#but yeah recoverys going to be Annoying but oh well ill get back on my bullshit soon enough

[toxooz]

SURGERY WENT WELL apparently my appendix did rupture overnight so its hella good I got it checked out when I did😬 I just feel a lil bloated and like I got shanked but that's better than before🤘

[thetreefairy]

Hi, I’m so sorry for bothering you; I just have these popping out of nowhere. I hope you are having a good day/night! platonic Aizawa and Present mic where reader and Bakugo get kidnapped by the LOV, and two weeks the class goes to the teacher's dorms and talks to Aizawa and Present mic telling them that reader's quirks hurt them, and her father tests on her like a lab rat.

Hi, you aren't bothering me at all! this is perfect for my studying break lol. I assume you mean two weeks after the kidnapping Since you used the her pronoun in the ask, I'll be trying to write with a fem!reader Reader's quirk: Undeath magic, she's basically the scarlet witch but can also hear the death and hear them screaming out for help.

"Just our fucking luck, getting kidnapped by the league of villains." Reader mumbled annoyed, Compress untied her first. "Well, this is better then family 'game' night, I suppose." This caused Bakugo's eyes to switch to them, while Compress was untying him.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Bakugo asked Reader. "She's so cute! Oh, Tomura-chan~ is she really joining?" Toga asked Shigaraki with a crazied smile. "Nevermind this is worse."

Well Reader just watched Bakugo attack the league of villains, wincing as she heard the shimura family call out to them. "Shimura tenko." She whispered out, causing Shigaraki to stop in his tracks, while Bakugo looked at Reader confused. "Those hands, they are of your deceased family aren't they?"

The league of villains now looked at Shigaraki slightly grossed out. "How do you know that?!"

"AFO uses them as a shackle to control you." Reader stated. "They are crying out for you to set them free, well set your mom and sister free. Your dad is a raging asshole, if you want I can destroy his soul."

"Don't speak ill of my master!" Shigaraki went to attack Reader, only for all might to make his entrance. "What the fuck was that ghost bitch?" Bakugo whisper-yelled in their ear. "I can speak to the death, did you forget that?" Reader shot back. "Can you hold them off for a while? My quirk needs to recharge."

"Just stay by my side, ghost bitch!"

small time skip to when in the dorms:

Bakugo couldn't help but think that something was wrong with Reader, their eyes baggier then normal and they were wearing more bandages then usual. "Ghost bitch, what's going on with your arms?" Bakugo asked while they were eating dinner in the common area, causing class 1-a to freeze. "Just training." She muttered. "SHUT UP! I AM NOT SOME MESSANGER!"

Class 1-A froze in surprise, Reader was looking next to Mineta. "If you didn't want your grandkid to turn out like a pervet, you should have told him that boys being boys, isn't a valid excuse!"

reader shouted out in pain. "Reader, are you okay?" Mineta asked, unsure of what to do. She was talking to his grandma, he was sure, but right now Reader's well being is more important. "God I can't handle this shit anymore! I have enough headaches as if, can't you death people shut your mouth for a moment?!"

Yeah class 1-a realized something, their quirk was hurting them, that's why they always asked Aizawa to eraser their quirk to 'practice fighting quirkless'.

"Reader, come on, why don't we bring you to bed?" Uraraka suggested keeping her voice down. "I'm sorry guys, yeah let's go to bed."

When Uraraku tugged Reader in, using the excuse of trying to soothe them, Reader's phone pinged.

I have a special experiment this time, it will strengthen your abilties to the death. - spermdonor

"What the fuck." Uraraka muttered, taking a picture of the message. Looking at Reader while she rushed to the common room. "Guys, we need to report this to Aizawa-sensei and Mic-sensei."

And so they did

So when Reader woke up in Recovery's girl office, she was quite surprised. Hizashi next to her, he looked rather angry. "Mic-sensei?" Reader asked surprised. "What's going on?"

"How long has your dad been experimenting on you?"

Reader tensed up, they couldn't believe what Hizashi just asked them. "What- recovery girl, I think Mic-sensei fell on his head-"

Recovery girl looked at Reader sternly. "Answer the question, Reader, it's important for your recovery."

"Since I got my quirk." Reader admitted and looked away. "But it's to just to strengthen my quirk." Eraser walked into the room. "It's abuse! It didn't help you!" He shouted angrily. "If class 1-a didn't notice... YOU COULD HAVE DIED!"

"Sensei, I'm your student, I don't understand why you care so much. And it wasn't that bad." reader tried to defend her father. "Because I and Mic view you as our child, just like the rest of class 1-a!"

"What?"

"And, that means that you are our responsiblity wether you like it or not." Hizashi told Reader. "And you are legally our child now."

"Okay, hold the fucking phone. What's going on?"

"The two adopted you, here are some painkillers." Recovery girl said while dropping some pills in reader's hand. "Congrats on gaining a new family."

I AM SO SORRY THIS ISN'T MY BEST WORK BUT I HOPE YOU LIKE IT </3

[bethansfandoms]

hey! ive stuck at home for a while and unwell because of covid and i was wondering if you could write a sick sirius being looked after by remus or vice versa!! thanks so much, i love your writing, i hope you have a great day!

Oh no! Wishing you a swift recovery! <3

Summer had gone from being one of Sirius’ least favourite times of year to the one he looked forward to the most.

The two weeks where Remus and Peter came to stay were always his favourite. It was the fun of Gryffindor tower without homework or exam stress.

This is why Sirius was so grumpy. Remus and Peter were here and Sirius was ill.

Sirius didn’t get ill often but when he did, it completely drained him. It was sunny and beautiful outside and yet Sirius was sat in bed, shivering. He had two jumpers on, one of which was Remus’, and yet he still felt freezing cold.

The window was firmly closed but even then he could hear the laughs of the people lounging on the lawn. They thought he was asleep, of course, and Sirius absolutely wasn’t angry at them for having fun. He just wished he could be outside sunbathing drinking Euphemia’s perfect lemonade as well.

He pulled the sleeves of Remus’ jumper over his hands and curled up into a ball. The sun was streaming through the small crack in the curtains. Sirius was still cold.

He prayed he would fall asleep just to be rid of the horrible feeling in his stomach and the pounding in his head. No such luck. He threw the duvet over his head in the hope of stopping the shivering at the very least.

“Sirius?”

The voice was so quiet that he wasn’t even sure it had been there at all. He slowly poked his head out of the covers to see Remus leaning in the doorway.

Remus was wearing shorts and if any sight was going to restore him to full health, it’d be that. Remus never wore shorts, in front of anyone who wasn’t the marauders he never even worse short sleeved shirts. He was slightly tanned, his hair was a little lighter, his eyes a little brighter, and there were freckles all over his face, the ones that only came with summer.

“Hey,” he smiled, walking over to Sirius and sitting next to him. “Merlin, it’s like a hundred degrees in here.”

“‘M cold,” Sirius mumbled.

Remus looked at him sympathetically and brushed some of the hair stuck to Sirius’ face away. “Here,” he took a hair band off of his wrist and pulled all of Sirius’ hair into a bun for him.

Sirius hummed appreciatively and then raised an eyebrow, “Why do you have hair bands? Your hair is short.”

“For you, obviously. How’re you feeling?”

“Shit,” Sirius replied. “I’m so cold.”

Remus kissed his forehead and wrapped his arms around him. “Do you want something warm? Tea or soup or something?”

“I want cuddles first.”

Remus squeezed him tighter. “I’m sneaking into your room tonight,” he announced, “I’m not leaving you alone like this.”

Sirius’ stomach just gave a painful lurch and he gripped onto Remus and nuzzled into his neck. “How do you cope feeling like shit before and after every moon?”

Remus laughed lightly, “Well, you help, don’t you? And James and Peter. All of you... you carry my things or take extra notes and stuff.”

“Yeah... you’re still so strong, though.”

Remus chuckled at that, “Well, thank you, Padfoot. Wait here, I’m going to get you something to eat.”

“I think I’ll be sick if you do.”

“Just try something, please? It’ll help. Mrs Potter will probably make you anything you like, you’re the favourite child.”

Sirius smirked, “I keep telling James that to wind him up.”

“Me too.” Remus kissed his head again before standing and then doing a double take. “Is that my jumper?”

“It’s warm,” was the only explanation Sirius gave.

“You’re cute.” Sirius still felt awful but he let a smile spread across his face at that.

Remus returned a few minutes later with a tray. He handed Sirius the bowl of soup and set the mug of tea down next to Sirius. He also gave him a potion and shrugged when Sirius asked what it was. “Mrs Potter just told me to give it to you.”

Sirius trusted Euphemia enough to just drink it and see what happened, it wasn’t like he could feel much worse.

The potion actually spread some warmth throughout his body and he noticed some of the shivers and cold sweating subside almost immediately.

“Okay, eat up,” Remus said, holding out the spoon. The idea of eating still made Sirius’ stomach turn so he turned his head to the side. “Padfoot,” Remus sighed, “I will literally feed it to you.”

“No you won’t.”

He would, as it turned out. Remus gently cupped Sirius face and looked at him sternly until Sirius reluctantly opened his mouth and sipped at the soup. He hated to admit it but it made him him feel loads better.

Remus ended up feeding him the entire time and Sirius couldn’t help a little grin spreading across his face. “So spoilt,” Remus muttered, placing the empty bowl on the side. “Anything else, your majesty?”

“Can you get me some of your fluffy socks?”

Remus laughed and mocked exasperation but smiled at the fact that Sirius was acting a little more like himself. He quickly left and then returned, holding them out, “Or would you like me to put them on for you?”

“Sarcasm or a genuine offer.”

“You’re lucky I love you,” Remus grumbled, kneeling down and putting the socks on for him.

“I know,” Sirius replied.

“Anything else? Would you like the whole house magicked a little to the right?

Sirius stuck his tongue out, “Don’t tease me, I’m ill.”

Remus rolled his eyes and slipped into bed next to him. “Feeling better now you’ve eaten?”

“A bit. Yes, Moony, oh wise one, you were right.”

“I’m always right.”

“I know.”

“Hey,” Remus said, wrapping an arm around him, “after dinner we’re going to have a bonfire. You want to come out?”

“I think I’ll sleep. Maybe if I rest I’ll be better tomorrow.”

Remus kissed him sweetly, “I hope so. I should probably go back down... dinner will be soon.”

Sirius clung into him like a limpet, “Can you stay? Just until I drift off?”

Remus sighed but settled into the bed further, hooking a leg around him and kissing the back of his neck, “Just for like, ten minutes.”

James clambered you the stairs an hour later. Remus had gone to see if Sirius was awake and hadn’t returned since. He and Peter had just left him to it but dinner was being served and he was sure Remus would be annoyed if they let him miss a meal.

He pushed open Sirius’ bedroom door and froze. The two boys lay together, duvet kicked mostly off and limbs tangled tightly around each other, Remus’ lips against the back of Sirius’ neck.

With a small smile he pushed the door shut again and asked his mum to leave something aside for Remus, informing her he’d be down later.

He wasn’t going to ask Sirius or Remus about it. They’d tell him when they were ready.

[anntoldst0ries]

Everything else is just the weather

Book: Open Heart Pairing: Dr Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr Noelle Valentine) Word Count: ~5.3k (I sinned!) Summary: Ethan takes Elle out on their “first” date. Category: Fluff Warnings: None

A/N: It has literally taken me ages to finish this fic. To the point that I couldn’t look at it anymore, but here it is. I had it in mind for a really long time and now that OH is back, I feel like I’m ready to show it to the world. As always thank you for your support and I hope you like it!

This fic is part 2 of birthday present for my friend, part 1 is the fan art which you can see here. Once you read the fic, the fan art makes more sense :)

This is my submission for CFWC Silly Love Stories, Day 12: Date night.

Loud knocks resonated throughout the room. 

"Come in!"

"Good morning, Mrs. Peterson.”

“Good morning, Dr Valentine. I think you are the only doctor in this hospital with some sort of manners, everyone else just waltzes in here as if it was a damn barn!”

“Hospital or no hospital, everyone has their right to privacy.”

“Thank you, child. Once again, please call me Faye."

"Alright Faye, but only if you call me Elle.” She smiled sweetly, and the whole room seemed to be suddenly lit by a thousand suns.

“How are you feeling? Are the meds making a difference?"

"They are. I am ready to be discharged today.”

"Not so fast. I am not ready to say goodbye to you yet."

“Why would you possibly like to be lumbered with an old nuisance like me for even a second longer than necessary?”

Elle just laughed and shook her head. The ‘nuisance’, as the elderly lady so lovingly put it, was exactly what she loved about her job. She loved spending time with her patients, she loved their stories and their worldly wisdom. It made her sad to see how many of them thought they didn’t matter or considered themselves and their lives boring. To her, they were anything but. 

Many of Edenbrook’s staff members kept asking themselves: what is it about her? She was a great doctor, no two ways about it, and she was a genuinely nice person. But what was the source of power she had over people? If she woke up one day and decided to start a rebellion, patients would have most certainly followed her, even if it meant they’d be leaving the premises of the hospital with naked butts or trailing their IVs behind them. Doctors, nurses, administration, cleaners and security would follow shortly. She only had to say a word.

And how on Earth was she capable of turning Dr Ramsey, the grizzly bear of Edenbrook, into a benign teddy bear with as little as one look? It was beyond everyone’s apprehension.

Had they spent more time actually observing her, rather than gossiping in the corners, the answer would have unveiled in front of them within minutes.

It was very simple.

Noelle was truly curious about people. She genuinely liked them and was determined to get to know their story, for it helped her diagnose them faster and also satiated the young doctor’s hunger for knowledge.

Patients never felt like “curious cases” or “numbers” in her presence. They were… themselves - people with hopes, dreams, fears, pet peeves and odd habits. They were human. 

So little and yet so much.

Those never touched by serious illnesses often failed to understand that sickness strips you of your dignity and becomes your identity. Your true self becomes covered by this weird, annoying sticker that wouldn’t come off no matter how hard you tried to remove it. 

But this young woman, despite the nature of her profession, somehow managed to notice what was hiding beneath this misleading layer.

Had all these gossipers spoken to her patients, that’s exactly what they would have heard.

"What's happening today?" The older lady asked with a flick of curiosity in her wrinkle-haloed eyes.

"What do you mean, Faye?" The young doctor sounded genuinely baffled by the out-of-the-blue question.

"Well, I am no diagnostician, but I believe I am rather observant and you radiate with happiness. Something special is happening today, am I right?"

"Yeah, you are right." Elle blushed like a teenager caught in a lie. "My boyfriend is taking me on a surprise date today, but he won’t say a word about it, so I'm super excited to find out what he planned for us. He usually isn't one for romantic gestures, so the secrecy is killing me."

"Do you think he's gonna pop the big question?" Faye’s eyes lit up with excitement.

"No, we're not there...yet." Elle faked a smile, but a tone of doubt and sadness coloured her voice. They probably never will be, those things weren’t in the cards for Ethan, as he already stressed once.

But once was enough and she didn’t dare mention the subject again.

"Well, I'm pretty sure he's got some big guns in store, I would if I had a lady like you." - a male patient lying in the bed adjacent to Elle’s patient added smiling flirtatiously. 

"Jerry, you were supposed to focus on getting better, not stealing my girlfriend." They all jumped when a deep baritone echoed throughout the room, hitting present company like a wrecking ball. She must have left the door ajar or Ethan could penetrate the walls soundlessly, because no one heard him coming.

Exactly how long has he been standing there for and how much did he hear?

"Dr. Ramsey, flirting makes your blood flow faster. Isn't it the very definition of life itself?” Jerry’s tone was brisk and lively.

"Well, it definitely isn't the definition of recovery after a heart attack." Ethan used his authoritative doctor’s voice but knew this wasn't a battle he was going to win. Jerry had something he didn't: a couple more decades of life experience under his belt and even the best medical school in the country couldn’t compete with this.  

"Besides, Dr. Ramsey, I don't think that the beautiful Dr. Valentine here fancies old farts like me." 

"That's where you are wrong, Jerry, looks like this is exactly the type I fancy." The two women laughed, however Ethan was far from amused. "Dr. Ramsey is 10 years older than me."

"10 years? What is 10 years in these times? Nothing. When I was getting married 40 years ago, it was something. But today? Look at all them playboys with girls younger than my granddaughter. 10 years is actually a very healthy difference. Men are immature and slower with growing up emotionally. So I'd say you've caught up, Dr. Ramsey, and the two of you are emotional peers now.”

“Thank you for the fascinating lesson in human psychology, Jerry. To think I’ve wasted all this time and money on medical school and no one taught me this.”

“Dr. Ramsey, it’s because schools and useful knowledge are mutually exclusive.”

Elle and Faye were on the verge of bursting out in laughter, but managed to keep their composure and used the non-verbal communication of exchanging glances instead.

Once they made sure their patients had everything they need, Ethan and Elle wished them a good day and promised to stop by in 2 days, as the following day was their day off.

The moment the door closed behind them, Ethan crossed his arms on his chest.

"I lose you from my sight for one second and this happens. 5 more minutes with Jerry and I'd be single again."

"At least no one wants to poke your eyes out for being with me."

"And someone wants to poke yours?"

"Where do I start... nurses, who had a crush on you long before I even set foot in Edenbrook? Female interns? Anyone, who has a pair of functioning eyes and ever looked at you?"

She was adorable when she was doing this, her whole body overtaken by excitement and her hands waving. When she was talking about something really important to her she wasn't just conversing with her mouth, she was doing it with her whole body.

Suddenly, his pager painfully reminded Ethan that this was neither the place nor the time to lose himself in adoration.

"I need to go, I'm completely swamped today and I have my favourite cherry-on-top board meeting. In case I don't see you for the rest of your shift - I’ll pick you up at 7."

He was gone before she was able to form a response. Was it just her or was Dr Ramsey weirdly… nervous?

* * * * * * * *

At 7pm sharp, Ethan Ramsey curled his palm in a fist and gently knocked. The door opened in an instant, as if someone knew he'd been standing there for the past few minutes.

"Ethan! I mean Dr. Ramsey...please come in!" Sienna squeaked with nervous excitement as she let him in.

"Outside of Edenbrook Ethan is just fine, Sienna. If you don't mind me calling you by your first name, of course."

"Mm..mme? No, yes, I mean... Elle is on the balcony." She tried to hide her embarrassment and motioned towards the tall windows surrounding the living room. Some time ago, he would have been oddly proud to have such an intimidating effect on people - nowadays, more than anything, he was amused. Has he really changed so much?

The answer to his question was leaning against the railing, glass of wine in her hand. Gauzy, flowery dress enveloped her frame and tanned skin. 

For Ethan, it was as clear as crystal: summer had the face and scent of Noelle Valentine.

Long before she started leaving her toothbrush in his apartment and sleeping in his old JH t-shirts, Ethan noticed that whenever he laid eyes on her, his whole body started acting in a very irrational way. His doctor’s instincts prompted him to think of all types of biological causes and chemical reactions in the brain. Then, when he sort of admitted to himself it’s not just pure science, Ethan leaned towards the forbidden fruit theory - the more he couldn’t have his drug, the more he was craving it.

But the feeling never disappeared. Whenever he wouldn’t see her for a while - be that an hour, a day, or just when she went to take a shower or make a coffee - the very moment her face came into his view again, he felt his stomach somersaulting.

Every. Single. Time.

It wasn’t any different now.

"Drinking without me?"

She almost dropped the glass when his voice stopped the train of thought in her head. But then she saw his face, the way too seldom relaxed muscles and a barely-there smile.

A perfectly tailored shirt clung to his torso marvellously. If not in medicine, he surely would have made a name for himself in the fashion industry. Fortunately for her, the idea never crossed his mind. 

