circles into his hand with your thumb, though you’re sure it’s not doing anything to help his exhaustion.

You’re walking back home, the bite of the air a bit more forgiving in this direction. There’s another man walking down the sidewalk approaching, hands in pocket.

Jason’s too tired to bother with subtlety, glaring directly at the passerby before he could even think of trying anything. And it works, because the guy averts his gaze real quick and speeds up past you.

He continues working at his post from just behind you all the way until you’re back inside your apartment.

He takes the medicine container out of his pocket and cracks it open for you, wordlessly filling up a glass of water after. You gulp down a couple of the pills, and he takes the glass and bottle out of your hand the second you’re done, setting them on the counter.

He turns to you, eyes barely open, mumbling, “Can we sleep now?”

You smile at his fatigued state and take his hand, leading him to the bedroom.

Your neighbor likes you. You know it, Jason knows it.

The worst he’d done was flirt with you, badly, and shut his mouth real quick whenever your boyfriend emerged from your apartment.

And Jason let that go; he knows better than anybody that you’re heavenly and sweet and clever, of course this fucking guy likes you. Jason set an unspoken rule with himself, that he won’t get violent with any guys unless they put their hands on you. Something he knows for absolute fact your neighbor has not done.

At least he hadn’t until a couple of hours ago. You’d been in the hallway at the mailslots, your boyfriend nowhere in sight, when he decided it was the perfect time to make a move. Make several moves, actually.

You’re sitting on the couch, knees to chest, still trying to wrap your mind wround what had happened when Jason sees you. You stopped crying a while ago and you’ve entered the phase of…well. That happened.

Your hear keys jingling outside the door, followed by your boyfriend's entrance. He’s carrying some grocery bags and has a book tucked under his chin.

He lets the bags slide off his arms, and sets the book on the counter with them, beaming, “You’re never gonna guess what b—“ His smile drops when he sees you. “What’s wrong?”

You shake your head, “Nothing.” But your blinking feels off all of a sudden, and you can’t remember what you usually do with your face when you’re not lying. It doesn’t matter though, you could be an academy award winning actress and you’re still sure Jason would be able to see right through you with a single glance.

He frowns, “Don’t lie to me.” He moves towards you, kneeling down in front of you. “Please. What’s wrong?” His eyes are worried now, more than usual.

You don’t want him to worry about this. He already worries about you too much and he’s got all his vigilante stuff and…you just want to believe that this is a manageable situation and not a problem. Not something that affected you.

“It’s just…it’s not a big deal, okay? I can handle it—”

His posture stiffens and his voice suddenly goes low and serious, “What happened?”

You know where this is going. “Jason. Promise me you won’t do anything.”

His brow furrows, and his frown turns to something closer to anger. “Did someone put their hands on you? Who?”

“Jason—”

“Who did it?”

“The neighbor, b—” he immediately snaps to a stand and starts towards the door. You hurry to grab onto his hand before he can escape your proximity, “Jason. Please don’t.”

The break in your voice is enough to make his rage falter and turn back around to face you.

“Baby, if he touched you—” His eyes are pleading, begging you to let him go take care of this. If not for you, then for him.

“It wasn’t—he didn’t do anything. He didn’t get to. I hit him and he backed off.” Which is…sort of true.

He stares at you. “In the hallway?”

You blink. “…Yeah?”

He takes off towards the bedroom wordlessly. You follow quickly on his tail, watching him sit on the edge of your bed, opening his computer and clicking through it quickly.

You slide over next to him, and see that he's pulling up a file under the name of your building and today’s date. It takes you two seconds too long to realize what he’s doing, the thought only sinking in right as you see the hallway security camera footage on the screen.

“Jason—” you try to close the computer but he bats your hand away.

He forwards through the footage, as you scramble trying and failing to reach past him, various building occupants coming in and out of frame rapidly.

“—please just listen to me.” But he did listen to you, and he heard that someone tried to hurt you. That was all he needed to hear.

He stops when he sees you enter the frame, watching closely. He sees you flipping through the mail. He sees your neighbor slither out of his apartment and stand far too close to you. You take a step back only to be met with two steps forward by him. He says something to you, probably asking where your boyfriend is.

The angle doesn’t show his face, but it does see yours, and you look incredibly uncomfortable. You don’t answer him, which evidently was enough of an answer in itself.

Your neighbor tries to brush some of your hair out of your face but you snap your head away, stumbling back a little. He uses your lack of balance as an “excuse” to grab onto your waist, pulling you close to him.

Your hands are out in front of you and you’re shaking your head as he pushes towards you. His lips land on your neck and you try to move backwards, but he grabs your wrists and holds you in place.

You fight against his grip, and upon realizing that your struggling doesn’t matter to him at all, you dig your nails into his wrists so hard you draw blood. He groans in pain and his grip on you loosens.

You snap your hands away and push yourself away, locking yourself in your apartment. Your neighbor lingers for a moment, shouting something at the door before trudging back into his apartment and slamming the door.

Jason snaps the laptop shut, coming to a stand once again. His fists clinch at his sides. “That was not nothing.”

No, it wasn’t. But you feel so helpless right now. You sure as hell felt it in the hallway, and it keeps lingering in you and you’re not sure why. You couldn’t do anything then, you can’t do anything now…it feels like all the bad things in the world are closing in on you and you just have to let it happen.

“I…I don’t want anyone to die because of me…” your words aren’t quite matching your thoughts, but this is the closest you can get right now.

He pulls back to look at you, brows furrowed. “It’s—it’s not because of you. It’s because of him. Baby, if I were on patrol and saw him grab some other girl like that I’d do the same thing.”

You know that. You know that. But communication seems impossible right now even though it’s the only tool you have to stop things from closing in.

“No, I know that. I know…it’s just…” Things are closing in anyways. Alright, this is happening now. Your eyes start watering and your voice trembles.

“Fuck, baby.” His hand flies to the back of your head, other arm wrapping around your middle, pulling you to him.

You feel a bit silly, crying over the potential death of someone who tried to hurt you, in front of the Red Hood of all people.

“I’m sorry, I—I don’t know. It’s—it’s too many bad things. I can’t…”

“Okay. Okay. It’s okay. I’ll stay here. I’m staying here with you, okay?” You nod into his chest, tears dampening his shirt.

This is a temporary solution, you know that even now. But you think once it expires, it might be easier to accept whatever Jason’s going to do later.

He’s quiet for a few minutes, holding you in his arms as you sway back and forth lightly.

“Will you forgive me if I kill him?” He whispers into your hair.

You roll your eyes but smile nonetheless. “Don’t.”

“Is that a yes?”

You pull back to look him in the eyes, face setting. “I’m getting the feeling you’re going to do something regardless of how this conversation ends.” He says nothing. “Just, please, don’t kill him.”

He holds you tighter and you do the same, laying your head against his chest again. You feel him press a kiss to your head as he takes a deep breath.

You think on it for a moment, figuring it needs saying, “And don’t get in trouble.”

Your neighbor comes home late that night, trudging through the front door with a perpetual frown. He opens the door to his notably unlocked apartment. He drops his bag on the ground with a thump and flicks on the lamp next to the door. He shuts the door and turns the lock when the red elephant in the room pipes up.

“Hey, bud.”

He jumps, spinning around, “Who the fuck—oh, shit.” He freezes the second he sees him, sitting in the armchair across the room. The Red Hood nods, loading the gun in his hand.

Your neighbor stutters, “What—what are you doing here?”

He looks up at him, cocking the gun. “You put your hands on your neighbor, yeah?”

He looks fake-shocked at the accusation. “What? No, I would ne—which neighbor?”

He can’t see it, but Hood’s face drops into a deadpan. “That is really not helping your case.”

Your neighbor eyes the gun nervously.

Hood sighs, “I’m not going to kill you. I’ve been told it’s bad manners to execute someone the first time you meet.” He glances down the nail marks on his arm and steals his jaw. “No. What’s going to happen is you’re going to break your lease and move out. Within the next week.”

The neighbors eyes widen, “A week? Are you insane?”

Hood tilts his head a bit before shaking it, “Nah, you’re right. By tomorrow night.”

“This is my apartment. I live here, I’m not going anywhere. And unless you’re secretly Saul the landlord under there, you can’t do anything about it.” He crosses his arms, clearly feeling very proud of himself. Well, killing him isn’t the only option, is it?

“Yeah, I thought you’d say that.” Hood clocks him hard on the head with the frame of his gun. He goes down quickly and loudly, clutching his head, groaning. “The alternative is getting beaten half to death and hoping whatever hospital you end up at knows what they’re doing.”

Honestly, neighbor boy is pressing his luck as is. Maybe it was a bad idea for Jason to bring the gun.

“Fuck! Fine! I’ll go!” He wails.

Hood kicks his abdomen with the side of his boot, though not nearly as hard as he wanted to. “Shut up. You’ll disturb the neighbors.”

The neighbor groans again, quieter. He mumbles something about Hood being crazy but it gets lost under the grunts of pain.

Hood crouches down next to him, patting him on the head with the barrel of his gun. “Don’t worry, bud. I’ll check up on you. And if I ever see you so much as look in the general direction of another girl I’ll put a bullet in your head. Sound good?”

Your former neighbor drops his head to the ground, hand still clutching the growing swell on his forehead.

#these are all wildly different lengths my b #jason todd loves his gf #jason todd the doberman #jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd x you #jason todd/you #jason todd/reader #jason todd fanfic #jason todd fanfiction #red hood x you #red hood imagine #red hood x reader #red hood fanfic #red hood fanfiction

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muertawrites · 2 years

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Request !! Reader on her period so bf!eddie gives her cuddles and tries to help her period cramps :(

(i'm on the second day of my period and having a horrible time with it so i needed this request. my emotions are being real bitchy to me.)

i'm just gonna write these as headcanons bc anything more formal i've tried today has flopped spectacularly

idk about the rest of y'all but i'm an emotional wreck on my period. a couple days beforehand i am just mean, and bitter, and all i want to do is cry, and on top of that i get really sleepy and just want to eat everything in sight, especially if it's high in sugar.

so this is the woman that our poor man has to deal with every month

i actually feel like eddie would be kind of squeamish about periods? like the whole concept just kind of grosses him out (and justifiably, because it is a very gross thing to go through). this means he's very careful with you when you're on your period, not wanting to be too rough or too intimate with you because it's totally weird down there right now and he doesn't want to cross a line (which is fair because, if you're like me, you go from "i just want to be swaddled like an infant" to "if anybody touches me i'll rip out their kidneys" in a matter of seconds)

but he also knows the hormones are hard on you because your emotions are just ruthless. and he's really good at supporting you when things are tough. so in this respect, he knows exactly what to do.

when you get angry at him, he knows not to argue with you. he argued with you once when you lashed out at him because of your period, and you felt so bad about the fight afterward that you made him a mixtape and bought him a new grinder to apologize. he also felt really bad and once you talked through it, he was quick to pick up on what was actual frustration and what was your period talking. (you can tell he's fictional bc he's emotionally intuitive lmaoooooo)

when you break down crying at random, he holds you. doesn't matter what the reason, he'll just plop you into his lap and cuddle you until the tears stop. he's perfectly happy letting you use him as a body pillow when you need to.

when you get really insecure about your body, or your skin starts breaking out because of the hormones, he's you go-to hype man. he reminds you constantly that you're pretty, the prettiest person he's ever seen, even when you're in your pajamas feeling gross and wishing you could become one with your mattress. totally the type of boyfriend who would do sheet masks with you. that has to stay between you, though. can't let the hellfire guys think he's going soft even tho he's soft as candy floss for you and everyone knows it.

always down to get munchies. will actually get high so you can have the munchies together. you tell him that that's not technically very sympathetic, since he loves getting high, but he buys you whatever snacks you want from 7-eleven and doesn't expect or even ask you to share, so you let it slide. loves taking you to mcdonald's or sonic late at night for fries and milkshakes.

he's SO cautious when you're cramping. even if you ask him to hold you he'll be really gentle and light with his touches because he doesn't want to hurt you. won't touch your stomach or even too high up on your thighs. he will refill your hot water bottle for you, though, and will get you ibuprofen or tea or whatever you ask him for to help.

will watch whatever comfort movie / show you want with you. he does tease you when cheesy stuff makes you overly emotional and you cry, but only because it's just so cute.

if you're in the shower he usually likes to join you, but if he knows you're on your period, he gives you space. i have a headcanon that he can get a little freaked out by the sight / smell of blood, ESPECIALLY after the incident with the demobats, so that's part of the reason. he definitely has ptsd from it and blood can trigger him.

idk he's still a guy and periods are weird to him, but he's a good boyfriend nonetheless. he does his best and he loves you. what more could you really ask for?

#eddie munson #eddie asks #eddie munson headcanon #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you

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cpunkwitch · 8 months

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answering my own questions

[pt: answering my own questions]

dont really get sent anything and not many people sent in the questions when the games were posted and reblogged, and i wanted to talk about stuff, so here we are.

this might end up being a multiple part post series?

ask game one (link)

(if comfortable) tell us about your condition? as much info as youre comfy with sharing.

i have a defect in the base of my spine, since i was born its caused me chronic pain all throughout my development and in recent years its only gotten worse, twisting my spine, headaches, jaw issues etc. i've also got highly suspected rheumatoid arthritis, fibromyalgia and ive been diagnosed with a pretty bad case of anemia so bad that everytime a doctor looks at my results after bloodwork they give me a pained look and say "heyy...did you know your iron is low? like...really really low?". that and a hand full of other things, vitamin deficiencies, etc. i dont mind talking more about this

2. do you know about the spoon theory? if yes, what do you think of it?

i'll be honest, the majority of my knowledge of spoon theory off the top of my head is that "drawer with limited supply of spoons" is the disabled way of saying i only have so much motivation and energy (phys, as "battery" usually refers to social and emotional) in me. i've read up on it ages ago but would not be able to put into better words what i still remember about spoon theory (esp since we had a different host back then), i like that its just so much quicker and easier to convey my amount of ability to do things for the day by saying whether or not i have the spoons for it.

i do like to joke that my drawer is always stocked with knives and forks for the ablests, but sometimes that requires spoons to handle too. /silly

3. do you have mobility aids? if yes, which ones? if no, do you want any in the future?

i've mention how i really wish i could have a wheelchair if i were in a different situation, i dont know if i'll ever get one and i almost cried when my brother responded to my joke of "would you make on for me?" with an "i would if i could", i really would like a wheelchair of some kind in the future if the world were more accessible and i were in a safer place. right now though, i've just got my cane that still needs repainting. i guess my moms back brace counts too, i take it with me to work sometimes.

4. how did you find out about cripplepunk? what drew you to the community and movement?

i dont exactly remember but i've known about it for years. i (prev host) might have come across it looking up different punk aesthetics, though im not completely sure why it showed up in a punk aesthetic list, possibly because its punk and people misinterpreted it? my first glimpse was seeing patches on jackets, spiked customized aids, cripples/phys disabled people in your classic punk attire (piercings, dyed spiked mohawks, ripped jeans and fingerless gloves) and i loved it. im a sucker for self expression through appearance and customizing things and then when i found out it was a whole community for support and centered around being physically disabled in general and slowly came to terms with my own disabled body and started accepting myself, i kinda fell in love with cripplepunk in the "this feels like home" sense.

i could probably ramble way more but i'll stop there.

