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clarisse0o · 4 months ago

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Camp Wiegman-Part 22

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternative Universe : Military School

Words : 5k

Masterlist

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Monday, November 30; 8:15 AM - School.

Spending a day in the snow is nice. Doing it two days in a row and getting sick, not so much. I caught a nasty flu. Seeing my condition on Friday morning, Bronze outright forbade me from going to class. I was only good for crawling back into bed for the day. I even had to give up my trip back to Barcelona, even though my leave had been approved. I figured there was no point in going home just to stay in bed and spread my germs to everyone. Bronze stayed behind and spent some time with me when I wasn't sleeping. I wasn't even able to talk to her because of my hoarse voice. It wasn't until today that I regained enough of my voice to speak.

I sneeze for the umpteenth time as I make my way to my instructor's office. Since my condition has slightly improved today, I insisted on going back to class. Bronze couldn't forbid me from going, especially with the determination I showed. I didn't want to fall further behind, given I already was. Everything seemed fine, but I never imagined my teacher would turn me away after seeing my state. Well, it's true I look a bit pale, tired, and haven't fully recovered my voice, but I felt capable of working! He finally gave me a chance, but it was short-lived. He forced me to leave after five minutes because I couldn't stop coughing and blowing my nose. Great, right? For once, I was motivated, and they wouldn't let me work. I knock on the office door, which is wide open. The two instructors I'm used to seeing instinctively look up at the sound.

"He sent me away because of my condition," I mumble in a raspy voice.

I sound like a duck. Engen suppresses a laugh. I have trouble understanding what I just said myself. I cross my arms to pull my jacket tighter around me. The classrooms may be heated, but the hallways are a different story.

"No wonder," chuckles Engen. "You look like a zombie!"

"Stop mocking her, Ingrid," Bronze scolds. "I told you it was a bad idea."

I sneeze again and cover my nose with my hand as it starts to run. That was too much for Engen, who bursts out laughing. My supervisor stands up, grabbing her jacket. I thank her when she offers me a tissue. She gave me a pack this morning, but it's already empty. Well, I can only agree with her. It was really a bad idea to try going back to class.

"I'll take her back to her room. I'll be back soon."

"No problem. Get well soon, Ona."

"Thanks."

She escorts me to the dorm. I head to the bathroom to put on some sweatpants and a thicker sweater, and I take the opportunity to wash my hands. Then I dive into my bed. To think I had taken the trouble to make it neatly. Bronze looks at me with amusement. She approaches me and checks my temperature. We both know that if I'm sick, it's because of my recent relapse. My immune system is shot. The pill Bronze gave me this morning must be working because, according to her, I no longer have a fever. I had one over the weekend. I felt like I was going back a few weeks.

"Well, I'm going to Wiegman's to see if I can take you to the doctor. You need proper treatment if you want to get well quickly. I won't be long. Stay put here in the meantime."

"Very funny. Where else would I go?" I grumble.

"With you, one never knows," she smiles. "I'll be back."

I sigh as I watch her leave, then lie down with my back to the door. I pull the blanket up as high as possible and try to fall asleep. I almost succeed before Bronze returns. She orders me to get up. She got Wiegman's permission to see a doctor. It looks like my day in bed is ruined. I'm forced to put my boots and jacket back on. Luckily for me, she doesn't make me wear my uniform. We head out in her car, and I recognize the route to downtown.

"By the way, did you give my wish list to my teacher?" I ask her.

"Yes, on Friday."

I sense some hesitation from her to continue. She eventually refrains, but my curiosity gets the better of me.

"Is there a problem?"

"Actually, yes. I shouldn't be telling you this, but he was surprised by your first choice," she admits. "We ended up talking a bit, and he showed me your grades. Why didn't you tell me they were so bad?"

I regret pushing her to continue. We hit a traffic jam at that moment. The only subjects where I manage to get average grades are literature and languages. I shouldn't normally worry about my last two choices.

"You should have told me. You have failing grades in everything!" she scolds.

"I do not!" I retort. "In literature and languages."

"That's not enough to get you into management!"

I sigh and rest my head against the window. Bronze moves forward with the traffic. Is she trying to make me understand that I have no chance of getting my first choice? That's probably it. I don't have the time or means to catch up. We're nearing the end of the first semester, which means there aren't many assignments left to improve my grades.

"Do you even study at all?"

"The minimum," I admit.

"I managed to get an opportunity for you."

"Oh, really?" I ask uncertainly.

"Yes. But only if you want to and feel motivated to do it."

"What opportunity?"

"You have the chance to retake a test in each subject. The new grades will replace your worst ones. Your teacher also told me that you'll likely have two more tests per subject before the semester ends."

"How am I supposed to do that? There are only three weeks left!"

"That's why I said you need to be motivated. It's a chance for you since they don't have enough grades."

"How did you get this opportunity?" I ask, watching her bite her lip for a moment.

"Don't get mad, but I had to explain your academic situation. If you accept, I want you to come study in my office after your classes starting Wednesday. We have three weeks to turn things around. It's up to you."

"Why are you doing this?" I whisper.

She's going through so much trouble. It's my problem if I don't get accepted into my first choice. It's because of my behavior at the beginning that I'm in this situation. I didn't care about grades or being here. I never tried to catch up since then. The only test I think I did well on was last week's math test.

"I know you care about your choice. Be grateful I'm giving you this chance, once again. It's clearly the only thing that can save you. Even if you get average grades, they'll see you've made an effort, and that will only be positive for you."

"Alright... I don't have much choice anyway."

"Good. I'll tell your teacher then."

The cough that takes over prevents me from replying, so I nod. Damn illness. We arrive at our destination shortly after this conversation. She parks in front of a tall building. I don't know exactly where we are, but it's impressive. I follow Bronze, who seems to know the place. The interior is as vast as the exterior. I spot signs indicating the names of several doctors. We reach the reception where Bronze introduces us. The receptionist directs us to an elevator, noting our presence. Bronze seems to know where we're going because she presses the third-floor button without being told. I keep alternating between sneezing, coughing, and using tissues. I'm slowly losing patience while Bronze mocks me. When we arrive on the floor, we head to a waiting room that's thankfully not too crowded. Bronze makes herself comfortable while I don't even dare take off my jacket. The wait is long. My supervisor is lucky to have games to occupy her while I twiddle my thumbs.

"Is the doctor a man or a woman?"

"A man, why?"

"Will you come with me?" I ask, biting my lower lip.

She frowns and puts down her game. I don't really want to be alone with him, especially since I don't know him. Seeing I won't explain, she shrugs.

"I planned to wait here, but it's fine if you want me to come with you."

"Thank you," I sigh.

"Do you have a problem with doctors?"

"Not really... Do you know him?"

"He's my doctor."

"Oh."

"He's young and cool. You don't have to worry."

She says that to reassure me, but it has the opposite effect. I sigh after sneezing again. Bronze smiles and hands me a tissue, which I accept with thanks.

"You'll come with me, right?"

"Yes, Ona," she rolls her eyes with a smile.

"Don't make fun of me," I grumble.

"Oh no, not at all," she smiles more.

She chuckles softly as I pout. We attract the attention of the other people in the room. It must have been very quiet before we arrived.

"Will you tell me about this problem someday?"

"Maybe once."

For now, I'm not ready to do so. It would reveal a lot about me.

"Here, do you want to play?" she asks, handing me her phone.

"Really?" I ask, surprised.

"Yes, you need to relax. You're way too stressed," she giggles.

I stick out my tongue and take her phone. It's been so long since I last played. I don't find the time to do it anymore. I smile when I see she has a Candy Crush level in progress. I was addicted to this game for a while. I remember this level where she's stuck very well. It took me a month to pass it. I'm playing through all her lives under Bronze's watchful eye. Meanwhile, other patients come and go.

- Oh shit, you did it!!! I’ve been stuck on this level for two months!

I giggle at her childish behavior, which once again draws attention to us. She apologizes for the disturbance before returning to her phone. I’m surprised myself that I passed this level. I guess it was just a stroke of luck. She seems in disbelief as she stares at the screen. We lift our heads when my name is called. I panic slightly when I see the young doctor. Bronze is the first to stand, placing her hand on my shoulder. I force myself to follow them into the office. He recognizes my supervisor, which surprises me. I didn't think she was the type to come here regularly. He asks me to lie on the examination bed in the middle of the room. I do as he asks without taking my eyes off my supervisor. She sits on a chair in front of the doctor’s desk, turning it to watch.

- Is she your sister? the doctor asks Bronze.

- What? Bronze chuckles. Do we look alike?

- No, I was just asking. It’s the first time you’ve come with someone... for the few times you do come.

Bingo, I was right. Bronze laughs softly. I don’t see what’s so funny. The situation is quite exasperating. It’s clear the doctor is interested in Bronze from the way he looks at her. I almost want to tell him he doesn’t stand a chance because she’s a lesbian.

- She’s a student from my workplace.

Bronze is too kind. I wouldn’t have even bothered answering for her. The doctor turns to face me. He gives me one of his best smiles while I barely avoid squinting at him.

- I didn’t know you were teachers.

I snicker as he frowns and begins my examination. He’s not gentle, the bastard. He must be doing it on purpose to get back at me. I look at my supervisor, who smiles at me unexpectedly. I roll my eyes with a slight grimace, which makes her smile wider.

- You’re not a teacher?

My doctor turns back to Bronze. She tries to regain her serious demeanor. I snicker, realizing it’s a lost cause. In reality, I think she’s fully aware that he’s trying to get her attention. I’m surprised she doesn’t shut him down. It’s something that would annoy me if I were in her place.

- No, not really, she replies as seriously as possible.

- And what do you do then?

- I don’t think that interests you.

- Oh, but it does!

- Of course it interests him, Bronze, I say cheerfully.

She silences me with a stern look. The doctor finally asks me to cough. I almost scream in response to his rough movements. What a bastard! It hurts more and more!

- She’s a student in a private school, and the student in front of you is my responsibility, so you better make sure she gets well quickly and in the best conditions.

Bronze uses her famous tone that always gives me chills. I hold back a smile, seeing the doctor swallow hard. I’d almost pity him, knowing how that feels. I didn’t expect Bronze to defend me or even notice how he was examining me. Strangely, since her intervention, he stops hurting me.

- It’s a nasty flu, he announces.

- Thanks, I already figured that out, I roll my eyes.

- Ona, be nice like I taught you, will you? my supervisor scolds me.

I roll my eyes. Well, I deserved that jab, but she could have spared me from looking like a complete idiot.

- It’s okay, don’t worry, the doctor laughs, which makes me want to vomit. I’ll prescribe your treatment. Take it morning, noon, and night with meals for a week.

He lets me pull down my shirt and moves behind his desk. I jump off the bed to sit next to Bronze.

- You’ll see how well you taught me to behave, I whisper, loudly enough though.

She slaps my thigh unexpectedly. A loud noise makes her eyes widen. I groan, holding my thigh. She didn’t miss. She laughs softly, patting my shoulders.

- You okay? she chuckles.

- You’re a brute, I swear! I grumble.

She laughs even more, apologizing this time. I look up at the doctor, who seems surprised by our behavior. At the same time, I’m supposed to be her student. It makes me realize we have an exceptional bond. It’s a bit of a strange relationship, but we appreciate each other a lot. If we had met in a different context, I’m sure we’d be friends in another way.

- You seem very close for her to be your student, the doctor comments.

- Well, let’s just say she’s a special student to me, she replies, ruffling my hair.

- Stop that, I grumble, pulling away from her hand.

I see her smile from the corner of my eye. Her words echo in my head. I don’t know if it’s true, but it’s nice to hear. The doctor pulls us out of our bubble by handing me my prescription. Bronze takes it before I can.

- Well, it was a pleasure to see you again.

- Likewise.

I cough exaggeratedly, letting out a small "liar" between coughs. This earns me a disapproving look from Bronze. He might have been credible if she hadn’t been holding back a smile. I hit the nail on the head again. She finally shakes the doctor’s hand, and I do the same right after. The doctor leads us out to open the door. We say goodbye before he goes to get his next patient. I jump when I get a kick in the butt as I head to the elevator. I say nothing until the doors close on us. We both burst out laughing.

- Don’t make a scene like that again, or you’ll see what happens, she scolds, hitting my shoulder.

- Admit it was funny! He was openly flirting with you! He even took it out on me because he was jealous.

I widen my eyes when she shows me a little piece of paper with a phone number written on it. She steps out of the elevator and continues as if nothing happened. I don’t know what shocks me more. The fact that she took the piece of paper or the fact that I didn’t notice. I quickly exit the elevator to catch up with Bronze, who is still laughing.

- Tell me you’re not going to call him? Because I mean, even I can do better than him at that level, right? He’s really annoying, don’t you think?

- Are you kidding? she laughs. I told you I’m only interested in women. I just didn’t want to hurt his feelings. And you’re right, he’s a bit annoying.

- You’re giving him false hope, which is worse!

- You think?

- Definitely! He expects you to call him now.

She looks at the piece of paper carefully before tearing it up without hesitation. I giggle, understanding what that means.

- Well, it seems I’ll have to change doctors.

I shake my head, amused, as we return to the car. At least I’m sure now that she’s not interested in men. I’m still struggling to get used to the idea. It seems like she has no trouble showing it. Yet, after what just happened, I understand that she doesn’t shout it from the rooftops either.

- I don’t regret asking you to come with me to the office.

- Hmm, don’t get too excited. I expect explanations for this in the near future, remember.

- Or a distant future.

- Near and non-negotiable.

She challenges me with a raised eyebrow. No matter what she wants, we both know I’ll talk when I’m ready. Before heading home, Bronze stops at the pharmacy to get my medication. It looks like her confidence is returning. She left me alone in the car with the keys in the ignition so I could keep the heat and music on. I take the opportunity to observe her dashboard in her absence. I’d love to have the same car someday. Her sudden return surprises me. I blush for being caught red-handed. I quickly reposition myself as she settles back in. She places a full bag on my lap.

- Like my car? she smiles.

- Yeah... I say, my cheeks still red. Bronze, will you let me drive it once?

- Lucy.

- Pardon?

- Call me Lucy. It’s starting to annoy me that you call me by my last name all the time when you know my first name.

- You’re the one who doesn’t want me to call you by your first name, I remind her.

-At school, yes, but outside, I allow you to call me by my first name.

- And like when we’re alone at camp? Like our future evening classes? I ask, making her roll her eyes with an amused smile.

- Your flu should have completely silenced you.

- Hey! I didn’t ask for anything bad.

- No, but you always ask for more. You should be happy I let you call me by my first name outside. Otherwise, it’s too risky. We don’t know who’s around.