The warm wind blew in her face, carrying the scent of expensive cologne which overwhelmed her nostrils. She didn’t know this one, so it must have been new. But she did know that smelling it for the whole evening while staring at his handsome face will be a pure torture.

Simply put, she was a goner.

"I don't know why, but I was quite nervous. Had to summon the courage somehow.”

“As you should be. After all, it's not every day that one goes on their first date."

She looked at him as if she’d just been told that a UFO landed on the roof.

“On a what?”

"Well, I was thinking a lot lately about how we never had a first date. Nothing was ever...typical with us. I promised myself I will do my best to fix things that caused you pain or deprived you of the things you deserved. Maybe I cannot fix some immediately, but this one I can, so I will."

Her eyes, overbrimming with affection struck him like thousand lightnings. Thank god a comfortable silence fell between them - had she asked him a question, it would have been clear that right now he is nothing but a simpering moron.

With this in mind, he took his hands from behind his back, holding a small bouquet of pink gerberas.

"These are my favourites." Her face instantly illuminated at the well known sight and smell. "How did you know?”

"I had some amazing helpers."

Elle instantly turned her head left and looked inside, where grinning, Sienna was showing her the thumbs up.

"Wow, now I actually wish I'd downed the whole bottle."

"I'm glad you didn't. I want to go on a date with a woman, not her lifeless body, even though the body itself is very appealing. Shall we?”

“King of compliments…”

* * * * * * * *

"You actually look like you are having a good time, Dr Ramsey.”

"Why wouldn't I? There is alcohol, sitting under the sky definitely has its charm and the company is acceptable." She playfully swatted his arm, the gesture a quick reminder of how comfortable they felt with each other, something he constantly remembered to never take for granted.

“Although I love this, I still don’t understand why you dragged me all the way outside Boston, I’m pretty sure the rooftop bars are pretty acceptable there, too. A bit more crowded though, that’s for sure.”

“Are you complaining about the fact that we have this entire place to ourselves? I know the owner and he was indebted to me.”

“Of course he was.” Looks like the whole town is indebted to Ethan freakin’ Ramsey.

“With regards to why I brought you here… you’ll just have to wait and see.”

Gosh. She couldn’t decide whether the mysterious side of Ethan Ramsey was hot as hell or annoying as hell. But she didn’t really have time to contemplate, because her companion asked her a question.

“Why did you become a doctor?” The ocean eyes pierced her to the core and she had a feeling that even if she was the best actress in the world, there was no way she’d be able to hide something from this man.

“That’s a terrible change of subject. Also, I must have told you like a million times already.”

“No, you never told me.”

When she looked at him and really, really thought about it… she suddenly realised Ethan was right. Elle told the story so many times she sort of… assumed she told Ethan, too. 

“Are you sure you want to hear it today? It’s a pretty sad story, a mood killer I’d say.”

“It’s what makes you you, so yes, I want to hear all about it - the good, the bad and the indifferent.”

“I’ll tell you, but I need to ask something first. Why now? We’ve known each other for a while and you just… I just sort of assumed this isn’t the type of conversation you’d like to hold.”

“You’ve hit the nail on the head.” Ethan’s expression was gentle, not a hint of irony in his voice. “I’ve known you for a while now, but there are still so many things about you that I don’t know. At first, I didn’t want to ask, because asking these questions meant admitting that there is something more between us. What a fail would that be, after I’ve mastered the art of denial.” He laughed, but it wasn’t a bitter or a nervous laugh, it was a genuine banter between them, as the British half of her soul liked to call it. “But you made me want to dig deeper.”

Was it the heat that made her catch her breath, or did it have nothing to do with the temperature?

“Plus, this is sort of what first dates are for, right? I’m sorry for skipping right to the more complex questions. It’s not that I don’t want to know what you were afraid of as a child, I want to know all the details… but it feels like the atmosphere calls for something…bigger.”

So she told him all about her friend, how she fell ill, how she couldn’t be saved and how the experience wreaked havoc on her whole life, tears glistening in her eyes at the mere memory of the events that shaped who she was today.

Ethan listened, his whole body tense and eyes transfixed. She was giving him one of the most fragile parts of her and he had to make sure his hands were there to catch, carry and care for this treasure.

“And that’s when I realised that if I focused on becoming the best doctor I could be, then maybe one day, I’d be that person who has an answer, who can solve a mystery and save a relationship that means the world to someone. Sometimes, people don’t realise that when a person dies, it’s not only them that’s gone. The part of someone who stays, who has to deal with the whole ‘me after you’ - that part is gone, too. So for me, in a way, this meant saving more than one life.”

For a couple of seconds he didn’t move. Then, without saying a single word and with an unreadable expression he got up and offered her a hand, which she silently accepted. He led her to the railing, where the sun was slowly sinking into the boundless waters of Quincy Bay.

His lips found the all too well known way to her forehead, placing a loving kiss on her delicate skin.

“I am so proud of you.” There was something so mesmerising in his whisper, sending a shiver down her spine.

“As a mentor or as a boyfriend?”

“Both. I want you to know that your dedication to people who rely on you is astounding and hardly present in doctors your age. Or any age, for that matter.”

“Wow, Dr Ramsey, smooth. Trying to hit on me with a recycled pick-up line used on a national TV? No wonder you didn’t have too many girlfriends.”

“No, I didn’t. But I believe everyone has a limit of luck they can get per life. And looking at you, I got a couple of lifetimes worth of luck.”

This was enough to render her speechless. She smiled and at this very moment he knew he would do anything to make her smile like this. She wrapped him around her pinky finger and suddenly his whole existence revolved around finding ways of seeing her curve these breathtaking lips as often as possible and making sure he is the reason she smiles… not crying her eyes out.

Although the other didn’t know, because none of them said it out loud, they both thought the same thing.

This feels so right. 

There isn’t a hint of awkwardness in the fact that they can go from being serious or emotionally vulnerable to funny and teasing in seconds.

In one effortless movement, Ethan spun her and pressed her back against his chest.  Then, he started placing a series of tender kisses along her jawline and the crook of her neck, slowly moving towards her shoulder. 

Come on, just say it Ramsey. It doesn’t get any better than this.

He wrapped her palm in his and pointed them towards the sky. 

“There they are - the Little Dipper and the Big Dipper.” Their intertwined fingers were jumping from one tiny flashing point to the other, as if they were playing connect the dots. “And that’s Orion’s Belt.”

“I really don’t get why at this point I’m still surprised that you’re good at everything.”

Elle was drunk on his every word, as this annoying trait of Ethan Ramsey being the know-it-all was actually one of her favourite things about him. 

As for Ethan, he couldn’t help but think that life wasn’t perfect and was never going to be. But this - this moment - it was in fact perfect. Why take chances of ruining it, when so many things can go wrong?

What if she doesn't say it back?

What if she's just gonna laugh at him or tell him he had it all wrong.

What if he misinterpreted everything and she never thought about him this way?

He was terrified of being this exposed. The last person he loved so much left him without batting an eyelid and disappeared for 25 fucking years.

Maybe it was better to live in a perfect illusion than a reality in which there was even a 0.01% chance she doesn't love him back.

So they both drowned in the moment, drifted in the sea of rapture, lost in the illusion that it can all last forever.

It was her who broke the silence.

“I’m getting a bit cold, is it ok if we call it a night?”

“Right, of course.”

“Thank you for the first date, I loved it.”

Handing her his jacket (her favourite, the dark green leather one) Ethan was furious at himself. 

Maybe he was broken. Maybe he will remain broken forever. Maybe that’s the way it must be.

“Do you want to spend the night at mine?” The question slipped his tongue before he was able to fully reflect on it.

“At yours? Unless you have some secret place I don’t know about, just a quick reminder - I live there too.”

“Since this was our first date, I thought it was a gentlemanly thing to ask.”

“In that case… I am afraid I have the ‘after the 3rd date’ sleepover rule, Dr Ramsey.”

* * * * * * * *

The morning came all too soon and the hot, ruthless rays of the rising sun announced that Ethan is now way past his regular wake up and get up time. He barely slept, tossing and turning, replaying every second of the evening in his head.

His hand mindlessly reached for what he hoped to be the familiar curves and softness of the body he adored so much. 

But his palm hit the mattress with a loud thud. The bed was empty. 

The all-too-well known feeling of hopelessness slipped into the doctor's mind with ease. What did he expect? He was acting weird the previous day. First date, what a stupid idea. She must have realised something is wrong with him and finally left.

But before he was able to fully wallow in the mud of pity, the feeling was soon replaced by an old friend Ethan haven’t heard from for a long time.

Panic. 

Where was she? Is she ok? What if something happened to her and he was just sleeping like a log instead of being there to protect her. He couldn’t stand the thought of losing her… again. Something grabbed his chest in a tight grip and wouldn’t let go. 

Scenes flashed before his eyes, vivid and bright. Their hands touching through the glass wall. Her hand cupping his cheek through the layer of hazmat suit.

He got out of bed at the speed of sound and started running around the apartment, but she was nowhere to be seen. 

Suddenly, he noticed.

The balcony door was opened wide. 

Shit.

Heart in his mouth, Ethan crossed the distance between his kitchen island and the balcony door in the blink of an eye. 

Elle was just serving pancakes outside. The goddamn pancakes. The only thing he couldn’t cook. The one thing she kept teasing him about and he rolled his eyes every time she did.

God, he promised himself he will never learn how to make them, if it meant she would just tease him forever.

She was smiling as widely as ever, putting the sun and everything else in the world to shame. Ethan was still a bit shaken and his uneven breathing gave him away. Elle finally noticed his presence.

“Good morning, I was just about to—“

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

They both froze. 

The tension in the silence that had just set in was so thick you could cut it with a knife.

But the silence didn’t last long. As one man, with eyes full of disbelief, they both murmured simultaneously:

“What did you just say?”

This time, he felt obliged to break the silence.

"I...I...I mean, I…" 

Damn it, get it together, idiot.

"I didn't mean to…”

Great, Ramsey, keep digging an even deeper hole for yourself, then crawl in and stay there forever.

"You didn't mean to say it?”

"Yes. No. I mean, damn it, I am making things worse, aren't I?”

She didn’t set him straight.

"The thing is, I wanted to say it yesterday. I had it all planned, I took you for a first date and I wanted to say it for the first time yesterday.”

"Why did it have to be yesterday?”

“Give me a minute.”

She just rolled her eyes, but Ethan didn’t have a chance to notice before disappearing inside. A few moments later he re-emerged, his face and torso covered by a neatly wrapped, rectangle-shaped object.

"What's this?"

"Something you should have unpacked yesterday, but then... life happened."

Elle sat down on cold tiles, her hands trembling with a mix of fear and excitement. And just like he did months ago, he took her hand in his, only this time he cupped his own cheek with her palm and placed the most tender kiss on the inside of her hand.

It was her favourite medicine, a remedy for all things wrong. 

He sat beside her and nodded at the mysterious package. With impatience growing inside of her, Elle has torn the paper up.

Inside was a dark blue, framed print - the colour of it an instant reminder of her favourite set of irises.

She studied everything with intent. A circle must have been representing the earth and the irregular dots and lines must have been the stars and constellations. 

"A map of the sky? That's beautiful, Ethan."

He knew immediately that although her delight was sincere, she had absolutely no clue what she was looking at and why she was looking at it.

“It's not just any map of the sky.” Ethan explained gently, hints of pride colouring his voice. “It's a map of the Boston sky from exactly a year ago. Well, a year and a day.” He smiled faintly, now a shade of sorrow in his enchanting voice.

Silence. Was she supposed to know what that meant?

“Aren’t you full of mysteries today? Ok, you need to throw me a lifebelt here. What's so special about the sky from a year and a day ago?”

“For the world? Probably not too much. For me? Everything.”

At this stage of their relationship, she knew a lot about Ethan’s behaviours, triggers, his body language. And not just a relationship as a couple, but also everything that came before Ethan became someone she was running through life with (the life of two doctors in one of the busiest and most prestigious hospitals was certainly not a walk in the park).

But it still fascinated her how his demeanour changed whenever the subject was serious, whenever he was talking about something that truly mattered to him. It was as if he’d stripped down of all the layers and let her look into his bare soul. These rare moments of vulnerable intimacy meant more to her than any night of passion they ever shared.

Her eyes turned to him in pledge, because as much as she wanted to, Dr Valentine still couldn’t fully comprehend the scene unraveling in front of her.

“Read the description below the map.”

Dear God, did she actually hear shyness in his voice?

She skimmed through the image again, and there it was, right at the bottom. Elle was so focused on trying to decipher the meaning of the image that she didn’t notice the words below. 

The words which explained everything.

I WILL NEVER FORGET THE DAY 

THAT MADE ME REALISE

YOU ARE THE SKY

EVERYTHING ELSE IS JUST THE WEATHER

Her emerald eyes brimmed with hot tears as the meaning dawned upon her. Words were very unnecessary, but now that he summoned the courage to speak, there was still a lot he wanted to put into words. He gently took the frame from her hands and leaned it securely against the wall.

Taking her palms into his, he placed delicate kisses on her knuckles, his lips tracing the shape of these two tiny hands, which held all of him. Everything he had, everything he was and was going to be, he placed in those two fragile palms, with an unspoken hope that they will hold him and catch him if he falls. 

“Look at me.” The words were pulsing with care and affection, even though his voice coloured them in serious and desperate shades.

“One year ago… and a day from today…” He smiled and she felt the warmth spilling inside of her. The power he had over her was beyond the limits of understanding. 

Little did she know that the object of her affection was lost in the same thought.

“I was standing exactly where we stand right now. It was dark and the view wasn’t that spectacular.” He freed one of his hands, but only to make contact with her cheek to caress it slowly. In this moment, he had to touch her any way that he could. With his hands. With his eyes. With his soul.

“But I always found comfort in staring at the sky. When I was at med school, I had countless moments of doubt, I wanted to quit more times than I can count. So I used to go to a secluded place at night and stare at the sky. It made me realise how, in one respect, I am just a grain of sand in the universe and how little my problems are. Funnily enough, this thought actually brought me a sense of comfort. If I am as little as I think I am, then what is the harm in being brave and taking chances? A wise man once said… There are some things that are worth any risk.” 

She giggled through the tears, the sweet sound soothing his shattered nerves.

“I was standing right here and I never felt more miserable in my life. And I couldn’t understand why, for God’s sake. I was thriving at work. I had everything figured out and planned. I was pushing you to be the best you could be and I watched you turn into someone who would one day be far greater than me. But you looked so sad, so… broken. You already know I can’t just gloss over you feeling down. The sadder you were, the more miserable I felt. One evening, I was having a glass of scotch and I remembered some tiny exchange we’ve had earlier in the day, literally a chit chat. No idea what it was about. But I remembered your smile and your laugh. Every tiniest move of your muscles, your eyes, how your hair set around your face. It made me happy. Even if it was just for 5 minutes, knowing that you are happy in that very moment filled my chest with lightness. That’s when I realised I want to be the person who makes you feel this way.”   

She blinked the first time in a while, as if she was afraid to make the tiniest movement, afraid it will all disappear and turn out to be a dream. Giant teardrops rolled down her angelic face, trailing the path of joy.

“Noelle Sky Valentine, I love you. I have loved you for a long time but I was too stubborn to let myself give in. And that, as you already know, will always be one of my biggest regrets.” 

“Ethan, I don’t… I’m so sorry, I just don’t know what to say.” Her voice was saturated with emotions.

“I’d be lying if I said this wasn’t the reaction I was hoping for.“ 

“I love you too, Ethan Jonah Ramsey. You are by far the most complicated and stubborn person I have ever met. You are… everything I never knew I looked for in another human being.”

Once he heard her say it back, he couldn't get enough of it and a lifetime didn't feel like enough to tell her he loves her, as many times as he wished to.

“But I do have to mention this, Dr Ramsey… from the first date to a love confession in less than 24 hours? I’m sorry, I think this is moving too fast.”

“I’ll show you too fast…but I’m afraid we need to get inside, I don’t want the whole world and its wife to see how I teach you a thing or two.”

Ethan scooped her in his arms and carried her inside, despite her mock protests. He smiled and corrected himself. 

He wanted for the whole world to see.

Because the whole world was right there. 

In his arms.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

If you’ve gotten this far, I need you to know you are absolutely amazing 💗

Tag 🏷 list: @jamespotterthefirst @romewritingshop @romereadingshop @genevievemd @starrystarrytrouble @terrm9 @mrs-ramsey @maurine07 @gryffindordaughterofathena @mercury84choices @lovingramsey @qrkowna @openheartfanfics @choicesficwriterscreations @lisha1valecha​ @oldminniemcg​ @iemcpbchoices​ @tsrookie​ @fayeswiftie​ @levinsdowneyy​ @brooks-eden​ @poudredevie​ @queencarb​ @caseyvalentineramsey​ @lucy-268​ @tenaciousdeputydreamfriend​ @alwaysmychoices-sideblog​ @whippedforethanfreakingramsey​ @schnitzelbutterfingers​ @the-pale-goddess​ @lem-20​ @wingedhairstylemusicweasel​ @liaromancewriter​ @ohchoices​ @archxxronrookie​

[sunsetcurve]

t... tiara thief + “have you been waiting up this whole time?”

fandom: knight squad relationships: arc/ciara, pre-relationship word count: 1,482 a/n: okay, first of all, i want to thank you for this prompt because it single-handedly pulled me out of the writer’s block i’ve been suffering for months. i haven’t completed something in a hot minute, so despite the fact that i wrote this all in one go while i was supposed to be studying for my calc test tomorrow and reading it over once was the extent of my editing so it’s probably Not Very Good, writing it made me incredibly happy. it’s so fluffy and i love writing their dynamic and just,, it’s such a great prompt for them and i hope you guys like it! dedications: tagging my dearest fellow tiara thief stans:  @ciara-knightly@perhapspearl @mistyskiesrambles @willexs @taylorswiftrulestheworld @onplanetmars @neshatriumphs @zackmartin @knghtsquad @soni-dragon @hopefulbeautifulfool @cactus-con @waterisntreal @bitchmilsky summary: In the morning, she’ll chalk it up to the fact that she’s not thinking straight. She’s too tired to think about the implications of it, too out of it to actually use her better judgement. And too lonely. She’s been Princess Angelica for days—she wants to be Ciara for a night. She misses Arc, misses having his steady presence by her side, familiar and constant and unconditional. She just wants him to stay.

It’s late by the time Ciara makes it back. The castle is still and dark and dead-quiet as she approaches her bedroom, heels dangling from one hand and the skirts of her dress pulled up in the other, her eyelids heavy with exhaustion. 

It’s not the muscle-aching, satisfying sort of tired that always comes after a long day of training or a successful mission, though—it’s the kind of weariness that’s accompanied by flashes of irritation and leaves her feeling more than a little drained. Not for the first time, the itch of resentment towards her Princess duties crawls under her skin. She should’ve spent the last few days on a daring quest with her squad, not faking smiles through ball after ball. But it’s the height of trade season; they have appearances to keep and responsibilities to fulfill. There’s a whole mess of politics involved that she’s slowly familiarizing herself with, getting comfortable with her position. And yet she misses the tension of her bow, the adrenaline rush of a fight, the thrill of a good adventure—and she misses her team.

They should be back by now. She was supposed to meet them in the training yard tonight, but the party ran long and she couldn’t pull herself away, so she’d had to cancel at the last minute. They’re meeting at the Tasty Trunk first thing in the morning to catch up over breakfast, but still, she’s half-tempted to take her passageway into the squad room and see them right now. 

But it’s late, and they’ve just gotten back—they’ll all be asleep. 

Ciara huffs a minute sigh and pushes open her door. She should get some rest, anyway, so she’ll be ready for training in the morning with a slew of excuses about her miraculous recovery from an illness that didn’t really exist. When she sees her bed, another wave of tiredness hits her full-force; she’s almost ready to throw herself under the covers without even changing out of her gown.