5. if you deal with any kind of pain, what's your method of pain management?

i use hot packs, ice packs, voltaren cream, sometimes i take a cbd gummy, i do little stretches when i remember them, i take walks and hot baths/showers, im trying to go back to the chiropractor and my favourite instructors in rehab (theyre trans friendly and complimented my cane when i first came in with it i love them so much), and i take whatever meds i can, normally anti-inflammatory like ibuprofen but because i cant swallow pills i either take liquid (yeah, childs liquid meds works, the couple hours of mild relief is still worth it) or powdered tylenol or something. the hot/cold stuff depends on the pain and where on my body the pain is.

6. do you stand or sit in the shower or do you prefer baths/find bathing easier rather than showers?

i take baths for my muscles and during the damn monthly ouch in order to relax my body. i take showers just for my shoulders and when im feeling icky and wanna rinse off or something, i take showers on a "regular" basis and i normally stand because the only way i sit is if im crouched in the tub and if i do that i get extra dizzy standing up to get out when i turn the water off. thankfully im no longer near passing out when i take a shower but i still have to sit on the floor matt after because my legs demand rest. i gotta be careful with hot water cuz not only will it make me overheat quickly (i will not realize if in standing in blood-boiling hot water and turning myself into a cooked lobster until after im out) but it can also cause me to literally fall asleep in the bath which can go wrong.

7. do you have a sort of comfort item or safety blanket that helps you feel better, especially on the worst days?

a couple things. a few of them are stuffies/plushies, or music, games or books to help me keep my mind off it i suppose.

8. name 3 things you hate about hospitals/doctors/nurses/the medical system

a) a lot of them refuse to take people seriously or actually listen. sure maybe theyre tired or heard the same shtick before and wanna make sure this person isnt just a drug user trying to pity their way into getting more, but even then all matters a patient presents them with should still be taken seriously and never brushed off or mocked.

b) the fact that the er, the place you take a ticket and wait, is called the Emergency Room, when its normally scheduled appointments and people taken in by the ambulance that are top priority. sure its called the er because most visits through the er are rushed "emergency" last minute visits, people going there because they couldnt schedule an appointment and needed to see someone on that day, but still it feels wrong to call it the emergency room when its really just a waiting room and regardless of the visit they arent actually treated as emergencies. the whole system of just going to see a doctor feels messed up and most of the time you end up just going to see a nurse, get a check up and leave when they tell you what they got after a talk and examination or they schedule to see you again when a doctor is available. because of this i tend to prefer walk in clinics.

c) the fact that they charge to damn much, no matter if youre insured, it still charges so much. no matter what they do. and yeah, healthcare in canada is free to an extent if youre insured but a lot of times they charge more than your insurance can cover and not everyone can get/has insurance. not to mention the medical debt so many people have in america. i get that staff and hospitals need pay and funding but the government should have that covered and not have the patients charged so much for getting help. i almost got charged over 3k just for my short visit to the ward because there was an issue with my insurance and thats a whole angry story for another time.

9. whats an accessibility tool you wish was more accessible/that you had access to?

one of them is aac, the one i have on my phone i have to disconnect my phone to and has a limited amount of phrases i can pick from. id like it better if the app or just aac programs in general when directly to your device speaker by default, had more options for more ease conversing and none of them were behind a damn pay wall, in-app purchase or otherwise. i rarely use it for several reasons but i'd love if i could use it more with less limitations.

also wheelchair ramps. i dont have a wheelchair ramp but i wish people stopped walking on them when theyre clearly able-bodied, i wished my parents taught me and my siblings what the ramps were for and not to run up and down them as well as other parents to their kids because those things are supposed to be clear for a wheelchair user. i also think the corners should be rounded for ease of turning and that wheelchair accessible paths in general should be firm to the ground (not a wimpy matt on the sand that flips over and gets buried on the beach unmaintained), maintained and cleaned regularly, not have any gaps (ive seen so many of the small ones installed in doorways that have a height gap above the ground which causes trouble getting the wheelchair on the ramp let alone through the damn door) and not have railings made of metal if theyre outside (they can often reflect light into peoples eyes and get too hot to touch in the sun both of which are not good issues to have no matter how small they seem.)

those are at least the first to come to mind.

10. whats the worst accessability cockblock you've seen ableds do/make?

theres quite a few i've seen but atm nothing significant comes to mind other than overpricing mobility aids or placing paywalls in front of aids in general.

however there was the few times in more than one school i went to you had to go to the office, provide a 'valid' reason and ask them for a key to the elevator, otherwise they make you take the stairs. i know they do it because they dont want able-bodied kids messing with it n shit but its stupid, it should be accessible to everyone regardless. thank fuck both collages ive been to so far give free elevator use to any staff or student but in the schools i went to i was only allowed have the access key because i couldnt walk up the steps on my sprained/twisted ankle and i had to give it back at the end of every day. the last school even limited my use to just the morning or 1-2 periods that i had on the second floor. nevermind if my locker was up there.

11. whats an accessibility tool youre very thankful for?

screen readers. my little brother uses/used em more than me and i dont use them too often but im glad they exist in general i used them when i was younger and my english teachers gave us work on the computer, i used it like an audiobook and it helped me majorly. i hate that people dont always provide translations to things and make things harder on screen readers by using coloured, tiny, non-serif font-ed or 'quirked' text but ever since i was a kid i was just as happy they existed as i was about braille.

12. name 3 things you like about hospitals/docs/nurses/the medical system

a) that there are some people there who are actually hoping, willing and ready to listen and help others.

b) that they provide things for kids like toys in the waiting room, people who specialize in caring for kids in the hospital, some doctors even have their office decorated. one doctor i went to had her entire office winnie the pooh themed and it helped me out a lot when i got blood work done n stuff, it was really comforting to stare at pooh bear instead of the sharp pokey in my arm.

c) that things are usually kept quiet with low voices, as it reduces risk of overstimulation as well as avoids hurting anyones head and protects privacy of those talking about whats going on. voices are usually only raised to a normal talking level when in the privacy of a nurse or doctor office and its something i dont see really acknowledged anywhere.

13. do you have any favourite disability rep? (media or character)

not picking from my own sources, when it comes to physical disability rep, its hard for me to pick something that involves a realistic character because most of them arent very well portrayed or i cant personally relate to. i can list Freddy freeman as one, hes a crutch user and how the shazam movie portrayed him does well in expressing what ableism can be like for some visibly disabled kids in school. i could probably list some shows that handle disability well through other means if i thought of them, i know theres a few that handle it through super heros being disabled (the one spider-person who's got both a wheelchair and a cane from the recent spiderverse movie for example) or non-human characters having differences that are implied to be disabilities, and i adore that creativity, especially with showing disabled super heros as it tells disabled kids theyre still strong, not broken, they can still be cool and do great things just like able-bodied people. hard for me to name specific things off the top of my head though, guess i like specific tropes around disability rep more than anything. it helps normalize disability and thats what really makes me happy with it. (thats a big reason why i made @/your-fave-is-crippled)

14. least favourite/worst disability rep?

not phys disabled but sia's fucked up movie right off the bat still angers me. i cant name any specifics once again, normally if theres some rep that i dont like i purposely forget they exist to begin with, they arent worth remembering if they arent gonna do it right, y'know? id rather forget and move on than linger and rage about it if i can help it.

15. list some creators (youtubers/bloggers etc) that are disabled and/or cater to a disabled audience that you enjoy? (if any)

@crippled-pvp, @cripple-culture-is are a couple blogs i follow that i enjoy seeing on my dash (sorry if you dont want to be tagged!)

there was a deaf/hoh girl i used to frequent the content of as she talks a lot about signing and i really enjoyed her videos, shes such a sweet person but i never remembered her name nor any of the other creators i watched/followed. no one else comes to mind atm

16. favourite aspect about the general disabled community?

i like that there are people with advice at the ready, whatever question you have or info you need etc, theres always going to be someone with the words you need. i just like how helpful people can be in general in this community and how easily support is accessed through the community.

17. least favourite aspect about the general disabled community?

the fact that theres in-fighting, fake claiming, judgment, quick assumptions, and general internalized ableism still going on when we're supposed to be a community helping each other out not tearing each other down. im not just talking about the fight over "inclusion vs exclusion" on cripplepunk and other sub/separate communities in the disability community.

18. favourite aspect about cripplepunk?

i think my answer to "what drew you to cripplepunk" also answers this.

19. least favourite aspect about cripplepunk?

honestly? none. i hate the people forcing themselves into a space not meant to include them nor benefits them in the first place. i cant actually think of an issue i have with the cpunk community, only issues with people outside being upset over how "exclusive" it is because they want in.

20. free space:

feel free to ask me about any of my answers! i'll make a second post for the second ask game some other time. its currently 11pm and i have to get up early for morning classes yuck

[ID: banner reading "dni if... proship, transx/id, syscourse/discourse blog, anti-mspec lesbians/gays, anti-lesboy/turigirl more in pinned rentry. this blog is protected by the addams family, the de rolo family and co." in all black lowercase text. It has a grey cloud background. On the left is the De Rolo coat of arms with a cobweb in the top corner and symmetrically flipped on the right is the symbol of Vox Machina with the same cobweb in the bottom corner :End ID]

#cass rambles #disability blogging #actually disabled #physically disabled #cripplepunk #physical disability #cpunk #disabled #cripple punk #cpunk blog #answers

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toomuchracket · 11 months

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so sorry you’re feeling bad baby. Imagine birthday party! matty taking care of u. bringing you tea and hot pads and rubbing your shoulders/whatever part of you hurts. and Allen and mayhem sensing that you’re not feeling well and laying their heads on your lap and licking you sweetly while you lay on the couch. Matty would cancel his day and give you the princess treatment 🤍🤍

you're the loveliest!! i'll be ok i'm just trying to cope with period cramps and also an extremely painful pulled muscle beneath my shoulder blade lol <3 but ugh god this is so dreamy to think about. he's been up for a little while because he's trying to finish a bit of a song he's been working on (he won't tell you yet but it's a love song for you hehe), and his plan is to wake you up around ten with a coffee and a cuddle; you trudge into the room at half eight with a vaguely pained expression, closely followed by the dogs sniffing around you protectively (although they do abandon you for attention from matty. valid of them i fear), and matty's IMMEDIATELY like "sweetheart? what's wrong? why are you up so early on a sunday?". and you're like "i'm ok it's just my arm, i think i've got like a knotted muscle at my shoulder and it really fucking hurts, probably because i've slept on it. but i think i can still lift it" - you try to do that to cuddle your fiance, but it's so painful that you actually start crying after you say "ow", and matty carefully pulls you into him for a cuddle and a kiss on the head like "oh, darlin'. come on, maybe hot water will ease it a bit". so you shower (you genuinely cry because you can't wash matty's hair for him, which half makes him feel terrible at how sore you are and half makes him want to giggle at how cute you are), which does ease the pain a little, then matty helps you shrug on one of his flannels so you don't have to lift your arm and dries your hair for you; he gets you settled on the couch after that, with some breakfast and ibuprofen and a hot water bottle to put behind you. you're like "babe i'm so grateful but please get back to your work, i've distracted you enough" and he's like "uh-uh, i'm postponing work for the day. making my girl feel better is priority" before he curls up with you on the couch to watch little women (your comfort film) - the dogs make their way onto the couch during the film too, allen resting his head on your knee and mayhem licking your arm almost supportively, bless them. and while you're distracted by the film, matty's like "let me see if i can massage the knot out, yeah?"; you nod, too focused on amy nearly drowning in the frozen lake to really care, so matty tentatively manipulates your sore muscles, punctuating his movement with reassuring little kisses to your neck. it still hurts a little bit, and the dogs go on alert whenever you hiss or whimper in pain, but you do feel a lot better after it's done - despite this, matty still takes every opportunity to treat you like the princess he thinks you are for the rest of the day, bringing you everything you ask for and some things you don't, indulging in your every whim (getting a takeaway even though you had one last night), carrying you around when you want to relocate elsewhere in the house... you're spoilt, and you both love it lol <3

#mads muses #mads answers asks #matty asks #fluff asks #into the birthday partyverse

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the-farmers-rabbit · 1 year

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Sick Season with Mason

Hi!! This is going to be like a master post for me so it will be long but it’s something I like to help with.

To start, I’m going to give background as to Why i’m qualified for what i’m talking about. I’m currently (as of december 2022) 18 years old. It’s my first year of uni and i’m living in a dorm after 18 years at home. In elementary school, my little body had a tendency to get super sick for long periods of time until I got on allergy meds. It was just seasonal stuff that turned into sinus infections and stuff like that. It would keep me home for weeks at a time which is no good for a kid.

Flash forward to high school. Before and after covid (it hit in my junior year), I would have a tendency to get sick for months at a time. Not super sick, none of it ever warranted an ER trip or being in a hospital. But I would have a cough that would just. stick with me. for month long periods of time and it would only go away once I got antibiotics.

Now, I’m in college and it’s most of the same. I’ve realized that I might have some immunodeficiencies (my mother has a fucked up immune system but the other way around, so it’s not unlikely for me) and I’ve been out on my own for a bit now so! Here are some tips for when you get sick/how to keep from getting sick.

This covers colds, coughing, sore throats, and fevers. Really any thing that isn’t stomach bugs. So don’t come at me for not having that stuff (not that you all would, just wanting to tell y’all)

Fluids/Food

Water. I always have a water bottle by my bed for this reason. In case i wake up with cotton mouth or just need water. it’s right there.

Gatorade! for when i’m actually sick, i have a pack of gatorade in my dorm. it keeps my blood sugar from getting super low if i don’t have the energy to eat, it gives me something to run on, and it’s hydrating

apple juice. i use the little boxes of it cus my brain likes those, but just a juice in general is good. all this boils down to is keeping yourself hydrated. very important when sick/trying to avoid getting sick

Yogurt! If you’re on antibiotics, you need to get the good bio back. I really like the activia yogurt drinks. they’re really tasty and really good for me. Plus, if you have a sore throat, dairy coats it and makes it hurt so much less

Medications

Ibuprofen. so this one might be obvious. It isn’t a cure all! But it works wonders for a lot of things. Fevers, aches, sore throats. It will reduce a fever, and i always keep some by my bed for that reason

-Fevers; if you don’t take care of them quick, you could have serious issues. I mean it. Your brain is overheating. You won’t be able to think straight and you will feel awful. keep stuff that will break them near by just in case.

-Signs of a fever!: Cold, but the room isn’t cold, sweaty even though you’re freezing, shaky, foggy head. and when in doubt, take your temperature.

Vitamins. I don’t like the pill vitamins. They’re big and icky. So, I take gummy vitamins. Yes i’m an adult, I take gummy vitamins. So? I use the brand Smarty Pants. I get them at target. They’re not icky, they’re fairly cheap, and they’re good. They have childrens and adults. get ‘em

Sleep aids. Olly Sleep Gummies are what I use. When I’m sick and just. can’t relax? Melatonin gummies. Olly is good because it’s not Just melatonin, it’s also some other junk. They also don’t taste that bad.