I nod, biting my lip. She’s probably right that I keep asking for more. I can understand that she doesn’t want to take risks. We’ve already been interrupted several times without noticing someone else was around.

- Do you have a license? she changes the subject.

- Yeah, but no car. My mom didn’t want to take any risks at the time.

- Understandable.

- Yes, completely, but it makes- Oh shit, you did it!!! I’ve been stuck on this level for two months!

- Is she your sister? the doctor asks Bronze.

- What? Bronze chuckles. Do we look alike?

- No, I was just asking. It’s the first time you’ve come with someone... for the few times you do come.

- She’s a student from my workplace.

Bronze is too kind. I wouldn’t have even bothered answering for her. The doctor turns to face me. He gives me one of his best smiles while I barely avoid squinting at him.

- I didn’t know you were teachers.

- You’re not a teacher?

- No, not really, she replies as seriously as possible.

- And what do you do then?

- I don’t think that interests you.

- Oh, but it does!

- Of course it interests him, Bronze, I say cheerfully.

She silences me with a stern look. The doctor finally asks me to cough. I almost scream in response to his rough movements. What a bastard! It hurts more and more!

- She’s a student in a private school, and the student in front of you is my responsibility, so you better make sure she gets well quickly and in the best conditions.

- It’s a nasty flu, he announces.

- Thanks, I already figured that out, I roll my eyes.

- Ona, be nice like I taught you, will you? my supervisor scolds me.

I roll my eyes. Well, I deserved that jab, but she could have spared me from looking like a complete idiot.

- It’s okay, don’t worry, the doctor laughs, which makes me want to vomit. I’ll prescribe your treatment. Take it morning, noon, and night with meals for a week.

He lets me pull down my shirt and moves behind his desk. I jump off the bed to sit next to Bronze.

- You’ll see how well you taught me to behave, I whisper, loudly enough though.

She slaps my thigh unexpectedly. A loud noise makes her eyes widen. I groan, holding my thigh. She didn’t miss. She laughs softly, patting my shoulders.

- You okay? she chuckles.

- You’re a brute, I swear! I grumble.

- You seem very close for her to be your student, the doctor comments.

- Well, let’s just say she’s a special student to me, she replies, ruffling my hair.

- Stop that, I grumble, pulling away from her hand.

- Well, it was a pleasure to see you again.

- Likewise.

- Don’t make a scene like that again, or you’ll see what happens, she scolds, hitting my shoulder.

- Admit it was funny! He was openly flirting with you! He even took it out on me because he was jealous.

- Tell me you’re not going to call him? Because I mean, even I can do better than him at that level, right? He’s really annoying, don’t you think?

- Are you kidding? she laughs. I told you I’m only interested in women. I just didn’t want to hurt his feelings. And you’re right, he’s a bit annoying.

- You’re giving him false hope, which is worse!

- You think?

- Definitely! He expects you to call him now.

She looks at the piece of paper carefully before tearing it up without hesitation. I giggle, understanding what that means.

- Well, it seems I’ll have to change doctors.

- I don’t regret asking you to come with me to the office.

- Hmm, don’t get too excited. I expect explanations for this in the near future, remember.

- Or a distant future.

- Near and non-negotiable.

- Like my car? she smiles.

- Yeah... I say, my cheeks still red. Bronze, will you let me drive it once?

- Lucy.

- Pardon?

- Call me Lucy. It’s starting to annoy me that you call me by my last name all the time when you know my first name.

- You’re the one who doesn’t want me to call you by your first name, I remind her.

- At school, yes, but outside, I allow you to call me by my first name. You don’t hesitate to use “tu” with me, so a first name won’t change much.

- And like when we’re alone at camp? Like our future evening classes? I ask, making her roll her eyes with an amused smile.

- Your flu should have completely silenced you.

- Hey! I didn’t ask for anything bad.

- No, but you always ask for more. You should be happy I let you call me by my first name outside. Otherwise, it’s too risky. We don’t know who’s around.

- Do you have a license? she changes the subject.

- Yeah, but no car. My mom didn’t want to take any risks at the time.

- Understandable.

- Yes, completely, but it makes me want to now. I never really got to drive since then. I don’t even know if I can still do it.

- And you’re asking if you can drive my car? she raises an eyebrow.

- You can’t blame me for dreaming of driving an Audi.

She laughs, shaking her head. Once again, I feel like I’m asking for too much. We continue talking for the rest of the trip. I tell her how I learned to drive with my dad. He let me drive in the countryside when I was a teenager, without my mom knowing. Later, I really learned on the roads with my mom. It wasn’t a pleasant time. We always argued. This conversation keeps us occupied for the entire return trip. My cough still doesn’t calm down. I had to clear my throat more than once during our conversation. I feel exhausted now that the excitement has subsided. It’s eleven o'clock when we get back to my room. She goes back to work while I crawl under my blanket after taking off my sweatpants. I’m alone long enough to sleep in my underwear. I fall asleep quickly. Unfortunately, I’m woken up shortly after. It’s Bronze again, standing over my head with a smile.

-Wake up, sleepyhead. I’ve let you sleep long enough.

"What time is it?" I mumbled.

"Past one o'clock."

I sighed deeply after coughing so hard it hurt my chest. I rolled onto my back to see her better. I thought Alexia was going to wake me up, but she must have gone back to class.

"Come on, get out from under there. Let's eat."

I grumbled in discontent. I really didn't want to get out of bed, especially to eat when I wasn't hungry at all. That didn't stop her from throwing my tracksuit right in my face.

"I managed to catch Alexia in the hallways to give you an extra hour, so do me a favor and get up to share your meal with me."

"I'm not hungry," I admitted.

"That's why I asked for some soup to be prepared. You need to eat something with your medication."

I rolled my eyes, which made her smile. I could have done without it, especially the soup. I had eaten enough of it during my detox. I held back a groan, stretched, and then pulled off my blanket to sit at the edge of the bed. She had a victorious smile when I put on my tracksuit. She rummaged through the medicine bag lying on my desk.

"What are you doing?" I asked, dragging my feet toward her.

"I'm checking what you need to take this afternoon."

"Yeah, basically I have to take everything," I said, seeing her pull out the boxes one by one.

"Have you taken any syrup?"

"No, I haven't touched anything."

"Make sure you take some after eating then. It will calm your cough."

"You're not going to manage my medication again, are you?"

"It seems I will, since you can't take them yourself."

I rolled my eyes, sniffing loudly.

"Got a tissue?"

"Yeah. Take this afterward," she said, handing me a nasal spray.

"You're so annoying."

I sighed again but listened to her. She wasn't going to give me the last word on this kind of thing.

"Can I wear my sneakers?"

"We'll make an exception this time."

She took my medicine bag, and we went to the cafeteria, which was empty. Our tray was already prepared by the staff. Bronze must have notified them before fetching me because she thanked them. We sat at her table on the educators' side. She didn't force me to eat anything but the soup, but that was already too much. I slumped over the table.

"Make an effort and eat a bit."

"Um... I won't be able to go out this weekend, right?"

"Why wouldn't you?"

"I don't know."

I stirred my spoon in my soup while she prepared all the pills I had to take. There were at least five. I swallowed them without complaint with my glass of water.

"You can go if your leave is approved. Eat your soup; it will get cold," she scolded.

I forced myself to eat a few bites to please her. It felt like my stomach disagreed. I had already lost my appetite, and now that I was sick, it was even worse. I spent more time playing with the soup than putting it in my mouth. Bronze eventually took the spoon from my hand, dipped it into my bowl, and brought it to my mouth. I groaned, understanding her intention to feed me.

"More?"

"It's the only way you'll eat, isn't it?"

"Fine, I'll eat."

I tried to take the spoon back, but she pulled it away.

"Too late. Open your mouth."

I sighed, resigned, and opened my mouth where she placed the spoon. I swallowed everything under her smile.

"Happy?"

"When you've finished everything, yes. Open."

I rolled my eyes, taking another spoonful. I had tried to take the spoon back, but she even smacked my fingers. She finished her dish in the meantime. I finished mine without much enthusiasm. I didn't like her doing this. One, because I was forcing myself to eat, and two, because it made me feel dependent.

"Can I stay here if I don't want to go back?"

"This weekend?"

"Yes..."

"Why wouldn't you want to go back?"

"I want to do my Christmas shopping..."

"Are you trying to tell me something?" she smiled.

"I just want to know if there's a way to go out if I stay here. Well, I still need to recover first..."

"We'll discuss it if you like. Now, open your mouth; you're almost done."

I accepted the end without protest. I slumped over the table right after she took my bowl away. I could have fallen asleep on that table; I was so tired. The flu was draining all my energy. Bronze had to pull me up from my chair.

"Can't you carry me?"

"And what else?"

"You have no pity for the sick," I grumbled.

"Correction, I have no pity for you. Come on, Ona, don't be a child. You'll be back in bed in five minutes."

With this news, I found the motivation to move. I accompanied her to clear the tray, and then we returned to the dormitory. Before letting me lie down, she made me take some syrup to calm my cough and use the nasal spray. Finally, I lay down after all that. I took off my tracksuit again to be more comfortable. I was surprised she stayed by my bed to keep me company.

"Why are you staying? I'm going to fall asleep."

"I know. Just sleep. You need the rest."

I smiled softly, watching her read with my sleepy expression. Her presence reassured me. I was glad she stayed, even though sleep came quickly thanks to my light conscience.

#woso #lucy bronze #woso community #barca femeni #ona batlle #woso soccer #lionesses #sefutbol fem #ona batlle x lucy bronze

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javierpena-inatacvest · 1 year ago

Text

Soup for Breakfast

Summary: Javi comes home to find that you caught the flu from your class at school, and wants to help you feel better.

Word count: 1.7K

Warnings: FLUFF. This is literally just pure fluff, as Javier Peña lives in my mind rent free as the biggest softie alive. Mentions of food/eating, mentions of death (but in a really wholesome way), reader being sick

Paring: Javier Peña x f!reader (no use of Y/N, reader is an elementary school teacher)

This can be read as a stand alone, or as a part of the Never Too Late Series!

A/N: I wrote this when I had COVID because I am convinced that if you told Javi that you were sick, he would literally go to the ends of the earth to help you feel better.

“Hey hermosa, I’m home.” Javi set his keys down on the entryway table and shed his dark gray suit jacket, flopping it over the edge of the kitchen counter.

Silence.

“Hermosa?” He questioned again, concern beginning to creep in his voice.

Since you had started the school year, Javi came home every day looking forward to the image of you sitting at the kitchen table, projects and papers from your 3rd grade class spread across the oak surface. You’d smile and give him a big kiss, ready to share whatever crazy antics your class was up to that day. But when he stepped through the doorway, he noticed the usual construction paper, notebooks and crayons, but the seat where you always were was empty.

“Hey baby, it’s me!” He tried one more time, hoping that you were in a room further down the hall and hadn’t heard him. No response. The silence sent Javi into fight or flight, now picking up his speed as he looked into other rooms to find them all empty. He paced back to the living room, trying to keep his composure, his past experience with missing persons not boding well for his current state. Taking a few more deep breaths before doing anything irrational, Javi went to sit down on the couch, until he heard a small grunt underneath him.

“Please don’t sit on me.” You grumbled, nestled under a large pile of blankets.

“Hermosa, Jesus Christ, you scared the shit out of me.” Javi shot up, breathing heavily, placing his hand on his chest. You rolled over, shifting around in your blanket heap, head peeking out to look at Javi. “Baby, are you okay? What’s wrong?” Panic still lingering in his words, now realizing you were laying in a near lifeless heap on the couch.

“No, I feel great. Isn’t this what everyone does when they feel good? Roll themselves into a giant blanket pile?” Your remark oozing with sarcasm and a hoarseness in your voice. “The flu has been going around my classroom and I think I got it.” You groaned, your body aching as you shifted yourself further out of your fabric cocoon. “You’d think by this point I’d have the immune system of a steel truck, but these kids are just never ending germ factories.”

Javi quietly chuckled to himself as he knelt next to you, sweeping your hair out of your face and kissing your forehead. As he got closer, he could feel the heat radiating off you, your breaths heavy and labored as you fought to keep your eyelids open. He grazed the back of his large hand against your hairline, his deep brown puppy dog eyes growing more and more concerned.

“Cariño, you look awful.”

“Way to make a girl feel good.”

“No, baby, that’s not what I meant, I-” he tried to quickly rebuttal.

“Javi, I’m just joking. I know I look like a Gremlin someone just pulled out of a garbage can.” You both quietly laughed before you let out a deep cough, only adding to the effect of your disheveled state. “I started feeling gross this afternoon while the kids were at Art and Gym, so I already made sub plans for the rest of the week, just in case.”

Javi leaned back down to kiss your head once again, knowing you really must have felt awful if you were willing to admit the fact you couldn’t fight your way through your sickness so you didn’t need to find a substitute teacher for your class. “Okay, hermosa. I think that’s a good idea.” He sat up to peek his head over the couch, starting at your kitchen. “Give me one second, okay?”

You nodded, already back to being half asleep. Javi began rummaging through the fridge and cabinets, looking for any food that you would 1- eat, and 2- help you feel better. Grimacing at the low stock of items, he began frantically scribbling down a grocery list full of supplies.

“Hey baby?” Javi had made his way back to the couch, squatting down next to you as he handed you a glass of water.

“Mhmmmmhh?” You moaned, outstretching an almost limp arm to take the glass, sitting up as you took a few sips.

“I’m gonna go to the grocery store to get some things. I promise I’ll be right back. Are you gonna be okay while I’m gone?”

“Well I wasn’t planning on going very far anytime soon, I think I’ll be alright.” You half smiled at him, handing him back the now empty glass.

“Okay. I love you.” He kissed you on the top of your head, his nose nestled in your hair before he pulled away, frantically gathering his keys and shutting the door behind him.

“Love you too.” You mumbled, half coherent as you burrowed back down into your blankets.

When Javi got to the store, he was a man on a mission. You would have thought someone had told him Pablo Escobar was inside at the rate he was moving through the aisles. Completely disregarding the list he had thrown together at the house, Javi had a shopping cart of supplies full enough to tend to the entirety of your 3rd grade class. The thought of seeing you sick and in pain absolutely wrecked him, wanting to do anything he could to help you feel better. He was so desperate, in fact, at one point while in the pharmacy section, he had thrown in a box of bandaids, just in case.

When he returned back to the house, he was relieved to find you at least sitting in a semi-upright position watching TV, laughing to yourself at the ridiculous amount of groceries he had just set down on the kitchen counter.

“I didn’t know we were planning on running a hospital out of our home.” You giggled as Javi unbagged the items.

“I just wanted to make sure you had whatever you needed. I may have gone a little overboard.” He replied sheepishly as he continued to unpack a bag full of snacks.