Except she can’t. Because there’s a figure slumped in the armchair by the balcony.

Her hand goes instinctively to her side, before realizing that she’s not in her gear and therefore doesn’t have a weapon. Mind whirring, she weighs the risk of transforming in front of this person—but after a moment, she realizes that they haven’t moved. She shuffles her feet to get a better angle, and moonlight spills over a head of blonde hair, rumpled clothes, and a dark green shoulder pad.

“Arc?” Ciara hisses.

“Wh—” He jerks awake, falling right out of the chair. His sword is still sheathed, but it hits the floor with a clang, and the sound rings through the room and makes her wince. His head jolts around before his wide eyes land on her. “Ciara! Hey, hi! Fancy seeing you h—here,” he finishes around a yawn, blinking the sleep from his eyes.

“You’re in my room,” she says pointedly. There’s a part of her that thinks she should be annoyed, that she’s tired, and he scared her, and the noise probably woke half the castle, but in truth she’s just happy that he’s here. She would never say it out loud, but seeing him makes something in her chest swell.

“Hmmf...touche.” He smacks his lips, clearly still half-asleep even after being startled, and Ciara registers that he’s streaked with dirt and dressed in his gear.

“When did you get back?” she asks as he pulls himself into a sitting position and redoes the top few buttons of his shirt.

“A few hours ago.”

“Have you been waiting up this whole time?”

Arc rubs at his eyes with the back of his hand, and the gesture is so painfully endearing that Ciara feels herself melt a little, a rush of fondness surging through her. “We were s’pposed to meet up in the training yard,” he says, and yawns again. 

“I sent you a mirror message that I couldn’t make it.”

“Well, yeah, but I had to come chew you out in person for bailing on us.” He pouts, nothing serious behind his words, and Ciara finds herself lifting a hand to hide her giggle.

“Oh, yeah? Chew away.”

He fixates her with his drowsy eyes and says, with the utmost sincerity, “You suck. And—and I hope you find dragon dung in your pillow.”

She laughs openly now, the happiness and easy comfort of seeing him pushing away every negative emotion from the night. “Just say you missed me,” she grins teasingly.

“I did not.”

“Mhm.”

“I hope—I hope Sage covers you in unicorn poop again. I hope someone steals all of your tiaras, even the sparkliest one. I hope your snack catapult breaks.”

She gasps. “Take that back!”

“No. You deserve it.” He gives a little self-satisfied smirk, his eyes fluttering shut. It’s obvious that he’s just about ready to pass out again, and as Ciara tries and fails to stifle a yawn she remembers that she’s not that far off either. She moves to nudge him with her foot.

“C’mon, get up.” 

He groans and swats blindly at her. “I can’t. I’ve lost that ability. Also, my back hurts. Your chair is not as comfortable as it looks—false advertising.”

“I didn’t ask you to sleep there,” she snorts, kicking him again. 

Arc blinks his eyes open at last and lifts a hand into the air, looking up at her expectantly. She rolls her eyes and takes it, hauling him off the floor. “Idiot,” she grumbles, though she can’t keep the affection out of it. 

“Your idiot,” he responds without missing a beat. Distantly, she thinks that she’s going to wonder over that line again and again when she’s not so sleep-deprived. In the moment, though, it just feels right.

“M’kay, I am going to bed,” Arc announces blearily, and starts making his way to her passageway. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“You don’t have to go,” she says, and then bites her lip. Maybe if she had an ounce of impulse control left over, she would’ve stopped herself, but she doesn’t. 

He stops in his tracks and turns to her. “No offense, but I think the beds in the squad room are more comfortable than your floor, if only by a little—”

In the morning, she’ll chalk it up to the fact that she’s not thinking straight. She’s too tired to think about the implications of it, too out of it to actually use her better judgement. And too lonely. She’s been Princess Angelica for days—she wants to be Ciara for a night. She misses Arc, misses having his steady presence by her side, familiar and constant and unconditional. She just wants him to stay. The words stumble out: “My bed’s big enough for both of us.”

He blinks at her. Tilts his head, like he’s trying to tell if she’s serious or not. He opens his mouth and then closes it, rubs at the inside of his eye with his fist, and then says finally, “Are you sure?”

She shrugs. “As long as you’re out by morning, or my dad will flay you alive.”

“I’m not afraid of your dad.”

“He’ll call my sister.”

He winces. “Okay, her, I’m scared of.”

Ciara laughs a little and holds her hand out to him, palm-up, and he slips his fingers between hers and lets her tug him towards her bed. He strips off his vest and his shoulder pad and sheath, and she takes the tiara off her head and lets her hair loose from its updo. She doesn’t have the energy to change out of her dress right now, just aches for the warmth of her covers and the softness of her pillow.

When she turns back around, Arc is staring at her. There’s exhaustion still worked into the corners of his face, but there’s something else, too—a sort of softness behind his eyes, a little burst of affection.

She smiles to herself and crawls into bed, burrowing into the sheets. “C’mon,” she tells him quietly, patting the empty space beside her, and he hesitates for a moment before nestling into place.

His whole body goes limp almost instantly. “I’m going back to my thieving ways for one last heist,” he mumbles, muffled by her pillow. “I’m stealing your bed.”

“Not allowed.” He’s warm and soft beside her. She presses close to his shoulder, her eyes slipping closed. “You smell like sewage,” she hums.

“Fought a troll.”

“Did you win?”

“Duh.” His breathing slows, and she matches its pace without thinking about it. She feels light and safe and floating, and she’s barely half-awake when his quiet voice breaks through her haze again. “Ciara?”

“Hm?”

“I did miss you.”

She nuzzles into his chest, warmth flooding through her at the knowledge that she’ll wake up next to him. Even as she’s drifting out of consciousness, she feels herself smile. “I know.”

[harley-style]

mcyt brain rot for you all

this is both anysis and headcanon and au scenario, all blended together. you're welcome :D

----------

i have this headcanon,,,, cobbled together by some tumblr posts i read,,,, but some of them point out that wilbur is like, good at manipulating people as well to a point, right?

so i was thinking. what if his reach extended far beyond what anyone thought of? *what if wilbur's influence spread to dream?*

i know we've discussed this before (or sparrow analyzed it idk) but like. hear me out. this headcanon has to do with how wilbur wants to create a narrative. pit it against dream and his presumed original desires to create a safe happy place for his friends. wilbur's insistence that dream is the "tyrant". what if wilbur saw how dream was pointedly staying out of conflict, decided, "i dont like that," and began twisting the storyline and pulled dream's strings (pointedly off camera bc headcanons, babyyyy) so that dream would eventually fall into ruin, as the disgraced tyrant?

and dream...he KNOWS what wilbur's doing. to him specifically. and he's struggling so hard at the beginning, judging by his soft, passive demeanor when wilbur asks about the tnt.

i think, that somewhere along the line, dream lost sight of where his boundaries lied, and falls right into wilbur's plot pit and became The Villain. and he's like, fuck. I went and done it, oh no.

and....it worsens.

i had this whole scenario in my head that dream fully embraces the villain role, plays wilbur's game and completes the "narrative"...but is so fed up with wilbur and his stupid fucking ploys that he...bends the rules a little. changes shit up.

something...oh, a little like "lets speedrun my fall into villainy" bc it wouldn't be dream without the speedrun.

fast forward to prison. maybe if dream finally gets to resurrect wilbur. and wilbur is Not Pleased with how dream has decided to handle his narrative.

but its like. dream doesn't give two shits about wilbur's goddamn narrative anymore. he **played wilbur's game**. he's done with his role. he's given them peace, given them a happy end.

sure, he's given the rest plenty of trauma, but hey, it all turned out okay in the end, right? theyve got their happy ending. theyve BEATEN the big bad nightmare. his role is OVER.

but wilbur doesnt like it. doesnt like the lengths dream went to. it wasn't supposed to be like this. dream wasn't supposed to turn out this much of a *monster.*

and dream laughs. "will, wilby, wilbur," he croons madly, in his pretty little cell, preening like a cat. "i dont care," he hisses. "you fucking wanted this. you WANTED me to be this way. right? mr. revolutionary man? come on now, dont tell me you never expected this."

and wilbur tries to protest, but dream cuts him off.

"no. NO. dont' play your stupid littke games on me wilbur. you udnerstand? im DONE. im so sick of your bullshit, your countries your wars and your stupid fucking "story". I WANTED PEACE AND SAFETY. ALL i asked was "hey, don't be jerks, we're all one big community," and you didn't even have the DECENCY to just adhere to those rules, not even a little bit! you -- i let you in here because of TOMMY, you know that? the reason you even got to BE in this world was because tommy "vouched" for you. said you would be a great addition. and tommy-- i loved that kid back then, you know? he was bright and annoying and he made the server FUN. you took that brilliance, took that kid, and turned him against me, against ALL of us -- for what? independence? I HANDED YOU INDEPENDENCE AND YOU SPAT IT IN MY FACE LIKE IT WAS THE MOST VILE THING YOUVE EVER RECEIVED. i didnt even ENFORCE my rules, they were so loose literally EVERYONE broke them at some point.

but you? you had the audacity to call me a tyrant. to call me selfish, greedy, controlling. and then you declared war. the pet wars, the first disc wars weren't even close to the intensity you brewed during the revolution.

you had this little ideal in your head. and ill have to hand it to you, it was certainly impressive. but you didnt need to press it, to pressure it on the people of my server. you did anyway. you created this plot, this scheme to paint me as the villain, as the final boss. and you know what? FINE! if this is what it takes for them to be safe and happy, i'll be the villain.

but don't come in here expecting me to play that role again. i DID my part. i united them. my work is over.

but you, wilbur? heh. you get to deal with ALL the consequences of your war games. you'll be the one dealing with tommy's nightmares, tubbo's anger, everyone's hatred, fuck, you even get to deal with the egg!! isnt that nice? i was willing to deal with the egg, you know, it appeared before the whole election thing. but since you're here, you may as well take over. because you're SO great at directing them, you know? better than i ever could.

point is, wilbur, you don't get to use me as the tyrant, the final boss, the bad guy, and the villain anymore. when i said i would be putting the most powerful person in here, I wasn't fucking lying!"

"but tommy said you were going to put him in there!"

"you know, with the amount of times ive practically lied to that kid, im surprised he still believed me. i was never planning to put him in here. no one else would be put in here. hell, even techno and phil would just have gotten stuck here for about a week. i had guidelines, you know. i put them in a book somehwere, in one of my bases. no one was supposed to get unfair treatment. unfortunately i seemed to have pulled the short end of thr stick. that seems to be all that im doing these days."

"dream—"

"no. don't do that. don't pull me into another one of your plots wilbur. i don't want to hear it. you got your villain. your villain is gone, wilbur.

it's time to be the hero. :)"

basically my points here are like.

-wilbur made a narrative that dream didnt agree with

-this narrative painted dream in a negative villian light so dream basically said "yeah fuck that" and spedran his role

-headcanons galore i really do like the idea of dream creating that prison for himself to be locked in

-once wilbur is back he visits dream and explains his displeasure that dream went and did the things he did bc 1) hurt a lot of people personally and 2) did not adhere to the villain role wilbur specifically assigned to dream

-additional mentions: both wanted peace but in different forms. dream wanted peace for peace's sake but wilbur wanted peace after struggles. dream genuinely loved everyone on the server, but had to shed those attachments because to him, PERSONALLY, it would be a weakness towards his "villainous" role. his threatening of tubbo in front of tommy so tommy can "be the hero like spiderman and batman" shows that he knows exactly how empowering attachments are. lastly, dream only began manipulating people after the pogtopia arc. he mostly stayed the neutral party during it, and was just reacting with plans among plans during the lmanburg revolution.

-additionally, wilbur really wanted to stay dead, but dream said "haha no" and alived him again bc if he has to be the one to inflict trauma onto people then wilbur has to suffer leading the efforts to recovery.

hi @dreamsclock u keep giving me brainrot so im tossing this at u thank u goodbye i hope u dont mind the tag

[arcturusreads]

I Don't Think I Would Mind That At All - MerHayes

Meredith wakes up from her coma and Cormac decides to pay her a little visit

He wasn't entirely sure what was happening to him. It must have been the exhaustion from the shifts. Covid-19 was kicking the hospital's arse and whenever the paeds ward was quiet, Cormac tried to ease the load in the other departments. The staff all looked dead on their feet but somehow, they managed to pull through each day.

He missed his boys, not seeing them face-to-face for weeks on end was not something that was helping the situation but at least Abigail's sister was with them. At least they had someone that could keep an eye on them. Sighing, Cormac knocked on the hospital room door before peeking his head in.

"Alright if I come in, Grey?"

Meredith looked up from her tablet. She had forgone the hospital gown for an old Dartmouth top and grey sweats. Whilst she still looked exhausted, this was a definite improvement from seeing her in a coma. Cormac hadn't expected the relief that flooded through his body when he heard that she was awake.

He had waited for her family to go and see her first, knowing that they would be ramming down the door to talk to her. But that had taken longer than expected since the entire bloody hospital considered her family. He'd lost track of the number of times he had walked past her room in the hopes that no one else would be in there. But at last, at 7 pm, ten hours after she had woken up there was not another person on sight, she didn't seem to be talking to anyone on her tablet and no doctors were checking her stats.

"I mean, you're already halfway in this room, you may as well." She had that mischievous glint her eyes that Cormac had come to realise were almost a permanent fixture. One that he had missed seeing. Her voice still had a croak to it, a reminder that she had just battled a virus that could have killed her.

Cormac fully entered the room and stood by the foot of her bed before flicking through her chart. Meredith raised a brow at him which he ignored, much to her annoyance. The last thing she needed was someone else hovering over her. Maggie and Amelia were doing a grand job of that.

"Your stats are looking good today, Grey." He continued looking through her chart.

"They better since I'm not in a coma anymore," she muttered, annoyed that he was still looking at them. She wanted company, not another doctor.

Cormac barked out a laugh and put her chart back. His eyes softened as she looked at her and that weird feeling came over him again. His heart started to race; his stomach felt like a million butterflies had been let out of a cage. God, he really needed to get some rest. Maybe he needed to get a test, just in case.

"Told you that you would beat this damn virus, look at you now."

Meredith groaned as she adjusted herself to sit up straighter. It was still exhausting for her to move. "Oh yeah, I'm just the picture of health."

Her sarcasm made him knew that she was on the road to recovery. It hadn't been long ago that she had admitted to him that she was scared of dying. That moment of vulnerability was something that was shared between just the two of them. He had never seen Meredith Grey like that. From the moment he had met her, Meredith had been a battle-axe of a woman. She showed no fear and took no prisoners. Cormac had definitely not been expecting her to open up to him that much.

"Compared to just last night, I would say so."

"Sorry. I am thankful, you know, not to be dying but Bailey isn't letting me work until I do physio and respiratory therapy" Meredith groaned, completely unimpressed with the rules she had been given. She was needed here at the hospital, as a doctor. Not a patient. She knew that this place needed all the staff that it could get so what was the point in sending her home for 14 days.

"Grey, you've just battled a virus that has put the world on its knees. A few weeks away from work is the least you deserve"

Meredith rolled her eyes at him and Hayes couldn't help the upturning on his lips at her little action. She was a firecracker.

"Deserve? I've literally been lying in a bed for weeks! It's you guys that deserve two weeks off."

"You were ill, you were in a coma and you still need to rest. Grey, take the time off. Go home and spend time with your kids, hold them close. They would have missed their mother. And you know as well as I do that when you come back, you aren't going to be able to see them as much."

That had silenced Meredith completely. If she didn't take those two weeks for herself, then she would definitely do it for her kids. They hadn't known the full extent of what had happened to her, though she guessed that her Zo-Zo had probably managed to figure it out by now. She could have a few weeks of holding her babies close and getting to spend some time with her new nephew. It wasn't a bad deal.

"Fine," she grumbled.

"Sorry, Grey, couldn't hear you there."

"I said, fine!" She yelled at him.

Cormac threw his head back and laughed, "You know, you're far too stubborn for your own good." That weird feeling had intensified even more. Now he was worried.

"So, I've been told. Anyway, why have you decided to grace me with your presence?"

Cormac clutched his chest over his heart, "You wound me, Grey. Can't a man just care about his co-worker?"

But you don't just care about her as a co-worker, a small voice in his head said and he tried to push it away.

"Mhm," she murmured. "Of course, but I'm pretty sure you told me that you couldn't care less about me or my kids," Meredith teased him with a cheeky smile on her face.

"Well, that might have been a small lie," his voice had dipped to a whisper. "I've missed you while you've been out, Grey." That admission had shocked him, he hadn't even realised the words that had come out of his mouth.

Meredith shared at him in shock, "Oh." She stumbled over her words; she had not been expecting him to say that.

Before she had caught the virus the two of them had been spending more time together. Whiskey in his office, tequila in hers, although he always complained about her choice of drink. They had shared more about their lives during between the drinks and had gotten to know each other better.

Meredith had felt that attraction to him, felt herself wanting to spend more time with him but she hadn't said anything. She knew that Cormac hadn't been with anyone with Abigail had passed away and moving on was something that he had to do in his own time and that was if he even wanted to move on. So, she had decided to stay quiet. The last thing she had expected was to wake up from a coma and have Hayes tell her that he missed her.

"I've missed you too," she admitted to him in a voice just as quiet. "it's nice to be back in the land of the living and see you again."

The butterflies flooded his stomach all over again and Cormac finally realised that this was the way he had felt when he had first spoken to Abigail. In the back of his mind, he had known for quite a while that his feelings for Meredith Grey were no longer platonic but had tried not to think about it too much. But upon hearing that Meredith was awake and had finally tested negative for Covid-19, his feeling no longer wanted to stay locked away and he was struggling to keep them at bay.

"Maybe you wouldn't mind joining me for a drink and some food when you're finally allowed back. We could do lunch, in my office?"

This wasn't his ideal first date but given the state of the world and their jobs, it was the best that he could do. He just hoped she wouldn't laugh at his lame attempt.

"I don't think I would mind that at all."

[nordens-lejon]

Pervitin and Skis

Sufin oneshot I wrote last night.

During WW2, Timo finds himself in the hospital after an accident. Berwald comes to visit him. Based on a true story.

7 April 1944

Timo had never imagined he’d be grateful to find himself in a hospital. But then again, he’d never expected to find himself spending a week in a snow-filled ditch with one calf reduced to mincemeat. A lumpy hospital bed felt like heaven compared to that. The bed was warm and clean, and he could sleep as much as he wanted. The nurses fed him spoonfuls of broth and mashed potatoes. Small portions, so as not to upset his stomach after two weeks without proper food.

The hospital had given Timo a private room, which had annoyed him at first. He’d been fighting with the other soldiers, so sure it was only fair that he got the same treatment as the humans in the military ward. The doctors said it was an attempt to keep the gossip down, and on some level, Timo understood that. The personification of Finland injured and hospitalized? Oh, the Soviets would have a propaganda field day with that.

Someone knocked. That was odd -- the doctors and nurses were coming in whether he liked it or not. Timo thought it might be the timid new orderly, but it was a tall, thin man in an ill-fitting gray suit, messenger bag at his side. A sickly-looking mustache perched on his upper lip.

“Sve!” Timo tried to sit up, but he got nowhere and it only made his stitches hurt. Sure, Berwald was dressed like he’d lost all vestige of fashion sense, but it was him nonetheless. “Oh, I must look horrid, but I never thought…”

“Shhhhh.” It came out as a sharp hiss, but Berwald quietly crossed the room and pulled a chair to the bedside.

“How did you get in?” Timo whispered. He held out a hand, and Berwald immediately took it. “They don’t want anyone to know I’m here. And aren’t you still technically neutral in the war? What if the Soviets find out that you visited? It’ll look like you’re taking sides.”

