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saintsir4n · 1 year

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PROLOGUE

where tommy shelby decides to take a leap of faith

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1913

"COME on 'Saiah, maths ain't that hard, even I could do it and I didn't know my dividing from my multiplying,"

"What's that?" he groaned, dropping his pencil and pouting his lips, which Eden thought was adorable, but she couldn't say it aloud otherwise he would whine and cry about being treated like a child. Brat. "Those ain't real words."

"They are, trust me and you'll learn 'em soon. Don't worry kid, just remember we have to get this homework sheet done, I don't want your teacher actin' up."

"'Cause she's a... what d'you call it, a b-bitch?"

Her eyes widened at the curse, "Isaiah."

"You say it and so does Finn," he quickly explained, patting the table.

"Neither of you lot are supposed to say it. You're kids!"

"I'm almost six," he said cheekily as if it meant anything.

She pinched his cheeks, "Still a baby to me."

"I am not a baby, Dad said I'm a big boy," he spoke grumpily, "I can count to fifty y'know?"

Knocking at the front door caught their attention.

Eden frowned because she knew her parents had a key, same with her uncle Jeremiah and he didn't stop preaching until he 'put the fear of god into small heath', even though she couldn't tell if he believed the words he spoke. Whoever was rapidly knocking slightly worried her.

"How about, you stay here and count to fifty like a big boy and then we can stop for a bit," she hushed him before he could clap excitedly, "I'll throw in some sweets if you can keep quiet and finish one of these sums alright?"

Isaiah nodded happily and started counting, holding his hands up to help him, not wanting to ruin his chances of getting some sweets along with his Friday night chips that his dad brought home with him.

Eden cautiously approached the front door, all while wishing she brought a knife from the kitchen or a nursing needle from the nursing course she was taking (following in her mother's footsteps she was).

If she had a religious bone in her body she would've prayed, but there was no God in Small Heath, only devils existed 'round here.

And that was who was on the other side of the door.

Thomas bloody Shelby.

Stood there leant against the archway of the door without uttering a single word.

Tilting her head upwards, Eden met his impenetrable gaze.

During their school years, not one word was exchanged between them, well being in different years groups would do that and the fact he never seemed to stray far from his two best friends Greta and Freddie, just like Lorenzo and Dorris never strayed from her. Not one word and yet she usually talked to his brother John, with him being in the same year as her.

Eden didn't know what to do other than glance behind her, hoping not to see Isaiah making his way around the corner but luckily all she could faintly hear was him struggling to count. When she turned back she gulped at the sight of Tommy. Eyes as piercing as snow, not even the peaky hat could protect her from his stare. With his fairly chapped lips and a jaw that could slice its way through the thickest bread one could buy at the local bakery, she took a step back, swiftly raking her gaze down his slightly worn suit and dress shoes that must've been polished this morning.

Tommy was frustratingly handsome and to him, she was infuriatingly beautiful.

He was there for a reason, though he'd never uttered a word to the girl he'd grown up with he knew there was more than what met the eye. He knew her closest friends, which sibling of his she spoke to, her parents' profession and what she might do with her future. He knew she would come to the door cautiously considering the rough street they lived on. He knew her short hair would be styled back in a bun which unintentionally insinuated her flawless features. And he knew she would be wearing an ankle-length skirt and a loose-fitting blouse similar to his aunt. Why? He just knew.

They never spoke a word to each other.

Not one word until now.

"You lost?" she asked, leaning forward and glancing around the noisy street.

And what he was about to say next, she could never have predicted.

"Come to my uncle's yard, John told me you know where it is," he replied shortly, taking her back.

She blinked at him, ignoring how his gruff voice made her feel, "Hello Tommy, nice to see you too."

He continued, unaffected by her sarcasm, "Just come."

Her grip on the door tighten, "And why would I listen to you?"

He shrugged, "Well, As your future husband, I want to show you things that no one else will."

A laugh of disbelief escaped her lips and yet she didn't smile, much to his chagrin.

"And what things are they Mr Shelby?" her grip on the door loosened slightly, which he took note of.

"Anything you ask, meet me at my uncle's yard and don't be late."