“It’s okay, it’s sweet. Thanks Dr. Peña.”

“Of course.” He finished putting everything in its place before coming back over to you. “Here, drink this.” He passed another cup over to you.

“Wow, you even got me the red Gatorade? You hate the red kind! You really do love me.” A soft smile crept across your face as you took a small sip.

“Well I’m not the one who looks like they’re on their deathbed, Hermosa.” It took every ounce of strength in you to give him a playful shove. “I’m gonna make you some soup, okay?”

“You didn’t need to go all the way to the store for soup, we have soup here.” You rolled your eyes, knowing how much it physically pained Javi to watch you eat Campbell's canned soup after having a taste of one of his mom’s recipes not too long ago.

“I can already hear mi mamá yelling at me from the grave if I let you eat that shit, especially when you’re sick. I’m making you Caldo de Pollo so she doesn’t come back to haunt me. Had it every time I was sick. Swear it makes you feel better.” Your heart was warming at the idea of Javi making one of his late mother’s recipes, thankful that Javi’s dad had given you some of them from her cookbook.

“Thank you, Javi. You’re the best. I’d kiss your sweet face but I’m guessing you don’t want my germs.”

“A quick one won’t hurt anyone, doctor’s orders.” He winked before planting a soft peck on your lips.

As he got up, he went over to your entertainment center under the TV, pulling out 2 different VHS tapes. “Which one?”

“You can’t pit two Harrison Ford classics against each other! Hmmmm, I do love Indiana Jones, but I think Star Wars is gonna have to be the winner today.

“I had a feeling.” He smiled as he popped in the tape, the theme music blasting as he got to work in the kitchen.

Javi had to admit, he wasn’t a terrible chef. It wasn’t until he met you that he actually felt a need to cook. In Colombia, he was either eating out or stealing whatever leftovers Steve and Connie had, and once he came home, his dad cooked, insisting he wanted to keep his wife’s habit alive and well, even after she was gone. After Javi had chopped up all of the vegetables, he tossed them into the pot to let them simmer with the already bubbling chicken and rice. Once the soup was done, he filled a bowl practically to the brim, bringing it over to you, only to be greeted by the sweet sounds of your soft snores, muffled under the blanket draped across your face. He laughed quietly to himself before putting your soup on the end table of the couch and shuffling himself underneath your blanket mountain so your head rested against his thigh as a pillow. He stroked the ends of your hair between his fingers in one hand, the other, rubbing up and down your back in soft, gentle circles.

He let the end credits of the movie roll before turning off the TV and carefully unwrapping you from your blankets, scooping you up to carry you back to bed. As he laid you down, gently tucking you in under the covers, he heard you mumble something.

“What was that, Hermosa?” Javi’s voice just above a whisper.

“I never ate your soup.” You muttered, eyes still closed, words barely coherent.

“It’s okay. Go back to sleep, baby. You need to rest.” He sat on the edge of your bed next to you, planting a soft kiss on the top of your head.

“Can I have it for breakfast tomorrow?” You grumbled, as you turned over on your pillow.

Javi laughed to himself. “Of course hermosa. Nos vamos por la mañana con tu sopa. Espero que te sientas mejor pronto. Te amo con todo mí corazon, Osita.” (I’ll see you in the morning with your soup. I hope you feel better soon. I love you with my whole heart, little bear.)

If you would have asked Javier Peña all those years ago if he would have ever made someone soup for breakfast, he would have laughed in your face. But now? Now, he would make a million bowls of soup for breakfast, if it meant he got to spend it with you.

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aching-tummies · 2 months ago

Text

2h Tummy Ache

Experienced 2+ hours of a really bad stomach ache today. And I think I now have a clear and definitive answer for the worst stomach ache I have ever experienced.

I decided to let myself sleep in for an extra hour before navigating transit to get to my campus (90 minutes on transit 'cuz transfers are a mess). I usually leave earlier to avoid the crowding on transit because there have been some days where the driver refuses to accept any more riders because their bus is dangerously full of people. The absolute last bus that'll get to me and have me arrive at campus on-time is usually packed pretty full, so I intentionally leave an hour or two early to avoid the crowding when I can. Today, I decided to risk the overcrowding to allow myself an extra hour of sleep. The gamble paid off and I got to campus on-time.

Unfortunately, I was still pretty sleepy despite sleeping in. I powered through my morning but I immediately sought out coffee upon reaching campus. Nearest coffee shop without a ridiculous line had a caramel latte thing as the only thing I recognized on the menu, so I got that. Again--caramel, espresso shot, and the rest of the thing is milk. Today, I got it hot rather than chilled…so…more milk in the cup compared with the chilled version 'cuz there's no ice to make up for the volume difference.

Went to my classes, nursing the milky drink the whole morning. Classes let out in the afternoon and I had plans to meet up with friends immediately after--across town…so I booked it to the transit station in hopes of making it to the other side of the city in time to meet up and not keep my friends waiting.

I had forgotten to refill my waterbottle on campus before I left so the only drink I had on-hand during the transit ride was my caramel latte. I drank that on the train and finished it midway through the ride. Roughly 16oz of milky, sugary espresso down the hatch over the course of 2.5 hours as of 1PM.

I got to the meet-up spot and we were off, hitting up various locations around town to hit up everything everyone wanted to see. Everyone works and has different things going on in their lives so time to meet up together is impossible to work out…so when such a rare opportunity presented itself, we jumped on it. I wasn't going to let a tummy ache de-rail my outing with friends I have not met up together with in over four years. we've met one-on-one a few times, but an outing with all of us?! We haven't done that since we were all 'just students'.

First stop was at a nearby mall to get some food. We all went to a food court and got our own food to eat together. After that we hit up the shops for a bit before piling into the one car and hitting up various other shops around the city. Some of us had errands like returning library books or picking up cold and flu medicine for a younger sibling or whatever so we did all that too. In total we were out for a good two hours together after getting lunch.

My stomach started to hurt after lunch, honestly. Most of it was lower-belly stuff. Milk-cramps--my intestines cramping up 'cuz I guess they decided they forgot what dairy is or how to handle it today. Sharp, crampy twinges started jolting through my belly, centred under my navel as I sat in the back seat and tried not to writhe, squirm, or moan. There were three other people in the car and I did not want to draw attention to my tummy or reveal the toxic ache brewing in my guts. This was literally just after lunch and there were at least four different shops around the city to hit up. Not to mention all the stops that we didn't plan for when someone saw something they wanted to check out since we were already there and all.

Throughout the course of the next two hours, the cramps came in waves and got more and more painful with each one. Half an hour after the start of the tummy ache, I'd given in and discreetly slid my hand under my waistband to massage at my crampy lower belly behind my bag--being super discreet and praying that my guts wouldn't get audibly upset. This was in a small sedan, after all. If my belly started growling, everyone would hear--radio or no radio. An hour into it, I was definitely tense. About an hour and a half into it all, I'd given up on fighting my body and I'd brought my knees up, bracing my knees against the passenger seat in front of me while I had both of my hands squeezing my lower tummy under my bag. I was biting my tongue to prevent whining or whimpering from the crampy aches in my gut.

Our last stop was a local library where the friend driving had books to return (for their family) everyone agreed to enter the library to browse 'cuz nostalgia (parents used to take us to libraries often). The second we entered the library, I split off from the group claiming to be on the hunt for something for my courses. In reality, I went for the washroom on another floor of the library and tended to my stomach until I got the text messages informing me that one of 'em was done and waiting for the rest of us to meet up at the doors to pile back into the car. In total I'd had about 4 minutes to deal with my achy belly in that washroom.

Thankfully, after the library we were all on our way home. The second I got home, I made a beeline for my bed, flopped onto it, and gave my stomach a real massage. I strongly suspect it was the milk. Milk in large quanities tends to upset my stomach in a delayed manner. Like…it won't cause any issues in my stomach or anything, but when it hits my lower guts it starts tying everything in knots.

Send me your best responses. What would you have done? Say you were the other back-seat-passenger and you caught on. What would you have done to me? Kinda hoping for some sadistic responses ^^ Also, just because I posted this, does not mean anything else is off the table. If you wanna send me a response to literally anything else I've ever posted to this blog--go for it. Always welcome. Ideally, gimme enough to know which post you are responding to so that I can link it in the response if/when it gets posted.

#tummy ache #stomach ache #achy belly #aching tummies #upset tummy #tummy ache kink #tummy kink

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thevioletcaptain · 9 months ago

Text

So I've been quiet on here a lot longer than planned.

The reasons are many. The reasons are varied.

The reasons are mostly fucking horrible.

Under a cut because it's long. Check tags for content warnings.

First was the expected absence: my parents came to visit me in Los Angeles over my birthday, so I spent the first half of October showing them around whenever I wasn't working a shift at my shitty department store day-job, or in class at UCLA.

Then, almost immediately after they went back to Australia, I got a second job working as a personal assistant for a composer. This was (and is) an extremely fun and rewarding job, but meant having one more thing on my weekly schedule, which was an adjustment.

Given that until halfway through last year, I'd been out of work since I immigrated in 2019, it took a while for me to get used to having so many concurrent responsibilities, and I'd just started to get a handle on things when I got sick right before the holidays. I took many covid tests -- all negative -- and eventually determined that it was just last year's strain of flu, which I hadn't managed to find time to get the shot for due to the aforementioned super busy schedule. I'm almost positive it was thanks to a particular customer at the aforementioned shitty department store job who coughed hard enough in my direction for their germs to get through my n95.

Anyway, last year's flu was a monster, and I spent a week in bed with a fever, then several more weeks being utterly drained and with a horrendous cough to match. It took a full month for me to recover, and then in mid-January, almost as soon as I started to catch up on all the things that had fallen behind while I was sick, things got bad, then good, then worse, then better, then much, much, much worse.

Basically, it starts with my dad being diagnosed with prostate cancer. He'd told me in October when they came to see me, but the surgery was scheduled for the tail end of January.

The surgery happened on a Monday, and it was a complete success. They got it all in one go. No chemo or radiation or further treatment needed at all. I spoke to him on the phone after he woke up, and he was in good spirits. Happy to have been given the all clear by his doctors.

I told him to watch Star Trek: Strange New Worlds & Evil while he rested up at home, because I'm writing specs for both this year and wanted him to be able to read them and know what was going on. He's the one who got me into sci-fi and horror, after all.

He went home.

He was home for two days.

He started feeling a bit rough on the Thursday. Short of breath. No appetite. Mum took him back to the hospital, just to be safe.

Turns out he'd had a mild heart attack. They couldn't figure out why. The echocardiogram didn't show any issues with his heart.

Then over the next couple of days, his breathing got worse. They took a scan of his lungs, and found that they were extremely inflamed. They'd given him covid tests but they came back negative. We told them about a work accident he had about 20 years ago, where a switchboard he'd been working on exploded in his face, and he'd suffered from inhalation burns among other things.

They thought that maybe something during the prostate surgery had caused irritation in his already damaged lungs, which put stress on his heart and caused the mild heart attack. He's never had any issues with his lungs since that accident, but they thought that maybe he'd just adapted to the damage over the years without realizing.

They kept trying different treatments to help his lungs heal. Nothing seemed to work. His breathing kept getting worse. They had him on as much oxygen as possible without intubating him, but it wasn't enough, so over that weekend they decided that they'd need to move him to another hospital with a more specialized lung unit.

When they were preparing to do that on the Monday night, he crashed. Another heart attack. Bigger, this time. They intubated him. Sedated him. Called my mum and told her to come in right away because things looked so bad.

But then he rallied. By the morning, though he was still sedated and intubated, the doctors were confident that with the right treatment at the specialized lung unit at the other hospital, he'd be okay. He was still in a rough condition, but stable. They transferred him to the other hospital.

He was given another covid test. This one came back positive.

My mum and brother called me once it was a reasonable time in Los Angeles to let me know what was going on, and the next day my brother booked me a flight back to Australia. I had to leave for the airport about five hours after my ticket was booked.

I got to Melbourne on February 1st.

For the next two weeks, dad was intubated, sedated, and in an isolation room. Every few days, they scanned his lungs again, and they were slowly improving.

Finally, he stopped testing positive, and was moved to a regular room in the ICU. Then he healed enough for them to extubate him and wake him up.

On February 13th, he was conscious enough to squeeze my hand when we went in to see him. On February 14th, he was conscious and capable of talking enough to ask a nurse in his ward to bring him his phone, and called mum first thing in the morning to wish her a happy Valentines Day.

Two days later, on Friday 16th, his lungs looked good enough on scans that they felt it was safe to do an angiogram, which they wanted to do just to double check that there weren't any issues with his heart that they missed with the echo.

They did the test. They found massive blockages. 90% blockage in one artery; significant blockages in two others.

Even though he'd barely recovered from covid, the blockages were bad enough that they scheduled him for open heart surgery on Monday 19th. They said without surgery there was a 100% chance that the blockages would cause another massive heart attack that he would not survive. They said there was about a 20% chance that he'd have complications, but only about 4% that they'd be serious/life threatening.

Like before, the surgery went well. Triple bypass, in the end. We got a call late on Monday afternoon to say that he was in recovery and looking good. His heart was functioning perfectly. They'd bring him out of sedation that night. Keep him in the ICU one or two days just as the standard post-op procedure. He'd spend a week or so in a cardiac ward after that, then head to a physical rehab ward for a couple of weeks until he could build back the muscle mass he'd lost while sedated.

We went in to see him the next day. Tuesday 20th. His 66th birthday.

He was tired, but looked good. Color in his cheeks. He made a couple of jokes. We left after about 45 minutes because he was pretty worn out, and we wanted to let him get some rest.

But then after, that his breathing started to get bad again. By Wednesday morning, they'd switched out the oxygen prongs in his nose for a big, high-pressure mask again. They called to let us know they were going to intubate him again so he could rest while his lungs recovered a bit more.

They struggled to get the tube in.

His lungs were deteriorating badly. He kept getting worse. We couldn't go in to see him because they were working on him all day.

At 9pm we got a call to say that he was just getting worse. They had him on 100% oxygen. He just wasn't absorbing it. His entire body was under massive strain. They were doing everything they could, but he just wasn't improving.

They said we should go in right away.

We got there by 10pm. My brother and his wife arrived about the same time. We went in to see him. He didn't look good. He looked pale. But he was warm, and he'd come back from the brink before, and we were sure he could do it again. We stayed with him for about an hour, and left not long after 11pm. Went back to my brother's place because they live closer to the hospital.

We were there about half an hour before they called us again. Just after midnight. He was gone.