“The Soviets won’t find out.” Berwald ran his thumb over the back of Timo’s hand. “I set a trail. They think I’m in Malmo. As for the Finns,” he pulled out a badge and a bundle of documents, “I got papers. They think your boss sent me.” The print of the badge was just big enough for Timo to catch the words Director of Cadaver Gynecology.

“So that’s why you grew this.” Timo wiggled his hand free and reached for the mustache.

“Yeah.” Berwald gently pushed Timo back against the pillows with one big hand.

“It’s hideous. I hate it.”

“Sorry.”

“You needed a disguise, I get that, but holy Martin Luther, please shave that thing as soon as you can and never grow it out again. Maybe you should get a wig next time, because with that thing on your face, I can almost imagine myself turning down a kiss. Almost. Just maybe.”

Berwald’s eye sparkled and he pressed a kiss to Timo’s knuckles.

“Oh, you sap. You’re hopeless.” Timo chuckled in spite of himself.

“I am.”

“Of course you are. So you found out I’m here. Something must’ve leaked. What did you hear? They told me they don’t want the story to blow up. There’s the Soviets, and besides, it could hurt national morale.”

Berwald blinked. “They didn’t tell you? It’s been in the papers.”

“The papers?” Timo felt his stomach drop, and he slumped a little. Oh, if this hurt the Finnish war effort, he’d never live it down. “Perkele. What did they say?”

“That you were with your combat unit in Saami territory. On skis. And you took thirty doses of Pervitin.”

“It was an accident!” The words came out louder than anticipated. Berwald would believe him, of course, but he still felt some urge to defend his honor to the universe. “I’d never even taken Pervitin before!” He’d always been wary of those German-made pep pills. Chemists said they contained methamphetamine. “I only took it because I was so tired I was on the verge of passing out. There were Soviets on our tail! And I meant to take one, not thirty. I’d like to see you-- or anyone -- get one pill out of those tiny little tubes while wearing mittens. So I tried to, y’know, just pour one into my mouth.”

“Shhh, it’s okay.” Berwald reached forward and began stroking Timo’s hair.

“And I just, before I knew it, I’d downed the whole tube.” Timo swallowed and took a minute to take a deep breath and enjoy Berwald’s touch. It reminded him of easier, happier times. “Sorry. But please, don’t stop.”

“Mmm. I won’t. But go on.”

“Go on?”

“What happened next?”

“Oh.” Timo paused. “Well, I… I don’t remember much of it. It felt amazing, at first. Ecstatic. Like I’d been born a new man, with more energy than I’d ever had in my life. And then, it got to be too much, I started shaking. I thought I’d blacked out, but it turned out that I’d just kept skiing. I, I think I crashed through a Soviet camp, and they shot at me, but the doctors didn’t find any bullet wounds. Maybe I hallucinated it. But then, I came to my senses, or really, I came down enough to realize that I’d completely lost my unit, and I was all alone in the snowy forest. But there was so much energy in me that I felt compelled to keep going. To find someone. Anyone.”

Berwald’s brow furrowed. “How long had it been at that point?”

Timo shrugged. “I don’t know. A few days.”

“Did you stop to eat or sleep?”

“Sleep. I doubt it. Eat, no. I lost my supply pack.”

“No wonder you’re so thin.” Berwald ran a thumb along Timo’s cheekbones, which had never been visible before. “I don’t like it.”

“Not planning on staying this way, don’t you worry.” Timo managed a smile. He didn’t want to add that his once-portly body weighed only forty-one kilograms upon admission to hospital. That number would only make Berwald worry -- he was too fond of seeing Timo pampered and plump. “Anyway, not too long after that, I stepped on a landmine.”

“A landmine?”

“Yeah.” Timo gestured to his elevated right leg. The cast covered a mess of stitches and surgical pins. “The blast threw me right off my feet, blew out one of my eardrums, and my legs was, well, I remember this awful mess of blood and bone.”

“Christ almighty.”

“Yeah...I guess. I was still so high that I didn’t feel any pain, at least not at first. But I remember lying there in a ditch with my ears ringing. And I thought that this must be the end of my journey. Some hours passed, and nothing happened. So I figured I might live long enough for someone to find me, so I crawled to this sort of, well, dugout, and waited some more. And nobody came. Eventually, the Pervitin wore off enough that I could feel hunger. I could drag myself to a pine tree and I ate some pine buds. A jay landed on my hand, so I ate that too. I ate snow. Sorry,” he added, seeing the horrified look on Berwald’s face.

“Don’t be sorry. I want to know.” There was a pause “And I want to take you home right now and take care of you forever,” Berwald was flushing, as if he’d already said more than he’d intended, “but that, that’s beside the point.”

That was more than enough to warm Timo’s heart. “Maybe you can, if your disguise holds. I don’t think they’re going to let me back to the front.” Inherently, he was ashamed of that. Going back before the end of the war felt like quitting on his people. “There’s talk about sending me to Helsinki. I’m going to need crutches for a while. And physical therapy. But if you can keep up as Director of Cadaver Gynecology, maybe you can stay with me. At least for a little while.”

“Yes, maybe.” Berwald swallowed. “I’ll see what I can do.”

The prospect of Berwald in Helsinki might not take away the shame, Timo realized, but it did make the thought of a long convalescence a lot more bearable. “Thanks, big guy.” Almost suddenly, a wave of exhaustion swept over him. This talking was the most exertion he’d done since he’d been admitted.

“It’s nothing,” Berwald said. Another small pause. “You didn’t finish.”

“Finish what?”

“The story. You stopped with eating snow in a ditch.”

“Oh, right.” Timo fought back a yawn. “I walked.”

“You what?”

“Walked. One night, I could see light through the trees, and I don’t know, I guess I was desperate enough that I got up and dragged myself over to them.”

“With your leg like…” Berwald pointed.

“Well, of course. But I made it to their camp, and I was so beat up, that I think I scared them, the poor humans. They called for an ambulance, and they brought me here.” And that,” this time, Timo couldn’t hold back the yawn, “is how I got myself into this whole embarrassing mess.”

“Embarrassing? Never mind, I should let you sleep.”

“Wait, don’t go!” Timo took Berwald’s wrist. “Not just yet. A few more minutes. And yes, of course it’s embarrassing. All this trouble because I couldn’t pick up a pill.”

Berwald set his jaw and kept silent for a moment. “I can’t say how you should feel, but the story’s earned your people’s admiration”

“Wait, what?” This was so surprising, Timo almost forgot how sick and tired he was. “What do you mean, admiration?”

“You’re still here, aren’t you? Yes, you made a mistake, but you’re still here. Thirty doses of Pervitin and two weeks in the woods would’ve killed lesser men. Men who aren’t as tough as Finns. I mean,” Berwald reached down for his messenger bag. “Plenty of your people have sent you cards and letters. Wishing you well, I’m guessing. Haven’t opened any.”

“Those are letters? What? Where did you get those?” Timo watched as Berwald opened the bag, revealing a heap of envelopes.

“Your public PO box. In Helsinki.”

“Right, forgot I gave you a spare key.” The envelopes were mostly white, with occasional blue and pink mixed in. And there were so many of them. Maybe some of them were admonishing him for his stupidity and carelessness, but if even a few were wishing him an easy recovery, well, it was a small consolation, but he felt better. “Do you think you can open one? Read one to me? Do you remember your Finnish?”

“Of course I remember Finnish.” Berwald cupped Timo’s cheek, then picked an envelope from the top of the pile and tore it open. Inside was a generic get-well card with a picture of teddy bear, but somehow, the mass-produced kitsch made it charming. “How ‘bout you get some rest? I’ll read while you settle down to sleep.”

Oh, wasn’t that right in the money. Timo sank back against the pillows and closed heavy eyelids. Lumpy hospital bed heaven was even better with Berwald by his side.

“Dear Mr. Finland,” Berwald began, “I was shocked to hear news of your accident, but I must say that I have never heard a more remarkable story of survival. That’s truly the Finnish spirit, isn’t it? Carrying on and making do in spite of the odds. You’ve reminded me of...”

Berwald’s voice was lovely and soothing, but that was all he heard before sleep claimed him, heavy, comfortable, and reassuring.

Closing notes: For anyone who’s unfamiliar, Pervitin was an methamphetamine-based performance-enhancing drug that was developed by the Germans, who proceeded to give it out to their troops like it was candy. Timo’s story here is based on that of Aimo Koivunen, a Finnish soldier who accidentally took 30 doses of Pervitin, spent two weeks in the woods, stepped on a landmine and lived to tell the tale. He made a full recovery and lived to the age of 72. You can read Koivunen’s story in his own words here.

[drabblily]

Bad Confessions

Pairing: Bakugo Katsuki x Reader

Warnings: Cursing, of course. Fluff. 

Word Count: 2.1k

Synopsis: Y/N seems to have fallen in love with a certain hotheaded blonde, might as well confess and get rejected to move on with it, right?

A/N: First Post! Hope you enjoy <3

------

Falling in love was scary.

There was nothing gentle about it, hence the “falling” part of it. You were either all in or not in at all. You could be pushed, you could take that jump, or you could accidentally take one certain step and fall to your impeding doom.

And it was so, so fucking terrifying to you. When you fall in love there is supposed to be someone waiting for you at the bottom to catch you, that was the fortunate option. The unfortunate side was that when you fall in love, that person could move at the last second to let you splat to the ground.

You guess, that’s what made you so scared of it. That someone would move to let you die. To be manipulated. To be used like that. It scared the hell out of you.

That was probably why you never noticed the signs when you were in it. The constant checking of a text message to see if he texted you, the sweaty hands and speedy heart whenever he walked by, the overthinking about him, trying to grab his attention by looking pretty.

It was torturous and you thought nothing of it, perhaps you were going crazy, though. Because you definitely should not be feeling like this.

So, you visited the school nurse, Recovery Girl, in hopes that she would cure your unknown disease.

“Hello? Recovery Girl?” You knocked on the open door to alert her that you were there before stepping in.

The old woman turned towards you with a smile on her face, “Hello, Y/N, are you hurt?”

You gulped, fiddling with your fingers, what if she weren’t able to help you? What if it was a fatal deadly disease and you couldn’t be cured no matter what??

“Well…actually, not really. I just think I might be feeling sick and wanted to ask you for your advice on how to help me out with it?”

She patted the hospital bed she had, implying for you to take a seat, so you did.

Recovery Girl silently grabbed her thermometer, going across your forehead to see if you had a temperature. You didn’t, normal temperature. She grabbed a stick and told you to open your mouth and say, “Ahhh…” With her gloves, she felt around your throat to see if there was anything that could hint at you being ill.

Unwrapping her gloves and throwing them out, she finally spoke with that constant smile of hers, “Well I did the minimum and it doesn’t look like you are sick. You don’t have a fever or any signs of a sore throat. Are you sure you feel sick? What are your symptoms exactly?”

You furrowed your eyebrows, there was no way you couldn’t be sick. Oh my god, what if you were right. What if you were uncurable!! Leg slightly bouncing in anxiousness, you told her, “W-well, actually, I think my mind is all fuzzy. I’ve been getting urges to check my phone when we are out of class…I sometimes get really feverish around people and it feels like my stomach is twisting when around somebody…do you think a villain could’ve used their quirk on me to make me feel like this?”

Your elder slightly chuckled, as if she knew a little secret, smiling even wider with a slight tint of pink to her cheeks, “Oh dearie,” She patted your bouncing leg to calm you down, “you sound like you’re in love.”

Your eyes widened, blood rushing throughout your entire face, “What! With who?”

“With whoever you want to be around, or whoever you think about most.” She clasped her hands together, nodding her head to convince you further. You couldn’t believe it though. You? In love? Doubtful, you were a future pro-hero! You had no time for love!

The bell rung, hinting you should be at your first period class soon, “Well, dearie, you better get to class now. You know how your teacher acts when you are late.”

You numbly nodded, jumping off the hospital bed and walking out of the nurse’s room. On your way to class, you felt heavier, your mind racing with ideas of who exactly you could be “in love” with. No one came to mind. It was torturous.

Finally, you made it to class, opening the door—luckily Aizawa-Sensei wasn’t here yet—and walking to your seat. Eyes scanning the chatter filled room, you made eye contact with mean crimson eyeballs, your heart picking up pace and your tummy feeling nauseated again.

“Got somethin’ to say, damn extra!?” His rough voice asked you loudly, looking to pick a fight.

Your bottom lip quivered in realization, breaking eye contact and sitting down in your chair. You put your head on the table between your arms, “No no no no no no…him?? Really? That cannot be true, he’s an asshole for crying out loud, what is wrong with you??”

You felt a loud slam on your table, “Hey! I’m fucking talking to you, dumbass!”

Your head jolted up at the suddenness, your big eyes staring up at your crush and classmate, Bakugo in confusion and sudden fear. Your cheeks flushed and you licked your lips, feeling thirsty out of nowhere now, “I…”

You noticed a deep red dust his ears as he opened his mouth, “Nevermind.”

Heart skipping a beat at his unexpected calmness, your eyes trailed his body as he stomped away to his chair with a slouch in his posture.

You felt a tap on your right shoulder, your close friend, Mina leaning over to whisper to you, “Bakugo’s never that nice to anyone, he’s totally got the hots for you!!” She squealed in excitement.

You choked on your air, sputtering out words, “N-No! I doubt that’s it, he probably just didn’t want to deal with Aizawa-sensei, he could’ve walked in at any second after all…”

The pink alien playfully punched your shoulder whilst giggling, “Hah! Yeah right, he doesn’t care if he gets in trouble, he totally has a crush on you, I can tell!”

You opened your mouth to respond when your teacher walked in with a ‘dead inside’ expression plastered onto his face, the entire class going silent so they wouldn’t get in trouble.

----

Ever since you found out your crush on your hotheaded classmate two weeks ago, you’ve done your best to avoid him as well as possible. No eye contact, no walking near each other, no talking—which meant also doing your best to not piss him off so you wouldn’t have an excuse to talk to one another. You did whatever you could in hopes of your stupid crush on him to fade away.

But nothing was working. So, you could only come to one reasonable conclusion.

Confess to him. You knew rejection was coming and you just wanted to get it over with so you could wallow in self pity instead.

Maybe that’s why you were here, standing in front of Bakugo Katsuki’s door, a rather large lump caught in your throat as you raised your hand to knock on the door. Swallowing it down, your fist quivered, hesitating to actually knock.

You couldn’t do this. It was way too nerve wracking and you were too much of a coward to actually do it. Placing your hand back down to your side in defeat, you pressed your head on the wall next to his door with a sigh.

“Why can’t I just tell him…” You murmured to yourself, looking down at your hands, imagining his rough ones holding yours. Which was stupid, considering it would never happen, you told yourself, pushing the silly daydreams away.

“What the fuck did you just say, damn extra?”

The sudden voice made you yelp, jumping away only to trip on your own foot and fall straight onto your ass. You groaned at the impact your palms and butt just got, both in extreme pain. You brought your hands up to your line of sight, inspecting how they were red and felt like it burned.

The man above you clicked his tongue in frustration before offering you his hand, “Dumbass. How did you hurt yourself from that?”

“I...” You started, grabbing his hand hesitantly; staring at your hands connected made blood rush to your face, “You scared me. I didn’t see you there.”

The blond snorted, “Idiot. How are you going to become a hero if you just jump from hearing my voice.” He mocked, narrowing his eyes at you before tugging you up and off the ground.

You flushed, reluctantly pulling your hand away from his to cover your face in embarrassment, “Shut up…”

“What the fuck are you doing in this hall anyways?”

“I just, um, you see…”

“Spit it out already, idiot.”

You peeked through your fingers, making eye contact with him, and taking a deep breath, “I just…wanted to tell you something.”

Bakugo crossed his arms—which you couldn’t help but admire how his muscles tensed and moved—raising one annoyed eyebrow at you to signify to continue.

Okay. You had to do this now or never. If you didn’t do it now, youd be a failure, a disgrace. Maybe rejection was what you needed! Maybe if he rejected you, your feelings for the hothead would dissipate and you could focus on more important things, like being a hero. Not fantasizing what kissing your classmate would feel like in the middle of a test.

‘Okay, just spit it out. You can do this’ You told yourself, putting your hands together and gulping.

“Alright, just listen,” You glanced towards him, seriously, hoping he wouldn’t interrupt you until you got your words out so you wouldn’t feel like a fool midway, “I, well to put it simply, I think…I think I like you, a lot. And its terrifying because ive never felt this way about anyone before. But I know you don’t feel the same way, so…please—”

Before you knew what was happening, Bakugo pushed forward, uncrossing his arms to grab ahold of you.

This was different. A lot different than how you expected.

Soft lips captured yours, passionately. You froze up, your mind going haywire trying to figure out what the fuck is happening right now. You noticed two things, does this mean he liked you back? It had to be right? That thought made you dizzy, there was no way this man liked you back. Bakugo fucking Katsuki, no way.

The man in question pulled away, taking note of your flustered expression, smirking at it waiting for you to speak again.

You reached up to touch your lips, still unbelieving that just happened. The second thing you notice was that his lips, oh god. They were heaven. You expected them to be chapped, rough, but it was far from it. Of course! This man would be perfect like this, after all he did seem like one to take care of himself.

Suddenly snapping up to your senses, your eyes widened, “W-what was that!? I said not to interrupt me!”

Katsuki snickered, “Seriously? I just fucking kissed you and you’re thinking about how I interrupted your stupid confession?”

“N-no! The kiss was nice!” His smirk widened. “No! It wasn’t nice, that’s not what I meant! Well, it was nice, I mean I liked it of course! B-but—”

“You’re stupidly cute when you ramble, you know?”

Your breath hitched before reaching over to smack his arm for teasing you, his strong hand catching your wrist and tugging you into his arms, his free hand coming to grip your waist.

“Stop teasing me!” You whined, struggling against his grip to leave your embarrassment.

“Hell no. Its fun to see your expressions when I do.” Bakugo grinned, his grip tightening for a second, “Your confession was ass though.”

You placed your head on his chest, squeezing your eyes shut. You knew it was bad, but he didn’t have to point it out for crying out loud!

You felt the pressure on your wrist disappear only for it to show up on your chin, “Hey, look at me.” His vermillion eyes surprisingly gentle, his tongue coming out to lick his lips.

You were the one to lean in this time, tilting your chin up to kiss him, after all, you didn’t exactly reciprocate it when he did. However, Bakugo immediately responded, his mouth moving against yours with a passion.

After what seemed like an eternity to you—which in reality was about thirty or so seconds—you pulled away, speechless and breathless.

His forehead leaned against yours, his eyes snapping open to make eye contact with you, “I like you too dummy, don’t forget it.”

[riftimagines]

Lightbringer Cafe-Ch.1

Ahhh! Its been a while but i return with this random fic im writing! Ill post this on Ao3 and put a link in a bit! You can read it here too if you’d like!

Ao3 link: https://www.archiveofourown.org/works/29356611

Summary: Starting a Cafe is what you wanted to do and you love it! Sometimes though it can be a bit boring and sometimes wish for a little excitement in your day. Well even though the boredom some exciting and fun stuff will happen! These stories are about those days. 

Note: This is a Modern AU

Ships: A variety of ships eventually, even some with the reader. For this chapter Its some awkward, dorky Kayn and a flirty reader!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

New dawn breaks light through the freshly cleaned windows. The smell of coffee just ground for the day filling the air and a slight chill from the cold weather outside that just seems to seep in even with the heater on. Overall, it seems like it’ll be a nice day to day and hopefully the chilly winters day will bring new customers into your lovely Cafe. You walk over to the door and flip the sign that hug on it letting all who walk by know you are open for business. You had just opened this Cafe not too long ago and only recently really started to pick up on business. So far its just been office workers near by and Hipsters that seem to show up. Nothing too interesting yet, not that you’re complaining. Business is business after all. Still, sometimes you wish someone interesting would come through your doors and make your day a little more fascinating, a little spice to your day.