"And what if I am?" she dared to ask, rolling her shoulders back and insinuating her neck. A bear neck, like always. He assumed that a cross would cover it, but even when they were all forced to go to church as kids she never wore one. "What will you do huh?"

His tongue swiped over his teeth before answering, "Then I'll just have to wait for you then eh?"

She wanted to smile at his answers, they were all so...charming, but why would she believe the ladykiller of small heath? Just as she went to reply, she was interrupted.

"Edie!" Isaiah's little voice boomed through the little space, making her sigh and Tommy raise a brow and cocked his head to the side, letting his eyes dart around the small foyer of the narrow home. Cleaner than my house that's for fucking sure. It looked cosy and warm, filled with pictures, hanging from the walls and cluttered on the small table near where shoes laid, "Counted to a fifty, I did."

"Then finish the sum!" her voice pulled him from his thoughts and a ghost of a smile tugged at his lips.

Hearing Isaiah's huff and groan, Eden exhaled and turned back to a rather amused Tommy.

"What?" she questioned, finally dropping her hand from the door.

"Nothing," he paused, "I don't remember you being so good at maths at school."

Her brows pinched together, "You didn't speak to me at school so how would you know that?"

"Finn tells me things," he recalled all the times his littlest brother would run home after being babysat by Eden and gush over every little thing she did, "You help him with readin' and writin' like Isaiah back there."

"Two little shits that drive me off the bend," she blurted out, then went to correct herself remembering who she was speaking to, "shit- I mean-" he swiftly cut her off.

"Thick as thieves those two," he said, amused by her cursing, "Our Finn is head-case and despite Jeremiah stalking through town and trying to fill it with hope and all the godly advice in the bloody world, Isaiah is just like my brother."

She hummed and then changed the conversation.

"Am I even your type? Because the women I've seen you with are the same colour as my palm if that."

"So you watch me," he noted rather smugly, though his face didn't show it, his eyes beamed slightly.

"Easy, I notice things."

"As do I," he retorted, "You're wrong, about the women you see me with," she raised a questioning brow, urging him to go on, "I don't have a type, you can say there's a pattern ��"

"And you wanna break it with me? No chance."

She didn't want to be the first black woman he bedded, even though she highly doubted she would be. Well, that and she didn't want to give in to the small-town gangster.

"Haven't you heard? Life is full of chances," he jested.

"Cute."

"And you should take one on me."

Rolling her eyes, "Since I watch you..." her tone turned mocking, "I could've sworn you have a woman, at least that's what the streets are saying."

"The streets of Small Heath are full of lies," he spoke, pulling out a cigarette tin, growing slightly irritated from all her assumptions and questions. He didn't think it would be easy to get someone like Eden Dawkins, he liked a challenge, but she was fucking stubborn. Like trying to force the wrong bullet into a barrel, it won't fucking go. "And fuckin' smoke," he added, pulling out a lighter.

Not being able to help herself her gaze dropped to his lips just as the cigarette swiped against them before he lit it. He took a drag and turned his head as the smoke escaped.

A sly smirk appeared on his face after noting her stare.

"What?"

"Nothing," she quickly cleared her throat and ignored the beam in his icy eyes, "it's just that you contribute to the latter well enough," she uttered, quickly nodding to his cigarette. Fuck I need one.

"Yeah, the factories help me out a bit."

She almost smiled.

"I suppose, but I'm just remembering what I was told... you know about you being taken."

"By who?"

"Whom," she corrected.

"Fine, whom?"

"The eyes of small Heath." Her eyes, but she wouldn't admit that.

"Alright. You think if I had a woman I would look at you, be on your doorstep?" he asked after taking another drag, even offering her a hit, but she refused, despite needing a release of her own.

"I hope not. Or I would let her know that her man's a dog," she said, holding back a smile.

He made a noise, "A horse is more fitting."

"Ah yes, your family loves to ride," she quickly added, "John's on four feet more than he's on two."

"It's in the blood. Gypsy blood," he informed, waiting to see how she would react to his background.

It wasn't a secret where his family came from, most people were disgusted by them, many hid it well, whilst the others got a beating if they opened their gobs.