That was about a week and a half ago, now. It still doesn't feel real. He was only 66. He hadn't even retired yet. He was working full time up until the week before Christmas, and had planned on going back to work a few days a week after he'd recovered from surgery. He never had any heart trouble, or lung trouble. He was active. He was fine.

My wife Zel and her mom flew in a couple of days after it happened. I barely remember anything from the past two weeks. Everything just feels fake.

I've been trying to write something to say at the funeral, which we've finally been able to arrange for next week -- it was delayed because we had to wait for dad to be released by the coroner. I don't think I'll be able to do it.

Anyway. That's where I've been.

It'll probably be a little while longer before I'm around here much, let alone posting with any regularity, because I'll be in Australia helping my mum & and my brother sort everything out. I have no idea how long I'll be dealing with stuff, or when I'll be able to make words cooperate enough to post anything, but I'll be back eventually.

I'm trying to keep an eye on Discord (I'm violetmatter over there) so you can find me there if you want. But yeah, I just wanted to let you guys know why I've been so quiet.

#cass says things #this is a very long #and heavy post #so i guess i should include some content warnings #uh #christ what do i even tag this with #cw: hospital #cw: health #cw: death #cw: parent death

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jeridandridge · 1 year ago

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Hi! Idk if your asks are open but I thought I'd give it a shot!

Melissa has the flu or a cold and reader is taking care of her. And she's being both "melissa" and a big ole baby about it. 😁😁

Also Drunk is so gooood! You are 1000000% right, soft melissa is EVERYTHING! Thank you for writing!!

👻

Hi 👻! Thank you for the request! 🩷

Tea and Hot Nurses

On Monday when you don’t see your girlfriend in the lunch room you give Barb a look. “Where’s Mel?”

“I was wondering the same thing. She still may be in her room.”

You nod tapping the doorframe with your fingers on the way out. You walk down the hall with a smile giving one or your students a high five before you get to Melissa’s classroom. Through the small bit of glass on the closed door you see the lights are off and that signals warning bells to go off in your head.

Opening the door you step in to see your girlfriend with her head on her jacket as a makeshift pillow.

“Baby, are you okay?” You ask gently rubbing her back.

The red head turns to look at you, her nose red and her eyes bloodshot, Kleenex balled up in her hand.

“What happened? Did someone do something? I’ll find them right now.” You stand on guard ready to move, thinking she’d been crying.

Melissa lets out a shaky laugh before coughing hard into her arm. “No one did anything, hon. I think I caught what the kids were passing around so I’m gonna try to nap before they come back.”

You let out a sigh rubbing her back. She sounded congested and she looked miserable.

“Mel, you should really go home. I can go talk to Ava and cover your class during my prep period.” You tell her.

Melissa gives you a soft smile shaking her head. “I’m fine, hon.” She lets out just before she starts coughing again.

“Yeah you sound great.” You roll your eyes. “Come on, baby, I don’t wanna worry about you the rest of the day.”

“Y/n, Im fine. You think a little cold can knock me out?”

You huff putting your hands on your hips eyeing all the Kleenex in the trash before meeting her eyes with a quirked brow.

“Fine, but after school I’m taking you home and making sure you take care of yourself.”

Sure enough when the bell rings two hours later you’re downstairs at Melissa’s door with your bags ready to go. “I’m gonna follow you back to your place but make a stop on the way to get some supplies.” You tell her.

“Hon, I have stuff at the house.” She says coming out of the doorway.

“Okay but you need other things. Just go home and get comfy I’ll be there in a few.”

“So bossy.” She teases you with a smirk.

When you get in your car you stop by the pharmacy closest to Melissa’s house before heading there. After you get everything you need you head to your girlfriends using your key to get in. When you set everything down on the kitchen counter you hear the shower running upstairs and take the time to get tea going on the stove and unpack everything else you bought.

“What did you do buy the entire pharmacy?”

Putting a Gatorade in the fridge you close the door turning to see your girlfriend with her hair up and in her sweats with her favorite hoodie of yours.

“Very funny. I got tea and honey, Gatorade, Kleenex, nasal spray, halls for your throat, a new thermometer, and, your favorite.” You smile handing her a bag of chocolates.

Melissa smiles taking the bag and squeezing your hand.

“Thank you, Tesoro.”

“Of course.” You beam sliding the large mug of tea to her. “This should open up your sinuses according to the box.”

“Ya know you don’t have to stay here, hon. I don’t wanna get you sick.”

“Mel I had my tongue down your throat last night. I probably already have whatever you have. Besides, I’m not leaving you alone.” You reason as you migrate everything to the couch.

Melissa stands with her hands in your, her hoodie watching you with a smile before she joins you on the couch cuddling into your side.

She takes the mug sipping the warm drink with a hum, your phone chime and laugh capturing her attention.

“Ava said, and I quote ‘Melissa’s covered for tomorrow. Make sure she stays home and recovers I can’t be the only baddie around here it’s too much responsibility.’ “

Melissa lets out a breathy laugh keeping her head on your shoulder.

“I should admit I’m sick more often, eh? I get compliments from Ava and a hot nurse.” She grins up at you.

You can’t help but lean in and kiss her forehead.

#abbott elementary #lisa ann walter #wlw #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #lgbtq fiction

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unforgettble420 · 1 year ago

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hello love, may I request miles42! with a sick reader? Like since the morning she's been quiet and sluggish and she can barely stay awake? And she feels even worse cuz she's been working a lot and hasn't been sleeping well so she's already exhausted plus the fatigue from being sick and she almost passes out during lunch so Miles makes her skip the rest of school so that he can take care of her at home? Can we get a lil Momma Rio as well??

OMG YESSS🙈🙈 42!miles does smth to me😮‍💨

<!warnings! Not to much warnings except for the shitty Spanish😭 maybe smth Abt y/n kinda panicking! !Warnings!>

not proof read

𝒸𝒶𝓇𝒾𝓃õ

The flu had been going around school so at some point u were bound to get it. When u got the flu it was always the worst, miles was aware of this and right as he saw u cough he knew u were sick

“ bebé it’s ok mi mamá te ama” (babe it’s ok my mom loves you)

“ miles -cough- I don’t wanna bother your mom she already does so much -cough-”

After miles had brought (forced) you back to he’s place he’s mom had already made some soup “oh cariño, ¿cómo has estado?” (oh honey how have u been?) she pulled you into a big hug “has miles been treating you well?” She half whispered “MAMI!”

You giggled at the little interaction, after enjoying ms.morals soup you realized you had a big project due in science!

You started panicking a little, of course miles had noticed you freaking out “y/n u ok?” He asked with a worried expression

“No. I forgot about my science project and I’m already failing that class and if I miss another assignment I might have to do it next semester and I literally can’t do that it my mom will flip-”

Miles put hes hand on top of yours “cariño, it is ok we can work more on your project after you rest, u need to rest first. Ok?” Seeing how worried miles was about you made u feel better

For the rest of the day you spent watching movies with miles and eventually falling asleep…

IM SO SORRY THIS IS SHORT IM PROBABLY GOMNA KEEP MAKING MORE 42!miles ONE-SHOTS OR EVEN A FIC🙈

#miles moarals x reader #earth 42 miles morales x reader #actsv #spider man: across the spider verse #actsv x reader #miles morales #42 miles morales #faniction #one shot #miguel o’hara x reader #peter b parker x reader #gwen stacy

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dontknowmanijustworkhere · 7 months ago

Text

When Happens In The Fencing Room Stays In The Fencing Room

Today was an unusual day in that classes were canceled because quite a few of the teachers came down with the flu. It was initially assumed that in a couple days they could recuperate enough to resume class as normal, but that didn’t happen. For right now, the students were highly encouraged to keep up with their studies and not slack off during this time. Wednesday rolled her eyes during this speech by Principal Weems. She doubted that many would take it to heart. These people would do anything to have more leisure time.

Well, Wednesday wasn’t going to let herself fall behind in her skills. No one would likely be in the fencing room at this time, so she forced Enid into coming along with her. Enid had not wanted to, she had a date planned with Ajax and didn’t want to be tired afterwards, but Wednesday did not care.

Bright and early Saturday morning, they went. Enid was yawning the whole way. It was her own fault for being tired. She should have gotten off her phone sooner and went to sleep. As soon as she pushed the door open, Wednesday saw the very person she could have gone without seeing.

Barclay.

“Seems we had the same idea,” Barclay was wiping down her sabre.

“I didn’t tell her!” Enid said defensively when Wednesday shot her a look. “I didn’t even know she was going to be here, otherwise I wouldn’t have come.”

Barclay stood up. “There’s enough room for all of this. Unless you can’t handle me staying here.”

Wednesday sneered. “I couldn’t care less if you’re here or not. Just stay out of my way.”

“Believe me, I’d rather do that,” Barclay scoffed. “But I need a partner. Divina bailed on me and I obviously can’t do this by myself.”

“You and Wednesday can be partners,” Enid suggested. “We don’t need three people here...”

“Stay,” Wednesday commanded, then addressed Barclay. “I suppose you can stay if you prove yourself useful. I’m not expecting Enid to be a formidable fencing partner.”

“Hey!” Enid whined.

“And you’re saying I am, Addams?” Barclay smirked.

“Hardly. However, you can keep up, which is more than I can for most.”

“I’ll take the compliment,” Barclay said. “I’m sure we can all manage to get in a shot.”

None of them were wearing their uniform or gear. Coach Vlad wasn’t here to enforce it so Wednesday didn’t care. She’d thrown on a t-shirt and a pair of leggings while Enid had dressed herself in a bright ensemble that should’ve come with a warning sign.

“If you’re ready,” Wednesday held eye contact with her. “Let’s begin.”

“Wait!” Enid bent down. “I need to tie my shoe.”

Wednesday wasn't going to wait any longer. She took a step forward, holding out her sabre. Barclay did the same. They circled each other, never once looking away. Then, at once, they attacked. Their sabre’s clashed, clanging loudly. Wednesday ducked, avoiding what would have been a blow to her face. Barclay would never let her live it down if she lost this early.

Enid was back on her feet. She watched them, clearly nervous that one of them would strike the other on purpose. “Guys, be careful!” She squeaked. “We’re not even in uniform! Coach Vlad will be super mad if he finds out.”

Wednesday discarded the warning. She was confident in a matter of minutes, she could beat Barclay.

Barclay jumped forward, looking frustrated when that did not achieve what she wanted. Wednesday was easily able to get away from her.

Their sabre’s smashed together some more.

“Hang on!” Barclay stopped suddenly. She panted, holding a hand up to signal to Wednesday to cease.

Wednesday refrained from rolling her eyes. Did Barclay think she was stupid?

As predicted, the siren was bent over for only a few seconds, leaping up to try to get her. Wednesday got her instead.

“That was brand new!” Barclay shouted at the hole in her shirt. It wasn’t big enough that it would need to be replaced, but she was aggravated nonetheless.

“And yet you wore it to fence in?” Wednesday drawled. “Your stupidity astounds me.”

While Barclay fumed, Wednesday was pleased with herself. She didn’t notice Enid coming up behind her until she felt warm fingers on the back of her neck.

“Sorry, your hair was coming out of your braid and it was bothering me,” Enid said, fixing it for her.

Unfortunately, she didn’t account for Wednesday scrunching up her neck to rid herself of the sensations on her sensitive skin.

Her sabre dropped to the floor with a clang.

“Get away from me!” Wednesday said quickly, stepping away, putting on a fierce glare.

Enid was confused, but only for a second. She looked delighted. “Are you ticklish?”

“No!” Wednesday lied.

“What’s this about?” Barclay’s ears had perked up.

“Wednesday squirmed when I touched her neck,” Enid told her.

“I did nothing of the sort,” Wednesday could feel her face going red. She’d never liked tickling. She didn’t like being out of control and at the mercy of someone else. She really didn’t like the idea of Barclay finding out about a weakness of hers.

Barclay looked like Christmas had come early. “Addams here is ticklish? Oh, this is too good.”

“I’m not!” She snapped.

Barclay and Enid shared some kind of silent communication. It made Wednesday feel uncharacteristically nervous, knowing nothing good could possibly come out of this. With grins on both their faces, they advanced towards Wednesday.

“Don’t,” she warned them.

“If you’re not ticklish,” Barclay said with a wicked grin, “then just prove it, Addams. It’s not that hard. Unless you’re scared.”

Wednesday knew what she was trying to do. She was goading her into it. If she refused, it would be a dead giveaway. Plus, Barclay would use this as a means to gloat.

And if she ever spoke of it in front of others...

“Fine,” Wednesday relented.

Barclay softly tickled her stomach. It was over her t-shirt, which should have provided some protection. But it was no match for the siren’s nails. She didn't laugh, but she did suck in her stomach. This was noticed by both girls.

“I knew it!” Enid said. “You're totally ticklish.”

Barclay smirked. Wednesday couldn't fight the blush that erupted over her face. She pulled herself away, clearing her throat.

“Let us get back to work. Enid, I will duel you next.”

“What’s the matter, nervous?” Barclay mocked, getting a quick tickle under Wednesday’s chin.

She slapped away the siren’s hand, dread piling up in her stomach.

Enid snuck up on her, taking advantage of Wednesday being temporarily distracted by tracing a fingernail down the side of her neck. Wednesday yelped, body jerking out of instinct. She knew she was done for it when Enid and Barclay smirked at each other.

She didn't even have the chance to get a word out; one of them, Wednesday didn't even know who because it happened so fast, gripped her by the shoulders, yanking her closer to them to keep her still. From there, several fingers poked at her ribs and abdomen. The shirt she was wearing did nothing for her, and worse, she was boxed in between them. She couldn't escape, could hardly move much or do anything about the undignified giggles that got stuck in her throat. It made her panic; she wiggled her hips to dodge the pointed nails and all too soon, the pokes turned into grazes that nearly made Wednesday jump out of her skin.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” Barclay said slyly.

Wednesday cursed to herself.

“What was that?” Enid walked her fingers up Wednesday's side. She didn't go underneath her shirt, but it didn't tickle any less.

Wednesday squirmed involuntarily.

Barclay copied Enid; Wednesday was trapped, her sides being attacked simultaneously.

“Aww, look at her!” Enid grinned, taking great enjoyment in watching Wednesday try to avoid the tickling but to no avail.

Her knees buckled on her, she fell into a heap on the floor. The girls followed her there, and now Wednesday was on her back on the floor.

Barclay took it up a notch, rolling up Wednesday’s shirt. They had her pinned down here, adamant on ensuring she wouldn’t escape, not that Wednesday thought she could.

Against her will, her arms were lifted up, giving them access to her underarms. Wednesday’s eyes were squeezed shut, a smile rapidly appearing that she couldn’t stop. They stroked their fingers down her forearm and into her underarms. It shocked her how ticklish she was there. She’d never been tickled in that spot before. Wednesday desperately tried to wiggle away but could not. She'd underestimated Enid and Barclay’s strength.