A calm sigh leaves you as you sit on a stool behind the counter, waiting for any customers to walk in. Sometimes it did take a little while for people to come in but with the cold maybe someone will want something warm to drink. Before you have time to get bored waiting the bell on your door chimes to signal you in fact have customers now. You look over at two men walking in. One was and older, seemingly albino man. The other a slightly taller, young man with long black hair. The blue strip in his bangs standing out prominently from his raven locks. The older man walks to the back part of the Cafe where the lights are really not that bright, you really need to change them at some point, and sits down in the corner. He looks to the younger man that followed him and they seem to talk, probably about what to order if you had to guess.

They take a moment more before the younger of the two walks over and grins at you. Looking at him better you have to stop yourself from blushing. He’s very handsome admittedly but you can’t lose your composure over a handsome face now, your working! You just give him a friendly smile back and greet him accordingly.

“Hello, Sir. What would you like today?” You say as politely as possible. He looks up at the menu behind you and mulls over his thoughts. You wait patiently, there was no rush no one else was here anyway. His amber eyes trail back down to you. For a moment you get lost in the honey hues but quickly come back to reality when he speaks.

“I will have a Coffee and a Hot Green Tea, a two sugars and a little milk in the coffee and a little honey in the Tea. You can manage that right?”  His voice was so lovely too until that last quip. You don’t make too much of a scowl at him for that, he could just be having a bad day or something. You just nod for now.

“Of course, One Coffee, two sugars, little milk and a Hot Green Tea with a touch of Honey, coming right up! Oh what name will that be under?” He looks at you confused and scoffs.

“There’s only two customers in here, why do you need to know my name?” You frown fully this time at his rudeness. You walk back up to him and narrow your eyes.

“Because thats just how I do business and I don’t know who the order could be for. For all I know these drinks could be for someone else. That’s why I ask.” He seems a little taken back by the way you talked back to him. He looks like he’s about to say something back when a deeper, gravely voice cuts in.

“Kayn, just give them your name.” The albino man in the corner piped up, effectively shutting up whatever rude remark was coming out of ‘Kayn’s’ handsome face. You are quick to grab a pen and write ‘Cane’ on it just to spite him. You look towards the other man.

“Thank you, Sir. See that wasn’t so hard, sweetie.” He makes a weird face between a pout and confusion and honestly you can’t entirely blame him. You had no idea where that ‘sweetie’ came from but its out there now. You can regret later. With that you turn from him to start warming up some water to seep the Tea, the coffee would be much quicker. Once the water is set to heat up and the coffee cup under the coffee machine you sit on your stool. Good Tea needs properly warmed water and a little patience after all. You sitting there seemed to be an open invitation for Kayn to come up to where you were sitting and pout at you. You look at him and smile.

“Hello there, Sir. Can I help you?” He just huffs, clearly a bit miffed from earlier.

“First, you’re rude to me then you just sit here not getting our order. Are you going to do anything but sit there?” You roll your eyes at him. You have no idea how that guy in the corner can put up with this brat.

“I’m waiting for the water for the Tea to warm up. Im sure your friend over there wants good, hot Tea not cold bitter Tea. There is a process to make fresh tea.” You huff at him and give him an annoyed stare.

“You were so much more attractive before you spoke you know. Maybe you should learn some manners, huh?” He blinks and stares at you for a bit, the slightest dust of pick across his cheeks. So light you could say it was just a change in light. You’re not entirely sure why he’s gone quiet though, maybe you were being rude now. You should probably apologize. Before you can say anything you hear him mutter something very softly.

“You think I’m attractive?” Now its your turn to blink. Could he not see himself in the mirror?

“Yeah, I mean it’s pretty obvious?” He suddenly jumps at you speaking which causes you to jump too. He looks panicked like he just did something terrible.

“I-Uh, Of course I am! Im gorgeous!” You can’t help but laugh at his panic. It seems he unknowingly spoke his thoughts. Rather interesting that he would even think he’s not attractive. To have such doubts when it’s clearly the opposite is a little sad you think. You guess even the most beautiful people must have their doubts. You look at him again and see a much more noticeable redness on him. Perhaps a little mercy will go a long way here.

“Really smooth recovery. Smooth as you hair even.” The redness on his face doesn’t leave but he leans on the counter anyway like he’s the most confident person in the universe. Clearly he’s just a handsome dork it seems. Not that there is anything wrong with that but its kinda nice to know he isn’t a total jerk. You watch the dark haired man cough in to his hand trying to steady himself.

“I thought so. Glad to see you aren’t blind enough to see that.” Ah back to the arrogance it seems. Normally this would put you off but there’s just something deeper to him, like he’s scared of just being himself for some reason. It kinda reminds you of that saying ‘Fake it till you make it’ Its just a ruse to seem cooler then what he is. A part of you is somewhat sad he has to do that, hide what light he has in shadow.

“Even I would have to be pretty blind to miss your pretty face.” He looks away from you for a bit, clearly trying not to look into your eyes. You chuckle a little bit when a whistling sound catches your attention. The water! You get up to go to turn off the heat and begin to seep the tea. Only a couple minutes no more no less. While it seeps you prep the coffee and let it start to brew. A fresh brew took a little longer but you figured maybe you should be a little nicer to Kayn after your teasing. The machine whirs to life and produces a wonderful smelling coffee. The two sugars and a splash of milk is added to it before you place it in front of him. He looks at the cup and can’t help but notice your little ‘Cane’ Spelling on the cup.

“That’s not how you spell my name!” He exclaims. You laugh hardily at his ire and look back at him. You had honestly forgotten about that until just now.

“I’m sorry about that. Though to be fair I did ask you your name and I had to get it from someone else. If you want your name properly spelled next time tell me how to spell it.” He narrows his eyes and crosses his arms.

“Maybe you should learn how to spell.” Oh here we go again you think to yourself. You go back to the tea before you respond and pour it into a cup. Placing it to the side you look at him with a raised eyebrow.

“I did spell it right. That is in fact how you spell “Cane”. If your name is spelled different you should have told me.” He huffs again. You did have a point, he just didn’t like to admit it. While he’s silenced you go back to the tea and grab the honey. Carefully you spoon in just a little bit of the golden substance. The color of it reminding you of the man behind you. His eyes are the same color. You shake the thought from your head and finish up the tea. You place the second cup before him and smile.

“Here you go, honey eyes.” Welp, why you decided to go ahead and say that you’ll never know. The poor man in front of you looks confused and a little flustered.

“Honey eyes?” You want to slap yourself in the head for saying that but it’s too late now isn’t it? You look at him sheepishly and blush a bit yourself.

“Uh, yeah. You’re eyes are the same color as honey. I’m sorry. Thats probably really weird to say, hehe.” Stop being awkward. Oh this just became so much more weird. Why didn’t you just shut up and just take his order? Why do you feel the need to banter? The both of you stand there like sheepish teenagers. It’s Kayn that breaks the silence though.

“I-It’s alright! Uh, you, uh, smell nice! Like this coffee!” As soon as he says that he slaps his forehead and buries his face into his hands. You laugh again at his awkwardness. He was kinda cute when he wasn’t being rude. You decide you like this Kayn much more then the arrogant one from earlier.

“Well I do spend a lot of time around coffee. It was bound to infuse itself into my very being at some point, so thanks.” He peers back at you and openly stays red as he scratches the back of his head. There is an other awkward, flustered pause between you before its broken by the other person in the room.

“Kayn, if you have our drinks then let us leave. You’ll be late to your class, again.” Kayn jolts from his spot as the older albino comes up from behind him so quietly not even you noticed him move.

“Oh! Right, I have them dad. Here’s your tea!” Kayn quickly hands his father the tea and he nods a thanks before heading to the door. Kayn looks to you again awkwardly.

“So then, uh, goodbye. I suppose I’ll stop by again then.” He says. You give him a bright smile and nod.

“I’m looking forward to it, handsome.” You both blush at your boldness and he grips his coffee with both hands before jogging away after his father. The albino looks at him completely confused and Kayn waves him off. The older man looks back at you with suspicion and a part of your soul freezes with that look. Ok then, note to self, handsome’s father is absolutely terrifying. You watch them walk off until you can’t see them anymore. That was quite away to start off the day, you wonder what other encounters you’ll have and if they’ll be as nice as that one.

[val-aquenta]

Wow her for angstpril prompt: “You Lied To Me.” Special post-Rako Hardeen mission fun :)

Here on ao3

Obi-Wan’s cough was rougher than usual, as though he was hoarse and his throat hurt. Anakin trembled with rage that never truly left since Naboo. The hurt and anger radiated off of him. Obi-Wan watched, nervously tracking his movements. “Sorry… I’ll just-” He moved to the side, dodging past Anakin and walking through the Temple hall. Anakin looked at him, noting the dark bruises under his eyes and the short stubbles of beard and hair. How dare he. Anakin thought with a scowl before moving on with his day. First he had gone and lied and then he wouldn’t even talk about it? 

They met again, right before Ahsoka and him were going to spar. Obi-Wan looked… worse? Anakin had attributed the rather pale complexion and tired look as results from his mission, but… perhaps it was not so. “What’s with the look?” He barked out. 

Obi-Wan turned large eyes at him, “Just… tired I guess.” He shifted uncomfortably, hands clinging to one another behind his back. Anakin, once more, noted the hoarseness of his voice, likely a result of his undercover mission. “I-” He began before cutting himself off. “Sorry.” He bowed his head and darted past, walking fast enough to avoid him. Anakin watched him go, confused. He shrugged and continued with his day. If it got worse, he’d… do something. 

Ahsoka remarked on it later that day. “Master Obi-Wan looks ill.” She seemed hesitant to breach the conversation, likely very worried about how Anakin would react. Anakin, contrary to her predictions, did not let out a wave of resentment and hate that he usually did when she mentioned him by name. “Did you notice?”

Anakin nodded. “Yeah. He told me he was tired, but…” He trailed off. “I don’t think so.” He finally finished with a deep sigh.

“I guess I’m… worried. He doesn’t look well at all.” She said, relaxing as she noted he seemed quite concerned as well. At least he wasn’t so hostile to the topic of Obi-Wan anymore. “I mean… I haven’t really talked to him for a while, so-”

“C’mon Snips. More sparring, less chatting.” He grinned. “Don’t want you turning into Obi-Wan on the battlefield, huh?” The worry churned in his gut though. He lost himself in the high energy of the spar. 

Two days later, he saw Obi-Wan again, looking more akin to a ghost than a living human. “Are you alright?” He asked, somewhat curtly. The betrayal still hurt and he still thought Obi-Wan was rather stupid to not tell him. He could act; nobody knew about him and Padmè yet. “You look…” He gestured vaguely at Obi-Wan who blinked, seeming kind of confused.

Obi-Wan startled, shaking his head a bit before looking up, a false smile plastered on his face. “What? Oh, I’m fine.” Anakin’s face fell. He knew this smile. He knew how Obi-Wan flashed it at senatorial galas, or in the Senate, or whenever the chancellor was in his perimeter.

“You’re lying.” He cut in bluntly. “I can tell. Why do you keep lying?” His tone became more aggressive. Obi-Wan leaned back, frightened by the display, his hands met together, clutching each other under the long sleeves of his robe. 

“I’m not.” He stammered a bit, eyes looking at the wall behind Anakin. “I told you before, I’m just tired. It’s been difficult getting the GAR back on track after my mission…” He trailed off, expecting some kind of burst of anger, something. “On that note I have a meeting with Mace.” he said and quickly slipped from Anakin’s view, darting around the corner with a swish of his brown cloak. I’ll shove him in the medbay after. Ahsoka might be necessary. Everyone knew how Obi-Wan could not refuse Ahsoka’s wide eyes if she really put her back into it. 

Three days later, he finally got the chance. Ahsoka and him were walking, still on their free time period, when he spotted that familiar gingery blonde hair coming his way. “Up ahead Ahsoka. We just need to get him to the healers.” 

Ahsoka nodded seriously. “I know, Anakin. You already told me.”

“Just making sure…” He trailed off as Obi-Wan came closer. Force, he looked even worse. The concern he felt from Ahsoka told him he was not the only one thinking this. 

“Master!” Ahsoka said, running over to catch him. “Wow… you look er…” Obi-Wan lifted his brow. “Are you ok? Shouldn’t you go to the healers or something?” She asked rapidly, her eyes wide and roving across his face. 

“I don’t think-” 

“Please…” Ahsoka seemed to be laying it on rather thick, but Anakin knew he would not notice, or would not care. “I mean… I worry, Master. It would comfort me if I knew that you were ok.” There was the kicker. Obi-Wan turned to him, a plea for help before turning back to her. Ahsoka blinked innocently, a concerned frown on her face. 

“Perhaps… we should go to my rooms. I-” He cut himself off, hand rising to his forehead. “I actually have…” He trailed off, pitching forwards in a dead faint. Ahsoka yelped, calling on the Force by instinct as Anakin reached forwards. 

“Alright… to the healers.” Ahsoka nodded, concern evident as she pressed a hand onto the really warm forehead. “Good job Ahsoka. He caved in seconds.” 

Ahsoka smiled, a bit pleased with herself. If she was honest, she was a tad surprised that it had still worked. The last time she had tried, she had been much younger, but it appeared Obi-Wan was still the same. To be fair, he still caved easily if Anain tried hard enough, but perhaps that was more because he was simply annoyed by Anakin’s rather… annoying techniques. “It did go well.” She agreed easily. 

“Don’t get too comfy, he’ll probably be harsher on you when you get older and lose your chubby cheeks.” Somehow Anakin freed a hand enough to poke her cheeks. 

“Hey!” She cried indignantly, swatting the hand. “Oh look, Bant’s on duty.” She said eagerly, nodding in the direction of the Mon Calamari healer.

“Healer Bant!” Anakin waved down. “Obi-Wan’s just fainted.” Bant hurried forwards, pressing her cool hand against his forehead and flinching back.

“Hmm, this was bad before, but now…” Anakin startled. Bant signalled for a gurney. “Alright, lay him down. We’ll bring him to the rooms. Feel free to come.”

“Wait… Bant! What do you mean before?” He raced after, Ahsoka at his side as they followed her into a prepared room. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?” 

He asked worriedly. Bant looked back, somewhat exasperated before her look softened. “He… hasn’t told you?” She asked in confusion, her hand gently pressing against Obi-Wan’s shoulder, a comfort for herself. She released the hand and lifted him from the gurney to the bed. It was more a recovery room more than anything.

“Hasn’t said what?” Ahsoka asked, breathless. Anakin blinked to Obi-Wan before looking back at Bant. “Master Bant, won’t you say?”

“I… I’m not really allowed.” Bant stammered nervously, looking down at Obi-Wan, taking a small moment to grip his hand. “If he didn’t tell you yet, he probably will soon. Just… be gentle with him. He’s been through a lot recently.” she looked up, silvery eyes pleading with Anakin. “He’ll wake soon, then you can ask questions, but please… be gentle. It’s been rough.” Bant spent a few more moments fluttering around Obi-Wan and administering some medicines. Anakin laid a hand on Ahsoka waiting until she was done before approaching the bed. 

In the end, it took about an hour which they spent seated by Obi-Wan’s bed, Anakin fiddling with his arm and Ahsoka typing away on a datapad, before Obi-Wan woke up. He blinked lazily, taking in a deep breath before letting it out in a sigh, a custom that Anakin had learned long ago. His gaze turned from the ceiling to the two at his bed. “Oh… hello there.” He offered lamely. “Oh no. Did I…?” He trailed off.

“Faint in the hallway, yeah.” Anakin offered, replacing his tools in his belt before leaning forwards. “So… what’s wrong?” There was no point beating around the bush. Ahsoka clicked off her datapad and crossed her arms. 

Obi-Wan swallowed, feeling rather nervous. He had known something was wrong at the tail-end of the mission, but he had chalked it up to the experimental tech. Turns out, that wasn’t it. “An illness, Firthopo. It’s been there a long time, but only now became aggressive.” He swallowed, his hands fiddling on the covers of his bed. “We didn’t know it was there until now.” 

“Master.” Anakin sighed out, a familiar spike of panic and fear rising. “You… you told me you were ok. Can it… will you get better?” Ahsoka moved her chair closer, hand reaching out to clasp his. The warmth she had loved so much was there still, a welcome feeling.

“They don’t know. The late diagnosis and the nature of the illness makes it… hard to tell.” Ahsoka leaned forwards, burying her head by his side as though in the dark she could hide from the pain. “I… was going to say, but-”

“You said you were fine. Did you know?” Anakin asked. “Did you know you were dying, and  did you lie?” He said, quickly wiping away a stray tear that managed to jerk it’s way down. 

Obi-Wan leaned his head back, breathing deeply. So close to him, Ahsoka could hear the gentle rattling of his breaths. She pressed even closer. Obi-Wan slipped an arm around her shoulder, gently rubbing it. “I… I knew, but I thought perhaps-”

“You lied, Master. I thought you were just tired.” There wasn’t anger, at least, not much. It was overshadowed by great sadness. “You told me…” He trailed off, his breath hitching in a soft sob. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Anakin asked, shifting a bit closer, his hands loose on his lap. “I thought you trusted me.”

“I do.” Obi-Wan was quick to respond. “I trust you, Anakin, a lot more than you think.” He swallowed. “I suppose I thought I still had a chance. That it might get better quick enough so you wouldn’t notice.” He admitted, looking right at Anakin. “I don’t know if I still have that chance.”He leaned a little, trying to soothe Ahsoka, feeling the trembles under his hand. “I think… I think it’s probably getting worse. The fainting is more frequent now.”

Anakin shook his head in denial, helplessness crawling through his head. “Can I…?” He gestured at Obi-Wan. He wished… a part of him wished he was young enough so he could crawl into Obi-Wan’s side and pretend there was nothing wrong. He didn’t crawl into the bed, but he did reach forwards and pick up Obi-Wan’s hand, cradling it between his own as if it were precious. He noted the pale complexion, the strange cold in the fingertips. “Do you know what’s going to happen?”

Obi-Wan shook his head a bit, “Not exactly. The disease is not well-documented because it’s so rare, but… if it’s too aggressive for medication, I might have a few months, perhaps even one? We don’t really know.”

“Months?” Anakin whispered, breathing shakily. “It’s not… Not nearly enough.”

“I know.” Obi-Wan said. “But that’s just how it is.” His voice was strangely garbled, in a way that only meant there were tears hidden. Sure enough, his eyes glimmered, water lining the bottom of his eyes. 

“Is that… is that why we’re on leave for so long?” Anakin asked hesitantly. “I want to be with you, please Master.” He pleaded. “I have to.”

“You know that isn’t possible. The war… it still goes on.” Obi-Wan said. “The people need your help, but I promise if it gets bad, you’ll be pulled back.” Anakin shook his head rather angrily. “It’s the best we can do. Already the Chancellor has a mission for you.” Obi-Wan struggled a grin. “You can rest here for now, though.”

[animensfw-smut]

Mirio Togata x Fem! Reader

This was requested by @Mins000 on Wattpad.

WARNINGS: None.

Reader was meant to be based off of a character in SAO, but I’ve not watched it yet, so I’ve changed it up.

Reader’s quirk: Spells. 

Last name: Sasaki.

Hero name: Mother Rosario.

Known as: Undefeated hero of pro-heroes.

Reader is in Class 1-A. Reader has an illness that was incurable at first.

Also, there’s gonna be some major time skips in this. I don’t really remember what happens in the Overhaul Arc of BNHA some I’m gonna kinda make it a bit different from the original.

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*(y/n)’s pov*

My eyes sparkled as i watched his form, plowing through the sports festival. 