Self Care/Comfort

Sleep. Just like the sleep aids, when you’re sick or getting sick, sleep is so very important. Weighted blankets are a great help. If you’re coughing a lot, prop yourself up so you don’t have a coughing fit in the middle of the night. Cold compress for fevers, and fans to keep you comfy. Sleep is the best cure, and be sure you get it

Showering. I don’t care if you prefer baths. If you are sick and it is in your sinuses, take a shower. sit down (if it’s not too grody wherever you are) and just let the hot water hit you. The steam loosens mucus and you can dislodge it a lot easier

Humidifier!!!! PLEASE MAN. It’s a life saver. I got mine at target. It was like $30 and takes up about 1.5 cubic feet. If i have a stuffy nose or a sore throat or both, i turn that on, go to sleep, and wake up with neither. it is a god send.

Brush your teeth. I know you feel gross. But go and brush your teeth. And if you can’t, floss and use mouth wash. Do something that cleans the gunk in your mouth. You will feel better after, I promise

Heating pads. Mine was 15 bucks at kroger. I use it every damn day. On my lap, as a blanket, on my shoulders, back, tummy. Any and everything. Heat relaxes the muscles, and warmth is also nice. I’d recommend one that has an auto turn off so you can sleep with it. But if not, just get one.

Gem Face Roller. Ok. let me explain. I don’t use this for skin care. I use it for headaches. it’s cold (and if it’s quartz, it will just. be cold. on it’s own), i can put light pressure on what hurts. I can use it on sore necks too.

Lanolin. It’s meant for nursing mothers for chapped nipples but it’s so good for chapped lips. And when you’re sick, that usually happens and you usually need help with it. So, lanolin. Also at target

Icepack. Either like a bag, or a gel. Don’t get one of the hard ones that are meant for food. Get one that is Made for the body. For when you’re overheating, or you’re achey or. whatever. Ice. Helps

thermometer!!! So you can see if you have a fever or not! I keep mine on hand and it gives me peace of mind. Got it at walgreens when i stopped to get my ice pack. Like 15 bucks, again. Keep yourself from worrying too much

ok so that’s probably it for now but i hope it helps! I’ll add on if I think of something, love you guys, good luck out there

#sick #sickness #tips #health tips #immune system #immunodeficiency #illness #mason's bs

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schlongus-journey · 1 year

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Surgery - day 1

Before surgery, I had to get medical clearance (requiring bloodwork and an EKG) from my primary care doctor. As well, I had to get a COVID test 72 hours beforehand since it would be 6 days of in-patient stay at the hospital.

I was not allowed to take NSAIDs like ibuprofen for 2 weeks before surgery. No eating or drinking after midnight the night before, no lotion or deodorant after my last shower, and no jewelry.. I was also supposed to stick a scopolamine patch behind my right ear to help with nausea after surgery.

I woke up at 4 AM on Nov 14th, unfortunately dizzy as fuck because of the scopolamine (and what I presume were the interactions with my other meds). I arrived at the hospital at 5:15 AM for the 7:30 AM surgery as directed. After checking in, they took me to a pre-op room for me and my husband (we'll call him J) to wait in. I kept saying "Are you excited?" to him over and over. "Not as excited as you are," he replied. I wiped myself down with disposable sponges, brushed my teeth with mouthwash, cleaned my nose with disinfectant, then put my hospital gown and little grippy socks on. They stuck an IV in me (I hate IVs). The nurse saw fit to tell me it was a "huge needle" before sticking it in, which I was not very happy about.

After much waiting and being introduced to the surgical team one-by-one, I said goodbye to J and my gurney was wheeled to the operating room (whee!). The operating room was full of people, who all were very excited to see me. There was a very positive energy in the room, and they were making quips and jokes. I remember Dr. Keith laughing and saying something about how warmth helps stave off infection while I slid over to the actual operating table and they draped a heated blanket over me. The anaesthesia started flowing, and the last thing I recall is Dr. Keith drawing some sort of symbol on my right knee in green marker (at the time it looked like "Hi :)" which confused the heck out of me, but post-op it just looked like some sort of asterisk). Then I took a nice 20 minute (read: 7 hour) nap.

Around 2 PM or 3, I woke up in a different room, where I would stay until Saturday. Everything hurt. Everything hurt a goddamn lot. My groin hurt. My legs hurt - especially the right one. My head hurt from the scopolamine, my stomach hurt from hunger and thirst. My mouth and throat hurt from the (aforementioned) warmth because the heater was on blast and I was covered in what they called a "bear hugger" blanket, a puffy thing inflated with hot air. I told the nurses that my pain was around a 6, but looking back and using the described pain scale as reference, I was really around a 9. I was exhausted, but it was hard to sleep because of the pain.

There was a huge black thing on my right thigh attached to a tube and giving my leg a very tight, prickly, suction hug. That was my wound vac, which sucked away the goop from my flayed thigh - I could see the viscera peeking out from around the foam's edges. I had three drains attached to little pumps - two on the right, one on the left. There were two pulse oximeter patches leading to a monitor, one from my left middle finger and one from my penis. Two massage wraps were hooked up and wrapped around my calves that took turns squeezing them to keep blood circulating (this was not as nice as it sounds). I still had my IV in. And of course, I had my fucking foley catheter stuck in my urethra. That totalled to 10 wires and tubes tangling me up (if I'm not forgetting any). My friend called me spaghetti.

Other things:

I was not permitted to sit up, or even recline. My head was only allowed to incline 10 degrees. Dr. Keith told me all this in the consult, but I was not anticipating how hellish it would feel to be flat on my back with no ability to even sleep on my side for 6 straight days.

When I looked down, my new phallus was hilariously huge and swollen, looking less like a penis and more like a tube of flesh (which, to be fair, Dr. Keith did warn me about). My brain couldn't decide if this was euphoric or dysphoric and decided to settle on "alien".

I called J and told him my surgery was over. He drove over and brought me snacks. I ate two chocolate chip cookies and then was chastised by the nurses for eating, because I wasn't supposed to eat or drink (not even water) in case I needed to go back to the OR. I was so frustrated that I cried.

I knew from my hysterectomy earlier this year that 5 mg of oxycodone does not affect my pain levels in a significant way, but they had a stronger opiate called dilaudid that was administered through my IV, which helped a bunch. However I had to wait 4 hours between doses, and it definitely wore off before 4 hours.

The visiting hours were 10 AM to 8 PM. J lingered until 8:30 PM since no one kicked him out, but then he had to go home to feed our cat. I had anticipated I'd be sad without him at night, but I felt so lonely and isolated that it was overwhelming with him gone.

I hadn't known this because I had never been inpatient before, but I could barely manage to sleep because nurses came in literally every hour to check my vitals or empty my drains or listen to the pulse in my dick with a stick covered in goo.

I had to beg multiple times for the hospital to bring me my personal belongings, which I'd packed in a small suitcase. Mainly I wanted my cervical pillow and my stuffed bunny to comfort me. It took an interminably long time for the staff to find and bring it, which was another frustration.

Sometime in the night, my bladder felt so much backed up pressure that I used the call button to ask if I was actually urinating or if something was wrong. Someone who clearly didn't know what she was doing informed me that I was indeed peeing and that I just had to think about peeing and it would happen. I used the call button again. A nurse came in and realized my catheter was basically blocked up with urine and not flowing into the piss jug properly because the tube itself was way too long. The urine just. Stopped at some point along the way. She manipulated it to flow into the tube and I felt a lot better, but this problem would plague me throughout my hospital stay.

My feet kept poking past my blankets, which was sensory hell for my adhd, but the wires also tangled me up when I tried to fix it using only my feet, and of course I couldn't sit up. That, and everything else, made my sleep very restless and miserable.

I knew I was having post-op depression, but that didn't help me feel any better.

#phalloplasty #Phallo #nonbinary #Transgender #cw: medical #cw: body horror

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starboygrove · 2 years

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Surviving Eddie Munson - Chapter 7

The second time that Steve is forcibly woken up today is far gentler than the first. A hand is slowly shaking him, a voice softly calling out his name. He lets out a hoarse groan and clutches his head, still throbbing from this morning’s events.

“Hey,” Eddie whispers tenderly when he finally cracks his good eye open. The other man is kneeling by the couch, hand on Steve’s forearm, thumb rubbing soothing circles into his skin.

He shifts uncomfortably on the couch, body so stiff and sore; he’s still wearing his shoes. Kicking them off messily, he turns on his side and curls up.

“I found some ibuprofen, let me know if you want it.” Eddie says, motioning to the bottle on the coffee table. After nodding stiffly, he allows his friend to help him take the medicine, allowing himself to briefly melt into the hand grasping the back of his neck helping to hold up his head.

“Wha’ time is it?” He slurs out after he’s done drinking his glass of water, mouth and throat starting to a little bit better. It will be a while until the ibuprofen kicks in, so he keeps his head where it is on the lumpy pillow. Eddie’s hand is still on his neck, warm and heavy.

“It’s a little after six,” the other man responds, and this makes Steve sit up in a jolt. He immediately regrets it, of course, and clutches his head.

“Jesus fuck, how did I sleep that long?” He asks rhetorically, getting flushed with embarrassment. Fighting off literal monsters, no big deal, but his dad socks him once in the face and he’s out for an entire day.

“Getting punched in the face by your old man will do that, Harrington.” Eddie says in a knowing tone, and fuck, did Uncle Wayne tell him about their conversation?

“What did your uncle tell you?” He asks, not wanting to meet Eddie’s eyes. Instead he stares up at the ceiling, trying to find any trace of the portal that was once there.

“Not much. Just said that you came here with a shiner in need of a place to stay. The couch is a pull out, by the way.” The smirk on his face is audible and Steve has to force himself to not roll his eyes in response.

“Of course it is. So he didn’t, uhm, say anything about what we talked about?”

“Nope.”

“Uncle Wayne is a real one, man,” Steve shudders out a laugh, and Eddie joins in with his own chortle.

“You’re tellin’ me, dude.” There is a pause of silence, before he continues. “Did you know you talk in your sleep?”

That is truly horrifying, and Steve just prays he hasn’t said anything too embarrassing. Eddie must have been home for a little while now, has he just been watching him sleep? He inwardly cringes at the thought. The medicine has started kicking in and his head starts to feel better, so he sits up and surveys his surroundings.

Due to the nature of the events from this morning, he didn’t get a good look at the trailer before now. It’s tidy, a little out dated, but it looks well loved and lived in – much unlike his parents house, with sterile walls and crisp modern furniture, the entire building acting as a symbol of status. Bile rises in his throat at the thought, and he’s violently made aware of how neglected his body is feeling at the moment.

“Do you wanna take a shower? You can borrow some of my clothes, and I can make some dinner while you wash up.” It’s less of a question and more of a command, and yeah, Steve would want him to shower too if he was in Eddie’s position. He grunts out a thanks and lets Eddie lead him to the bathroom, returning swiftly with some monochrome threads bundled in his hands.

He takes his time under the hot spray, doing his best to not let it hit his face directly, and letting out a soft hiss of pain when it inevitably does. Scrubbing himself down with what he knows is Eddie’s shower products, his mind betrays him by getting giddy at the thought of smelling like the other man. Dutifully stamping those thoughts down, he towels himself off roughly and finally gets a good look at his face in the mirror.

It’s not as bad as it feels, thankfully. The ibuprofen has helped with some of the swelling and he can see a little bit with his bad eye now; the deep blue and purple bruises surrounding his eye socket aren’t anything he hasn’t experienced before. Just this time, it was his father, not some crazy racist asshole or literal Russian soldiers. Or Jonathan, he snorts to himself.

His chest tightens, allowing himself to feel betrayed. Although their relationship hasn’t been that great for some time now, he thought his parents felt something for him. Now he knows, that something is not love, nowhere near it.

Steve slips on the clothes Eddie got him, a strange heat building in the pit of his stomach when he realizes the other man is letting him borrow some underwear as well. Don’t be weird about it, he thinks bitterly, but it’s too late. He’s getting weird about it. Sighing, face flushed a deep red, he steadies his breath as well as he can and gives himself a once over.

He doesn’t look too bad, donning dark gray sweatpants and an intentionally baggy black band shirt. Metallica, the shirt reads, in an interesting white font across the chest. Running his fingers over the text, Steve wonders if he’s ever heard anything by this band before. Probably not, considering his father drilled it into him at a young age that music like this is for devil worshipping lowlifes.

Steve walks back into the living room, making a beeline for the table when he spots a steaming plate of dinner waiting for him. It’s sloppy joes. A mix from a can heated up on the stove, and slightly stale hamburger buns. He groans in pleasure at the first bite; it’s the best fucking thing he’s eaten in such a long time.

“Damn Harrington, you really know how to compliment the chef,” Eddie jokes when he sees Steve has demolished his sandwich in less time than its taken him to take three bites.

“Hadn’t eaten yet today,” he shrugs sheepishly, wiping his mouth with a napkin and chugging another glass of water. “Really was good though, thank you.”

Eddie tells him there’s more if he wants seconds, so he helps himself, and once they’re done eating he can safely say he finally feels like a human again. He tries to offer doing the dishes, but Eddie refuses him, so he sits on the couch and attempts to figure out where to go from here.

Realistically speaking, he can’t wear his friend’s clothes every day, so he needs to find a way to get some of his belongings from his parent’s house. They usually only come back for a few days at a time between trips, so to play it safe he’ll have to wait until Wednesday at the earliest to go retrieve his things. He’s feeling really lucky that his dad signed the title of his car over to him for his eighteenth birthday, not wanting to even begin to think about what a headache that could have caused if he didn’t own it.

He’s deep in thought when the couch dips from the presence of another body, only coming back to the surface when a hand grasps his knee.

“Hey,” he says softly, facing Eddie and looking into his stupidly big brown eyes.

“Hey,” Eddie replies, giving Steve a curious look. They’ve been officially friends for a little while now, but not for long enough that Steve can figure out all the nuances of his body language.

“I don’t expect you to tell me everything, or even anything at all, but I just need you to know that I’m here for you, alright? I’ve got your back.”

It’s unexpectedly touching, and all Steve can do is nod dumbly. He wants to tell him, he really does, but he doesn’t really know everything himself yet. There’s a lot for him to unpack, and as much as he believes Eddie, now isn’t the time to start doing that. Not with him.

The other man inhales deeply and gives his knee a couple pats before standing up off the couch, heading towards the back of the trailer. Pausing at the egress of the hallway, he turns to look at Steve over his shoulder with something of a dramatic flair, smirking devilishly.

“Wanna get high?” He asks in a coy tone, cocking an eyebrow, and honestly? Fuck yeah he does.

“Fuck yeah I do,” Steve responds excitedly, scrambling to follow Eddie down the hall to his room. His excited energy at the prospect of getting to dull his senses turns into nervousness when he steps into the other man’s bedroom. Personal spaces feel unbearably intimate, sometimes, like a portal into the mind of its owner – Eddie is a very good example of this. An artfully curated space, his bedroom looks exactly like Steve imagined it would. Not that he’s ever spent his free time imagining it before, of course.