He was glad when he didn't catch any indifference in her demeanour. She didn't care or didn't see any faults in it. He supposed that she couldn't, being black and all, but if you weren't pure-blooded you would get put into the same boat as everyone else or the bottom of the barrel. And that's where one would find people like them; Watery Lane.

"I'm scared of horses," she admitted.

He squinted, "What has a horse ever done to you, Eh?"

"Mum doesn't like 'em, so I guess she passed that on to me."

"Suppose I have to change that," I will change that.

"Not without asking that girl of yours," she finally smiled at her own joke and so did he.

He playfully rolled his eyes, "I'm available, not with anyone and those who say they're with me are lying alright."

"Alright. Because I don't like cheaters. I despise the lot of 'em, just like those toffs despise us."

"It's a good thing I'm not one then ain't it?"

Finally giving in, she shrugged, "I guess you're right."

"And what about you," he turned it on her, "I heard I weren't the only lad in knockin' at your door."

She hummed, folding her arms, "There's a long list."

Narrowing his eyes, he didn't know whether or not she was playing with him, "How long?"

"No need to bawl and shout. According to the eyes of Small Heath, it goes from here to bloody Black Country. But all you need to know is that you could be at the end..." she trailed off.

"Last darlin', last."

"Oh really?"

"Changretta won't storm your mind when you next see me I promise you that."

She laughed, "Changretta, which one? Just like you Shelbys, there's many."

"You know which one, I don't have to spell it out for you," he took his last drag and let the cigarette drop before stomping it out.

"You might, I'm a woman y'see, I don't always get things straight away, have to get a man to dumb things down f'me."

He almost smiled again at her teasing, but all joy faded as he spoke.

"Luca," he pronounced as clear as day, with his jaw tightening ever so slightly. That bloody jawline. He knew she was heavily involved with the Changrettas, her closest friend was Lorenzo for Christ's sake and she even talked to the Angel also. But Luca... he and Luca never got along. not during school or out of it. Shelby's and Changretta's... like water and oil. Them being Italian meant they were also the bottom of the barrel, but that didn't mean they had to get along. "That Changretta."

She began to grin and even though he wanted to enjoy her expression, he took a mental picture and decided to save it for later.

"Ah, so the eyes of Small Heath have told you about me and him is that right?"

"Yeah, these bloody eyes seem to know all."

She hummed, "Bloody nosey."

"Too right," he agreed.

"So confident, where has this man been for the last couple of years? Pestering other doorsteps and desecrating other homes," she motioned to the used cigarette, which made him quickly kick it away.

"Making sure he was the right man for you," he spoke not taking his eyes off of her which made her cave and look away, much to his amusement because he caught the light blush kissing her caramel skin.

"You've got the charm," she annoyedly admitted, "it's all in the eyes."

He huffed out a chuckle, "Don't stare for too long, yours will get stuck."

Feigning offence, "And then I won't take you up on that offer, oh no."

Checking his watch, he tsked and ignored her quip. He shot her one last look and then spun on his heel, before shouting, "I'll see you at Charlie's yard Eden!"

"No, you won't!"

"Don't dress up for me!"

"Wasn't gonna!"

And with that, she slammed the door shut with the biggest smile on her face.

"Edie!" Isaiah yelled, "I'm done!"

"Sure you are little man!"

"Can we get sweets now?" he eagerly asked after she entered the kitchen and saw the biggest drawings all over his homework, making her curse.

"You ain't done. Your dad will be on my arse if he sees this."

"He won't. Just like I won't tell him about Tommy comin' over."

His cheeky grin widened at the glare he received.

"Fine," she gave in, "but don't tell your dad."

"Promise."

"Alright get your coat," she huffed as he ran away, "little shit."

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a/n:

dorathy dandridge is eden’s face claim. this story is also on my wattpad account, but I know that many people cannot access the app/website so I’ll try and post on both.

#wattpad #fanfic #black girl #black reader #edendawkins #tommy shelby x reader #Tommyshelbyxblackreader #until we meet again fanfic #1913 #1914

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calciumdeficientt · 1 month

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headcnaons for any of the little children?