“He’s so cuteee....!” I squealed out loud unintentionally. The other people gave me weird looks before they focused their attention back on the festival.

Well, as for me, i was still paying attention to none other than Mirio Togata of Class 3-A. Today was the Class 3-A festival. The Class 1-A festival was yesterday and i had taken 1st place. I decided to work for Sir Nighteye’s agency as that was where Mirio worked~

That was the first time i saw Mirio. 

Time skip~ Class 1-A meets the Big three~

A smile lit up my face as the big three introduced themselves. I was happy since i was able to see Mirio again. 

“Mirio!” I called out as they were walking round. I had already changed into my pe uniform since we were going against Mirio. He turned around with a bright smile,

“(y/n), right?” I nodded.

“If i beat you, you have to give me your phone number. Deal?” Mirio looked surprised, but then nodded with a smirk,

“Bring it on.”

After everyone was done changing, we all stood in front of Mirio who had started stating the rules. As soon as the battle began, i closed my eyes, focusing on his presence. The others started screaming as he had phased through his clothes. He seemed to have a tendency to appear behind people... Concentrating, I ran with my eyes closed, sensing his presence beneath me. He shot out from under the ground and i jumped up, twisting to punch him. Mirio grabbed my fist, hurling me over his shoulder, mid-air. I turned back around, keeping a firm grip on his arm, and threw him over me. From there, we hit the ground, with me pinning him down. I smirked leaning down to his ear,

“I win. Tell me your number after we change?” He chuckled,

“Sure. How about you let me put on some pants first then?” I blushed brightly, getting off of him as he went to put on his pants. 

Everyone looked at me in awe, and Kirishima piped up with a bright grin,

“She’s not the ‘undefeated hero of pro-heroes’ for nothing!” i giggled as i walked to the changing rooms.

After changing, Mirio was outside waiting for me. 

“Wow. Didn’t really expect you to stay...”

“Who do you take me for? A deal is a deal.” He laughed, handing me a slip of paper.

“You’re so damn cute!!!” I squealed, hugging him. Mirio chuckled nervously, awkwardly placing his hands on my back.

“Are you going to Sir Nighteye’s agency?”

“Mhm.” I nodded, enjoying the sweet embrace.

“I’ll walk you back to your dorm.” 

The walk to the dorm was silent as we enjoyed each other’s company.

“Good night, (y/n).” He pressed a kiss to my forehead before walking to his dorm building. I stood there, shocked. My cheeks heated up as i processed everything whilst closing my door.

“AHHHH! HE KISSED MEEE!!!” I screamed with a bright grin.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU EXTRA!”

“Sorry, sorry.” I apologised through the wall.

A few days had passed and we texted each other a lot. It seemed like we had a chance of getting together, but then i was hit with the harsh reality. I suddenly started feeling pain all over my body, and decided to go to the hospital to check it out.

“I’m sorry (l/n)-san. Your illness is incurable. I’m afraid you only have weeks to live.” Everything froze. I still had a whole life to live, and it’s getting cut short?

That was yesterday. Today i was walking with Izuku to Sir Nighteye’s agency. We were meeting him for the first time. Mirio greeted us at the entrance with a smile,

“You guys are here early!” I smiled slightly,

“Yeah. We didn’t want to be late on our first day after all.”

Sir Nighteye was kind to me, but not to Izuku. We ended up having to leave Sir Nighteye and Izuku in the room. 

We sat on the sofa, and Mirio took my hands in his,

“Hey, you okay?” I bit my lip before smiling,

“Yeah, I’m fine. What about you? I didn’t see you at school yesterday.”

“I was finishing up some paperwork for Sir Nighteye. You know you can talk to me if something’s wrong, right?”

“Yeah... I know. Well... The truth is, i... Don’t have long to live.” His smile was wiped off his face,

“What do you mean?”

“I went to the doctors’ yesterday because my whole body hurt. They said i had an illness that was incurable... And that i only have weeks to live.”

Mirio wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me to his chest as he rested his chin on my head,

“Hey, don’t cry. I’ll be with you every step of the way.” My fingers wiped the liquid off my face. I was crying? I didn’t even notice. 

I closed my eyes, hugging him tightly. 

Time skip~ Overhaul incident~

I panted as u ran down the corridors to where Mirio and Eri were. As soon as i arrived, i noticed Overhaul about to throw a needle at Mirio. Quickly, i chanted my spell,

“Ek skýt fjórir ískaldur ör!” (I shoot four glacial arrows???)

I shot my ice arrows to deflect the needle coming to him. 

“Tch, annoying.” He spoke, glaring at me with hatred. 

The fight lasted for a long time, Sir Nighteye and Izuku joining us later on. I held my breath, reciting another spell,

“Þeír slíta fimm grœnn vindr!” (Tear them, five green winds.)

The wind blades deflected the spikes going towards Sir Nighteye. If they weren’t deflected, he would’ve died...

Time skip~ After the fight~

I closed my eyes as i lay on the ground of the battle. I couldn’t bring myself to move as every bone in my body hurt. I feel like I’m reaching my limit.

“(y/n)!” I weakly lifted my hand to show i was alive.

“H-Hey Mirio...” 

“(y/n)!!! Are you okay?!”

“Mm, i th-think I’m a-alright...” He picked me up bridal style, running towards recovery girl. After that, i blacked out. 

I woke up with a start before i slowly relaxed. I was in a hospital bed. I tried to my my hand but it felt heavy,

“Hah...” I smiled as i saw Mirio at my side. He really is so cute...

I placed my hand on top of his head, playing with his blonde strands of hair. His eyes fluttered open, and a grin found its way on his face as he saw me awake,

“You’re awake!” He glomped me with so much affection, i nearly suffocated. Laughing, I patted his back,

“Yes, i am...”

“(y/n)... I like you... I really like you...” Mirio whispered. I closed my eyes with a satisfied smile,

“I really like you too Mirio.”

He kissed my forehead before taking my hands,

“Recovery girl managed to cure your illness. Apparently, another country had just developed a new medicine for it. Anyway, mind getting dressed? I’m taking you somewhere.” Mirio gave me a bright smile as i nodded enthusiastically. 

I was blindfolded after i got changed not knowing where we were going. 

As soon as we arrived, Mirio took my hand before taking the cloth from my eyes.

“Remember the UA festival?”

“Oh yeah!” 

“Weren’t you in the special effects team?” My eyes widened,

“Damn, i forgot...” He chuckled,

“Of course, you did. But you can stay here with me, and watch... If you want, or you can join your class?”

“No, I’ll stay with you.” I gave a bright smile to him as he hugged me from behind. 

The show started, and it was as amazing as i expected it to be. At the end of the show, Mirio lifted my chin up, connecting his lips with mine...

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A/N

I hope i did well on this???

Anyway, hope you enjoyed this!!! The next request will be another fluff:

Class 1-A + The big three + Eri x Male! Reader. This will be posted sometime next week.

[juuls]

Pharmacist/Me = 1 🏆 Doctor/Nursing Staff = 0

Thank you in advance for reading this rant. I’ve been really frustrated and just needed to get this off my chest, and today at least I had a wonderful knight in a white lab coat. 🩺❤️‍🩹🥽🥼💪🏻

Content warnings and squicky squicks: (further down there is) an image of a medical vial with a clipped image of a more benign part of a syringe, health conditions (endometriosis, fibromyalgia), menstrual cycles and associated terms such as bleeding and other things, lack of empathy in my specific healthcare system, hysterectomies, pain, swearing and losing patience. Most important warning: self-administered syringes and injection discussions of legal medications (Depo-Provera) approved of by professionals and properly researched. P.S. this may sound rather Karen-like but I would never do this to someone’s face. Online ranting and acknowledging where I could do better is not the same as screaming in public for bossy requests or comps, etc. Ew.

Another ‘warning’… pharmacists being kick-ass allies and giving a damn about their patients.

I’m really annoyed because (and I know healthcare and scheduling is a clusterfuck right now, but…) for over a month now I’ve been trying to get an appointment in person to get this injectable medication that is, yes, birth control, but is also used for endometriosis in my case. And I have severe endometriosis (exacerbated severely by fibromyalgia, siiiiigh) to the point I bleed enough and lose so much I have to go to the hospital when my care is not properly preventative… like in this case, and the pain is unbelievably severe also to the point I’ve spent time in the hospital, including my 11th Christmas Eve and Day. I started this injectable medication at 13 because it was the only thing that came close to helping reduce my endometrial tissue. Even a hysterectomy wouldn’t help as much, unless they decided to go the super invasive route and remove all the organs (or parts of them) that had become ‘infected’ by the tissue. Again, tissue where it’s not supposed to be, and it causes extreme pain as the tissue tries to flush out of my body each period, even if it’s attached to, like, my pancreas. Just no. That does not work at all. No. That is not fun.

SO. I’m 31, nearing 32, and the doctor’s office knows this. I’ve had the same doctor since I was 10. Been on this medication nearly non-stop for just shy of two decades (with appropriate precautions such as bone density tests) because of the absolute severity of the pain and my inability to function when it hits… which can be months at a time of non-stop bleeding and morning sickness-level nausea and vomiting, migraines and the occasional complete inability to move—in other words, it’s debilitating.

My doctor (even the nurses, as it’s in large print at the top of my file in the system) knows all about this. They’re supposed to call me if I’m overdue by a certain margin (I get they’re busy but months and months???). But my doc’s also a bit of an airhead (albeit a smart one when he focuses) and takes forever to reply to anything on time, even when it’s a severe issue, but not severe enough to go to the hospital. But it’s gotten to the point where the nurses say to go to the ER and then the ER nurses and doctors there get SUPER pissed off (AT ME AND SOMEHOW NOT AT MY DOCTOR/NURSES AND THEIR ORDERS) at the ‘waste of time’, and it’s just a clusterfuck.

Oh yeah, and that ER visit while I was overdue for my injection? Internal intestinal bleeding along with a lovely, even if small, perforation in my fucking uterus from the growth of endometrial tissue. I MEAN COME ON — WHAT IN THE HELL. Totally preventable if they fit me in when I called literally over a month ago.

But I will not change my doctor (the other docs at the practice know what is going on and have offered to take me on, but they don’t have the experience with myself and my conditions or the history, but they can do little else because of professional conduct—it’s between myself and my doc) because he is the only one who treats me with humanity and understands fibromyalgia, endometriosis, pre-MS and pre-RhA/PsA, endo-related IBS, (ulcerative) colitis, and other neurological conditions with any degree of empathy. (See, I told you I’m a mess!) There is no way I’m switching offices in the perpetual shortage of doctors in Canada moving elsewhere for m o n e y (plus Covid-19 being a teen hooligan and constantly coming back to wreck more goddamn shit, including everyone’s sanity, then setting things on fire like the real hooligans in my village have been doing this summer — I mean… what in the hell!?!?), so with all that in mind I actually thank my lucky stars. So I put up with a lot of this shit because he treats me, besides him being an airhead, like an actual human being deserving of compassion and care and quality of life despite my severe disabilities and pain. So.

I’m usually treated really well (even if they often think I’m a nuisance for daring to be severely chronically ill/in pain all the time) so I try to be patient and good and understanding when I can.

But his STAFF (I know they’re busy and I’ve been patient but they’ve been so awful honestly to the point I cried hard enough my dad noticed my red eyes and frustration-tear fracks on my face)! And the doc himself’s inability to reply to notes on time even when urgent and when he knows the circumstances (I admit I am a bit of a hard patient so I can understand if he just kinda ignores me sometimes, honestly). But in this case I was THREE DAMN MONTHS LATE for my injection and they’ve always called in the past when I was coming due if it looked like I hadn’t scheduled an injection, so that I was all on time and squared away and didn’t risk severe pain and damage to my already-fucked hormonal system (learning I couldn’t have kids was absolutely heartbreaking, let me tell you, but even a hysterectomy in that case would solve nothing — this is by far the easiest option, especially considering how my fibromyalgia would fuck with my post-surgery recovery and leave me with lasting pain for years if not decades; sigh).

Anyway. So. After some ridiculous levels of back and forth and some truly remarkable levels of lack of compassion (she kept giving me the exact same, word for word response in a bored tone UGH) considering the severe pain I was in (I was told, in front of OTHER PATIENTS AND STAFF, that I could just wait until I talk to the doctor myself at my next phone appointment and then schedule my injection for my next MONTHLY followup — 4.5 months overdue at that point, it would’ve been — because, and I quote, ‘am used to dealing with pain because of my fibromyalgia and years of dealing with it and other conditions’ which they named in front of others!!!!!!!! what. the. fuck. But I kept my cool because I know all these people, my mom taught their kids music, they’re a fixture of the community, etc. and I refuse to be a Karen…. At least externally.

But here comes the nice part that makes me love our new (okay, he’s been here like 5 years but still, in a small town that’s pretty new lmao) pharmacist that much more. Rasik was aware of my frustration with the doctor and nurses and was even the one who brought to my attention that, at the time, I was 2 months late for my injection and he was a bit concerned since he’s privy to how much pain I exist in without throwing in one or more knives directly into my womb, ovaries, tummy, hips, and other areas my endometrial tissue has taken root. He’s such a sweetheart and he really does care for his patients— the work he does with my father’s diabetes (the tricky one where you’re not obese) management is above and beyond the call of a pharmacist and I will forever be grateful for that alone, never mind how he cares for me.

So I went in today to pick up another medication, after yet another frustrating stop-over at the nurses’ desks, and he suggested I ask for my injectable medication (it’s Depo-Provera, by the way) and the syringe plus the two tips necessary — I’m actually familiar with this since I had to learn epinephrine injections from an early age (not Epipen) and how to give testosterone daily to my ex-husband (sorry not sorry, dude, but congrats on your first kid *grouchy thumbs up*). But yeah! Legally he’s not allowed to suggest I give it to myself, but he was getting super fed up with the nurses and doctors dragging their feet and ‘being assholes with little empathy’ in his own words, so I took the hint and requested my vial plus syringe, as well as the drawing and injection gauge needles…. which he gleefully filled for me, and I reiterated that it was ‘fully my idea, not yours, Rasik, because everyone knows I’m dumb and would never think it’s you if something happened’ (I’m not dumb and I’ve given injections to others many times looool).

Long story short: HERE’S TO PHARMACISTS AROUND THE WORLD, BEING AMAZING AND CARING FOR THEIR PATIENTS AND ‘BENDING BUT NOT REALLY BENDING’ THE RULES TO MAKE SURE THEIR CLIENTS ARE CARED FOR PROPERLY. They are amazing and deserve every last bit of your courtesy, especially when they pull double duty every. single. day. because of Covid and their subsequent boosters. (i.e. boosters in the form of humans who are fucking stupid if they have no medical reason not to get the vaccine… I mean JFC.)

Rasik? You are amazing and I am 100% going to find you some Indian-Canadian (or North Indian; I believe that’s where he’s from originally) treats or desserts or make some myself after slyly asking his assistant what he leans toward liking.

Be kind to one another, yeah, but… my goodness: be kind to those who can truly make a difference in your health, sanity, and even life or death.

Pharmacists, volunteers, and frontline health workers: the true heroes of these times.

Thank you so much. So very much.

💜💙🇨🇦👨🏽‍⚕️❤️‍🩹🙏🏻

P.S. … now I just gotta stab myself intramuscularly after making sure there’s no air bubbles and etc., and swap out to the proper gauge needle (different, smaller, to draw from the vial, larger to inject so that it goes in more quickly and, oddly enough, hurts less haha). I don’t think air bubbles are as much of an issue as when injecting intravenously (ummm I have a doctor uncle and grandma nurse and nurse friends, so shush 😆). But I’ve done this for others and animals so I should be good! :)

I’m a smart enough cookie even if I’ve lost a few nibble-size pieces around the edges. 😉😘 buahaha

Cheers to my pharmacist!!!! You are amazing and I can’t wait for the pain and months and months of bleeding to settle down.

Remind me again why humans are the only mammals (animals?) with monthly fluxes? UGH wtf ever. 🙃

[sicklilspidey]

Spring Break Disaster-

“Hey kiddo, if you don’t get up soon, you’re gonna miss the fun day Pepper and Morgan planned,” Tony said walking past Peter's room.

You see it's currently Peter's spring break and he chose to spend it with Tony at the beach house. Usually, he would be bouncing off the walls with excitement but instead, he's curled up in a ball under the sheets. His stomach was aching, his head was killing him and he was pretty sure he had a fever. He couldn't dare tell Tony because he would go into full dad mode, which would ruin the day the girls planned.

" I'm serious Peter, get up, we have things to do," Tony said now coming into the room.

" 'm up, give me a minute to get dressed," Peter muttered.

" you okay, underoos? You don't sound like yourself,"  Tony said with concern coating his voice.

" Y-yeah, I'm fine. Just had a long night," Peter fired back.

"Okay if you say so, I'll let you get ready," Tony said while walking out.

Peter got out of bed and immediately regretted it as a sharp pain shot through his abdomen. He wanted to scream but he knew he had to keep quiet. Once the pain subdued he made his way to the closet. He grabbed the baggiest sweatshirt and a pair of jeans. He was hoping the sweatshirt would hide his bloated stomach and luckily it did. After he got dressed he made his way to the kitchen.

" There's the spiderling," Pepper said with a smile on her face.

" Hi Pep," Peter responded with a half-ass smile.

" Petey, Petey, I can't wait to show you what we're doing today" morgan yelled while running into the room. Peter squinted at the sound.

" Hey kiddo, you sure you're okay. We can cancel our plans if you're not feeling like yourself," Tony said.

" no, no I'm fine I promise, no need to cancel anything," Peter said, trying to reassure him.

"  Well, in that case, we better get going if we want to stick to the schedule you two beautiful ladies planned," Tony said while spinning morgan around. The little one couldn't help but giggle. It brought a small smile to Peter's face.

" Okay Stark family, to the minivan" Tony yelled running to the garage. Peter paused for a second to prepare himself for everything that was gonna happen today.

" When I say stark family, you know that includes you right," Tony asked, peeking through the garage door.

" Yeah, sorry, I'm coming. I was in Lala land for a sec," Peter said making his way out the door.

Tony knew something was up with the kid but he didn't want to keep hounding him. Peter was old enough to make his own decisions and Tony knew Peter would come around eventually but until then he'd just have to keep an eye on the kid.

"Mommy can I tell them yet" Morgan squealed.

"Yes, honey go ahead. I'm sure the suspense is just killing them" pepper giggled.

" We're going to the rollercoaster place," Morgan yet again squealed.

"Fuck," Peter muffled under his breath.

Peter was getting super nauseous and wasn't sure if he was physically capable of keeping up the healthy act. An amusement park is the last place he wanted to be. He decided to close his eyes and tune out the world until they got to the park.

After an almost unbearable hour passed they finally pulled into a parking lot. When they all got out of the vehicle Peter looked up at all the roller coasters and gulped. He knew it was gonna be a long-ass day. They made their way to the entrance of the park and Peter started feeling his dinner from the night before shooting up his throat. He started walking faster so he wouldn't vomit in front of everyone and possibly traumatize little morgan. When they all made it into the park Peter darted straight for the bathroom. He prayed no one was in there. Luckily his prayers were answered and the bathroom was vacant. Peter barely made it to a stall before everything came up. By the time he finished, he had no energy left. He had no idea how he was gonna get through the rest of the day. He washed his hands and made his way back to Tony.

"Holy shit kid, what happened to you," Tony dropped the drink in his hand when he saw Peter's exhausted face. He ran to Peter's side when he noticed his knees getting shaky.

"I don't feel so good," Peter said.

"I can see that," Tony responded.

"What's wrong exactly, where does it hu-" Tony was interrupted by Peter screaming then vomiting. Bystanders looking with concern and disgust.

"T-tony is that blood," Pepper said pointing at the puddle of vomit under Peter.