Eddie pats the spot next to him on his bed for Steve to sit and he obliges, mirroring his friend’s posture and crossing his legs. He watches Eddie’s fingers intently, admiring his joint rolling technique, gaze flitting over the rings on his fingers that Steve maybe likes a little too much. His mouth dries at the realization that he’s here, on Eddie’s bed, with the person of his begrudging affections, who actually might have the potential to return his feelings.

The feelings he so very much would love to be able to ignore again.

He can’t, however. The dam was officially broken earlier during his talk with Uncle Wayne. The bottle is shattered into far too many pieces to put it back together. Those thoughts linger in the forefront of his brain now. Sucking in a shuddered breath, he laughs a little bit in an attempt to conceal his brief existential crisis.

Eddie doesn’t question him, thankfully, just smiles around the now lit joint between his lips. He takes a couple hits before passing it to Steve, watching his every motion with a half-lidded gaze. The scrutiny isn’t enough to deter him, but the feeling of the slightly moistened paper, knowing that it’s from his saliva, is. He sputters a cough, turning his head into the crook of his elbow.

“Been a while?” Eddie laughs, patting him on the back and plucking the joint out from his fingers.

It actually had been, and that’s a much better excuse than the real reason Steve’s throat closed up just now. Very socially acceptable.

He regains his composure and they are able to finish off the joint between the two of them with no more coughing fits. They linger on the bed, relishing in the tingly numbing feeling washing over their bodies that the high provides. Steve suddenly remembers the shirt he’s wearing and excitedly locks eyes with Eddie.

“Metal!” He points to the shirt, but then frowns. That wasn’t quite right, let’s try that again. “Metal-lica, yeah? Have I heard them before?” It’s a reasonable question, he thinks.

Eddie finds it hilarious, apparently, doubling over in laughter. Steve frowns, he wasn’t trying to make a joke. The other man croons when he sees his friend’s defeated expression.

“Aw, don’t get sad Stevie, I wasn’t laughing at you. You just said it a little funny, it’s Metallica.” He enunciates the word slowly and properly, sliding off his bed to go rummage through the haphazard stacks of cassettes he owns.

Stevie. His body buzzes in delight at the nickname. Stevie and Eddie. That sounds pretty nice. Feeling relaxed, he stretches out on the bed and props his head up with a hand, watching Eddie float around the room looking for a specific tape.

When he finds it, he shouts in triumph, giddily stomping over to his radio player and sliding the tape in the designated slot.

“Prepare for your mind to be blown, Harrington,” he says with a wry grin, skipping the first track and turning the sound way up.

An onslaught of harsh guitar chords fills the space immediately, causing an adrenaline response in Steve. He’s definitely never heard this band’s music before; he knows he would have remembered something like this. Eddie is clearly enjoying himself, miming guitar movements and banging his head in the air, curly hair flying all over the place. Not entirely sure if he likes the music itself, he opts for watching his friend bounce around his room, deriving enjoyment from seeing him act so openly goofy.

The track comes to an end and Eddie turns the music down, face flushed and chest heaving from exertion. He turns to Steve and awaits his critique.

“My mind, consider it blown,” he says with a sarcastic grin, earning an eye roll and scoff in response. Eddie jumps on his bed, jostling Steve so much that he sits up to regain his balance. They’re quite close now, faces less than a foot from each other. The other man seems to have taken into account their proximity, features softening as they gaze into each other’s eyes.

“You loved it, don’t lie.”

“It was pretty alright, I guess.”

“Just pretty alright?” That seems to have worked him up enough to snap them out of their brief trance. He puts some distance between them and huffs, mild annoyance gracing his features.

“That song saved the world, Harrington!”

“Wait, you can play that?” He’s genuinely impressed. Thanks to Robin, he has a new appreciation for musicians, having heard her groan about band enough times. She embarrassed the hell out of him one day when he dared claim that playing an instrument is as easy as riding a bike. It most certainly is not.

“What kind of fool do you take me for?” Eddie wails, striding across his room and fishing out an electric guitar behind a pile of belongings. Without hesitation, he throws the guitar strap over his shoulder and begins to play the exact song they just listened to from the cassette tape.

Steve’s mouth hangs open in awe, eyes struggling to follow the quick movements of Eddie’s fingers as they slide across the fret board, expertly picking the strings at the right moments to produce the song. A strong burning pit of desire engulfs his gut, sending small electric shocks up and down his spine. Being high after he just finally began to accept his less than platonic feelings for Eddie, and watching him pull of such a talented musical feat, is an incredibly dangerous combination.

“I take it back, my new favorite song. What’s it called, again?” Steve asks in a gruff voice once Eddie stops playing. He gets a smug smirk in return, which only serves to deepen the pit in his stomach.

“Master of Puppets,” he replies, motioning for Steve to follow him back into the living room. He does so eagerly, interested in what Eddie wants to do next with their night.

They soon find themselves propped up on the couch, cold beer in hand, watching a movie from Eddie’s VHS collection. He doesn’t have many choices, but they settle on one that Steve hasn’t seen yet. Eddie interjects every now and then with a bit of trivia, something that Steve would normally find annoying, but with him it’s just endearing. It’s clear he’s seen the movie quite a few times, and has taken the time to learn more about it, something Steve can appreciate.

By the time they’re calling it quits and getting the pull out couch ready for Steve, he’s starting to get anxious about the future. How is he going to be able to live here, presumably spend the bulk of his time with Eddie, and navigate his newly conscious and incredibly confusing feelings about the man?

He’s so screwed.

#eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #stranger things #steddie fanfiction #steddie fanfic #steddie fic #eddie munson x steve harrington #eddie x steve #stranger things fanfiction #cross posted on ao3 #stranger things smut #steddie fluff #steddie smut

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shmaptainwrites · 3 years

Text

Here’s just a little something I wrote for some comfort while I was on my period so if anyone’s feeling it I hope this offers some comfort <3

Pairings: Aaron Hotchner x fem!Reader

Warnings: periods, cramps

Not Well

Waking up in the middle of the night had become an unfortunate but familiar feeling. Three o’clock in the morning for one week, every month. It came like a recurring nightmare and each time it came around you wished for it to go away.

When you woke up this time, Aaron wasn’t out on a case and Jack was asleep in the other room, you didn’t want to wake either of them so you quietly hobbled out of bed and went to the medicine cabinet in the kitchen and pulled out some ibuprofen and popped a few back.

You then tiptoed into the bathroom and stripped down before turning the hot water on and changing the setting on the showerhead. Still half asleep you sat down in the tub and squeezed your eyes shut as the water first hit your face, then your stomach.

It was so early in the morning you could feel yourself drifting despite the shooting pains that were making you squirm in discomfort, but the water did a great deal in soothing whatever hurt you were feeling.

What you didn’t expect was to hear the washroom door click open and it stirred your eyes open and you pushed yourself up slightly so you could see who had entered the room.

Past the shower curtain you saw Aaron walking quietly into the washroom and rubbing his eyes awake.

“Aaron,” you mumbled. “What are you doing up?”

“You’re not feeling well,” he said simply, sitting himself next to the tub. “I wanted to come sit with you so you’re not alone,”

You pressed your lips together and nodded, hoping the few tears that had sprung up were masked by the droplets of water already on your face.

He offered you his hand and you took it, letting him squeeze as tight as his grip would allow to distract you from the pain.

“Did the doctor tell you anything,” he asked quietly and you shook your head.

“Just gave me some pills that don’t work,” you sniffed.

“Is there anything else I can do for you then?”

“Just heat me up a heat pack after I get out. If you think it won’t wake Jack,”

“If it does, it's alright, it’s not a school night,” he leaned over the edge of the bathtub and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

He sat with you until you stood up again, turning off the shower and taking a moment to breathe before pulling open the curtain and immediately being wrapped in a soft towel and helped out of the shower.

“I put some clothes out for you,” Aaron said. “I’m just gonna go heat up the heat pack for you, I’ll be right back,”

You nodded and he dipped down to steal a soft kiss from you before leaving the room so you could change.

When he came back you were all dried off and trying to deal with your wet hair before heading back to bed.

Aaron simply shut both the door to your room and to the washroom before digging for your blow dryer and turning it onto the lowest setting and taking care of it for you while you stood in front of the mirror.

“You don’t have to do this,” you looked over at him.

“Maybe it’s an old wives tale but my mother told me once if you go to sleep with wet hair you’ll wake up with a headache. Don’t want to risk it,”

You gave him a kiss as a thank you and let him finish drying your hair before heading back to bed.

Once you were under the blankets he came right up behind you and slipped a hand under your shirt, gently putting pressure at the base of your stomach with his warm hand and you tried to hold back tears, partially from the discomfort your cramps were causing you but also from feeling so lucky to have someone like Aaron take care of you when you felt like this.

“Sweetheart, if you're in pain it’s okay to cry,” he whispered and that was all it took to break the dam.

Aaron simply pressed soft kisses to the nape of your neck holding you while you shook slightly.

You almost both missed the sound of the door clicking open and Jack quietly tiptoeing into the room.

“Daddy? What happened?” he mumbled.

“Momma’s just not feeling too well,” Aaron explained. “Why don’t you come up here and give her a hug to make her feel better,”

Jack nodded, carefully climbing onto your side of the bed and curling into you before pressing a small kiss to your cheek.

“I’m sorry you don’t feel good, momma,”

“Me too, sweetie,” you sniffled and returned his kiss with one to his forehead. “But I think it would make me feel a lot better if you stay with me and daddy tonight, huh?”

Jack nodded his head and hugged you tightly while you rubbed circles around his back to help him slowly drift back to sleep and sooner or later the movement of your hands stopped and Aaron knew you had finally managed to close your eyes once more.

He pressed one final kiss to your shoulder hoping the rest of the night would prove to be more restful.

#tw: periods #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner blurb #hotch blurb #hotch x reader #hotch x you #hotch x y/n

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devildomwriter · 2 years

Text

Obey Me As Tumblr #7

Mammon: How dare you reblog my posts but not follow me

Lucifer: If you find a gold bar in a trash bag will you take the whole trash can or just the gold bar

Mammon: The fuck

•

Leviathan: Every computer needs a cleaning keyboard mode where the keys would be inactive while you wipe them down

Barbatos: Why not just clean it whole the computer is shut down?

Leviathan: While the computer is what now?

•

Mammon: I fucked up a job interview so bad today they asked me why I wanted to work at this fast food restaurant and I blanked and said when I was little I liked their French fries and wanted to be the French Fry King

Mammon: I got the job

•

Leviathan: If “evolution” is so perfect then why can’t I hear the tv when I eat chips??????????

•

Mammon: Tumblr is so awful. You have all these people making up obviously fake stories for attention and no one pays attention to real heroes, like me, who beat up a volcano

Solomon: Why is nobody talking about this?

•

Mammon: Pros of wearing all black: looks so badass

Cons: everyone knows I ate powdered donuts

Lucifer: This didn’t go the direction I expected. It was much better.

•

Mammon: How the hell do you get “Dick” from “Richard”

Satan: You ask him nicely

Lucifer: I needed ibuprofen after this

•

Lucifer: We are gathered here today because SOMEBODY *glares at coffin* couldn’t stay alive

•

Leviathan:

You: that’s is a nice ass shirt

Me: thank you but, to be honest, it’s called “pants” not “ass shirt”

Leviathan: Thanks for enjoying this joke everyone

•

Leviathan: DAD I’M AN ADULT I CAN STAY OUT AS LATE AS I WANT but please schedule my dentist appointment

•

Simeon: What’s ET short for?

Mammon: Because he’s got little legs

•

Belphegor: I just left my job. I couldn’t work for that man after what he said to me.

Mammon: What did he say?

Belphegor: “You’re fired.”

•

MC: When my boyfriend told me to stop impersonating a flamingo I had to put my foot down

•

MC:

Demon: hey I bought your soul on Craigslist last week

Me: no returns

Demon: please, it’s making me sad

•

Leviathan: What are the strongest days of the week

Leviathan: Saturday and Sunday the rest are weekdays

Leviathan: Stop unfollowing me

•

Mephistopheles: Everyday is leg day when you’re running from your problems

•

Leviathan:

People who tell me I shouldn’t drink lava: the media

People who lie: the media

Conclusion: I am going to drink lava

Solomon: I am a geologist with no association to the media and I would not recommend drinking lava

Mephistopheles: Get a load of Big Guy Geology trying to oppress the voice of the people. Teach the controversy. Drink the lava.

•

Belphegor: My mind says college but my heart says isolated sheep herder in Iceland

•

Mammon: Home is where you fully understand how the shower works

•

Asmodeus: I wanna be hot enough to make people question their sexual orientation

Leviathan: I’m ugly enough to make people question their sexual orientation

•

Asmodeus: Your blog is amazing and I love following, but why are you tagging rocks as sexy?

Simeon: Hey, someone noticed! I’m doing it because the idea of someone searching for porn and finding a rock instead is funny to me

•

Satan: Porn gives young people an unrealistic and unhealthy idea of how quickly a plumber will come to your house

•

Mephistopheles: i encourage you to do whatever you want until someone kills you. this has worked out spectacularly for me

•

Belphegor: tbh if someone just handed me a pressure washer and set me loose in the streets i would go into a trance and just start hosing shit down indiscriminately. it's not a question of how much i could clean, but how long until i get hit by a car and die

•

Leviathan: I feel bad for teachers because I distinctly remember my brother bursting into tears one when he was grading papers and he was just mumbling “they’re so goddamn stupid.” over and over

Mammon: Every time I read this I laugh a little harder

#obey me shall we date #funny obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me luke #obey me solomon #obey me simeon #obey me raphael #obey me thirteen #obey me mephistopheles #obey me as tumblr

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teenyweenynightghost · 3 years

Note

Haii!! I absolutely adore your writing and was wondering if you would be up to write something comforting with Ethan where reader is having the period from hell? Thank you ❤

Oh ho ho this should be fun

Y/n was sleeping over at Ethan’s for the first time. She had feelings for him for god knows how long, and the night he asked her out was probably the happiest she had ever been.

Their date had been unbelievable. Y/n felt as if time stopped and she was the only person on Earth along with Ethan, as cheesy as that may sound

When it started raining, they both hurried to his car and drove quickly to his place.

“God, I didn’t think the night would end like this.” Y/n chuckled, draining her hair in Ethan’s bathtub, while he was brushing his teeth next to her.

“You can sleep in one of my shirts.” Ethan mumbled, almost choking on the tooth paste

“What?”

“I said” he spit out all the paste and rinsed his mouth “you can sleep in one of my shirts.”

Y/n’s heart skipped a bit and she blushed a bit at his suggestion, before nodding sheepishly and putting her hair in a bun.

Ethan chuckled and muttered a few words Y/n didn’t quite catch, before leaving the room.