“You're smiling!” Enid said.

They dug their fingers in, pushing her shirt sleeve down just enough to grant them access. Their fingernails scratched in the middle of her underarms. Wednesday’s wiggling became worse but she could not get away.

“You better not laugh, Addams,” Barclay teased her.

Against her will, she whimpered. Everything- her resistance, her body, was weakening. Laughter was building in her chest to the point of no return. She couldn’t fight it much longer, not even by clamping her mouth shut, lips pressed together as tight as she could make them.

“I can’t believe how ticklish you are,” Enid said, giddily. Somewhere in the midst of this, Wednesday cringed, knowing Enid would use this to her advantage whenever the opportunity arose. With her werewolf strength, Wednesday didn’t stand a chance.

“Where else are you ticklish at, Addams?” Barclay said slyly. It was the kind of tone that let Wednesday know she was in trouble.

Their fingers slowed down.

She was able to take in some air, still squirming a little. Wednesday kept her mouth firmly shut. She wasn’t about to spill any more embarrassing secrets.

“Not talking?” Barclay grinned. “Hmm...”

She let her fingers wander, gliding them down from her underarm to the bottom of her waist. It was like hell on her skin. Those same fingers trailed up and down the side of her body, the siren humming nonchalantly.

“Bit sensitive there?” She said without any sympathy.

Enid followed suit, but only for a couple of times. She decided to give Wednesday’s side a devastating squeeze. It made an embarrassing sound escape from the goth girl’s lips, one that had her face burning with shame afterwards.

“Oh,” Barclay said devilishly. “Nice one, Sinclair.”

The siren winked at Enid, silently conveying yet another plan. Wednesday was given a brief reprieve, the tickling stopping altogether, her body slumping down in relief.

It didn’t last long.

She was attacked yet again. Both of her underarms were helpless against the fluttering Barclay’s hands were doing. “Aww,” the other girl said cruelly, smirking at the squeaks Wednesday was making. “Is this too much for you? Do you want me to stop?”

Wednesday nodded her head frantically, hating herself for doing it.

“Too bad,” Barclay smirked.

Enid was expertly swiping at her bare stomach, alternating between that and her lower ribs. She teased her too, cooing out, “Aw, someone’s a bit ticklish, huh? What about there? Or there? Is this a bad spot?”

Somehow, it made it worse. It drew out high-pitched laughter from Wednesday, who could do nothing but endure the torture. She writhed on the floor, but only somewhat, still immobilized for the most part from the added weight of both girls.

Enid’s colorful claws scraped down her sides all the way down her hip bones. There, her leggings were pulled down only slightly, just enough to give Enid a chance to poke at that area.

Then, came some relief.

Barclay was holding down her arms but wasn’t tickling her anymore.

“E...enough,” she panted. Her face was flushed pink, tears gathering in the corner of her eyes.

“You’re in no position to demand anything, Addams,” Barclay tickled her under the chin. Wednesday giggled tiredly, moving her head and scrunching her neck to make it stop. “Wait ‘till everyone hears about this.”

At once, panic rippled through her at other people knowing her secret.

“We shouldn’t tell anyone,” Enid disagreed with this, frowning. Then, it was replaced with a grin. “But it can be our little secret. Right, Wednesday?”

She tried to glare but was forced into soft laughter she couldn’t bite back; Enid drummed the tips of her fingernails on the top of her stomach.

“Right?” Enid repeated.

She would not lose any more dignity. She would not...

“Don’t make me bring the tickle monster out again.”

Oh, how she despised being talked to like a child. Enid tisked when the only expression Wednesday made a scowl.

“Uh, oh. Someone’s grumpy,” she singsonged.

“We better cheer her up,” Barclay said.

Wednesday braced for it, the swirl of fingers in her most sensitive spots, but she didn’t account for the new spot Enid sought out instead.

She’d leaned back, reaching with her arms to the backs of Wednesday’s knees. Her body spasmed at the surprise attack. It didn’t tickle as much as her abdomen or underarms, but she still didn’t want Enid’s fingers there, scribbling away.

“Rihihihight!”

Enid stopped, beaming. Wednesday’s body sagged.

“You know,” Barclay said, a smile of no good could be heard, “there’s one place you haven’t tried.”

Wednesday felt her heart sink.

Enid understood immediately. “That’s true! Are your feet ticklish, Wednesday?”

“No,” she said quickly, her words coming out breathy.

“I don’t know, Addams,” Barclay said nonchalantly, “you said you weren’t ticklish either and you lied. You’re probably lying about this too.”

Enid pinned her legs down, sliding off her shoe in a matter of seconds. It did no good to move her foot around, it was grabbed and held still too.

“Last chance to tell us the truth, Wens!” Enid called. She let fingernail trace on her big toe. Wednesday gasped involuntarily.

“Looks like we know the answer to that,” Barclay hummed.

How could this be happening to her? Never in a million years did Wednesday think she would be at the mercy of Enid and Barclay. And for them to be so ruthless, she didn't know whether to be impressed or horrified.

“This is a pretty bad spot for me too,” Enid said, deciding to trace along underneath Wednesday's toes. She scrunched them, hoping to detour the blonde but that didn't work. Not when she could scratch the middle of her foot instead. Wednesday's body jerked. “Dang, Wens. That must be a bad spot.”

“Take her sock off,” Barclay suggested.

There was nothing Wednesday could do to stop her. Her black ankle sock was pulled off effortlessly, exposing her foot for Enid to torture some more.

Before that could happen, Barclay must have been bored just keeping Wednesday still. She dragged her fingers up and down the goth girl’s underarms again, the tickling softer this time around but no less agonizing.

Wednesday's laughter was unrecognizable to her own ears. It was frantic and helpless.

“Plhehehease sthahahop!”

“Hear you beg, Addams, is like music to my ears,” Barclay cackled.

Wednesday was humiliated to be in this situation, and to have Barclay taunting her like that. Maybe it was a good thing she could hardly think at the moment, what with Enid’s torturous fingers stroking down her bare foot, driving her wild.

“Is this why you’re never barefoot in our dorm?” Enid giggled. “You don’t want me to tickle you?”

Wednesday’s laughter went up a notch. Barclay reached down to tickle her upper ribs, meanwhile there was little room to convulse with the way her arches were being explored.

“Have you had enough, Wens?” Enid asked her cheerfully. She still hadn’t stopped. Her feet were still being tapped and grazed, her toes being the current victim of her misfortune.

Through a peal of laughter, Wednesday squealed out, “Yhehehes!”

“Hmm,” Barclay thought out loud, scratching the part of Wednesday’s stomach she could reach without straining herself. “I don’t know, Enid. maybe Addams wants to keep going.”

The sound that came from Wednesday could not be described as anything but whining. She didn’t think she could take much more of this.

“We don’t want to torture her,” Enid said.

“Maybe you don’t,” Barclay said with a shrug. “I think Addams needs to be taught a lesson.”

For the final time, the tickling came to a stop. Wednesday breathed in and out deeply to pull air back into her lungs.

“I think she’s already learned it,” Enid noted with a mischievous grin.

#tickle fic #tickling #wednesday tickle #wednesday tickles #wednesday addams #wednesday netflix #lee wednesday #lee! wednesday #ticklish wednesday #enid sinclair #bianca barclay

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sevens-evan · 1 year ago

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For the prompts, either 19. it made me think of you, 24. just really needed a hug sort of hug, or 15. bed warm

v4 v5 era sadness and Also beacon bees just for you since i put off answering this prompt like a week lol. also i don't know why i chose to write this in past tense i managed to confuse myself with the tenses halfway through. getting less literate as we speak. if the tenses don't make sense at some point please respect that i have not written past tense in Years

Blake got sick once, at Beacon.

She hadn't exactly had a lot of time to go get her flu shot while she was running missions for the White Fang in the months before her matriculation; it was honestly a bit of a miracle it hadn't happened sooner. Several nasty viruses had already swept through the dorms by the time Blake finally got hit, not long at all before the Vytal Festival. In hindsight, she was grateful it wasn't any sooner. She would've hated to try to handle hiding her ears from her teammates at the same time as trying not to cough her lungs out or pass out every time she sat up too fast.

At the time, she was just irritated it was happening at all.

The first two days, Blake could pretend to be fine. By the third day, she excused herself from class when she found herself getting dizzy in her chair and slunk back to the dorm in defeat. She'd found it empty, of course, and barely managed to drop her things on the floor and take her bow off before the need to lie down overwhelmed her.

Drop her things, take her bow off, and crawl up into Yang's bed instead of her own, that is.

Hours later, when Yang returned from class, Blake was just awake enough to notice, unable to sleep between the shivers wracking her body and the sweat beading on her forehead.

"Blake," Yang said, setting her own bag on the chair by the desk. "You good?"

"Mmhhghmph."

"Blake..." Yang reached up over the side of the bunk bed and set her hand on Blake's forehead. And, okay, maybe Blake was a little overheated, since Yang's skin actually felt cold against hers, and Yang is never, ever cold. "You're burning up. You gotta get out of those blankets."

Blake shivered at the very thought.

"M'cold."

"I know you are." Yang's voice took on a tone that Blake had never heard before. It reminded her of the way Yang often spoke to Ruby. Not quite maternal, but almost uncomfortably close to it, considering the nature of her and Blake's relationship. "But you've got to cool off some, okay? I'll get a cold washcloth for your head." Blake groaned wordlessly in response, half-listening as Yang left the room and the tap ran in the bathroom.

"Okay, scoot over." Yang was already back; Blake must've dozed off for a moment. Blake flopped herself to the side, aching all the way, and let Yang climb up and squeeze into bed beside her, sitting up, back against the wall. Yang found Blake's forehead with the washcloth like a homing missile, making Blake flinch at the freezing cold water, even as it felt paradoxically good despite her trembling.

"What are you doing in my bed, anyway? You could've fallen if you're this sick." Yang's fingertips pressed the washcloth down against Blake's forehead. The pressure felt good—soothing. Blake didn't have the energy to lift her head and encourage it, but luckily Yang didn't seem inclined to stop.

(Later, Blake would blame her presence in Yang's bed—and her honesty in this moment—on fevered delirium.)

"It's warmer than mine."

"Warmer?" Yang repeated. "It's the same bed."

"You have nicer blankets." That much was true; Yang had replaced the blanket Beacon provided each of them with a thick comforter, and over top of that, a handmade quilt from home that was wonderfully heavy pressing down onto Blake.

"Speaking of which." Yang's hand finally left Blake's forehead, much to her disappointment. "You've got to let some of this heat out." Blake groaned in protest, but allowed Yang to tug the blankets away from her body, letting fresh air in to draw the heat of the fever out. It was cold, and hot, and uncomfortable, but it wasn't as bad as it could've been, not with Yang there beside her.

(It's this that Blake thinks of, months later, when she picks up some kind of sickness on Menagerie and sweats it out in her childhood bedroom. Her mother brings her water, and ice, and pets her hair back from her sweating face, and it's lovely, it really is; Blake had missed her parents and the way they took care of her, is grateful that they still take care of her after everything, but Blake lies there and aches and thinks about Yang. Yang's always-warm hands, cold on her feverish skin, and the fact that there is no universe where Blake will feel them exactly like that again.)

#bumbleby #rwby #blake belladonna #yang xiao long #gimme-tea-bitch #answered #my fics #fic: bumbleby

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goldenempyrean · 2 years ago

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hi can I request a fic where Nat works as a teacher and catchs a bad cold/flu which is going round. Nat tries to teach as usual but her constant sniffling and sneezing is too much, then R gets a call from the Nurses office asking for her to come and pick Nat up. maybe using the prompts “Do you actually think I’ve had time to go out and get a flu-shot?” “It’s chaos here. I can’t just stop working because I have the sniffles.” and “Baby, I think this is more than just the sniffles.”

Nurse’s Office

〚 Notes – This was such a cute request that I had to do it literally as soon as possible. My brain was just full of ideas for this. I’ve gotten so many reqs too, I'm genuinely almost at 40 so I may have to close my inbox soon just so I don’t get overwhelmed with them all! Slightly desperate to feedback on this too! I think it’s the longest fic I’ve done :) 〛

〚 Summary - Nat loves her job as a teacher, she gives it her all but it seems she has a lesson to learn when it comes to taking care of herself. 〛

〚 Wordcount - 4310 〛

〘 Check Out My Masterlist! 〙

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Nat was sure she felt fine earlier that morning but as she sat hunched over her desk, she couldn’t help but squint as the overhead light shone down directly into her eyes. Looking over her lesson plan for the day, she sighed. First period was the youngest class of students that she taught and it was safe to say they were a handful. Glancing over to the main clock on the wall, Natasha realised she didn’t have long before her students were due to arrive. At least she didn’t have a lot to set out, she’d stayed late the previous night to photocopy some worksheets and papers.

Walking round the room, Nat made sure every student had the correct worksheet on their desk, she was just placing the final paper down when she felt a sudden prickle in her sinuses. Twitching her nose only amplified the annoying itch and Nat knew she was going to-

“Hi’kkshiew!”

Natasha buried her face into her elbow as she sneezed, sniffling slightly afterwards. As she sniffled Nat felt the familiar feeling of congestion begin to settle in her sinuses and quickly came back to her desk to grab a tissue. The sound of a loud bell rung as Nat swiped a few from the box and she’d just finished blowing her nose when students began to fill the room.

She took a moment to gaze around the classroom and was greeted by twenty-seven rowdy children. It wasn't the first time she'd felt anxious, when standing infront of class. Nat wouldn’t call herself an experienced teacher just yet, she’d been working at this school since graduating almost 4 years ago but even so, she still had her moments of doubt.

She opened her mouth to say a cheery ‘good morning’ only the words got caught in her throat, leading her to cough to a little. She thought nothing of it though, simply clearing her throat a few times before continuing her greeting, trying hard to ignore the growing pain at the back of her throat.

“...so today we’ll be looking at genetics. Does anyone know what DNA is?” She looked around among the raised hands before calling on a student, “yes?”

The student gave a pretty good answer and Nat nodded in agreement.

“Ah, well done, that’s correct. The only thing I need to add is that DNA is made up – Hh- of a double hel-Hh'tshiew! Oh, excuse me!” Nat had to fight to stop herself from blushing red with embarrassment as she sneezed down against her wrist.

Natasha rubs her eyes and her sinuses in unison, wiping at the wetness that trails from her nose. A sudden pain throbs deep within her throat, behind her sternum. And hacking, wheezing cough sent left her leaning against her desk as she tried to compose herself.