Had to enlist the help of the bf for this one, he’s significantly less biased than i am, there’s a couple for each kid because they get soooo neglected

If you want stupid sheldon shenanigans i have a post for that! Right here!

Sheldon Thompson

Overheats in the summer because he refuses to take his jumper off. He knows the uniform policy off by heart and enforces it better than the prefects

Wears his snitch title like a badge of honour, he thinks that tattling constantly will make the teachers like him… it doesn’t

He thinks he’s really cool because he listens to Mozart. He thinks it makes him seem cool and cultured and he will go up to people unprompted and tell them that he likes listening to Mozart

Has Velcro shoes because he can’t tie his shoelaces, frequently has his shoes ripped off and thrown onto the roof by bullies

Had to invest in waterproof shoes because of the soup fiasco (see other post)

Gels his hair back for sports day, claims it makes him more aerodynamic. It’s actually a huge waste of money because he uses the whole tub on his head and still gets bodied by Karen anyway

Throws himself on the ground whenever there’s a fire drill screaming “smoke rises everyone!!!! Get down!!!!!”

Pedro de la Hoya

Goes to the nurse every time someone breathes on him a little too hard. It ends up being a boy who cried wolf situation because when he actually gets genuinely hurt, Nurse McRae refuses to treat him

Won’t go trick or treating because he’s too scared of all the costumes. Gets roped into it by Melody and Gloria, ends up pissing his pants because Casey jumps out to spook them away from the football field.

Deathly afraid of everything after Sheldon started putting soup everywhere because he’s too scared of drowning in it

I think he was homeschooled before he came to Bullworth so his handwriting is absolutely abysmal. They frequently have to email his assignments to his mother (god rest her soul) so that they could be decoded and graded

Takes flowers from the girls dorm and makes flower potions using the chemistry equipment to make people like him

Gets bullied for consistently and repeatedly calling his teachers “mummy”

Pedro doesn’t play when it comes to snow. One flake and he’s in 100 layers and is zip tying tennis rackets to his feet. Poor kid looks like the Michelin man for days because he can’t cut the zip ties off and therefore cannot exit his snow suit

Has a panic attack whenever there’s a fire drill, even if its planned and he knows exactly when it is he’s going to assume that its a real one and starts hyperventilating. He speed walks out of the building so he doesnt the break the rules against running in the hall and as soon as his feet hit the concrete he drops into the fetal position and starts panicking

Gloria Jackson

Gets history books out of the library and reads them in front of the nerds to look cool but the poor kid doesn’t understand a single word

She’s everything Sheldon thinks he is. She gets good grades, the teachers like her and she’s (mostly) modest about it

The type of kid who looks like she’s going to explode if the teacher doesn’t call on her to answer a question. Starts foaming at the mouth if the other person gets the question wrong

Openly coughs when she passes people smoking in the hopes it will make them stop. It actually makes them blow smoke in her direction

Gets upset whenever someone mentions geography because she consistently gets b’s and not a’s. Geography is her Achilles heel

Doesn’t undo the buckles on her shoes, just slides them on and off her feet everyday

Prefers Lance over Bo because they both have an appreciation for academia. She kinds thinks her brother is a loser for defaulting into sports instead of focusing on his education

Every time there’s a fire drill she moans about wasting valuable learning time. The older kids hate her for it, some of them are trying to skip calculus GLORIA

Melody Adams

She has a different headband for every day of the week, she also has matching day of the week socks, clip on claires earrings and little rings

Has a huuuuge crush on jimmy, in the errand where she gives chocolate to jimmy so he can put it in constantinos’ locker she was secretly hoping he’d keep if for himself.

Used to also have a massive thing for Johnny until she watched him cough up a wad of black smoker’s phlegm, instantly got her to stop pining after him

Gets in trouble in class because she called someone ( COUGH Sheldon COUGH) a jerk and she defends herself like “well at least i didn’t call him a bitch” and lands herself a week of detention

Serious napoleon complex. She can talk the talk but then when it comes to an actual fight she chickens out and starts crying

Pretends to be a pacifist to get brownie points with the teachers but then she gets insulted and instantly tries to start something

Saw a flyer advertising that chad needed help walking chester, what ended up actually happening was chester walked her through a hedge in the old bullworth vale memorial gardens and she had to get a new uniform

Really wants to dye her hair, so she tried to speak to Lola about it. When she was told it wouldn’t lift well because it’s naturally black she went and used sun in out of spite. Ended up with half a head of ginger hair

Every time there’s a fire drill she tries to act all cool so that the older boys will notice her but then she brings her glittery pink pencil case outside with her so it doesnt get burnt.