In a few moments, he came back with a large t-shirt. It was burgundy and had a logo in the middle. Ethan gave it to Y/n and left her alone to change

That night she had fallen asleep in his warm embrace, listening to the rain drops hit the windows

She felt as if it was a dream come true, and the only thought on her mind was Ethan

Luckily for her, Ethan felt the exact same way

He held her close all night, nuzzling his face into the crook of her neck, and dreamed of her

Ethan woke up to a slap. He opened his eyes grumpily and looked for the source of pain, only to see Y/n turned away from him, in that position all girls sleep in; the one where they have a leg up and they’re on their stomach

That’s when he saw that Y/n had started her period

There was a large, red stain seeping through her underwear and another few spots on the bedding

Damn, he shouldn’t have put on white ones

Stretching a bit and getting out of bed, he started to think about what he could do.

He didn’t know how much Y/n trusted him or how she would react to this, so the two smartest choices that he had were to either wake her up and tell her what happened, or prepare everything for when se would wake up

Eventually, he decided going for the latter.

Heading to the living room and grabbing his keys , he got in the car and drove to the nearest pharmacy around.

The man was walking down the unbearably white aisles of the pharmacy, looking for some ibuprofen and tampons

He really didn’t know what type Y/n used, and he wasn’t about to be like that dude on TikTok who asked his girlfriend what size pussy she was, so he took 4 types

Maybe different colors would mean something…or maybe scent?

He made a mental reminder to ask Y/n if they had any flavors

After searching forever, he ended up having a kilogram of pads, three types of sheet masks and a new lotion, but no pain medication

They must have been hidden

Eventually giving up, he went to the cashier and placed all the products on the register

“Tough times with the lady?” The woman asked, sending him an all-too knowing smirk

“I hope not. Speaking of which, do you happen to have any pain medication?”

Ethan left the store smirking, having received a 20% discount for being “so cute”, and he also got a small chapstick as a gift

His next stop was the grocery shop

He already knew what he needed, so the trip would be easy; Twix, KitKat, Puffy Cheetos, Aloe Drink, and A LOT of Chocolate milk

It didn’t take long for him to find everything, so he wondered around the shop for a little longer, picking up a few more things

Y/n was startled awake by some people screaming outside

She jumped out of bed and hurried to the window, only to see that they were a group of friends who were just pranking one another

She groaned and pressed a hand to her stomach, feeling a painful hotness around the area

Looking back at the bed, her heart stopped in her chest as she saw that there was a trail of blood behind her

Oh gods, her period came in the worst moment possible. Did Ethan see? Did he run away out of disgust?

She paced around the room nervously, thinking of what to do, yet ignoring the sound of running water coming from the bathroom

She shrieked when she heard a knock on the door and tried to hide the bloodied sheets as well as she could.

“Cara mia, are you awake?” Ethan’s soft voice was muffled by the door, which only made Y/n feel worse.

“No?”

She heard Ethan chuckle before seeing him enter the room. He seemed to have a reassuring look on his face, but Y/n could tell there was some pity in there too.

“Wanna come with me?” He asked her softly, taking her silky hand in his and leading her to the bathroom before she could answer

Y/n watched as he opened the door to the bathroom and led her inside. The shower was running and there were some clothes on the counter

“Get in the shower. I’ll take care of everything else.” He said, looking at Y/n so softly that her heart exploded and she burst into a fit of tears

His armed were around her in a second, comforting her as best as he could, but he truly did not know the reason why she was crying

“Baby, is everything all right? Why are you crying?” He asked her, worry written all over his face.

“Im sorry…I’m just” she sniffled a bit, shedding a few more tears, “no one ever took care of me when I was on my period and you’re being so fucking sweet and I ruined your sheets and everything is wrong and my stomach hurts and FUCK why did It have to come now we could have-“

“Woah, woah, woah, take a deep breath, dolcezza. Like that, just relax.” He interrupted her ramblings, wiping the tears off her face.

“It’s okay. Don’t worry about the sheets. I’ll clean them later. We can just stay in bed all day and relax. How does that sound?”

Y/n nodded slightly against his shoulder, pulling herself away and wiping her face.

“Okay.” Her voice was still raspy, and she looked at the shower. At that moment, washing her entire body felt like an unbelievably long and exhausting process. She slumped her shoulders at the thought of it and puffed.

“Let me wash you. It’ll go by quicker.”

Y/n nodded and started taking her clothes off, too exhausted to care about Ethan’s red face. Even though he had offered, he couldn’t help but think about other circumstances in which he would get in a shower with Y/n.

Regardless, it was not the time for such things.

Once she was inside, he grabbed the shampoo and squirted some in his hand, thinking of a way to lather it on Y/n without getting wet.

“Now how are you gonna do that without ending up in the shower too, Mr Edgar?” Y/n teased, letting her head fall back as the warm water glided down her body.

While trying to find a solution, Ethan’s gaze fell on the floor, which was now filled with blood.

“Y/n are you alright?” His tone instantly changed, now being extremely worried about how much blood came out of her.

“Yeah. Why?” She followed his gaze to the ground, seeing what he was staring at. She let out a low laugh before grabbing the bottle from Ethan.

“It’s creepy, I know. You don’t have to wash me.”

“No. I said I would help and I want to. Do you mind if I join in?” He asked sheepishly, concerned about crossing any boundaries with the girl.

“Whatever floats your boat.”

The man nodded, getting out and taking his clothes off. He placed them neatly next to Y/n’s, then got back in the shower.

Y/n was facing the wall, so Ethan pressed a soft kiss to her neck from behind her.

“I bought some goodies too.”

Y/n just hummed in response, leaning against Ethan. His hands instinctively went to her shoulders and started massaging them, earning a few whimpers from Y/n

“I can give you a massage later…”

“Absolutely.”

They both chuckled a bit, before Ethan got to actually cleaning Y/n. He softly lathered the soap all over her body, letting the water wash away the bubbles.

“Okay…I’m gonna leave you alone now, considering that I don’t know how to put on a tampon.”

“Alright.” Y/n responded, blushing slightly from all the contact. She heard Ethan take a towel and dry himself off, before getting dressed and leaving.

Ethan was in the kitchen, his phone in front of him as he sat prompted against the counter

Now close your eyes, and with a deep breath, release all the pent up frustration inside of you

“Um, Ethan? You said you had food?”

The brunette jumped up and hurried to close his phone, blushing furiously as he turned towards Y/n.

“Yes, right it’s over th-“

“Were you meditating?”

“Maybe.”

“You were.” (The bitch was so horny he had to reset his mind)

“You said you wanted food.” He finally managed to switch the topic, as Y/n’s eyes lit up.

“Gimmie.” She stretched out her arms and closed her hands repetitively, beckoning for Ethan to give her the snacks.

“Alright, alright. I’ll grab a few more things and come. Just go in the bathroom and get in bed.”

Y/n pouted, but eventually followed Ethan’s instructions. She was surprised to see that he had changed the sheets and lit up a few candles. She smiled to herself before cuddling up under the blankets.

Soon enough, Ethan entered the room with some snacks and drinks, a hot pouch and some medication.

“Here is some ibuprofen, if you have cramps, and a hot pouch.”

Y/n could have moaned in pleasure when she placed the hot object on her stomach, relieving a lot of the pain.

She gulped down the pills, cuddling into Ethan, who had an arm wrapped around her and another one massaging her butt.

He nuzzled into her neck, smiling a bit and breathing in her chocolatey scent.

“Squishy.” He joked, squeezing her butt, which made Y/n erupt in a mess of giggles.

She leaned over and grabbed a cereal bar, unwrapping it smoothly before shoving it down her throat.

“Thank you so much Ethan. I really don’t know how to tell you…no one has ever done this for me before.” She whispered, twirling a strand of his hair around her finger.

“I’ll always be here when you need me. Now you just need to sleep.”

“Okay…”

A/n: so i know this isn’t particularly a head canon, but the only way I can write is if my brain thinks im writing something short with bullet points, even though it would be a normal piece If I were to remove them😂

Taglist: @fuckim-so-gay @ginny-lily @messyhairday-me @cheese-toastie-11 @wannabemarlenabutiscoraline @simp-per-ethan @maneskinrollercoaster @juststalking @superchrystaldrug @immrbrightsideeee @shehaddreamstoo @tiaamberxx @victoriadeangeliswifey @bidet-and-legolas @makapaka11 @electra-phoebe

#maneskin #victoria de angelis #ethan torchio #damiano david #thomas raggi #måneskin #maneskin fic #ethan x reader #fluffy

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wyn-n-tonic · 3 years

Text

My Turn

Pairing: Santiago Garcia x f!reader Word Count: 1.2k Warnings: Daddy kink (but not explicit). Sick Santi. Fluffy, dialogue heavy bullshit. Author's Note: Santi's always taking care of reader, I wanted to write about reader taking care of Santi.

MASTERLIST | TAGLIST SIGN-UP

You run the back of your hand across the soft stubble of Santi’s cheek, an act he leans into as he catches your palm in his and holds it there.

“My love,” you whisper to him, “you’re burning up, do you feel well?”

He’s been acting strange all day but was stranger still at dinner, didn’t even have the energy to raise his eyebrow at you let alone keep up with your usual dance. You pushed his buttons, gave him shit, and all he did was smile at you.

“Hmm,” he brings your knuckles to his lips now, “bit of a headache,” another kiss to your wrist, “throat hurts,” he drags his lips down your forearm, “nothing I can’t handle, baby girl.”

“No,” you stand and tug him up to you, “come with me.”

He shivers when he stands, a cold trembling reaching down to his fingertips and right into you now.

You lead him to the bathroom and begin to fill the tub, a sprinkling of menthol and eucalyptus bath salts along with lavender bubbles.

“Strip,” you command, turning around and making your way to the medicine cabinet.

“That's my line, princesa.”

You shoot him a look while you fiddle with the cap on the ibuprofen, “I'm not telling you twice.”

He begins complying, his shirt falling with a small plop against the cold tile. When you turn back to him, a glass of water and the fever reducer in your hands, he’s struggling to bend and kick his pants off.

“Baby, stop,” your footsteps are quick as you press the pills into his hands, “take this, I got that.”

He carefully grabs the glass from you as you kneel, pulling the waistband of his sweats down with you.

A groan escapes his lips as you guide one leg, then another, out of the confines of the soft fabric.

Looking up, you catch a shade of embarrassment cross his face, “what’s going on in that head of yours?”

“I must really feel like shit,” he presses the empty cup back into your hands, “usually a sight like that would have me standing at full attention, I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” you shake your head, “don’t apologize, get in the tub.”

You turn the tap off as he steps in gingerly, lowering himself to settle in the warmth as steam fills the room.

“Where are you going?” His voice is quiet but it reaches for you where his arms cannot.

“Setting a timer so I can give you more ibuprofen in six hours.”

“That’s in the middle of the night, we’ll be asleep.”

“Yes,” you turn back to him as you begin to remove your own clothes, “that’s the point of the timer, to wake me up so I can check your temperature.”

Instinctually, he leans back, opening his legs to create a space for you but you shake your head.

“No, baby,” you’ve grabbed his shampoo and body wash from the shower now, “scoot forward.”

Doing as he’s told, you settle in behind him and pull him back against your chest.

His approval, his comfort, hums deep in his being; vibrating your body under his in the enveloping heat.

“Does this feel good?” You press your lips softly to his hairline, sweat beading along his brows.

He whines, “you're using all my lines and moves against me right now.”

“Not against you, baby,” you drag your fingernails across his scalp, “for you.”

You lose track of time as the water cools, the steady rise and fall of his chest pressed against you. You wash his back and chest, gently scrubbing the body wash across his skin.

But what makes him melt is when you pull him closer to your chest, encouraging him to slip down further beneath the suds and gently begin to wet his hair.

Santi moans at your touch as you rub the shampoo through his hair, flexing your fingers down into the sides of his neck.

“How do I always forget how amazing you are at this?” His voice rasps in a way that’s not usual, raw at the edges of his words.

“Shh, my love,” you kiss his cheek, unable to tell if the heat is from the fever or the bath, “you always forget because usually you’re the one doing this for me.”

He laughs as you begin to cup the water, bringing it up to rinse through the soap that’s curled around those of his own, flattening the locks back down against his scalp.

“Mayb—“ another sinful sound escapes his lips, “maybe we can take turns, you can treat daddy sometimes.”

As you rinse the last of the shampoo free from his hair, you feel a rattling building in his breath.

“Okay, baby,” you agree with a kiss to his shoulder, “scoot up and let me get out.”

He leans forward and opens the drain as you stand up and wrap yourself in a towel.

“Come on,” you reach for him, “give me your hand.”

You wrap him in a towel and take him to sit on the bed, his big hands coming out to chase your warmth as you walk away, busying yourself with grabbing his pajamas.

You kneel in front of him again, coaxing each foot into the legs of a clean pair of sweats.

Gun calloused fingertips brush the sensitive skin of your cheek and you look up to meet his eyes, warm and dopey under the soft lamplight of your bedroom, “what's up?”

A shake of his head, “I'm just overwhelmed with how much you love me.”

“Shh,” you press your lips to inside of his knee, “stand up for me, let’s get these pants up and then I want you to lay down.”

“Think I like it when you’re bossy,” he smiles, standing up and dropping the towel, “like what you see, baby?”

“Mm,” you hum at him, standing to pull the waistband of his joggers upward, “I do, but you’re sick so I need you to rest.”

He paws at the edge of your towel, “may I kiss you?”

“Lay down,” you command with a quick press of your lips to his, “let me get dressed.”

When you come back from the closet, his shirt hanging limply against you, the heel of his hands are pressed to his eyes with a whine.

“How are you feeling now, my love?”

“I'm so fucking hot, baby girl.”

“I know,” you call to him as you walk back to the medicine cabinet, “just lay there, baby.”

“Keep using my lines, prin—“ he coughs then, “I dare you.”

The mattress dips under your weight as you straddle him, his hands instinctively moving to rest on your hips, “as much as I would love this, baby girl, I don’t think I can tonight.”

“Shut up, Santiago,” it’s half a laugh as you unscrew the lid off the jar in your hands.

“I can feel your pussy throbbing, princess.”

You lay your hand a little too hard on his chest, digging the menthol rub into his collarbone, “think that’s your headache.”

He breathes deeply, a soft sigh escaping his lips, “how are you so nice to me?”

You don’t answer him, you don’t answer any of the incoherent babble that begins to slip from his tongue; the English, the Spanish, the soft praises he has for you and your hands.

Eventually, his snores fill your ears and you climb away from him with a kiss to his fevered forehead.

As you turn the bedside lamp off, you whisper, “sometimes, it’s just my turn to take care of you.”

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#santiago 'pope' garcia #santiago garcia #santiago pope garcia #santiago garcia x reader #santiago garcia x you #santiago garcia fanfiction #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #oscar isaac fanfiction #soft santi sunday

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amidstsaltandsmoke · 3 years

Note

51&84 plss you drables are so cute. its like a comfort read

Anon, thank you 😭 that's sweet of you to say and I'm happy that you think so! Thus, here is my gift to you; hope you enjoy it!! 🥰 _____________________ Prompts: “I’m your husband. It’s my job.” & “Come on, baby, up to bed.”

Jon Snow was certain about approximately two things: one, that he adored and cherished and loved his wife more than any other living soul on the planet. And second, that she had to be the most bullheaded, stubborn piece of work he’d also ever come to know. He knew these things could not be, and were not, mutually exclusive.