The students chuckle to themselves as they shift in their seats. One boy turns to whisper something to his friend, and they both giggle at Natasha. The boy behind him—the one who had answered the question—looks her in the eye and laughs. Natasha's skin stings, but she refuses to let it bother her. "What?" she asks. "What is so funny?"

She sends them a glare, instantly silencing them before continuing on with her lesson,

Only throughout the hour, that pain at the back of her throat only grows worse and she’s beginning to sniffle repetitively. The room feels heavier—hotter—and her vision is dimming slightly.

But still Nat pushes through, and by the time the bell rings to dismiss the class, she’s exhausted. Her voice is failing fast and her throat is quickly being shredded with her increasing sneezes. In the small 5-minute window between lessons Nat had already gone through 8 tissues and that number only increased from there.

Second period soon came. The school bell chimed again and soon enough, her second class of the day came flooding in, their loud chatter striking a painful throb through her temples.

Natasha didn’t even bother to try and talk instead; she scrolled through her computer’s files to find a relevant video to play on the projector. The video barely got 5 minutes into in before Nat had to quickly scramble to grab a tissue before sneezing loudly.

"Bless you!" a boy piped up in response, he's wearing a bright orange sweatshirt. His legs swinging back and forth under the desk. "Are you okay Mrs Romanoff? Do you have that bug that’s going round?”

Natasha coughs into her elbow, the sound making several students visibly recoil, “I'm fine thank you.” She tries to muster up her best reassuring smile but it seems nobody is convinced.

The students exchange uneasy glances amongst themselves as their teacher held her head in her hands. Nat grimaced, she could feel her skin breaking out into a sweat beneath her blouse and her vision is beginning to fade in and out as the room grows hotter and hotter. Even the noise from the ongoing video seems somewhat distorted as she tries desperately to not disturb anyone any further but the urge to sleep was almost overbearing and Nat could feel her eyes slowly drifting closed…

“Mrs Romanoff?” A recognisable voice pulled Natasha from her slumber as she blinked groggily giving a little groan at the pressure which had settled behind her eyes. She tried to sniffle but was met with a snuffly noise of congestion, “Mrs Romanoff?”

Nat blinked up, as she tried to shield her eyes from the lights overhead, had they somehow gotten even brighter? Looking up Nat saw the worried face of her colleague, Miss Leslie. Miss Leslie was older than Nat but they’d both been hired around the same time and the two of them had developed a fairly close relationship – it helped that they both shared an office space too - so it wasn’t unusual for either of them to quickly stop by in each other's classes but this time was different.

The loud background chatter of Nat’s students was almost too much for her to handle, “Quiet!” Natasha tried to sound authoritative but her voice came out in a weary rasp, barely audible to anyone other than her close by colleague.

“Natasha?” Miss Leslie spoke in a hushed voice, “One of your students just came into my class and said that I had to come back with him immediately. Natasha, I’m not surprised he did. You look awful honey. Are you feeling okay?”

“I’m fine.” Nat mumbled, “Just a little tired. I just need to get through the rest of this lesson then I’ll drink some coffee or something.” She sniffled, feeling her nose begin to run again.

Miss Leslie’s concerned eyes looked over Nat again then to her students, “Forget coffee, you sound like you need to be in bed. You caught whatever gross bug thats been sweeping its way round this place?”

“I’m fine, absolutely per-Hh- Hhet’tshoo! Hush’tshoo!”

“No Natasha, you’re not. Seriously, go back to our office, I’m taking over for you.” Miss Leslie’s voice was firm in her words as she urged the redhead to stand, not missing the way she swayed in place, “Go sit down, I’ll be there soon.”

Miss Leslie’s hand came to grip Natasha’s shoulder as she helped her up out of the seat, her careful eyes watching over the redhead as she wordlessly shuffled out of the room and towards her office.

Nat wasn’t even sure how much time had passed when the door to her office swung open, letting in a cold breeze with it. She didn’t bother to look over, she didn’t bother to look anywhere, hell, even just opening her eyes hurt. Everything was a blur.

There was a voice somewhere in the room though she couldn’t quite make out any words. Everything felt muffled. Nat barely even registered the fact that her colleague had come to squat down beside her until she felt the touch of a hand clasp her forehead lightly.

“Oh honey, this isn’t good.” The concerned voice of Miss Leslie sighed, only then did Nat find the strength to look up at the worried face of her colleague, “You’re way too hot.”

“Leslie? What are you doing?” Nat mumbled as she forced herself to sit upright, the room spinning as she did so, “What about the class?”

“They're on break. Its 11pm, didn’t you hear the bell?” 

Nat shrugged, no, she definitely did not hear any bell. She was about to get up when she felt that familiar prickle in her sinuses forcing her to quickly swivel around in her chair to avoid sneezing all over her colleague.

“Hh’iishoo! hHeh’ktshhiiew!”

“Bless you.” The older woman replied as she squeezed the redhead’s shoulder, “You aren’t seriously thinking about going back to class still?” She asked in shock as the younger teacher went to pick up her files.

“I have too, I have my upper-years next and we’re already behind schedule, theres so-“ Nat broke off from her teary rambles with a loud barking cough, it felt as if her chest was constricting with every breath.

“Natasha you can’t go on like this, we’ve both seen how many bugs and germs are spreading round this place. Hell, we’re basically working in a petri-dish and I know we’re meant to push through when we’re not feeling too well for the sake of the kids but Nat, you really shouldn’t be here.”  The older woman sighed deeply as she lectured the younger teacher.

“I- I just feel like everything’s going wrong today.” The redhead finally admitted as she wiped at her teary eyes, “I felt fine this morning and now-“ She sniffled thickly, unable to breathe properly through her stuffy nose.

“I know, I know.” The older woman sympathised as the younger teacher went to grab some tissues from the box on her desk, “Maybe we should let the nurse take a look at you.”

Nat sent her a look, “I don’t really think that’s necessary. It’ll just waste her time.” She sighed wearily as she rubbed at her temples again. That congestion really wasn’t helping her headache at all.

“Honey, I mean no offence by this at all but you’re a mess. I’ve never seen you like this and quite frankly it’s a little worrying, so please? Let me put my mind at rest, go and see the nurse Natasha.”

Natasha took another tissue as another set of raspy coughs choked up through her throat. God I really am a mess. Nat admitted to herself. Her throat feels like a lump of coal and she swore she could almost feel the fluid in her sinuses sloshing about like stagnant sludge. Just to avoid her co-worker's concerned stare, she reached to the desk beside her and grabs a pen, feebly scribbling onto a sticky note.

To Substitute,

Textbooks are in the back cupboard. Get the upper-years to read page 18 and answer the questions using correct exam technique. Put an educational film on for the younger ones. Email me if needed.

- Mrs Romanoff

Miss Leslie gave Nat a nod as she read over the sticky note which had been pressed into her hand – though she did discreetly scribble out the final sentence when Nat’s back was turned, “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure everything goes smoothly. Now come on, let me give you a hand getting to the nurse's office. I doubt you’ll make it on your own...”

"Thanks..." Nat mutters as Leslie props her up, helping her hobble down the hallway. She grips onto the older lady's arm, feeling as though she'd collapse any second. Her lungs burn and her brain is hazy. She tries to focus, to listen to what Leslie's saying... but everything feels so far away. It's as though it's happening through the lenses of a camera. Every time she blinks, the hallway spins a little faster. Her legs are like lead weights, her arms limp noodles, and she doesn't stop shivering. All around her are the confused stares of students, not used to seeing their usually so resilient teacher being helped down the hallway but Nat doesn’t notice, she hears only a dull, thudding heartbeat as her skin tingles with fever.

〘✧〙

You day had been pretty boring. You’d finished all your work so you had just been sitting at your desk, scribbling away on Microsoft Paint on the computer infront of you, you were halfway through drawing a little picture of a flower when the screen of your phone lit up as it began to vibrate from across the table. Snatching your attention, you picked up the device and looked at the number displayed on the incoming call, unknown. Strange. You tried to think back to see if you could remember anyone that had been meaning to call you recently but you came up with nothing so with a shrug, you pressed on the little green button and accepted the call.

“Hello? Is this Y/N speaking?” A friendly voice came through the phone, an older woman by the sound of it.

“Hi, yes, it is. Can I help you?” You replied, trying to see if you could recognise the voice.

“This is the nurse speaking, from Natasha’s school. Natasha’s actually here with me right now, she’s not feeling very well at all. Is it possible for you to come and collect her?”

“Nat’s sick?” Your mouth dropped open in surprise, she had seemed fine that morning, “okay, I’ll be there as soon as possible.”

The call ended and you quickly gathered up your things before rushing over to your boss's office to explain the situation. He didn’t have an issue with you leaving, especially since you’d already gotten the day's work done, infact he even told you to take the rest of the day off – he knew you’d only be worried sick if you came back. You said a very grateful thankyou before jogging out of your office towards the company car park, quickly starting the ignition and driving off in the direction of Nat’s school.

You made sure to park close to the entrance as you entered the school grounds. With a swift click of your keys, you locked your car and headed towards the entrance. The school Nat taught at was nice, that’s one of the reasons Nat loved teaching so much, the campus was great. Entering the reception, a young-looking brunette smiled at you over from the desk, her nametag reading ‘Miss Sharp’.

“Hi, I got a call from the nurse to come pick up Mrs Romanoff.” You explained politely and a knowing look flashed across the receptionist's face.

“Oh, you’re Natasha’s wife! It’s lovely to meet you finally, I’ve heard great things about you,” The receptionist smiled as you blushed slightly, “Why on earth she decided to come in today is a mystery to me, I'm not surprised that you’re here to take her home. Anyway, the nurse's office is just through the main doors, take a right and then keep going down the hall. It’s a white door, you can't miss it.”

You flashed her a grateful smile, “Thank you so much.”

“No problem!”

The sound of the school bell rang as you approached the white door at the end of the corridor, getting closer you could see the distinct label of ‘Nurse’s Office’ displayed beside the door. You knocked on the door lightly and waited until you heard a faint voice call “Come in.”

Opening the door, you were greeted by a kind, elderly face. Her nametag simply read, ‘Cindy’.

“Mrs Romanoff’s wife? Y/N? Is that correct?” She asked.

“Yes, that’s right.,” You replied with a nod, but the rough sound of pained coughing came from round the corner just beyond your sight, and you hoped to God that Nat wasn’t the one making it, ”You called me about Nat?”

Cindy seemed to pick up on the worried tone slipping into your voice as you spoke, “I did. She’s been adamant on working, but I’ve kept her here for the last hour or so,” The next sound you recognised, you winced at the sound of Nat’s desperate sneezes which echoed through the office, “Poor dear... She’s been like that the whole time; I hate to think that she’s been teaching in that condition. She’s just through here.”

As Cindy rounded the corner and motioned for you to follow, you felt your shoulders drop upon recognising Nat. Her back was resting against the wall as she sat on a bed. The light pink blouse that she had left in earlier that morning was sitting at the end of the bed, only now the blouse was noticeably damp in certain areas and she was now dressed in a loose-fitting black t-shirt with the school's emblem embellished on the front.

“Natasha!” You gasped, quickly scurrying to her side as you reached up to cup her feverish cheek, "Baby, you're completely burning up." You whispered as you looked over her flushed face and wet neck. The warmth of her skin spread to your fingers as you reached up to place your palm against her forehead, prompting you to bite your lip nervously.

“She hasn’t let me take her temperature yet,” Cindy sighed, shaking her head in disapproval, “I was hoping you’d convince her otherwise.”

“Nat...” You frowned as you crossed your arms, you voice taking on a serious tone. You took a firm grip on Natasha's cheek, so she’d look you in the eye and her head tilts to the side in a gesture of mild defiance. The tip of your thumb traces her cheekbone. "Nat, you're so warm, we need to know what your temp is so we can help you feel better. Please?”

“Fine.” Natasha’s voice comes out in a throaty rasp, it’s the first time you’ve heard her speak and you definitely didn’t like how she sounded at all. If she had sounded anything like how she currently did earlier that morning, you would’ve practically forced bed rest upon her... Speaking of though, why hadn’t Nat seemed ill this morning?

Cindy nodded appreciatively towards you as she went to retrieve the thermometer from her desk. It was the old type of one and she instructed Natasha to place it beneath her tongue as you asked the burning question, “How long have you felt sick for ‘Tasha, tell me the truth.”

Nat thought for a moment, in all honestly, it had all her hit at once. She had felt a little sluggish this morning sure, but it was nothing compared to how she felt now. When Nat went to voice this, she interrupted by the frantic itching of her nose. Despite trying to hold back the tickle, she only had seconds to quickly snatch the device out from her mouth before sneezing down into her cupped hands.

“Hah’hishoo! Hhih-tschiew! Hh-Hi'TshhIEW”

“Goodness, bless you honey.”

You expected Nat to put the thermometer back in her mouth, but she kept her hands cupped over her mouth; her eyes slightly wider than earlier as she looked towards you then down to the tissue box over on the table beside the bed. You knew instantly what she wanted, and she sent you a pitiful look as you handed her a tissue. You waited until she’d finished to pick up the nearby trashcan and you held it up so that she could throw her soggy tissue away.

“So, how long has it been?” You repeated once Nat had settled back down.

She shrugged a little, “I was a little tired this morning before I left, but it mainly hit after I got in, it all seemed to come at once.”

You looked over to Cindy to see if this was even possible and she was giving an understanding nod, “That’s how the flu tends to come on I’m afraid. It usually hits pretty hard and fast. Can you finish taking your temperature for me though poppet?” The nurse kindly urged, picking up the thermometer and holding it to her mouth. Nat saw no point in arguing. It’d only end with you getting annoyed with her so reluctantly she opened and held the device beneath her tongue.

"38.9," Cindy comments after a moment, turning the thermometer upside down to observe the final reading, "Oh, bless. You should’ve stayed home today dear."

The way her head slumps forward in her exhaustion is heart breaking. She looks utterly miserable as she weakly excuses, “It’s chaos here. I can’t just stop working because I have the sniffles. There's already so many students off sick so I’m having to set all the catch-up work and then th-Hh-theres the overdue –Hih- inspectio-HH-Heh’iishioo! H-Heh..Heh’kshuu!”

“Poor thing bless you, but I’m sorry baby, I think this is more than just the sniffles.” You pouted sympathetically as you sat down beside her, and in response Nat let her tired head come to rest against you, “you’re working yourself way too hard.”

“Sniffles? Deary me, I’ve seen so many cases of flu this week Mrs Romanoff, and you’ve got one of the worst I’ve seen by far. Like I said, the flu usually comes on pretty fast, it fits your symptoms.” Cindy sighed as Nat began to cough roughly, her lungs making an awful chesty sound and you could practically hear how the congestion in her chest shifted, “I see your flu shot did nothing to help though.”