Karen Johnson

Tries to shoulder check people like she sees Damon doing but she’s so small its kinda like a hip check. It’s as endearing as it is completely futile

Very very resilient child, she’s practically made of rubber. More than once a ball has gone astray and knocked her out for a good few seconds, she’s usually up and begging to be hit again within five minutes

Purposely tries to get sent out of class because she just cannot sit still. She needs meds so so so badly please put her on something

Gets lost a lot because when she asks the older kids for help and they point her in the wrong direction.

Actually a very promising young athlete, just gets neglected because she’s a girl

Puts a bottle in the back wheel of her bike so that it sounds like a motorcycle when she rides it

Can’t tie her own tie, she gets Miss Peabody to do it

Has 12 dogs at home, misses them dearly when she’s at school so she has stuffies of all of them to keep her company

Scared of the dark but she’s far too cool to ask for a nightlight so she just goes to bed scared

Spreads rumours about actual fires during fire drills, so she can laugh at Pedro when he gets scared and/or wets himself

#bully cce #bully #bully canis canem edit #bully se #bully rockstar #bully scholarship edition #Gloria Jackson #Sheldon Thompson #pedro de la Hoya #Karen Johnson #melody adams

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cherry-flavoured-thot · 2 years

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I know you’re blushing!” “I am not!” “Aw now you’re pouting!” With Hubert please

❤️Prompt List❤️

You're really not one to enjoy the pomp and circumstance that come with the parties thrown by nobility. Frankly you'd hope after dedicating yourself to Edelgard's cause you'd finally be able to avoid them all together. No. No you could not. And once again you're forced into an absolutely stuffy outfit, that forced you to conceal a single dagger in comparison to your regular three.

Yes it's a party. But when has that ever stopped assassins? Should Edelgard be in danger you want to be prepared. Of course you're rigidness didn't go unnoticed. "Honestly you're as bad as Hubie, have a glass and relax, everything will be fine." Dorothea, and her persuasiveness have a glass of wine appearing in your hands. "And while you're at it ask him to dance, he's been looking back at you all night." The mention of dancing has you grimacing. You've been cursed with two left feet since birth, regardless of all the lessons, to even consider dancing has you embarrassed.

You instead settle for camping out a corner and sitting on your own, nursing a glass of wine debating when an appropriate time to retire for the evening would be, when you spot a shadow slipping beside you. "I see that I'm not the only one whose been ordered to 'loosen up' as it were." There's a hint of amusement in Hubert's voice as he stands next to you. You sigh, loudly.

"I really hate these parties, but they used to be worse when I was younger when my parents were throwing around my single status to every noble family with unmarried kids." You feel an old anger bubbling up in your chest upon memories of your parents parading you around to any noble family that may take you. You start swirling the alcohol in your glass until it almost spills, verbally finishing your train of thought, "I was never to their taste," you take a sip of the wine, letting it wash away the old wounds. Hubert raises a brow.

"I suspect they must've been blind." You blink at him, waiting for him to continue. "For if you looked as radiant then as you do now, I can't see why they wouldn't be tripping over themselves for your hand." Hubert's words surprise you, to the point that a sound similar to a squeak almost leaves your throat that you manage to stop just in time. "My, my, I've seen you kill men in cold blood. To think a simple compliment can fluster you." Yes your heart is beating faster, yes his intense gaze accompanied by a small smirk is starting to make your face feel warm but if you can hide it behind your glass perhaps you can play it off as it being the alcohol.

"I'm not sure what you're talking about." You murmur, taking another drink from your glass, in hopes of him dropping the subject. He does not. Instead he continues without relent.

"I know you're blushing."