At present, Daenerys was buzzing around the house, corner to corner, leaving not a centimeter untouched with her magic cleaning sponge, the vacuum practically an extra limb at this point, and a bucket full of various other cleaning supplies.

She had come down with a nasty case of the flu two days ago, and he could not figure out why (for the life of him) she was absolutely insistent that she do this. Actually, he did: her parents were in town, had dropped in last minute yesterday afternoon, and all but demanded they come over tomorrow to visit. Even despite Dany telling them over and over again that it wasn’t a good time right now, that she would get them sick (selflessly leaving out the bit where she was actually, completely miserable).

Jon didn’t much care for her parents, but he was able to survive their get-togethers thus far. Seven years and he hadn’t yet lost his mind in their presence. They were rich, snobby, judgmental arseholes who disapproved of every decision Dany made in her life because she had made them and went against their expectations. Even down to their house decor, or tidiness, which was why Dany was being the way she was right now.

They especially did not approve of her choice of husband, but he couldn’t bother to give any less fucks. She was his, and he was hers, and the Targaryen in-laws could quite honestly shove their phony, one-dimensional personalities right up their uptight asses.

...Maybe he was a little bitter.

Nothing he did could convince Dany to stop. She’d been going and going with barely a break, except when he could distract her enough to do so, whether by luring her into the family room to catch her favorite movie and fibbing a little by telling her it was on cable (it wasn’t, but there was something about them being on live telly that she loved so much, even despite owning the physical copies, which he had put on to convince her to sit her perky little arse down). Or, when he’d set up the extra bed in the guest room for her parents to stay (he prayed to all seven gods it wouldn’t come to that), that he really needed her to go lay on it for a few minutes and be sure it was comfortable enough (because, yes, her parents were that finicky and found no issue voicing their opinions). When she hadn’t come down ten minutes later, he found his plan had worked, and she had passed out.

It didn’t last; she had woken in a panic some thirty minutes later, half-asleep and still muttering that there was too much to do yet.

Multiple times did he attempt to intervene and take over, but she would not have it. And he understood it on a normal day when they might host something; she had certain things she was particular about, and he had his. But this was overkill, even on a normal day. He took to all the other chores, but not without keeping two eyes wide open on her, for fear she would exhaust herself into a coma.

At the rate she was scrubbing away every spec of dirt she could find, he was beginning to worry she’d burn holes in the walls and floors. He was exhausted just by watching her, and he decided he had enough. Her hair was frizzed and pulled away from her face, her skin clammy, her pallor more desaturated than normal and that was with a new golden tan after their mini vacation, and overall, she appeared too frail for his liking.

Jon set down the clothes he had bundled up before he was going to shower, padding over to where she was on her hands and knees, swiping away at the floorboards. “Dany...come on. You need rest, not to be worrying over parts of the house nobody notices.”

As soon as she halted her movements and cut him a glare, which was adorably terrifying despite her condition, he knew she was right, even without any words. Her parents did notice these things, for why he could never and would never even begin to try to understand, but to be reiterated, he gave zero shits as to what they thought.

They lived a perfectly comfortable life, organized messes and all.

Resuming her cleaning, he was shocked by how weak her voice sounded. “Would you rather they nag me about my inability to manage a house - or my life, for that matter - or listen to them ramble about their thousandth trip to the Virgin Islands?"

"If it were up to me they wouldn’t be coming at all,” he muttered, earning himself a look that, this time, read, ‘I know, me too’.

Jon sighed. “I’m goin’ to shower - if I find you down here still at it…,” he cut her his best implacable eye, brows raised.

Dany went to roll her eyes, then winced and squeezed her eyes shut, her fingers rubbing at her orbital sockets. She was so congested that she couldn’t even get snarky with him. Instead, she playfully, threw a wet rag in his direction, but it fell with a sad flop barely two feet from where she was kneeling. She burst into a snotty fit of giggles, whilst Jon simply shook his head at his wife and her heavy red eyes, clucking his tongue. “Am I to take that as you throwing in the towel?”

“Jon!” She squeaked, a nasally little sound as she doubled over, not an ounce of energy in her petite and fatigued frame to handle even that. “Augh, disgusting,” she mused after a minute, grabbing a tissue from the second box that had been attached to her hip and blowing her nose.

“I mean it, Dany - ten minutes. Consider that a warning. No arguing this time,” he jut his index at her, but she waved him off without acknowledging him as if she had the most mild case of a cold and not severe body aches, a sinus headache, chills, and fever. Because her parents had never supplied her with love and comfort as a child, her defense mechanism was to do everything herself as often as possible.

It was still a work in progress; she was better at accepting his help these days (except for now, when her parents exacerbated her need to prove herself, of which she most certainly did not need to do), and she was open to letting him pamper her with all the TLC he wanted to give her. He understood that desire for independence, he longed for it himself, but it was time to take matters into his own hands.

________________________________________

Less than ten minutes later, after a quick washing down, Jon came downstairs, and paused. He didn’t hear any sign of movement at all, and for a moment he panicked, the worst of his thoughts diving into his worst fears that she passed herself out from exertion.

However, to his (sort of) relief, he discovered her sitting and hunched over the kitchen table, her forehead on her arms. As he stepped closer, she produced a towel, the very one she’d tried to assault him with earlier, and flung it blindly across the table. “Yes, that’s meant to be literal this time,” she mumbled in the cave she was hiding herself in.

With a victorious smile, Jon made a quick job of switching off the lights, then tucked one arm under her knees and the other around her back. The deep wrinkle between his brow was immediate. “Gods, Dany, you’re soaked.”

She hummed a pitiful laugh into his neck where she nuzzled. He’d foregone a shirt, and her skin was blazing against his, even through her clothes. “Not the first time you’ve told me that.”

“Seven hells,” he grumbled good-naturedly, “and you’re delirious. Come on, baby, up to bed. Let’s get you a bath goin’ first though, love.”

________________________________________

After some careful finessing, Jon deposited Dany atop the closed toilet seat, then went off in search of clean, dry, cool clothes for her. While the bath filled, he instructed her to stay where she was so he wouldn’t need to worry about her hurting herself with how unbalanced she was at the moment.

He boiled her a cup of ginger sweet tea and water, dumped a couple of ibuprofen into his palm, and made his way back to her. Luckily, she didn’t try to move, and soon enough he was helping her peel away her sweat-ridden clothes and getting her into the bath. Nothing too hot so her fever wouldn’t spike further, but a little tepid.

As soon as her medicine was down and he handed her her tea, she turned her sleepy eyes on him where he knelt beside the tub, freeing one hand to gently scrape over his beard. “You spoil me,” she murmured, a soft smile tugging on her lips.

He took her hand and kissed the inside of her palm, scooting closer so he could do the same to her damp forehead. “I’m your husband; it’s my job,” he said, his own eyes weighing down as she played with the hair at the nape of his neck.

The water had begun to cool shortly after, and a chill took over her. Jon grabbed the thickest towel in their storage closet and wrapped her up like a newborn babe, swaddling her with his arms until the quivering stopped. The medicine still had some time to kick in yet.

Clothed in a tank top and underwear, dry, and warm enough, Dany let him carry her to their bed, setting her down on her side and bringing a light sheet up to her waist. Once the lights were off, he slid in beside her, the pair of them immediately seeking out the other, her back to his front. Jon sat up to lean his head in his hand, using the miniscule light from outside to see her and brush some half dry hair away from her face, running his knuckles down her arm and back up again.

Dany rolled onto her back, her eyes adjusting until she could see him clearly enough. “Thank you for taking care of me,” she whispered. His heart broke, and virus be damned, he leaned down and kissed her plump lips, though she tried (and failed) to weakly push him away.

“You’ll get sick,” she said, her hand cradling his neck.

“Worth it," he declared, giving her neglected lips several more pecks before laying back on his side. "Dany…"

"Mm?" She rolled so she could face him.

“You never have to thank me for taking care of you,” he said softly, tugging her closer, but also trying to be mindful of too much shared body heat would make her fever rise.

“Okay,” she agreed, her voice slightly hoarse.

“I love you,” he whispered against her forehead.

“I love you, too. Even when I’m a disgusting snotty, sweaty, contagious mess?”

“Do you remember our first date?” He smiled into the dark room, a chuckle already bubbling up in his throat.

“I don’t think I could ever forget you trying to pretend you weren’t on your deathbed, just to go on a date with me,” she mused, and he could hear her own grin in her words, her head tilting up so that she could see him.

Ah, yes. The ultimate game of cat and mouse. Daenerys Targaryen had been convinced she would never date again, never give a man a second look for at least another twenty years. Even after Robb introduced the two of them, and Jon was ninety-nine-point-nine percent certain he’d fallen in love with her at first sight, she was reluctant. For six months. But he was patient, and he gave her space while also being conscientious that there was a balance between coming off as far too clingy and seemingly disinterested if he didn’t at least try to find a place in the back of her mind.

Naturally, as was his luck, she finally accepted...and the next morning he’d woken up with a severe bout of the stomach flu. Fate was trying to fuck with him, but despite a trip to the toilet to heave every forty-five minutes, the gods would not win that day. Unfortunately, their plans included dinner, and nothing would stay down in the time leading up to their date. They went to a movie first, and he only had to make two trips to the bathroom to throw up all of his popcorn. When dinner came, it was so physically demanding to keep everything from not reproducing onto the shared table between them, Dany noticed the sweat on his face and kept having to ask him if he was alright

Then his anxiety spiked and he knew, for sure, he would fuck up a very important day by completely freaking her out by his odd behavior. There was bowling, and then they concluded with ice cream, and that did him in. As they took a would-be romantic stroll around the nearby park, the garbage bin never looked so appealing, and that was where he, ironically, definitely fell in love with her. Because rather than run away or laugh at his humiliation, she threw out her (and his) remaining ice cream and rubbed his back as his body seemingly caught up and punished him for holding it all in for hours.

When he tried to apologize between ralphing, she shushed him and told him to stop being ridiculous. Then she took him home and doted on him like a pitiful, helpless little boy (not that he didn’t completely eat it up - not unlike tonight, but roles reversed.

“We’ve come full circle,” he snorted, running his fingers up and down her back.

“I think it was meant to be,” she giggled.

Jon hummed and pressed his forehead to hers, shutting his eyes. “I know it was.”

#jonerys #jonerys fanfic #jonerys drabble #one of my fave tropes #I think this is a record in how quickly I was able to whip this up :')#my drabbles

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copias-thrall · 3 years

Note

Hello there, your stories are great!! Can I ask this? A feverish Pappa III confess his love to his s/o ? Thank you

Thanks for this wholesome ask, nonny! 😊🥰

He’d sniffled his way through yesterday’s sermon.

He’d sneezed his way through dinner.

And while you’d thought the way he sounded all stuffed up was adorable, you hadn’t adored the way he’d coughed through half the night.

“Ai! I am fine!” he’d insisted right before bed. “Nothing a good rest won’t cure, hm?”

But when you’d woken up this morning, he was sweaty and moaning. HIs eyes were glazed, and he’d shivered despite the blankets.

“Papa?” you’d murmured as you’d brushed the damp locks from his hot forehead.

“I’m dying,” he’d groaned as he’d curled into a ball. “Tell The Rat he can’t have my quarters.”

You’d twisted your lips to prevent a smile.

“It’s a cold. Probably from pulling those all nighters last week. You’re not in your 20s anymore, you know…”

He’d cracked a gummy eyelid at you. “I am the picture of youth.”

“Yes, yes…you’re very sprightly. …Except for the whole ‘dying’ thing.”

He’d made a noise at you and had pulled the covers over his head.

“You are not nice to Papa. Go away.”

And then he’d kicked weakly at you as you’d tried not to laugh.

Though you’d wanted nothing more to stay and take care of him, you still had your duties to attend to. Just because you were having a fling with one of the Emeritus brothers didn't mean you were exempt from pulling your weight. (Sister Imperator had made that abundantly clear when she’d cornered you late one night in one of the corridors.)

You’d placed a kiss on the lump you were reasonably sure was his head.

“I’ll call the infirmary and have one of your Ghouls attend to your breakfast.”

The lump had merely nodded.

***

Though your relationship with Terzo wasn’t necessarily established, it wasn’t brand new, either. Of course anyone would have been flattered by his attentions—and you’d never been immune to the smolder in his eyes and his cheeky commentary at sermons—so when he’d propositioned you one morning after mass, you were quick to take him up on the offer.

And the sex had been…wow.

A little of what you had expected, some that you hadn’t, and a lot of “That should be illegal!”

But it was the time with him after that you had come to enjoy the most. That time had been fun. Comfortable. He’d laughed at your jokes, and you’d found him much deeper than his public persona. “Everybody loves a clown, eh?” he’d said as he’d winked at you. The two of you could just exist together quietly, but still have a rowdy good time when he started taking you out on actual dates. Obviously, you weren’t even close to being considered for Prime Mover, but you were no longer a casual liaison.

All of which meant: you still had to show up for your yardworking rotation as Primo micromanaged, but Terzo’s Ghouls gave you the courtesy of updating you on his status.

When you’d been updated midday that what Terzo has was definitely just a bad head-cold and not the flu, you’d still intended to check-in on your lunch break—but a snafu with the Venus Flytraps cut into it so severely that you’d barely had time to scarf down the sandwich and soda you’d selected.

Finally, with the sun hanging low in the sky, you’re cut for the day, and you can dash back to your room to shower off the sweat and dirt from the day.

Now, you can go care for your Papa.

***

The first stop is the kitchen for Terzo’s evening meal, which you find is a hearty steak, garlic mashed potatoes, and buttered spinach paired with a Chablis.

You eye the offering with disapproval; while delicious, this is not a meal for a sick man. When you direct the Kitchen Ghoul to instead make a simple chicken soup and buttered toast paired with coconut water, he chitters at you in annoyance, but in the end, follows your direction.

You’re Papa’s partner, after all.

Usually, Terzo will meet you at the door to his quarters in his ridiculous floral robe if the two of you are staying in, but today, you let yourself in. His living area is dark except for a small lamp giving off a warm glow. When you push open the door to his bed chambers with your hip, you find much the same, and one side of the bed has a humidifier going that exudes the scent of lavender and rosemary. He's still cocooned in his bed, but—despite the relaxing atmosphere of his room—he’s breathing heavily and twitching about.

Poor Papa.

You set the tray down so you can refresh the basin of cool water on his night table, then you kneel at his side so you can gently caress his face with the cool cloth.

He twitches, and then his eyes blink owlishly open.

“Is it time for the Ritual? Are the Ghouls here?” His glazed eyes try to focus on you. “Where’s the other PA?”

“No, Papa,” you murmur as you dip and wring the cloth for a pass down his neck. “You’re at the Abbey. You’re sick in bed, remember?”

“The Abbey?” He blinks rapidly. “Oh. Sí.”

You try to swipe the cloth across his chest, but he jerks away from the cool touch on his fevered skin; he whimpers and grabs his head, curling away from you.

“I know, Papa. It’s no fun being sick.” You run your fingers through his sweaty hair. “Do you think you can get some food down, mm? Then I can give you some ibuprofen.”

He moans, but he shifts up just enough that you can feed him.