“About that... I haven’t got one yet” Nat admitted with a wet sniffle as she brought her hand to her temple, trying to get some relief from the throbbing in her head.

"Nat." You whispered, disappointment and pity seeping into your words as you nudged her gently with your elbow. She shifts as she sniffles against your shoulder, staring up at you with a hint of blearily defiance. You tilt her chin up, and she's looking back at you with a mix of exhaustion and guilt. "We've been over this. I told you to go and get one weeks ago. It’s important.”

Both you and Cindy sighed as Nat sneezed again, “Do you actually think I’ve had time to go out and get a flu-shot? She only paused to accept the tissues that you’d reached forward and grabbed for her, “I’ve just been so busy lately, I guess I forgot about it.”

"You didn't forget. You just prioritized other things." Cindy spoke up, her friendly tone being replaced by a stern motherly edge as she chided your wife.

It seemed Nat hadn’t heard that tone being used by her before, you noticed that her lip trembled a little at the voice and how her eyes drifted towards the floor at the sharp reminder that she could have protected herself against the virus. She shifts and rests her arms at her front, folding them as she mutters a quiet, “I'm sorry."

The way your heart squeezed at seeing her pout was indescribable, and the sight of her slightly-teary gave you no choice other than to wrap your arms around her shoulders and pull her in for a tight hug, your fingers combing through the softness of her hair as you whispered, "It's okay, moya lyubov, It's okay."

“You should make sure she gets lots of rest and fluids, keep her hydrated.” Cindy instructed as she came to give your shoulder a much-needed comforting squeeze, you weren't exactly doing the greatest job of hiding your worry, “She’ll be okay dear, Mrs Romanoff just needs to learn when to give in and let herself rest instead of running herself ragged.”

“It won't happened again...” The redhead mumbled apologetically as you helped her stand with a supporting hand before giving in to your urge to pick up your feverish wife, supporting her carefully in your strong arms.

“I’ve got you baby,” You whispered, kissing her forehead when she leant it against your shoulder, hiding her face in the crook of your neck, “Thank you so much for calling me, I really appreciate you looking after her.” You gave a genuine smile to the elderly nurse as she went to hold the door open for you.

“It’s not a problem at all. It’s my job to take care of people, be they students or stubborn teachers.” Cindy smiled as you said your final thankyous and goodbyes.

You said another goodbye to the kind lady in the reception as she buzzed the door to let you out but not before letting her know that Nat wouldn’t be in work for the next week or so. It was a good job you’d decided to park close to the door, it meant you were quickly able to get Nat out of the windy weather and into the warmth of your car. Setting her door in the passenger seat, you reached across to buckle in her seat belt, placing another gentle kiss to her forehead, your touch bringing a sense of comfort to the fevered woman. Natasha had to turn her head away from you as she sneezed down into the collar of the fabric of the cotton t-shirt and you regretted not thinking to bring any tissues with you.

“Bless you my love. You’ll be okay, I promise. We’ll get you home in no time, okay?” Your tone was soft as you closed the passenger door and came round to the driver's side. Sitting down in your seat, you made sure Nat was comfortable before starting the car and pulling out of the parking lot. You both wanted to get home as soon as possible.

“Thank you for coming to get me.” Nat mumbled tiredly as she let her head come to rest on the window, the coolness of the glass providing some comfort against the heat blazing through her.

“Don’t worry about it my love, I’m sorry you’re so sick.” You replied as you speedily drove down the empty streets, “We’ll get you feeling better soon, okay?”

“Okay.”

〖 Join My Taglist! 〗@sayah13 @mahalkitanova @romanoffskisser @scrambled-brain-eggs @natashamyl0ve @shin-conan-kun @bloomingflowersthings @kathleenmikaelson @shamelessbearunknown @inluvwithfictionalwomen @ceiestiaie @fluffyblanketgecko @kljhsong @santana1437 (tumblr is broken for some tags, sorry!)

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leahnardo-da-veggie · 7 months ago

Text

A Perfectly Normal Schoolgirl, part 2

Well, I managed to churn out part 2 of this! Take that, flu >:) Anyways, read part 1 here

I listened to the rest of the class with a single ear, so busy with plotting our next move was I. Mrs Cheng was going to want to take revenge for my little ploy, and that meant I had to keep on my toes. Things were going to get significantly more dangerous.

Dane, fool boy that he was, had taken it upon himself to become the teacher's pet, a deadly thing to do when the teacher in question was Mrs C. All through the day, I cursed him as I watched him present neatly written equations to Mrs Cheng with glee. It was a small mercy that she had no knowledge of our relationship, for my sanity and for his safety, and suspected naught of him.

As the bell rang and we were released, I shot her a mocking bow and strolled out the door. Soon as I was out of sight, I grabbed Dane's elbow and sunk my nails into his soft flesh. “You idiot,” I hissed in his ear.

His wide prey-eyes met my narrowed ones. “What did I do? Training today wasn't that bad, was it?” When my glare did not let up, he batted at my hand. “Kat, let go, please. I don't know why you're so pissed with me, but you're going to draw blood! So unless you want my mom to have some very awkward questions, you have to stop.”

I glanced down at my hand, with its too-long fingers and too-sharp nails. “Tch,” I said. “You nearly got yourself killed with your antics just now. And all the not-terrible training in the world isn't going to be enough when you end up going toe to toe with C.”

“C? You mean Mrs Cheng? Wait…” Realisation dawned on his broad features. “Oh shit. You gotta be kidding me, right? It's her?”

I barked a laugh at that. “Yes, Dane. It's her. Her and about a quarter of the school faculty. So think twice before you draw any more attention to yourself, understand? You're not nearly ready enough to fight one of them.”

Biting his lip, Dane nodded. “I'm sorry, Kat. I should've thought things through more. Can I get you an ice cream to make it up to you?”

His inanity brought a smile to my face. “Don't apologise to me, silly. I'm not the one who's in danger. But yes, I would love to have an ice cream. Shall we try the gelato place that just opened up?”

He pulled out his wallet and made a show of noting how little there was in it. “You're going to drive me broke, Kat. These cafes are overpriced, you know. The convenience stores work just fine,” he whined.

I tapped him on the nose, and replied, “When you've lived a life like mine, you learn to appreciate the finer things in life, little Dane.” Besides, I thought grimly, I had upset the things running the convenience stores a tad too much to be comfortable eating something from there.

We walked, hand in hand, down the noon-burning street, and I could not help but revel in the heat. Truly, global warming was doing me a favour. Dane did not share my views, sadly. He leaked rivulets of sweat, fanning himself with a piece of paper and he strolled next to me.

It appeared we were not the only ones to crave icy relief, for the cafe was brimming with people munching on artisanal gelatos and sipping iced tea. There was only one person at the counter, a gorgeous woman with hair that fell in auburn waves and overalls that proclaimed her to be an employee. I slipped through the doors and pulled Dane behind me. Without them ever quite noticing, the customers parted around me, and I snuck my way into the front of the queue.

Without turning around, the woman manning the counter chirped, “Hello and welcome to Jelly's Gelatos! How can I help you today?”

I put on my best smile. “Oh, I'd like two scoops of chocolate gelato, please! In a cone. And two scoops of… Matcha, wasn't it? Also in a cone,” I said, winking at Dane as I did so. Matcha was his favourite flavour, and it had always delighted him when I remembered that, so I made the effort to. Indeed, he brightened up when I made his order correctly, and squeezed my hand appreciatively.

Smoothly, the woman scooped out our order. “You two make a cute couple,” she said as she did so. “I didn't know you liked little boys, Katherine.” My uniform had no name tag on it, and neither did anything I carried.

Ah, shit.

I tensed up, sliding into a fighting stance. “How the hell do you know my name?” A protective hand on Dane's shoulder, I leaned in to peer closer at her.

She looked up and tilted her head to the side. Eyes like burnished copper met mine, her pupils just a tad too elongated to be normal. Her hair was down, but I had a suspicion that it hid pointy ears. “Don't you recognise me, Katherine? I'm disappointed,” she purred.

That voice was familiar, and not in a good way. I'd met her kinden before, men and women too beautiful to be purely mortal, the children of unholy unions. They were never up to any good. “You should be,” I replied, baring my teeth at her. “Don't expect me to remember the name of every random person I come across.”

The insult stung, as it was meant to, and she thrust my order under my nose. I took my chocolate and handed the matcha to Dane, who accepted it cautiously. “You think you're so high and mighty, Katherine? You've made too many enemies, and it's only a matter of time before one of us gets you,” she snarled, her pearly white teeth stark against blood-red gums.

I rolled my eyes in my best approximation of a rebellious teenager. “Sure, like, whatever. I'm so frightened by random minimum wage workers,” I jeered. “C'mon, don't expect me to quiver in my boots at you. You're only scary to the children of helicopter parents who point at you as an example of what happens when you fail your exams.”

“You bitch,” she hissed.

“So close, but no cigar, sweetie,” I replied. “And I don't think that's the proper way to treat your customers, is it? No tips for you.” Picking up a handful of change from my pocket, I dumped it onto the counter. “Toodles!”

On that cheerful note, I pushed my way back out into the sunny sidewalk. Dane followed like a lost puppy, looking increasingly concerned. “What was that about? That woman looked like she was gonna kill you!”

I shrugged. “Get used to it, kiddo. Everyone wants me dead. And when they find out about you? Well, you can bet they won't want sunshine and warm hugs.”

#writeblr #writing #my writing #creative writing #writerscommunity #writing community #fantasy #spilled ink #short story #Horror

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jo-harrington · 1 year ago

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Are you still taking requests for creatures? I love Greek mythology. Oneiroi?

Oh hey anon; sorry it's taken a little while for me to get to your request. This sounded familiar to me and I couldn't place it. Obviously I looked it up, and it was incredibly interesting...but then I realized! (Sorry I'm gonna go off on a tangent for a second.) Persephone calls Hades "Oneiroi" when he appears in her dream in Rachel Alexander's Receiver of Many. Which is a fantastic series and 10/10 recommend.

So I'm gonna take a little inspiration from that book, as well as one of my favorite little animated shorts Somewhere in Dreamland. Hope you enjoy.

Themes/TW: Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/No Comfort

Find other Hymns of Heaven here.

And find the Master List for As Above, So Below here.

September 1984

Eddie was sick.

He didn't get sick often and it was a fact that he often touted about when his friends came down with a cold or the flu.

One time in the third or fourth grade, there was a horrible outbreak of the chicken pox and Eddie had been the only kid in class that didn't succumb to the terrible itching and endure countless oatmeal baths.

It was a bit of a blessing; his mom couldn't have afforded a day off work to take care of him or the penicillin shot at Doc Thomas' office. And once she was gone...well...Wayne and Rick did their best to take care of a healthy Eddie...who knows how much of a burden they would have faced with a phlegmy, puking one.

Now though, it hit him hard. Like 20 years of mediocre luck had run out.

It started with a dry and sore throat; he just wrote it off as having pushed his voice little too hard at the Hideout the night prior. A new setlist, a new song...pretty much an entirely new band. He had been excited.

Then his eyes started to feel dry and crusty; his vision just on the annoying side of strained and blurry. For the first time in his public school education, he wasn't lying when a teacher called on him and he said he was having trouble seeing the board.

By the time he got home, his head was pounding, and he used the last of his willpower to throw a can of chicken noodle soup in the microwave and call you to cancel your date for that night.

He curled himself into a ball on the couch and promptly passed out--didn't even touch his soup--only to wake up to yours and Wayne's voices in his ear and a hand on his forehead.

"...doesn't feel warm but he never gets sick. Maybe I ought to stay?"

Well...he assumed it was Wayne. It didn't really sound like Wayne. Maybe he was sick too.

"As much as he would enjoy the attention, he doesn't need both of us to stay with him. I've got something that'll fix him right up; you go."

"If you're sure?"

Next thing he knew, the front door slammed shut and his eyes cracked open to see a steaming bowl of something in his face.

"Alright you plague-ridden fiend," you teased. "Sit up, I'm not gonna spoon feed you."

"But what if I asked real nice," he groaned and hoisted himself upright.

He took the bowl and inhaled the warm steam coming from within. He'd had this recipe before; something your grandma made you if you were sick or just feeling down as a kid. You made it for him the day after Mickey left for college.

It had been like a healing light shined directly onto his soul.

Craving that feeling again, he practically shoveled the food into his mouth as you moved around the trailer to grab pillows and blankets and other supplies.

"Obviously I was worried when you cancelled," you explained as you roamed about. "I stopped at Bradleys so I could make dinner--there's ice cream too if you're feeling up to it--oh and Family Video...I figured some horror movies but then they had Casper and Friends and I couldn't say no to that. So I got a ton of cartoons. Popeye, Underdog...No Rocky and Bullwinkle. I promise."

"Fuck that squirrel," Eddie groused with his mouth full.

Before long, dinner and dessert had been consumed--the mix of warm and cold did wonders for his sore throat--and he was cradled in your arms on the couch as the otherwise-dark living room glowed from the old Technicolor cartoons on the tv. His arms were around your midsection as he rested his cheek right over your heart; the steady beat of it soothed him.

It was nice. You had your dates, your days out, your time with the guys...but this was different. It was almost as healing as dinner had been.

Comments were shared periodically between the two of you, and when there was a short that didn't particularly interest him, he would close his eyes to rest them.

He enjoyed the feeling of your hand carding through his hair.

Sure enough his headache started to fade.

Before long, a soft little lullaby started playing on screen and you hummed along to it. You were no singer--he teased you about it often; you couldn't carry a tune if your life depended on it--but you must have been familiar with this one if you could match every note instinctually.

Eddie opened his eyes and watched the two cartoon children on screen sing each other to sleep.

"I'll see you somewhere in dreamland," the little boy on screen crooned. "Somewhere in dreamland tonight."

"Do you think you meet the people you've lost...in your dreams?" Eddie asked suddenly. He didn't know where the question came from...or really why he asked it. It just bubbled out of him instinctually and...he felt like sobbing.

"I think so," you answered softly. "How else could they find you? But in your dreams?"

"Over a bridge made of moonbeams. We'll find the clouds are silver lined." The boy's sweet face turned serene.

"Did you know..." you pressed a kiss to his forehead. "That in greek mythology...the oneiroi...they control dreams and they live beyond an ivory and silver bridge on Olympus."

"Yeah?"

"Each little star is a castle," the little girl sang. "Shining a welcome so bright."

"Yeah. So I imagine that...that if you lose someone...a bridge like that would be easier for them to find...than the door to your house. Or they would just have to ask the oneiroi would help them."