"I am not." Your plan comes to a halt when your glass empties, and your left with attempting to look away from him and his glee at teasing you.

"And now you're pouting."

"Ugh you are a menace." You pause, glancing back to see his smirk has yet to disappear. "I need more wine." You groan.

"Perhaps a dance will suffice?" You nearly fall out of your chair at the suggestion.

"You've seen my dancing."

"Oh yes, it's impressive how the elegance you manage on the battlefield seems to leave your body the moment you step on a ballroom floor." The worst part is you don't even have a retort, especially when he's seen you nearly trip several heads of noble houses over face first onto the floor with your dancing skills. Simply having to lean back and pout at his bluntness.

"Then why?"

"To laugh as you embarrass yourself of course." You've known him long enough to identify that sudden dryness with him, is his way of joking.

"You won't be laughing as I step on your toes."

"Truthfully, I find it hard to relax around others but you are an exception. Lady Edelgard asked me to relax and if I must sacrifice my toes to do as she asks, then so be it." That makes you snort, resisting the urge to call into question if Edelgard is really why he sought you out.

"Ever the loyalist aren't you?" Is what you settle for with a grin, but he holds out an expectant hand waiting for you to accept. You eventually do with a sigh. "Fine. But only because Dorothea would hound me if I left before dancing with anyone."

#hubert #hubert von vestra #hubert x reader #fire emblem #fire emblem x reader #fire emblem three houses #fe3h #fe3h x reader #fe #fe x reader #cherry's fruit infused prompt list #my writing tag

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littleflower-19 · 11 months

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Halloween costume as a couple jar character

Smut of course hehehehe

Welt

I can see it so perfect a doctor and a nurse how got him dress up easy . You told him kids would love it if more adults dressed up for Halloween and he got soft . But of course first he was gonna dress up as a robot which you fast declined. So you choose nurse and doctor that's fits him perfectly a handsome old caring doctor hehehehehe and a nurse who tries to kiss him. But he didn't avoid it he accepted them each one which makes you crave them more. This doctor got your heart fast

Dan Heng

You don't know how it happened Dan Heng was in his god form bc of a Mission. And he came back he was about to turn back till you stopped him asking him to come like that to Halloween town. He was confused why like this but he didn't asked . What did you Dress up a maid as you got fast ready you enjoyed your time outside having some Candy walking together making some jokes here and there but oh my Lord . You couldn't take your eyes off him so handsome and uhhhhhh you can feel your panties getting wet. You got his attention by calling him out "master this maid is wet" you said he blushed at your words and now here you are in the park on the field of beautiful flowers where. Nobody is around ,getting fucked by Dan Heng holding his back ."nghhh~ more m-master" moaning till you both came. Well that was a treat for sure~

Blade

Ähm so I need to explain that one vampire and withe cat . It was already hard to get him into that outfit and now you getting rammed in that outfit."why has my prey trying to run how adorable doesn't this kitten want more~"talking in deepvoice fucking you hard not be able to answer properly. "B-af-y ngha~!?"moaning hard as his dick reached even deeper hitting you gspot. He giggled "why don't I suck you blood little kitten don't worry I give you lots of treat's ~ why don't you meow for me more" he licks you neck as he grinds you deeper.(what a treat indeed)

Jing yuan

Cat and witch he picked the outfits he was enjoying the time at home with you eating candy . tricking kids with jumpscears but once that was kinda over the night you enjoy his kitten servers getting All licked up down there nice and wet ."Mrs witch your mine" you hold his cat ears as he eat you out making you cum hard on the couch. He licked his lips as he zipped his pants and boxers down showing his hard dick."how about I get my treat now miss witch~" and he did with you getting fucked all night longe.

Sampo

Pirate and mermaid it fits you being the big beautiful treasure he got.ley me tell you though it was gonna be a cute date but no it was him trying to get more money but it didn't work.you pulled his ear hard and he was getting some smack's on the head. But you enjoyed the rest of it he doi g some pirate jokes and saying at how he got the big treasure in his hands. It made you blush kissing his faces as he smiled happy.