Perching on the edge of the bed, you press the spoon to his lips, and he slurps loudly as his wide, fever-bright eyes stare at you.

“My dolce.”

You smile as you dab his chin and offer him a bite of toast.

“Yes, I am your dolce, Papa. And you are mine.”

“Mine,” he whines as he tries to wrap around you.

You chuckle and carefully unfurl him. “Food first, Papa.”

When you bring the glass to his mouth to wash down the toast, his moist palm wraps around your wrist.

“My dolce here to care for their Papa.”

He kisses the inside of your wrist, and you almost spill the contents of the glass all over him, so you gently extract yourself from his hold.

“Trying anyway.”

You bring the glass up again, and he takes a drink even as his eyes droop despite their lock on yours.

“You’re so good to Papa.”

His head weaves, and you realize you’re fighting a losing battle. But you’ve managed to get him to consume a third of the soup, a triangle of toast, and half the water, which is good enough!

“Because I care about you,” you say absently as you search for the ibuprofen bottle.

When you turn back around, his eyes are closed, and he breathes heavily through his mouth. You make a mental note to find his Irene Forte Pistachio lip balm—Terzo would be horrified if his lips were ever unkissable.

Fever reducers in hand, you waffle between letting him rest and waking him up. On one hand, his body needs sleep to fight off the infection; on the other, he’ll sleep easier if his fever goes down…but when he lets out a soft moan, you decide that waking him will be brief enough.

You lean forward and gently thumb his hot, flushed cheek.

“Papa? My dolce?”

He twitches, and his eyes unstick. When they focus on you, he lights up and wraps you in an embrace that’s strong despite the fever.

“My dolce...my amore. Ah—I love you. I love you so much.”

You freeze—you know he cares for you…but he’s never said he’s loved you before. And you’re not sure if the declaration is pure delirium, or if the fever has cleared his inhibitions…

But he pulls you close so he can nuzzle into you.

“My amore…you are the shining and the light. My perfect love, perfect for Papa…stay here. The best that’s happened to me. Stay by my side. Please, amore…”

He applies sloppy kisses to your face, and you give a wet laugh as you carefully extricate yourself from his affections. His words make you feel light and giddy now that you’re sure they’re genuine.

You’ve loved him for a while now.

As you help him lie back, you lean close to murmur in his ear, “I love too, Papa. Very much so.” His expression manages to be bright despite the fact that he’s pie-eyed. “And because I love you, I only want the best for you. So open up and take these pills, ok?”

He gives an exaggerated nod up and down. “And then you will stay?”

You give him a soft smile. “Of course…love.”

A lazy grin spills across his face. “Okie dokie.” And then he’s opening his mouth wide.

True to your word, once you’re finished ministering to him, you crawl on top of the sheets next to him. He conked out before you had put the glass back down on his bedside table, but as you drape an arm cautiously across his middle, you think you can detect the hint of a smile on your lips.

#asks #papa emeritus iii #gender neutral #sfw #fluff #my writing #original post

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yangrdn · 3 years

Text

cough cough

pairing: peter parker x gn!reader, non-superhero AU

a/n: this is my entry for @worldoftom's lolbrosgetsicktoo challenge! i loved writing sick!peter, it was v v cute. also, whilst writing this i'm sick, also a cold and my throat hurt until three days a go for three weeks straight. writing this was basically me wanting to have a peter to look after me, so i put him in my position. feedback is really appreciated and i hope you enjoy reading this <3

ps: i put the prompt at the end bc i assumed it'd spoil a little of the story if i put it at the start. so if you want to know the prompt first, just scroll down.

summary: peter gets a sore throat.

w/c: 3.8k

warnings: mentions of vomiting, description of taking painkillers, sick and whiny peter

my m.list

request | my taglist

there are a lot of things peter’s good at. he nails every test that is thrown at him. if you asked him a question about physics, he’d give you the right answer right away. basically, peter’s smart. like, really smart. now, there’s always that one thing he is not smart enough for and needs your help for.

taking care of his body.

with that, he could get all the help possible, and would still fail. may already tried her best, telling him to zip his jacket when going out and it’s raining. or you’d tell him how he should’ve stayed at home instead of riding his bike to your apartment right after taking a shower. he had worn only a shirt and a pair of jeans, saying it was hot and that the sun was out.

you, on the other hand, were just pissed your boyfriend had risked getting sick again, because you know you’ll have to take care of him. not because may told you to, nope. peter just didn't let anyone come near him when sick, besides you. although it does make you question whether he does it because he wants you close, even when he feels like melting because of his fever, or that he wants you to get sick, too.

and now, here you are. walking to peter’s flat after may called you and informed you about your “over dramatic” boyfriend. he was asking for you the whole day, and wouldn't let her sit down for even a minute, she said to you on the phone after you agreed to come over. you feel bad for her. She was up everyday, working her ass off, only to come home to Peter complaining about his pain. Taking care of him so she could at least get a day off from a whining Peter was the least you can do right now.

You knock on the door twice and start taking off your shoes. It wasn’t raining, but you don’t want to enter the flat with dirty shoes and leave more work when you leave. May opens the door, a tired smile across her face and a relieved sigh leaving her lips when she notices it’s you standing there.

“Hi, May,” you smile at her and give her a side hug, already peeking behind her and seeing two empty boxes of tissues. You frown and pull back as you enter the room.

“He won’t shut up about his throat. His voice is nearly gone, so he won’t be able to talk that much,” she informs you and closes the door behind you as you make your way to Peter’s room. You nod and turn around.

“It’s okay, I’ll make sure he gets enough sleep anyways,” you tell her. May silently thanks you with two thumbs up as she walks slowly to her room, closing the door quietly.

You knock on Peter’s door softly, not wanting to barg in if he’s doing something or wake him up. When you get no response, you open the door and step in. The room is dark, the only light coming in from the sun shines shining through the blinds. On Peter’s desk, books are piled up and you assume those are all for his missing assignments. A pout forms on your lips as you realize he’ll need to do all his missing work for school once he feels better. You make a mental note to help him as you roll up the blinds, only enough to illuminate the room more. When your eyes cast on the brown haired boy laid on the bed, the pout is quickly replaced by a soft smile.

Peter’s laying on his bed, blanket draped over his body and only covering his hips and left leg, soft snores leaving his lips. He’s only wearing a pair of boxers, his chest glistening with sweat. Your eyes widen as you walk closer to him, placing your palm on his forehead. A quiet gasp leaves your lips once you feel how hot his forehead is. He stirs awake slowly, only moving his head away from your palm and whining. You try to stifle a laugh and make the thin blue blanket cover at least half his body. His eyes open, blinking rapidly as he adjusts to the new light.

“Ugh,” he groans and hides his face behind his hands. Peter’s head is spinning, his eyes only adding more pain when he opens them. You sit on the bed, making sure not to touch him and hand him the glass of water on his nightstand. After revealing his face, he sits up slowly and takes the glass. Drowning it in slow and painful gulps, Peter lets out a hiss after setting the glass back down on the nightstand.

Now that he’s fully awake, you take a second to examine his sick state. His cheeks are rosy, you can basically see that the poor boy is burning up. His head is leaned back against the cool wall and his eyes squeezed shut due to his headache.

“I’m in so fucking much pain,” he whines and opens one eye, squinting and looking at you. You sigh, taking note of the crack in his voice. May wasn’t lying when she said he had a hard time talking.

“May told me. Did you eat today?” He frowns and shuts his eyes again.

“No, I- I-,” he stops talking and coughs, hissing as he feels more pain in his throat. You take the water bottle next to him and quickly fill up the glass again, handing it to him. After another painful gulp, he continues.

“May made me soup, but I didn’t finish it,” he croaks out. You purse your lips and nod.

“You lay back down. I’ll get you some painkillers, make you tea and then come back here, ok?” He nods and opens his mouth.

“Ah, ah ah, no talking for you. I see the pain you’re in right now. I’d tell you I told you so when you came over, wet and only with a t-shirt, but then you’d start arguing.” With that, you leave his room and make sure to leave the door open behind you, enough to hear Peter in case he calls for you. You make your way to the open kitchen and take out the water heater, a bag of camomile tea from the cabinet and let the water boil. While it’s boiling, you search through the other cabinets for painkillers, until you find a packet of Ibuprofen. After checking and making sure it’s not past its expiration date and that Peter’s old enough to take it, you place it on the counter and take out a teacup, throwing the tea bag in and waiting for the water to end. After a minute, you slowly fill the cup, careful not to burn yourself. You take the painkillers, turn around and walk back to Peter, balancing the full tea cup in your left hand as you softly blow in it. It should be hot, but not too hot for Peter to burn himself when drinking.

You shove the door open with your foot and step in, placing the cup on Peter’s nightstand. He was already waiting for you, glass filled with water in hand and eyes narrowed at the door.

“Take these,” you whisper, handing him the painkillers and sitting on the side of his bed, only close enough for your thigh to be touching his hip. He plops a pill in his mouth, gulping it down and shaking his head.

“I can’t even swallow pills,” he groans. You lift your hand up, caressing the side of his face with your palm. A content sigh leaves his lips as you let your thumb gently caress his cheekbone. Pecking his lips softly, you ask.

“Do you want to sleep? I can close the blinds again and-” He shakes his head and takes your hand in his. “Can we watch a movie?” He whispers. You nod and help him move to the side on his bed. He takes the blanket with him, lifting it up and patting the empty side next to him.

You shake your head. “You’ll lay on me. I don’t want to put my whole body on you.”

“What,” A soft laugh escapes your lips. “I’m always the one laying on you. Let me take care of you,” Peter’s about to complain, but you’re already comfortably on the bed and patting your lap.

“Next time you-” You shush him, pulling the blanket over the two of you and grab the laptop sitting on his nightstand. He chooses a movie and places the laptop in front of you two.

“You’re lucky we have no school tomorrow. Else you’d be drowning in work,” you whisper into his hair. He sighs and glances at the pile of sheets and books on his desk.

“Already happening.” You giggle at his statement and turn your eyes back to the movie playing.

Midst watching the movie, Peter fell asleep on your lap and started snoring. A small smile displays on your face, watching your boyfriend lay comfortably with you and feel safe. You start running your hand through his hair as he stirs in his sleep, face squished against your stomach.

When he wakes up, he starts groaning and raising his head to look at you. You grin at him and peck his lips.

“Sleep good?” He shakes his head and lets it fall back on your stomach, nuzzling his nose against the fabric covering it and letting out a content sigh.

“I’m still in pain, but I guess it’ll get better later,” he says, his voice muffled. You nod and purse your lips, thinking.

“Wait, Peter.” He frowns at your worried tone and looks up at you again.

“Didn’t we buy those tickets for the concert tomorrow?” You nod to his desk. His head turns to the side you’re looking at, eyes widening and staring back at you.

“Shit, you’re right. Fuck I’m-” he starts and lowers his gaze to your lap,” I’m sorry we can’t go to the concert tomorrow because of me. I know how much you like-” You quickly shut him up by cupping his face in your hands, pouting and shaking your head.

“There’s nothing to be sorry for, babe. You’re sick and I want to take care of you. We can repeat this another time,” you say gently, staring into his eyes as the frown on his face deepens.

“But you always said how excited you were for this” he protests.

“I am, yeah, but I’d rather stay at home with you than going there alone and letting my boyfriend here. Or worse, dragging you with me,” you tell him. You see the corners of his lips pick up and feel your own eyes lit up as he tries to hide his smile.

“You don’t want me to go!” A dramatic gasp leaves your mouth and you throw your head back.

“What- no! I just- I like it when…” he trails off and leaves you silent. You stare back at him, raising a brow and waiting for his answer. “I said that I just want to spend time with you and I’m kind of happy you’re staying here,” he whispers.

You grin and pull his face closer to yours, noses almost touching.

“You’re so in love with me,” He rolls his eyes and pushes you back, not before kissing the palm of your hand. “Yeah yeah I am. Am I not allowed to?”

You smirk and drape your arm over him as he shuffles closer to you.

A week later, Peter’s still sick. Or at least, that’s what aunt May told you. He didn’t leave his bed for hours and you slowly started to worry whether to take him to the doctors or not. You noticed the dark circles under his eyes from hours of studying and doing assignments that were already due last week. Why would he stay up at night, if he was sick? It’s what made you think whether he’s really faking it. He wouldn’t fake being sick and stay up the whole night, right?

“Y/N, did Peter tell you when he’ll come back?” Your head snaps up to the teacher talking to you, frowning and shaking your head.

“He didn’t. He’s been really sick for a little more than a week now, I don’t think he’ll come back this week yet.” The teacher nods and carries on with the class, taking a pen and starting to write something into a brown book.

You feel a light tap on your shoulder and turn around, being greeted with Ned’s worried expression.

“You sure he’s alright? He didn’t text me either,” he checks.

“He did throw up like three times last week,” you trail off, thinking about how your boyfriend called you three times from Tuesday to Wednesday, telling you he threw up and asking if you could come over.

“I’ll go to his later anyways, should I tell him to talk to you?” Ned only nods, lowering his eyes back to the paper in front of him and starting to write down his answers quickly.

You knock on Peter’s door after May let you in. She was in a hurry, talking about having a job interview in twenty minutes and being late as she left you in the living room, closing the door to the bathroom behind her.

There’s a faint “yeah” when you open the door, looking through the crack into his room and staring at the figure hunched up under blankets. Your eyes soften as you step into the room, closing the door silently. The blinds are up, different from the other day. His room also looks cleaner. He must’ve cleaned up the pile of clothes that was there last week and tidied his desk. You frown as you look at his bed. Yesterday he told you his head hurt too much and that he felt dizzy when standing up. Must’ve been May, probably, you shrug and walk closer to his bed, sitting down at the end of it.

“Hey,” His voice startles you. There isn’t a crack in it anymore and his eyes don’t squint as much at the bright lighting in his room as they did the last time you were here. You hum and lean back on your arms.

“How are you feeling?” you ask.

“Pretty good.” He peaks up from under the blanket, smiling at you. His eyes widen when he realizes what he just said and starts coughing. You frown and sit up straight, arm stretched out ready to grab the glass of water next to him.

“Uh, compared to last week. Yes, pretty good compared to last week,” he adds quickly and hides back under the blanket. You giggle and shuffle closer to his form, running your hand through his locks under the blanket and earning a sigh from him. He likes it when you touch him, whether it’s hugging, running your hand through his hair, or when you’d cling into his biceps as the headboard hit against the wall repeatedly. There is always physical touch between the two of you.

“Do you want to drink something? I’ll go make you another tea,” you propose and stand up, leaving his bed. He nods and smiles at you. You leave the room and walk into the kitchen. This time, you close the door to his room completely. He’s feeling much better than last week, but also acting suspicious. Peter wouldn’t skip school and act sick. It 's not like him. Like, at all. Right?

The door to his room is closed, so the first thing Peter decides to do when you leave is jump out the bed and walk to his desk, taking his phone and getting back into his comfortable bed. He makes sure you can't hear any frantic steps or movements.