Tears started leaking from his eyes and he turned his face into the softness of your chest to hide it. You felt him anyway.

"Hey what's this?"

"Sorry my eyes just hurt," he muttered.

You pulled him close to you and muttered sweet, reassuring words.

"Hey! It'll be ok," you whispered into the crown of his head. "It's ok, I'm here. I'm here so you've gotta feel better ok?"

"Don't go."

"I won't. I'm still here; don't cry anymore. Please."

"Please don't go."

The children still sang on the television.

"Dreams will come true for me and you. Somewhere in dreamland tonight."

April 1985

Eddie opened his bleary, leaking eyes.

His vision was blurred but he still could tell he was alone on the couch. The tv was off. A now-cold can of chicken noodle soup left half-eaten on the coffee table.

He was tired, he was angry, he was broken.

"I'm here Eddie, I'm here."

Your voice echoed in his head.

He was alone.

#aasb #hymns of heaven #Eddie munson fluff #Eddie munson angst #Eddie munson x reader

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camels-pen · 7 months ago

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oh to dream a dream

summary: Careless words can lead to indulgent sleep.

based on @seaglass-skies' prompt "Jazz has never had a sibling. So who is this other teenager in the old photo album she found? And why is the bedroom across from hers so empty?"

Ao3 Link | Phight ‘24 series

The atmosphere was quiet, homey. Chirping birds could be heard through the cracked window off to the side and there was a low level chatter throughout the whole place.

Jazz took a deep breath in, smelling the scent of dark roast and vanilla bean that had permeated itself into the walls and floor, that drifted up to greet her like a tired lover.

Usually, she'd chide herself on such cheesy thoughts—maybe make a mental note to stop reading so many romance novels and crack open more psych textbooks—but she was feeling good today. Good and content.

So much so, in fact, that she didn't even feel the sting of embarrassment as someone nudged past her where she was standing, blocking the open door to the coffee shop.

She gave a short apology, tapped each pocket on her shoulder bag just in case, and then walked to the front register.

“Jazzy-babe!” Edward said, grinning wide at her. “Girl, I haven't seen you in ages!”

Jazz smiled back, tears pricking the corners of her eyes. “Ugh, I know right? Sorry—” She paused to wipe her face, sniffling a little. “I've really missed this place.”

“Oh honey.” Ed came around the counter to scoop her into a hug. He patted her back as he said, “There's no need to cry, you're here now, aren't you?”

Jazz laughed. She must really be a mess for Ed to come all the way around for a hug rather than just lean over the counter. “Yeah—yeah I'm here now. These are more happy tears than anything else, to be honest.”

Ed gave her a few more pats before returning to the register. “Good. Happy tears are the best kind of tears. We don't need anything else.” Actually, tears of sadness and frustration were also rather important to keeping a healthy emotional balance, but Jazz understood and appreciated the sentiment. “What can I get for you, hon?”

“Just a latte, I've got to—” Jazz paused. “Oh, sorry, I just started talking on autopilot. I don't have any chores or homework today, so I'm staying for the long haul.”

“From open to close!” Ed laughed. “Just like when you first started coming here.”

Jazz smiled. ”Yup, back to my old ways.“

”So we're going with a large latte and three chocolate and almond croissants?“

”Make it four, please.“

The shop was rather slow—an odd sight for a coffee shop at 9 in the morning—so while Ed and his new coworker worked, Jazz propped herself against the counter and chatted with him. Turned out he'd gotten himself a new boyfriend—long distance this time, all the way up north in Ontario, Canada in some place called 'Barrie'—and he's planning to renew his passport and go visit him some time this summer.

Jazz shared her own news—the hazards of 12th grade English classes with a substitute teacher for half the semester, all of her friends managing to catch the flu at the same time a few months ago, and her overbearing parents insisting she apply for some fake program called 'ecto-biology' at the University of Madison Wisconsin.

Ed laughed along and, traitor that he was, said she should give it a shot anyway and that it might be fun. Jazz wasn't so sure.

Soon, her drink and pastries were done and she said her goodbyes before ensconcing herself to the little corner in the back of the shop, far from the door and mostly covered by a massive bird of paradise plant.

She set down her things, took out a hefty book titled 'Psychology and You: A Look into the Self' and cracked open the front cover.

—

“...azz!“

“...ease, don't wan... urt y...!”

“...rry!”

—

Jazz felt a tap at her shoulder and she blinked. She groaned and rubbed at her eyes. “Geez, I haven’t done that since middle school.” And damn, that was satisfying.

Ed chuckled as she stretched out her arms. “Sounds like you needed it.”

Jazz packed up her stuff and gave Ed a goodbye hug before heading out. If there's one thing Jazz Fenton knew, it was when she'd overstayed her welcome.

She blinked, then furrowed her brows. Where did that come from? It was closing time so she needed to leave, it wasn't like she'd stayed too long at a friend's house.

“Maybe I conflated it with the feeling of being in someone else's home?” she mumbled to herself. “The place does feel like it's Ed's pride and joy even though he's not the owner.”

The owner himself was a crabby man who had hated Jazz since the first moment he spotted her walking in, all of 12 years old and looking for a safe and quiet place to do her math homework. She didn't have any money then, thinking the shop was similar enough to a library what with all the people she saw reading quietly through the windows. The man was ready to kick her out, citing that only paying customers were allowed to sit in his shop and that all children were rabble and ruffians regardless of age.

It was Edward then, all of 16 and newly hired, who had bought her a hot cocoa and claimed her dad had already bought a drink for her earlier in the day and Ed had been waiting for her. Ed was chewed out for it since apparently that wasn't a thing they allowed at the shop, but Jazz was allowed to stay. She learned for future visits to bring along her allowance and when the owner wasn't here, Ed would let her sit in the shop without buying anything.

Now if only a certain someone else would be so kind—

Jazz stumbled. “Dumb rock,” she grumbled, shaking out her foot. “What was I thinking about again?”

—

“You’re always in my business! It’s annoying!”

“I’m in your business because I care about you!”

“You sound like mom and dad! And didn’t you always say privacy was important to growing kids?!”

“It is! It is, but this is different; Danny, I’m afraid you’re doing something dangerous. Something that could get you hurt. If there’s some big bad ghost villain you should come to me—”

“Of course.” He scoffed. “You can’t fucking trust me to take care of myself, as per usual. I’m just your idiot little brother who would die a horrible death the moment you take your eyes off me, aren’t I?”

She gasped, putting a hand to her mouth.

“W-Wait, I didn’t mean it like that—”

—

“Oh Jazzypants!” Dad called. “You think you could come down and help your old man with something?”

“Sorry Dad! I’m doing something important!” Jazz called back, laid on her stomach on her bed, a chewed up pencil in hand as she hovered over a ‘Who will be your boyfriend? (NSYNC edition)’ quiz. “I’m doing this for Kendra, but man I hope I get Justin.”

She continued to circle the letters on the quiz and eventually finished and flipped to the back of the magazine. “Ugh, Lance? Maybe I should just burn this.” As she shifted her hand, she noticed neat cursive handwriting under the answer key that read: ‘Jazz, I don’t care if you got Lance, DO NOT BURN THIS.’

She was tempted to burn it anyway.

A gust of wind blew through her room, ruffling the pages of the magazine and throwing her hair all around. Jazz had to slap a hand on the book to keep it from flying away. The wind died down after a moment and she huffed, a bit of hair fluttering up with the action before falling back down. “Perfect, amazing, exactly what I needed.”

Jazz pushed herself up and slammed the window down. Her dad yelled if she was alright, but she didn’t answer. Flopping herself down on her bed, she flipped back to the quiz and erased her answers. “I’m gonna get Justin this time,” she grumbled, starting the quiz over.

Just as she had gotten to the second question, another gust of wind blew through her room. This time the magazine wasn’t safe and tumbled to the carpet. She pushed her hair back from her face and left her room to investigate.

Mom and Dad’s room was fine. The bathroom too. The storage closet didn’t have a window and the hallway one has been busted shut for years.

Jazz stood in front of the door across from her room. She slowly put a hand on the doorknob. Twisted it. Then pushed.

Peeking into the room, she looked around. It was empty and collecting dust, just as it always was. She always felt uneasy just looking into the room so hopefully the window was—

Ah, it was open. Of course.

Jazz gulped. She willed herself forward. Fear was just fear and there was nothing of any real harm in the room. She repeated that to herself over and over as she tiptoed inside, heading for the window.

There were no furniture, no decorations, no new paint on the walls. It was just a plain blue—

Jazz shook her head and rubbed her eyes. Beige, the original house’s wall colours were beige with a white trim.

She continued her journey and eventually made it, sliding the window closed as gently as she could, lest she disturb the stifling atmosphere she found herself in.

Jazz was about ready to tiptoe her way out—or maybe just run for it to make it quicker—when her eyes caught on a photo album on the floor. It was 4th of July themed and was laid spine up, as if it had falled off of something and landed on its pages.

And, well, Jazz was never one to leave a book like that, no matter the circumstances.

With hesitant hands, she picked up the book, her thumb automatically marking the open pages. She marvelled at the peeling silver stars on the front and back cover and the almost sparkling blue colour. 4th of July themed seemed like a stretch, now that she had a closer look; it had more of a space theme or a starry night sky, than anything else.

She flipped over the book, only to find it was a photo album. The papers where starting to become yellow with age and the photos curling at the corners, as if ready to fall off at any moment. It looked so old and well loved, yet Jazz had never recalled seeing such an album around the house before.

The photos all included pictures of herself when she was far younger, her mom and dad, and some of Jazz’s friends from elementary school. Sometimes it was just one of them, sometimes all of them, and sometimes even none of them.

But with each picture there was one consistent theme: some part of the picture was complete static. Like someone had taken a TV without signal and used that to colour in nonsensical shapes and silhouettes in each and every picture.

It was strange. Odd, even. Jazz wasn’t one to vandalize anything as important as a photo album, even as a child. Her parents were always quite adamant that she’d been a rather mature child since she was small. And she doubted her mom or dad would’ve done that.

Maybe one of her friends from the photos? Jazz could’ve invited them over one time and they could’ve scribbled all over the photos when she wasn’t looking. It wouldn’t be the first time.

She squinted at the pages. No, that didn’t seem quite right. The static colouring stopped right at the edge of each polaroid, not a single bit of it leaking into the white border edges of them. She doubted elementary schoolers would care so much about that, or be that precise.

Page after page she found different pictures, with her and her parents at different ages and different clothes, with new friends and old. And yet that same static colouring persisted. In fact, it seemed to be growing over time, getting consistently bigger and bigger, at times looking like the outline of a person just a handful of inches shorter than herself. She started to get irritated as the static got closer to her height, but by the time she got to the end of the album—with whiter pages and more firmly glued pictures—it never overtook her. She felt satisfied about that fact, for some reason.

Back to the original problem, she still didn’t know what the purpose was of this odd destruction of her family’s photo album. She didn’t even know where this album had come from, the pictures in it unfamiliar and foreign.

She squinted at the last picture in the album, using her nail to scratch at the static colour. Not that she was expecting anything from it—

The static started to flake off.

“What is this, crayon?” she mumbled. Though it felt simultaneously thicker and thinner than crayon wax. Smoother, yet rougher. It was easy to pick at it, but hard to peel off anything larger than a toothpick, the colours coming off in long thin stripes as they did.

She scratched and scratched and scratched at it. Jazz had just about had enough when no more pieces came off, but then—

The entire thing peeled off like an old sticker.

Staring back at her was a boy with messy black hair, annoyed blue eyes, and a contrasting grin with Jazz’s own arm wrapped around his shoulders.

“An… old friend, maybe? But this picture was taken recently and—” She paused to pick at another photo higher up the page. It revealed another picture of the same boy, mouth open like he was talking animatedly about something while staring into a small telescope. Another picture, a few pages earlier, showed the whole family in their hazmat suits, and the boy himself standing with them in his own white and black suit.

“I’ve never had any siblings,” she whispered to herself. It didn’t feel right, almost like someone else coaxed the words through her mouth.

She stared around at the empty room. Thought of how it really should be blue, since that’s the colour it’s always been. The house was originally beige, but this room was always always blue. A specific shade of lighter blue, with glow in the dark stars on the ceiling and burn marks on the carpet. A scuffed up desk plastered with enough free Nasa stickers you could hand them out at a convention. Not to mention a bed that had never been made since it was bought.

She thought of that room. And she thought of this one, the real one all around her. The one full of life and the one that had never seen it. There was only so much she could do to try and remember it. Imagine it? Think of it, and yet it stuck out so clearly in her mind.

She could hear the high pitched whiny voice calling her a nag. Could smell the dirty laundry ‘hidden’ under the desk. Could feel the ratty old cotton Star Wars blanket between her fingers. But none of it was here.

Something ached fiercely in her chest.

She gripped her shirt tight over her heart, tears welling up in her eyes.

She’d forgotten him. She looked out for him—cared for him—for so so long, but she’d forgotten him. Like some trashy teen magazine article.

And—and she needed to find him. He was always being reckless out with his friends hunting—hunting ghosts of all things (oh god, ghosts exist and she forgot and he had been fighting them without her help—).

She went for the door, yanking it open and trying not to hyperventilate.

Jazz needed to find him, she needed to help him, she needed to—

Jazz blinked. She stared at the open door to her own room with a frown. “Why did I leave my room?”

She jumped as she heard something swing shut behind her. When she turned she noticed the door to the empty room, shut and covered with cobwebs. She shuddered and inched away from it.

“Jazz, sweetie, would you mind closing the window?” Mom called.

The window?

A gust of air blew against her side, sending her hair every which way. Right, the window.

She pulled the hallway window shut, an air of finality settling in her bones.

—

“Nocturn!” The shout echoed down the long, stretching corridor along with the bang of the door slamming open. Within moments, a blur of black and white sped into the room.

“You know you could’ve just knocked,” Nocturn said. “I would’ve considered letting you in my second favourite dreamer if you were polite about it.”

“What’d you do with—” Danny paused. “Wait. Second?”

Nocturn swept open his cloak, revealing a figure just a tad taller than Danny himself floating close to his chest, her head bowed.

A swirling mess of dark purple, blue, and black speckled with shining white stars were painted on her skin. Her hair was a dark shade of orange and flowed freely around her, as if underwater.

“Well, my dear? Shall we entertain our guest?”

She lifted her head and Danny gasped. Her face was free of paint, but blank, bereft of all features save a waterfall of neverending black tears down her cheeks. But even without a face, Danny could recognize her. Could never not recognize the very reason he came here in the first place.

That—that was—

“Yes, Lord Nocturn,” Jazz said.

#danny phantom #jazz fenton #void jazz #phic phight #phic phight 2024 #nemo the writing ho

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