" Oh my god, kid, talk to me, where's the pain, '' Tony said frantically.

"S-side," Peter cried.

" which side son," Tony asked.

"Right" peter yelped.

"Pepper call Bruce, I think it's his appendix," Tony demanded.

"Daddy is Petey okay," Morgan cried.

" He will be, my little honey bee, I promise," Tony reassured her.

Tony picked Peter up as delicately as possible and made his way back to the car. Pepper and Morgan followed close behind. When they made it to the car Tony laid Peter in the back seat, at this point the poor kid had no energy at all left. Once everyone was in the car they made their way to the compound. Tony was kicking himself for not making the kid fess up. If anything were to happen to Peter, it was on him. He let the kid play healthy for way too long and now they are in this horrible situation.

" Tony, he's a strong kid. He'll be okay," Pepper said when she noticed how deep in his thoughts he was.

"I know pep, I just can't let anything happen to him, he's my son. I can't lose him," Tony said with a tear streaming down his face. Tony noticed the smirk on Pepper's face.

" What, why are you smiling, this is not a time for smiles it's a time for tears," Tony said confused.

"I'm smiling because you called him your son, I always knew you had a soft spot for him" Pepper giggled.

"Shut up" tony snarled.

They finally pulled up to the compound and Bruce was already waiting there with a stretcher.

" What are his stats," Bruce asked as soon as Peter was on the stretcher.

"I didn't check, everything happened so fast," Tony said.

" Okay, I'll just have FRIDAY run them when we get inside," Bruse said.

They made their way into the building.

"FRIDAY, I need his O2 levels, temp, and BP" Bruce stated.

"O2 at 96%, his temperature is 101.9 and BP is 121 over 85, Doctor,"  FRIDAY responded.

"Thank you FRIDAY, that'll be all for now. Okay, Peter, I'm going to press on your abdomen, let me know when you feel pain" Bruce said. Peter grunted in response,

Bruce began pressing, starting in the middle and making his way to the lower right side. When he pressed on the side Peter shot up and puked on the floor.

" Okay, this is 100% his appendix," Bruce said, turning to Tony.

"So what now," Tony asked, biting his nails.

" emergency surgery, we'll get him prepped now," Bruce said.

" Do what's necessary, I need that kid back to his regular annoying self," Tony said with a stern tone.

Peter was soon wheeled off to surgery.

" You love him, admit it," Pepper said walking into the room.

"Of course I love him Pep, he's everything I wanted to be and more, he's my son," Tony said.

" You're so cute when you get all mushy," Pepper said, curling up next to her husband.

An hour passed and bruce came into the room.

" Everything went well, he's in recovery. I'll bring him in as soon as he's awake," Bruce said before walking out.

" Bruce, wait," Tony said.

"Yes," Bruce asked.

" Thank you, thank you for saving my kid's life," Tony said.

" no problem" bruce smiled and walked out.

Soon after, Bruce wheeled Peter's bed into the room.

"Hey underoos, how you feeling," Tony asked, ruffling his hair.

"Better," Peter smiled.

" I'm so happy to hear that but we need to talk about why you thought it was okay to not tell me you weren't feeling well," Tony said.

" I'm sorry, I just didn't want to put a damper in anyone's plans," Peter said sheepishly.

" no one would've been upset if you were ill," Pepper chimed in.

"I'm sorry," Peter repeated.

"No need to be sorry, I'm just glad you're okay," Tony said lightly hugging the kid.

"Thanks, Dad," Peter said into his neck.

" Oh, so you're calling me Dad now," Tony asked, surprised.

" Well I thought we were there, you did call me your son," Peter said.

" Oh shit, you heard that," Tony asked, turning red from embarrassment.

"I was in pain, not deaf," Peter chuckled.

[whumphoarder]

Beanimia

Summary: While Peter is visiting Tony and Morgan at the lake house for a long weekend, the six-year-old manages to accidentally break his nose. Unfortunately, Spider-Man's super-healing decides to go on holiday the same weekend that he does.

Word count: 3,877

Genre: Fluffy illness/injury, whump, hurt/comfort, humor

A/N: Thanks to @xxx-cat-xxx and @sallyidss for beta-reading and to @awesomesockes for plot, summary, and title ideas <3

Link to read on Ao3

“So”—Tony snaps the single use ice pack to activate the chemicals and gives it a few shakes as he moves back over to the kitchen table—“which one of you is going to explain what happened here?”

Morgan shakes her head gravely side to side. “Peter didn’t catch the beans...”

“Well, to be fair,” Peter points out, his voice significantly more nasally than usual due to the wad of paper towels he’s pressing to his heavily bleeding nose, “you didn’t really warn me you were about to chuck a can of beans at my head.”

“But I did!” the six-year-old defends. “I said, ‘I’ll throw down the supplies.’”

“Supplies for what?” Tony questions. He passes Peter the ice pack, earning a grunt of thanks.

“For the mission,” Morgan explains as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “We were playing superheroes and we needed to pack the supplies to take with us ‘cus we had to go fight the bad guys in space.”

“She’d been stockpiling stuff for the last couple days in the treehouse,” Peter goes on, “so she was just tossing everything down for me to put in the bag. Which, y’know, was fine for the stuffed animals and the walkie-talkies and the plastic lightsabers”—he gingerly touches the ice to his nose—“just not for a sixteen-ounce can of refried pintos.”

(Tony winces in sympathy.)

Morgan lets out an exasperated exhale. “Well, we had to bring something to eat—it’s a long way to Pluto.”  

Huffing out a laugh, Tony shakes his head slowly. “I guess it’s hardly Peter’s first experience getting injured before a mission officially even begins...” he muses. He grins at the teenager. “Remember when you tripped off the quinjet ramp and sprained your ankle two minutes after we landed?”

Peter rolls his eyes, clearly annoyed. “That was one time, Mr. Stark.”

“Memorable though,” Tony quips. He gestures to the kid’s messy face and sighs. “Alright, let’s see the damage.”

Reluctantly, Peter pulls the paper towels away and fresh blood starts to trickle down. There’s a cut at the bridge of his nose and it’s rapidly swelling, a dark bruise already starting to form under his eye.

Tony prods carefully at the break, making Peter wince. “Well, it’s definitely broken,” he reports after a moment, “but it seems pretty well-aligned at least. Nothing to reset.”

Peter lets out a short, breathy laugh. “Probably because it was already a little crooked from the last time I broke it. Guess she knocked it back.”

“So… I made it better?” Morgan asks hopefully.

Tony turns in his daughter’s direction. “Oh no, don’t you start thinking you’re off the hook here, Little Miss Budding Plastic Surgeon,” he says, holding up a stern finger. “You still need to be more careful where you’re chucking your beans.”

Peter snorts, then instantly seems to regret that as he groans and adjusts the ice pack on his face.

Morgan’s expression sobers and she drops her gaze down to her feet. “I just thought he would catch it. He always catches stuff when I throw it to him…”

Her comment gives Tony pause. Now that he thinks about it, it’s not the first time since Peter arrived at the lake house for their long weekend that the kid has seemed rather sluggish and off his game. He’d dozed through most of the drive over on Friday afternoon and then slept in until almost noon the next day. Even now, he can see the dark circles under Peter’s eyes and the pallor to his cheeks that can’t be completely explained by his current blood loss.

“It’s okay, Mo,” Peter reassures her with a small smile. “I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. It’ll be all better by morning, okay?”

Morgan perks up at that, so Tony pushes aside the twinge of worry in his gut. After all, Peter’s been taking seventeen credit hours at MIT this semester, not to mention his Boston vigilante activities and the additional part-time lab assistant gig he’s picked up; that’s enough to make anyone run a little ragged.

“Why don’t you two just watch a movie or something?” Tony suggests. “Give Peter’s nose a little time to sort itself out.”

Morgan and Peter agree, so Tony rustles up some of Peter’s super-strength painkillers and sets the kids up in the living room with some weird movie that Morgan inexplicably loves about a talking parrot whose biggest goal in life is to see the sun rise over the Grand Canyon. Before they even hit the fifteen minute mark, from out of the corner of his eye, Tony sees the ice pack slide down Peter’s face as the boy drifts off.

X

The combination of pain pills and the usual post-injury recovery time knocks Peter out and he sleeps straight through the rest of the movie. He’s still a little groggy and disoriented when Tony wakes him for dinner, but years of mentoring a reckless teenage superhero have taught the man that this is all par for the course.

Given that the pork chops Pepper left for them to reheat (before heading to her sister’s house for the weekend) require a bit more chewing than Peter’s face is up for at the moment, Tony whips the kid up a smoothie to drink instead.

Peter peers warily into the glass Tony hands him, swirling the green contents around. “What’s in here?”

Tony shrugs. “Whatever I found in the fridge. Blueberries, yogurt, scoop of protein powder, a banana, some spinach…”

“Ew, why would you drink spinach?” Morgan interrupts, her nose wrinkling up in disgust. “That’s gross.”

“Says the girl who put mayonnaise on her graham crackers last week,” Tony points out.

“It was good!” she defends.

Peter takes a cautious sip of the drink. He looks contemplative for second, then must have decided that he approves of the flavor because he just shrugs and proceeds to down about half the glass in a few gulps.

Morgan makes a dramatic gagging noise. Tony rolls his eyes and flicks her arm playfully.

“It’s actually really good,” Peter admits, lowering the cup back down. “Been awhile since I’ve had real vegetables.”

“Ugh, lucky,” Morgan groans as Tony adds a few pieces of asparagus to the little girl’s plate. “They’re the worst. Except for artichokes—those are good.”

“You like artichokes?” Peter questions.

“Uh huh.” She grins. “And turnips!”

“Well, Gerald likes turnips,” Tony clarifies, “and Morgan likes feeding them to him.”

This comment inspires Morgan to launch into a long-winded explanation of all the things she’s ever seen Gerald eat—from grass, to broccoli stalks, to a weird-looking bug—and which of those were his favorites. Peter nods along to her rambling, but seems far less engaged than usual and doesn’t even react when she mentions Gerald’s favorite type of cookie is double stuffed Oreo.

(Tony, on the other hand, interrupts at that point with a stern lecture for the six-year-old on what she can and cannot feed the alpaca moving forward.)

Once dinner is over, they all migrate back to the living room. Morgan wants to play Uno, and Peter obliges for a while, but his overall lack of focus persists.

“Peeeterrrr,” Morgan whines for the third time, poking his arm to snap him out of his daze. “It’s your turn again. You gotta draw two.”

“Oh. Sorry.” Peter takes two cards from the deck and adds them to his hand before reaching up to rub tiredly at his temples.

Tony’s brow furrows. “Headache?”

“Yeah, kinda,” Peter admits. “It’s not bad, just like… there.”

“Hm.” Tony nods. Turning to Morgan he says, “What do you say we finish this game up tomorrow?” Morgan’s face screws up and she looks like she’s about to protest before he adds, “Pretty sure there are some fudge-pops left in the freezer. I won’t tell Mommy if you don’t.”

Morgan drops her cards with an excited whoop and jumps up to run to the kitchen.

Tony gets to his feet to follow her. He glances back at Peter, who has sunk into the cushions with a relieved sigh. “Fudge-pop?” he offers.

Peter makes a non-committal noise in his throat. “I dunno. Think I might just head to bed.”

Tony glances at his watch. It’s just shy of eight o’clock—even Morgan doesn’t usually go to bed for another half hour. He knows Peter’s healing always takes a lot out of him, but he’s seen the kid looking less drowsy and out of it after getting slammed into the airport tarmac in Germany and cracking three ribs than he does at the moment. “Think you might be coming down with something?” he asks.

Peter shrugs once more, prompting Tony to press his hand to the kid’s forehead. He definitely isn’t detecting a fever—if anything, Peter’s skin is a little cold.

“What’s not feeling good?” Tony clarifies. “Head? Stomach? Throat?”

Peter hesitates a second. “Just… just my head I guess.” He sighs. “I think I’m just tired. Haven’t really been sleeping that great lately,” he confesses.

Tony’s forehead creases in concern. “Kid, you know May and I talked to you about overloading yourself your first year at school.”

“No, I go to bed,” Peter clarifies, “I just don’t always, like, sleep.”

“Why?” Tony’s frown deepens. “Are you having nightmares, or…?”

“No…” Peter exhales deeply, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not that. I just can’t always, like, settle down? I don’t know—it’s really not that bad,” he quickly backtracks. “I think I just need a good night’s sleep. I’ll be better tomorrow.”

(Like an idiot, Tony believes him.)

“Alright, well, sleep well kid,” he says as Peter shuffles off to the guest room.

X

“Okay, so... this is a little weird,” Peter says as he enters the kitchen the next morning.

Tony glances up and blinks at the sight of Peter’s very swollen and now darkly bruised nose and cheekbone. He sets down the bowl of waffle batter he’s been whisking and moves over to get a closer look.

“What the hell, kid?” Tony mutters under his breath, running his fingertips carefully over the still-clearly-broken bone. “You once healed from a compound fracture overnight.” He pauses a beat. “Of your femur.”

“Eh...” Peter shrugs tiredly. “Super-healing isn’t really a science, is it?”

“Well it’s certainly not an art,” Tony retorts. He gestures to the kid’s nose. “Unless this is your Black-and-Blue Period, Picasso.”

Peter groans, sinking down onto one of the kitchen chairs. “That was almost as painful as my face,” he complains.

It’s clear the kid meant it as a joke, but that admission does nothing to alleviate Tony’s concern. He finds Peter a fresh ice pack and doses him out another painkiller before resuming making breakfast.

Somehow even a second night of sleep doesn’t seem to have restored much of the kid’s energy. Peter sits hunched forward with one elbow on the table to hold the ice to his face and has his phone resting in his lap. He scrolls idly through it, looking like he might nod off any second.

After a few minutes, the backdoor to the kitchen swings open and Morgan re-enters with pieces of hay still stuck to her boots.

“I gave Gerald two turnips,” she announces. “And he hummed at me and then he tried to steal my hat but I got it back ‘cept for the fuzzy thing.” She points at the red knit hat on her head, which is missing a pom-pom.

Tony groans as he ladles more waffle batter onto the iron. “He didn’t swallow it, did he? Because if that vet has to come out here one more time, I swear—”

“Peter!” Morgan blurts, suddenly noticing the boy at the table. He startles and looks up from his lap as the six-year-old runs over to him. “Your face looks so bad!”

Tony clears his throat. “Uh, Morgan, we don’t—”

“So, so, so, so bad,” she emphasizes, as tears well up in her eyes. She throws her arms around his waist. “I’m really r-really sorry!” she cries. “I didn’t m-mean to hit you with the beans!”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, Mo,” Peter assures, wrapping her in his arms. “It’s gonna heal really soon, okay? I’m a spider, remember? I always heal fast.”

“But sp-spiders don...don’t heal fast!” Morgan sobs into his chest. “You can squish ‘em re-really easy and they d-die if it gets too c-cold or if they get sprayed with bug killing stuff, an-and…”

Peter glances up and shoots his mentor a look of utter helplessness.

In return, Tony shrugs his shoulders in an exaggerated fashion. “Don’t look at me, kid. I’ve been wondering the same thing since we met.”

Still holding the crying child, Peter rolls his eyes at him.

“Kidding, kidding...” Tony says under his breath. He abandons the waffle iron and heads over to gather the sobbing six-year-old up into his arms. “Morgan, sweetheart, listen to me,” he says as he rubs her back gently. “Peter isn’t really a spider, okay? He’s actually more of a mutant.”

(Morgan only cries harder at that.)

Peter huffs out a short laugh and leans back against the chair. “Doing great, Mr. Stark.”

“...And because he’s a mutant,” Tony plows right along, “his DNA is different from ours and that’s why he usually heals freaky fast,” he explains over her tears as she buries her face in his shoulder. “Except it’s just being a little slow today, so we’re gonna just let him rest and eat some good food and that should help fix him up, okay?”

She hiccups a few times. “So he ju...just needs some w-waffles?” she manages to get out.

That jogs Tony’s memory. He spins around to see that the iron is still very much on and the waffle is starting to burn, smoke wafting up around the edges. “Ah shit,” he mutters.

“It’s okay, I got it,” Peter says, pushing himself quickly up from his seat. But the moment he gets to his feet, he staggers sideways and grips the table, his face draining of color.

“Pete?” Tony goes to set the still-sniffling six-year-old back down, but before he’s able to get her feet on the floor, Peter’s knees give out.

Tony curses and shoots a hand out just a second too late as Peter crumples first to his knees and then to the ground, landing directly on his already-injured face.

Morgan’s eyes go wide. “Daddy!” she shrieks.

Tony plops her down abruptly. “Go unplug the waffle maker, okay?” he instructs her as he drops to his knees next to Peter. He figures the last thing they need to add to the chaos is a smoke alarm.

Eyes still locked on the scene before her, Morgan nods and runs over to the counter to unplug the device. Meanwhile, Tony rolls Peter over onto his back and instantly grimaces at the sight. Besides the deathly pallor, the kid’s broken nose is definitely crooked now and fresh blood is streaming down.

“Is he… dead?” Morgan asks, horrified.

“No, no, of course not...” Tony presses two fingers to the pulse point in the boy’s neck, relieved to feel a strong, albeit fast, beat. “He just fainted—he’ll be fine,” he says, shaking the unconscious boy’s shoulder. 

“He looks dead,” Morgan whispers, still staring.

“Yeah, but he’s not,” Tony says firmly. Not wanting the blood to run down Peter’s throat, he continues to roll the kid over until he’s on his side in a sort of modified recovery position. “Pete, c’mon, this isn’t a good look,” he mutters, tapping Peter’s cheek. “We’re all getting enough trauma therapy as it is…”

Finally, the kid’s eyelids start fluttering open. “There you go, that’s it,” Tony praises when Peter blinks up at him. “You back with us yet?”

Peter groans and lets his eyes close again. “Do I ‘ave to be?”

“Yes,” Tony says curtly. He starts shaking Peter’s shoulder again, though gentler now. “I need to know how I’m taking you to Bruce—car or ambulance?”

“Ugh… How ‘bout neither?” Peter mumbles. He lifts a hand up tiredly to wipe a bit of blood off his upper lip. “‘M alright. Just got a lil’ dizzy…”

“Nope.” Worry is quickly taking over Tony, though it comes out in the form of briskness. “You’ve got sixty seconds to get off the floor or I’m choosing for you,” he declares, already pulling out his phone.

Morgan’s voice comes out small and quavering. “Peter...?”

Ultimately, that sound is what it takes to make Peter move. With Tony’s support, he pushes himself up and sits there for a moment, blinking wearily as blood trickles down from his nose. Tony sends Morgan to fetch a box of tissues and a clean shirt for Peter, then loads them both into the car for a little field trip.

X

“Anemia?” Peter repeats, incredulous.

The kid is sitting on an exam table at the SHIELD Medical base, his recently-reset nose now splinted. Meanwhile, Morgan sits in the chair beside Tony, entertaining herself with a handful of wooden tongue depressors and a roll of medical tape.

Bruce adjusts his glasses as he scans the results from Peter’s blood panel on his tablet. “Yeah, that’s what the tests are showing. Basically, it means that your body isn’t getting enough iron to produce hemoglobin, so it can’t carry oxygen effectively. This results in fatigue, lightheadedness, insomnia, headaches, shortness of breath, and—apparently in your case—a reduced healing factor.”

“But how did I get anemia?” Peter balks. “I’m Spider-Man.”

“Well, there are a few possible causes,” Bruce explains, “but based on several nutrient deficiencies I’m seeing in your bloodwork, my best guess is from your diet.”

“Ah.” A look of understanding flickers across Peter’s face for a second. “Yeah, okay, that checks out...” he mumbles.

“Wait, how exactly does that ‘check out’?” Tony asks.