After you left Peter's room the first night he asked you to stay, he started to like the attention you were giving him. It's not that you don't pay attention to your boyfriend. In fact, Peter may be in the center of your attention and you his. You two make sure to show each other the love you feel and that you care.

It's just that with your busy schedules and upcoming exams, spending time together wasn't your top priority anymore. He misses the days when you'd go to Delmar's with him after school, instead of instantly leaving because of an essay that was due that same week. So he decided to do what he does, in his opinion, best. Lie. Act sick.

He did feel bad when he first started coughing every time May was around and she worried for him, but at some point he realized staying at home a little longer wasn’t that bad and he could use some time away from school. Although he could’ve just told May he was in pressure and wanted to stay home for a couple of days, he’d rather use this option.

Peter suits himself in his bed and turns on the phone, already flooded by texts from Mj and Ned telling him the homework they got for today and texts from Ned asking where he was at, and why he stays home for this long. He stifles a laugh at the memes Ned sent into the group chat and glances to the door at the muffled steps he heard. When he’s sure there isn’t anyone close to his room, he returns his eyes to the screen of his phone.

You’re on the other side of the door, side of your face pressed against the door and holding in your breath to not get noticed. You heard a laugh when you were in the kitchen. You left Peter laying in his bed, he was too dizzy to get up and grab his phone. You raise a brow and lean closer to the door, daring to press down the doorknob and silently stepping in, halting in the open doorway with your hand on your hip and an expectant expression.

Peter is sitting up on his bed, covers long forgotten on the end of it and phone in hand. He’s laughing at something playing on his screen, not noticing you standing in the room yet. You click your tongue, pursing your lips and waiting for your presence to be noticed. When your boyfriend throws his head back, letting out another loud laugh, you decide to let him know you’re there.

“oh, ok. so i see you’re better?” you quirk a brow, smirking. his eyes widen and his head snaps to you, watching you through plate-wide eyes. he sucks in a breath and puts his lip in a thin line.

“uhm, you’re back?” he croaks out. a nervous giggle leaves his lips and he shrugs with a smile plastered on his face, biting his bottom lip. “i- i feel better,” you roll your eyes and place the cup of tea on his desk, making him frown.

“you didn’t really think i’d place it next to you? i see you’re better, go get it yourself.” he opens his mouth, only to shut it again. it was true, he looks and feels much better than last week. and peter knows he’s back to his healthy state, he just kept it from you. which is why he’s shocked at first, then frowns and groans.

“come on! yes i feel better, but can you give me the cup?” he asks. you shake your head, balancing your weight on one leg, jutting your hip out. oh, peter knows that look on your face. you’re not happy. not utterly disappointed, but you don’t seem the happiest either.

“no way you made me and may care for you for a whole week straight, when you didn’t feel sick!” you throw your hands up in the air, letting out an annoyed huff. he whines at you in a clearly irritated state and juts out his lip, trying to look as sad as possible.

“no, don’t pull that face on me. i’m pissed off,” you mutter as you walk to him, sitting down on his bed with your back to his figure. “please? i’m sorry i lied,” he starts. you frown, turning around.

“why did you, in the first place. you now have much more work to do. oh, and have fun explaining may why you lied about being sick. she stayed up with you at night, hell, i went to sleep at three for you! peter, we had school at seven!” you cry out.

the boy on the bed with you just shrugs, not exactly knowing what to say next.

“i guess i liked the attention i got.” you huff and take a glance at him. when he stays serious, you turn your whole body to him. “you liked the attention i gave you?” you ask in disbelief. he slowly nods.

“do i not give you attention?” you worry. he quickly shakes his head, arms out to reach for your hands. “no! you do, it’s just, with school and everything,...” he trails off. you nod and squeeze his hand, demanding for him to look up at your face.

“i know we don’t spend as much time together as we used to, anymore. but peter, you know i’m in so much pressure because of school! besides, don’t you have to focus on school, too? and may also told you you should look for an internship because you didn’t get one last year,” you reason. he lets go off your hand, clearly not amused.

“i told her i don’t want one. what will it do?” “uh, look good on your college applications?” you say, as if it was the most obvious thing on earth. he chuckles.

“besides that. i’ll find one, i just want to spend time with you for now,” he says softly as he scoots closer to your warm body. you put your arms around him, laying your head on his placed on your chest.

“i do too, pete. but i promise that in,” you stop and cran your neck to look behind you at the calender he’s got hung on the wall, “in five weeks we’ll be able to cuddle and watch movies like we did before again. now, we need to focus on school and you on your missed assignments,” you sigh. you feel him tense under you.

“what?! five weeks!” you smirk against his hair and squeeze him tighter.

“i was joking! two actually. but, until then, you’re stuck with me anyway studying so it won’t be that big of a problem if i stay away from you for one day,” you laugh and kiss his temple. he nuzzles into your chest, inhaling in your sent and sighing. “as long as we spend that time together, i don’t care how long it is until we finish all exams,” he whispers against you.

Prompt: Non-Superhero AU. Peter gets a sore throat! Which is very ill-timed, because him and the reader had plans to go to a concert, but they ditched in favor of the reader taking care of Peter. Days pass by and Peter is still "sick". Spoiler, he's just faking it at this point because he's enjoying the extra attention he's getting from his partner.

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whatiswhump · 3 years

Text

Hydrotherapy pt. 3

Set earlier in the series after Hydrotherapy pt 1 and Hydrotherapy pt 2

Sean restrained himself from jogging down the long corridors to Alfie’s room after hearing what had occurred from the nursing staff. He wasn’t a man prone to anger but this- this would do it.

He was so caught up in his concern and utter frustration that he burst into the locked patient room.

Alfie flinched in surprise, awake enough to register the quickness of the entry.

Sean remembered himself and took a deep breath, he couldn’t let his anger show in front of Alfie. With a twist in his chest he conceded that the kid had grown so sensitive, so easily spooked, he wouldn’t understand and it would only rattle him.

“I’m sorry Fie, I didn’t mean to barge in here.” Sean supplied as a means to apologize on more levels than one, he typically knocked, a courtesy most staff members didn’t supply to the patients here.

“S’okay,” Alfred responded quietly and Sean noted with a cursory look that he had been recently sedated despite the fast reflex when he first entered.

“I just- I heard, about what happened… how are you feeling?”

Alfie looked to the floor for a moment, clearly embarrassed to be a victim once again, “I’m okay. But they came in last night and said I was screaming again.”

Alfie knew he didn't have to explain himself any further, his nightmares had been an ongoing supplication for sedation. The night staff really didn’t have a choice and then risk the sleep of other patients, rest was so vital for their stability after all.

“Well we can take it easy today, I could take you to the sun room, would you like that?”

Sean watched as Alfie’s eyes drifted back down to the floor absently. He hated to see him like this.

“... Maybe later.”

“Sure, bud, is there anything else I can do to make you more comfortable? We could go for a hot shower?”

His gaze darted back up to Sean, “No- please, I don’t want to do that.”

So water was a Big No. Noted.

“Hey, no problem, you’re not scheduled for one, just want to help you feel warm enough,”

Alfie turned sheepish as it dawned on him how quickly his panic had escalated. This was Sean, he would be careful. He would be nice.

He began to finger the edge of the starched sheet as those thoughts churned through his mind leading to a question, “Sean?” he looked up again.

“Yeah?” Sean liked it when he had questions- was trying to communicate and sort things out. It was better than the days he didn’t.

“Do you know Dr. Grant?”

“Sure, he’s a good doctor. Why?”

Sean waited customarily for Alfie to sort through his thoughts and connect them with the necessary words, for anyone else it might be frustrating, but he just took the stalling period to take a seat on the side of the patient bed.

“Is he a…. Good person?”

Sean furrowed his brow for a moment, his patient had never asked a question like that.

“Um, I don’t know, I don’t know him all that well, but from what I can tell I’d guess yes?”

The concentrated look on Alfie’s face softened slightly, “Okay.”

Silence hung for a few moments longer before he tacked on, “He helped me… I want him to be- I don’t know.”

“Everyone here is supposed to help you, him included, it is what we are here for.”

Alfie just kept running his thumb over the hem of the sheet, eyes down.

“You would tell me if anyone ever didn’t do that, wouldn’t you?”

He nodded unconvincingly and for the thousandth time today, Sean felt a twist in his chest. Fie didn’t even seem like he should be here anymore, like he didn’t deserve any of this. Why couldn’t they just help him? It should be simple right?

At that moment, with a buzz and a click Cheryl let herself in.

“There you are! Good morning you, two. Sean I thought we’d get started on our medication rounds.”

“Morning Cheryl,” Sean turned his light back on to greet her, attempting to push down the worry that was threatening the edges of his mind.

“Alfred, how are you feeling this morning? Seems like you need a good rest after yesterday.” Her matronly tone was softer than normal.

Alfie only nodded but didn’t look up, practically drooping under some invisible strain.

“We’ll get you back right as rain buddy,” Sean started again with his characteristically cheery tone.

“That we will, just keep your head up,”

Alfie didn’t acknowledge the last few comments, instead closing his eyes for a few long seconds before opening them again.

Cheryl pursed her lips but didn’t seem surprised as she turned to fetch the morning’s dose from her cart just outside the door.

Sean, however, was disheartened that he wasn’t able to be of more help, he stood and looked back at the young man practically melting into the bed out of exhaustion.

But within the next second he realized Alfie didn’t just look tired. There had been a subtle shift since he had walked in, his patient’s pallor was tinged with unusual warmth dotting with more minute drops of sweat by the moment. Sean silently chastised himself for being so distracted by the topic of conversation to have not paid enough attention to Alfie’s physical state.

“Fie, can you look at me? You look- a little flushed, do you mind if I touch your forehead?”

His patient minutely shook his head no and closed his eyes. Sean held the back of his hand up and sure enough he was burning up.

“Oh Fie, when was the last time a nurse checked on you? You’ve got one hell of a fever.”

Alfie blinked a few times, “I don’t know- I thought- it was the sedation.”

“We didn’t sedate him last night,” Cheryl piped up as she reentered with the meds.

He looked back at Sean, confused and uncertain.

“This isn’t good.”

Cheryl slowed down to really take a look at the patient for the first time that morning and her expression said it all. Suddenly she was jumping into action, a worrisome new urgency in her voice, “I’ll go let the doctor know and send another nurse over.”

She rushed out and Sean looked back at Alfie, he was so warm… Much too warm..

“Alfie, can you look at me? What are you feeling?”

Those big scared eyes blinked slowly at him, “I don’t-”

“-Sean, Cheryl sent me, what’s going on?” A new nurse, Tillie? maybe, flew into the room with a strict expression of determination.

“Something is wrong with Alfred, he’s burning up.” And declining by the second... Sean thought worriedly.

The nurse reached into her pocket and withdrew a thermometer she had been toting, “Mr. Finch, let me put this under your tongue.”

He didn’t open his mouth, instead his eyes grew foggy and distant again.

“Alfred, can you hear me?”

She moved forward, gripping his chin to open his mouth.

“Here, let me do it- I don’t want him to get scared,” Drowsy eyes lifted again to watch Sean approach, “Here, bud, I need you to cooperate, somethings wrong, I need to see how high your temperature is-”

Alfie just stared at him, Sean recognized this look, nearly vacant and getting further and further away. Something was very wrong.

But he didn’t resist when Sean slipped the instrument into his mouth and then gently held his jaw closed.

“Oh, god, he’s at 106, I’ve never seen that,” the nurse read in a hushed tone after a few moments.

Footsteps announced a new coterie of arrivals, Harris and Cheryl had returned.

“What’s going on here?” Harris looked at Alfie and then his staff.

“Sir, his temperature.. I’ve never seen it, it’s- 106,” The timid nurse answered.

Everyone in the room looked back to the patient, his eyelids were drooping again.

“He needs to stay awake and we have to bring his temperature down.” Dr. Harris announced to the group with a grimace, “Nurse Cheryl, go prep an ice bath as fast as you can and alert more orderlies to assist.”

“But sir, I don’t think we can get him into one without a sedative and we can’t use one with this high of a temp.”

“With a fever this high the first thing we need to do is get him in an ice bath, cool down the dangerously high core temp, then we can think about treatment once he’s stabilized. He doesn’t have a choice.”

“There’s no way we can do that to him again so soon.” Sean said almost to himself, not realizing that he was essentially talking back to the doctor’s orders.

“I understand, If we don’t get his temperature down soon, he’ll have permanent injury,” Harris glared at Sean.

Sean grimaced, no wonder Alfie was always so scared. How was he supposed to trust them when idiots were leaving him in ice baths for hours on end and then winding up with dangerously high fevers to just throw him back in? It wasn’t just irresponsible, it was downright cruel.

More orderlies arrived, and Sean knew Harris was right, there really wasn’t a choice.

Sean knelt down to him fading in and out on the bed, “Alfie- Fie, I need you to listen to me. Your temperature is way too high, if we don’t bring it down, bad things are going to happen, we don’t have a choice, we have to put you back into an ice bath.”

Fie’s eyes were practically rolling back in his head as he was clinging to consciousness, he didn’t seem to understand what Sean was trying to tell him. He was torn between hoping Fie was too out of it to realize what was happening versus being frightened that his delirium was a very very bad sign.

“Get him up,” Harris ordered.

The other men in white approached and they lifted him with no problem.

Alfie only clutched back to them, like he was afraid of being dropped.

They laid him on a gurney and rushed him down the hall at breakneck speed. As they turned a corner to enter the massive tiled institutional bathroom, a nurse rushed forward with crushed ibuprofen for Harris. He hurriedly fed it to Alfie, who did not resist and washed it down with a sip of water before backing away and nodding to the orderlies.

“I’m sorry Alfie,” Sean muttered as he helped to lift the kid off the gurney and deliver him to the tub.

His eyes went wide at this, as he seemed to understand where he was, “NNNh-!!!!” He began to thrash in the men’s arms, there were four of them to be safe.

“This is for your own good, Alfred,” Harris reminded from above.

They plunged him into the water and he began to shriek and claw wildly like a rabid animal, out of his mind with fear and confusion.

“Keep his whole body submerged!”

Water and ice cubes were sloshing out of the tub as he struggled but no one let their grips loosen, noises not words were coming out of the patient as his struggling began to slow, exhaustion pulling at his limbs.

“That’s it, good boy, let it happen.”

Alfie’s wild looking eyes scanned all of the people above, far too many, all watching him. After a few frantic moments Sean’s concerned face came into clarity.

Alfie now beginning to shiver, locked eyes and stared at him in desperation, not asking to be released but simply using Sean as an anchor, something to grab onto.

“Open his mouth, let’s see if the temp has gone down yet.”

Alfie blindly started looking around again, trying in vain to understand what was happening- what was being said... none of it was computing, only fear, frigid and raw.

Anonymous hands wrenched open his jaw and a thermometer found its way in, another pair of hands held his head so that his mouth stayed closed around it, all the while, four men still held his limbs under the excruciating ice bath.

“Down to 102.”

Alfie then closed his eyes, not understanding the words that were being said, just hoping that this was all a nightmare.

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#alfie finch #Dr. Harris #sean #hydrotherapy #possessive doctor #possessive whumper #whump #forced treatment #fever #medical whump #illness #Dr. Grant

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