Peter shrugs. “Well, I just… haven’t been eating the best food lately.”

Tony raises an eyebrow. “What do you mean? Doesn’t MIT’s cafeteria serve a pretty decent spread?”

“Uh, yeah, I think so,” Peter allows. He rubs a hand at the back of his neck awkwardly. “I just haven’t been really… uh, going there?”

Tony blinks at him. “Why the hell not?”

“That’s Mommy’s word,” Morgan pipes up without looking up from the two wooden sticks she’s connecting together with tape.

“I just don’t have a lot of time between my classes and job and stuff, and the cafeteria is all the way across campus,” Peter explains. “So I mostly just eat my own food.”

“Which would be…?” Bruce asks.

Peter hesitates. “Ramen,” he says after a moment. “The chicken flavor one.”

“Hm, okay…” Bruce nods, jotting this down on his tablet. “Not really the most nutritious option, but definitely a college staple. What else?”

Dropping his gaze to his lap, Peter starts picking at a piece of fuzz on his sweatshirt. “Uh… sometimes I get the beef one?”

Tony blinks at him. “Beef ramen?”

“I tried the lime chili shrimp one once. Not a fan.”

“You’re kidding me, right?” Tony blinks again. “Peter, I’m paying for you to have three square meals a day at that college—not three styrofoam cups of dehydrated noodles.”

“I also eat granola bars,” Peter says. “And bagels.” He starts ticking foods off on his fingers. “Microwave burritos, yogurt, uh.... those little frozen chicken taquito thingies? But like, only if my roommate isn’t using the freezer for his weird cult ritual stuff. That’s why I usually stick to the soup.”

Tony pinches the bridge of his nose and heaves out a sigh. “Jesus take the wheel…”

“Oh! I had an apple last week!” Peter throws in.

Bruce runs a hand through his own hair, exhaling a carefully measured breath. “Okay, Peter, you know that you have an enhanced metabolism, right? That means you need to eat significantly more food than the average person.”

“Right, and I do!” Peter nods. “I always make sure I get enough calories.”

“And that’s good,” Bruce says, “but you also need to make sure you’re getting enough nutrients. Calories are just a part of that. With your unusual physiology, it’s especially important that you’re getting all the required vitamins and minerals to support the rapid regeneration of your cells, and a diet of cup noodles and bagels—”

“And frozen burritos,” Peter interrupts.

“—is simply not nutritionally dense enough for you,” Bruce finishes. “Not by a long shot.”

There’s a beat.

“Oh.”

“What does ‘nu-tri-tion-al-ly dense’ mean?” Morgan asks. Her tongue depressor creation has folded over itself and vaguely resembles a collapsed bridge now.

“It means Peter needs to eat more vegetables,” Tony butts in. “Just like you and Gerald.”

She sticks out her tongue. “Gross.”

“Alright, we’re gonna start you on some iron supplements,” Bruce addresses Peter. “But it might take a couple weeks to get your levels back up enough to reverse the anemia. I’m also going to give you a list of foods high in iron—things like dark leafy greens, broccoli, dried fruit, nuts, red meat, kidney beans—”

“NO BEANS,” the other three all declare in unison.

X

After hauling the kids back to the lake house, Tony sets Peter and Morgan up on the couch with another movie (Pirates of the Caribbean this time) and heads to the kitchen to fix them all some lunch. Potatoes and turnips are both high in iron, so he cooks and mashes up a big potful with some milk, butter, and salt, figuring that would be easy to chew without hurting the kid’s face too much. He scoops some into a bowl for Peter and then whips up another green smoothie for him to drink, as well as sandwiches for himself and Morgan. Once everything is ready, he piles it all onto a tray and heads back.

As he approaches the living room, Tony can already hear Morgan’s voice floating towards him in the falsetto stage-whisper she always uses when she’s voicing make-believe characters.

“Help me! Help me!” she cries. “Oh no, I’m falling!”

Tony stops in the room’s threshold to watch. The movie is still playing in the background, but neither kid seems to be watching. Instead, Peter is lying on his back on the sofa with his eyes closed, giggling quietly while Morgan kneels on the floor in front of the cushions, dancing a single M&M around the edges of the boy’s open mouth.

Suddenly, she drops the candy into his mouth with a dramatic gasp. “Noooo… the king has fallen into the pit! The anemia monster got him!” she cries.

“The anemia monster?” Tony asks in amusement.

Peter’s eyes snap open. “Uh, we were just playing a game.”

Morgan turns back to look at her dad, grinning. “Chocolate is on the list Uncle Bruce gave him!” she says, waving the piece of paper in Tony’s direction.

“Pretty sure that says dark chocolate,” Tony says, eyes narrowing at them as he crosses the room. “Not leftover M&Ms from the Christmas stash.”

Morgan’s face falls. “Aw…”

Tony sets the tray of food down on the coffee table. “Don't worry, kids,” he says, passing Peter the kale and fruit-rich protein smoothie. “Iron Man to the rescue.”

X

Link to all my fics

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Morgan Stark, M.D.

Dad Level: 3000

Long Distance Dadding

X

[jadekitty777]

Sick Leave

Whoops. I did it again. (I played with your heart. Got lost in this Fair Game).

Rating: K+

Pairing: Clover/Qrow

Words: 3,000

Summary: When Qrow fails to show up for work one morning, Clover goes to investigate why and finds himself taking care of a more personal mission.

Ao3 Link: Sick Leave

“Alright, first up: the west wall in Mantle is showing signs of weakening. Who wants Grimm patrol duty on that? We need a team of two.” Clover called.

“Oh! Me, me, me!” As usual, Ruby was the first to bounce in her seat, swinging her arm around. Despite the many long weeks of duty, her enthusiasm hadn’t ebbed at all.

“I’ll go with her.” Jaune offered next, sipping on his coffee.

He nodded, turning back to the board and assigning their names to the job. “Next up is another haul of dust to Amity. Team of five.” He glanced back, about to volunteer himself and Qrow.

And realized the man’s seat was empty. It wasn’t entirely unusual; the older huntsman sometimes slept in and trudged in halfway through. He instead assigned Nora, Ren, Weiss, Harriet and Marrow as they volunteered. He tasked out the most pressing three search and destroy missions to Penny, Yang and Blake, and Elm and Vine.

Checked the seat once again – still empty. “Has anyone seen Qrow?”

“Maybe his alarm didn’t go off?” Nora offered.

The missing man’s nieces shared a glance, before the younger pulled out her scroll and said, “I’ll call him.” A moment later, she placed it to her ear, only to frown. “It’s going straight to voicemail.”

Yang frowned, before rolling her eyes. “Well. He got to three months at least.” When her little sister glared her way, she added, “What? You know that’s what he did.”

“You don’t know that! Maybe he broke his phone.”

“Yeah, when he dropped it in his drink at the bar.”

“Alright, that’s enough ladies.” Clover intervened before this could become a full-blown family dispute. “I’ll go check on him. The rest of you start your missions. That’s an order.”

No one rose argument, the room clearing out quickly. Ruby was the only one to hang back, looking at him. “Will you message me? Just so I can know if he’s okay?”

It was most obvious in her eyes how young of a huntress she was. So openly concerned and honest – something an enemy would eventually take advantage of. He’d have to teach her the finer points of a poker face somewhere down the line. “Of course, but I wouldn’t worry too much.”

She nodded, doing her best to smile before she followed after Jaune.

Clover headed out the opposite way, back towards the housing area, unable to get the sisters’ argument out of his head. He had remembered what Qrow had said last week, about having given up drinking. At the time, he hadn’t thought anything of it. But it seemed the other man had stretched the truth a bit – he wasn’t a former alcoholic, but a recovering one.

That… complicated things.

At least now he understood the root of Lieutenant Winter’s disdain for the seasoned huntsman. He had used to believe it was jealousy that made her sneer whenever Qrow’s name was uttered. After all, what trainee didn’t hear at least a few stories of the infamous STRQ who both held the record as the only team to win the Vytal Festival Championship Two bi-annual seasons in a row and still held the record for most completed field missions while still in school of all the Kingdoms’ academies? He certainly had, and had used those stories as a personal benchmark to overcome – he’d even been excessively proud when he and his team managed to quickly subdue Qrow when the man had first entered Atlas (though he’d never tell him that). Now he had to wonder if the only reason he’d won that fight that day was because Qrow was in the throes of withdrawal and not at the top of his game.

However, the more prominent question was, if the girls were indeed right and the other Huntsman has gone back to drinking, what could he do about it?

It didn’t take long to get to Qrow’s floor. One elevator ride and one left turn down the hall and he was at his door, giving it three hard raps.

When a minute passed without response, he repeated the action, harder and louder. “Qrow, it’s me!”

Nothing.

Clover frowned, suspicion shifting to worry. Even if he had gotten completely smashed last night, he wouldn’t be unresponsive. Something was wrong.

He pulled out his scroll, and though it was a bit unethical to use his high security access this way, he reasoned it away that he was just making sure the other was okay. He pulled up the mainframe for the dormitory doors and disengaged the lock, hearing it click. He pulled it open, stepping inside. It was standard issue, with a small kitchenette and living space and a short hallway that lead to the bed and bathroom. There were signs of it being lived in. A pair of dressed shoes haphazardly strewn under the coffee table. A half-full glass of water by the sink. A hand towel hanging over the edge of the counter. Bags of nonperishable foods left atop the mini-fridge.

But no Qrow.

Knowing there was only one place he could be, he headed down the hall, knocking on the bedroom door. “Qrow, you in there? It’s Clover.”

This, finally, yielded an answer. A somewhat unintelligible “Hold on!”, and then some shuffling, before the door was opening a few inches. Watery red eyes squinted out at him. “What?” He croaked, voice raspier than usual.

“You missed mission assigning and – you look awful.” He looked him over, taking in his overly gaunt and pale complexion and the blanket he’d draped over his shoulders. Felt relieved when he realized this had to be a natural sickness. Though rare for Huntsman, cold shock wasn’t an uncommon issue foreigners faced when traveling to Atlas, especially those daring to venture out into the tundra. The new environment combined with the brutal temperatures chipped away at even the strongest immune systems, often leading to some rather unpleasant sicknesses.

“Feel it too.” Qrow used the side of the door to prop himself. “Can I go back to bed now?”

“Of course.” He replied.

The other just nodded, not even bothering to shut the door as he trudged back to his bed and cocooned himself into the comforter.

Though it felt a little taboo, Clover invited himself in, walking over to his bedside. “Do you need anything? Medicine? Water?”

“Sleep.” He grumbled.

He gave a long-suffering sigh. Qrow was stubborn even in the best of situations; he couldn’t say he was surprised to learn he was an uncooperative ass when sick. But two could play it that game.

He reached out, placing his fingertips on the other’s forehead.

“Whachu doing, go ‘way!” Qrow whined, burying his face further into the blankets and out of Clover’s reach.

It was fine though, he got what he needed. “You’re burning up.”

“What a revelation. Who woulda thought the ill guy would have a fever?” His snark earned him a coughing fit.

Clover decided not to respond to it. “Have you taken anything?”

“Painkillers.”

“When?”

“Last night. Can you go away now?”

“Anything for the cough?” An annoyed groan was his only answer. “That’s a no. Alright then.”

He turned, heading for the bathroom. No protests came, Qrow either too sick or too tired to do so. As luck would have it, the bottle of medicine he was hoping to find was right on the counter and next to another half-full glass of water (seemed someone had a bad habit). He dumped what was left of the water, refilled it and shook out two pills, before returning to the other room.

Red-eyes glared up at him, but Qrow looked so miserable it made him appear more like an upset puppy than a true threat. “If I drink that will you finally leave?”

“Yes.” Clover promised.

He unearthed himself from the blankets, took the proffered medicine and then handed the glass back before curling back up into his nest.

“Good night.” He offered him, getting only a hum in return. He left the water by Qrow’s bedside in case he needed it, before he walked out and shut the door.

Then shut the second door as he left the suite. As he head down the hall, he mentally ticked off what he had back at his place that he could bring back here. After all, he’d promised he’d leave – he just never said for how long. Qrow would need something for that congestion of his, maybe the cough just in case, and some tea and soup would do wonders too.

Midway through his list, he remembered his other promise, and pulled out his scroll.

Not hungover. Just sick. He typed out.

Ruby’s reply was almost immediate. Oh no! Is he going to be okay? Should I come back?

Clover smiled. He really hoped Qrow knew what a great niece he had. He’ll be fine, but I’m putting us on sick leave for a few days.

The next text came rather slow for the speedster. ‘Us?’

He’ll have a speedier recovery with me around. Good luck and all. He wrote back. Never mind it wasn’t true – his semblance didn’t have that much pull with fate.

Oh, I guess that makes sense! Let him know I’ll come see him after work.

He guaranteed he would, before switching over to the Huntsman Missions app to update his and Qrow’s statuses. He knew the general would question it as soon as he saw it. Hopefully Clover could make the argument that Qrow was just too important an asset to leave unattended. In his weakened state, he wouldn’t be able to fight off any of Salem’s forces, so a ward to watch over him was the optimal option.

Yeah, that… sounded convincing, right?

~

As it turned out, it did sound convincing. In a ‘I totally know what you are doing but won’t give you a hard time because you’re one of my best operatives’ kind of way.

As Clover stirred the warming soup in the pot, General Ironwood’s sly canter as he said, “Qrow sure is fortunate to have such a loyal co-worker” continued to ring in his ears. He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised his boss had picked up on it; he hadn’t exactly been subtle with his flirting. What baffled him was his complacency. He’d gotten on the case of far younger and less reserved cadets for similar behavior, so why was he getting a pass?

Perhaps it was not the nature of the relationship, but the person involved? Was it because the general’s view of Qrow being a good friend made him more willing to look the other way?

“It’s boiling over.”

He jumped out of his thoughts, glancing at where Qrow was standing, still holding the blanket around himself like a lifeline, then down at the pot which was indeed on the verge of overflowing. He flipped off the burner and removed it off the heat. “Thanks.”

The other man eyed him. “You stayed.”

He wanted to say ‘Of course I stayed. I like you, you oblivious Dodo!’ but he wasn’t exactly ready for that amount of honesty yet. Knowing how insecure Qrow was, he doubted he was ready either. So instead, he said, “Just wanted to make sure you had everything you needed.”

Whether it was the medicine, the extra sleep or both, he seemed much less ornery as he said, “Thanks. Not used to people taking care of me.”

That was a tidbit of information that screamed ‘tread carefully’. “No one at all?”

“Wouldn’t say that. My sister and I looked out for each other, once upon a time. And Tai and Summer were mother hens; that got annoying real fast.” He rubbed his eyes as if the reminder was giving him a headache. “But where I grew up it was a ‘in it for yourself’ mentality.”

There was a lot to unpack from that statement, and one Clover was not willing to press on today, much less when Qrow was ill. Instead he poured half the soup in a bowl and announced, “Well, guess you can add me to the list. And, you know what they say, three is common. Four is lucky.”

“That was the most poorly executed clover joke I’ve ever heard.”

“It was truly clever; you’re just too sick-minded to know it.” He ascertained. “Now take a seat and eat your soup.”

“Yes sir.” Qrow gave a mock salute, before plopping down into one of the chairs at the small dining table where the soup, a spoon, more water and three different types of medicine was set before him. He eyed them, mumbling, “You running a pharmacy?”

“Legally, no. I’ve got a table at the black market though.”

At least that joke awarded him a small laugh.

~

Qrow ate at a pace that would have driven Harriet insane, but he managed to finish the bowl, though he declined seconds. Clover set the rest of the soup away for later and cleaned up the dishes, all the while watching as the other man shuffled the few feet to the couch to curl up on it as he watched some old program. He didn’t recognize it, and it was old enough it wasn’t in color, but from the rather rambunctious laugh track, it had to be a comedy.

When he came over to set a mug of steaming tea down on the table, he finally got a chance to ask. “What is this?”

“You’ve never seen Lady in Red?” Qrow craned his head back to look at him. “What era are you from?”

“I’m only seven years younger than you.” He refuted.

“And yet you missed a classic.” He clicked his tongue in disappointment. “Maybe you’re not so lucky after all.”

He chuckled at that. “Do you need anything else right now?”

“No. But I have a feeling if I tell you that you can go, you’ll just come check on me in a few hours, won’t you?”

“Absolutely.”

He sighed, overly-exasperatedly by a nonexistent dilemma. “Then I guess you might as well stick around. Get some culture while you’re at it.” He shifted his legs, freeing up the last cushion on the couch.

Clover was not such a fool that he wouldn’t accept that offer.

That was how he spent his afternoon, binge-watching an old show and running commentary with the man beside him. It was a peculiar change of pace. He wasn’t used to such lazy days – but spending it with someone made it infinitely better. Granted, Qrow drifted off somewhere between episodes 5 and 6. (Clover would tell no one about the many times he snuck glances at him as he slept or how he found the man’s light snoring endearing.)

Thankfully, the program was entertaining enough to enjoy even in the silence. So much so that, before he knew it, the sun had fallen and Qrow was stirred back awake by a knock on the door as an actual lady in red came to visit.

~

The next few days went similarly. Clover would wake up early to scan over progress reports and assign missions to the teams, before heading off to make breakfast for Qrow and sit in and watch old reruns all morning with him. They tended to start off quiet, but as the meds kicked in, the elder showed signs of more energy and alertness. It waned sometime after their small break for lunch and then it was back on the couch for more. Ultimately, he tended to drift off, sometimes until evening when his nieces came to visit and play a few rounds of video games while Clover would make dinner for all of them.

Yang was also intent on invading her uncle’s bed space with a new stuffed animal every night. Clover imagined it was meant to mildly annoy him – but considering he caught Qrow making the llama tap dance with the gorilla one morning, he didn’t think it was working.

The whole affair felt so unusually domestic. The way he figured most of the citizens of Atlas and Mantle lived; but not a huntsman like himself.

And though he knew it couldn’t last, for just a little while, he allowed himself to enjoy the rare coziness and warmth of it all.

~

Qrow’s fever finally broke by day four.

Clover left his status on sick leave, but changed his own back to active.

~

“A nest of Grimm are collecting back in the sewers. Which two-” Clover read off dully.

“Me!” Ruby sang as expected.

“I would be thrilled to accompany her.” Penny chipped in.

He nodded tapping them in. His eyes scanned the next one, yet another dust supply run. He withheld a sigh. He never thought coming back to work would be so difficult. “Next up, we’ve got another transport going to Amity.”

“Sign us up.”

That voice had him snapping out of his stupor. He looked up, seeing Qrow lumbering in.

“Sure you’re up for that?” Yang asked.

He waved her off. “I got it. Can’t be letting you brats do all the work.” He glanced his way. “Well? Any objections?”

Suddenly, hours spent driving through the endless tundra didn’t sound so boring. “None at all.”

He changed Qrow’s status and put down their names. The rest of the missions were assigned quickly and the teams broke off with their respective partners to get ready for the day ahead.

As everyone filed out, Clover joined his own teammate’s side. “I know the runs are usually pretty unexciting, but you really sure you can handle things if it turns south?”

“Pff, oh yeah. I’m pretty much back to 100%. That’s not why I chose that mission though.” He told him.

“Oh?”

“See, the Lady in Red’s two-part season finale airs at 6 tonight.” Qrow’s expression was utterly unashamed. “That’s the only mission that I’m guaranteed to get back on time.”

He snorted. “That’s awful.”

A shrug. “Well hey, if you bring some popcorn over, you’re welcome to watch it with me.”

For the first time that morning, Clover felt his energy flood back in, his usual smile pulling back at the edges of his mouth. Perhaps he’d just taken a medicine of a different kind. But the side effect was it made him do possibly foolish things as he responded with, “It’s a date.”

It must have been the luckiest day of his life, because Qrow smiled back.