Gepard

Angle and devil you being the cute devil and him being the protecting angle .Mann but it on for you to smile which it did and made him happy but having some people see the general putting on a costume was kinda funny.but that aside he enjoyed Halloween with you getting candy talking to other people and there outfits throwing eggs(just you but and up with a slight angry Gepard telling you to clean it up) holding hands kissing here and there and now you getting banged behind a tree from him moaning as he hold your hips as he moaned as well. He kissed you deep as he massaged your breasts, you moaned as he speed it up.holding his arme as support to hold on and getting raw railed from him was like heaven itself.

#dan heng #gepard hsr #honkai star rail #hsr blade #hsr sampo #jing yuan #welt yang

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kiekiecarrera · 1 year

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✨Theory time✨(or clowning o'clock depends on the time zone)

Just thinking about how maybe Luke and Anna don't have any history at all but it's Mike and Luke who used to be friends. Mike grew up as a pogue as well and there's a fat chance they went to school together, it's not hard to imagine Mike and Luke being just like John B and JJ in their youth, messing around, smoking weed, surfing and going to the boneyard, he said so himself "I like you JJ, l'm sure you're fun to party and smoke with, I was just like you" which also makes me think about his obsession to distance himself and his family from the people in the cut, if he comes from the same background what drastically changed his judgment over the pogues? In the theory I have in my mind I see Luke starting to fuck up with drugs and illegal shit very young roughly at the same time Anna came in the picture for Mike and his friend group and that's where Luke's resentment for her comes from, in his head he sees Anna as someone who betrayed them, they welcomed her into their group and she took Mike away, she's the one who put Mike against him, she's the "ungrateful bitch" who took Mike away for the cut and "brainwashed" him to change, she took his friend away and turned him into a preppy kook disgusted by him.

It would explain a lot why Mike goes so fiercely against the idea of Kiara being near JJ who he strongly associates with Luke, why he said to JJ "but then I learned about hard work" which surely is a shade thrown at the image of Luke he associates JJ with ('cause let's be real, there probably isn't a soul in the OBX who doesn't know about JJ actually working hard since a young age, Mike knows) and it would explain why when Luke sees Kiara with JJ he's so shady towards her and says things like "preach to me, set me straight you sound just like your mama" "she thought she was better than anyone else in school, the Kook Princess" "slumming with the bad boys like your mama, are you an ungrateful little bitch like she was?" "Tell your mama I say hi"…..he probably thinks of Kie as the little nurse treating JJ like a "charity work" and made her mission to save him, like he thinks Anna did with Mike.

I'm gonna be honest, the Pates are known to throw hints on something and then dropping it entirely for it to never come back again so it's not like I truly expect to ever know much about the parents past, I think us the fans put much more thought into it than them and they don't even have a real story set in place but I think this kind of scenario would be so interesting, it would be such a nice parallel: Luke, Mike and who knows maybe ever Heyward being friends, Anna coming into the picture and all of them being a group for a while and then everyone going their own way 'cause they didn't fight for each other tooootally opposite to their children who also found each other but would put their lives on the line for their group. Two generations, same story with different endings.

I literally have nothing to say other than I love clown o'clock because this theory makes perfect sense and I absolutely love it. If I had to say one thing it's if Mike knows JJ has had to work since he was a little kid, then it would make his comments to JJ even worse (not that his comments weren't pretty shit to start with) but other than that a+ clowning 10/10 would recommend

#answered #so like #are you gonna write the fic anon?#jiara #otp; did you tell jj

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astramthetaprime · 9 months

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How about a Switchback?

So yeah.

Mom's back at the nursing home.

Another round of Covid went through last weekend.

I went to see her on Sunday.

And so now we both have it.

It's been mostly just annoying to me, but I'm (relatively) healthy. I do worry about my mother as she's hanging on by a thread at the best of times these days, but I haven't gotten The Call again so I assume she's still on this side of the life line. Admittedly, my normal life consists of spending the vast majority of my week here at Casa Proton, I really only go out on the weekends to get groceries and to have my one meal out a week and to go see Mom. So none of that is happening this weekend but I'll be going to pick up my groceries at WallyWorld later today. The dog needs his food and treats even if I feel completely blah and have no motivation to figure out my menu for this week. So I went with the lowest hanging fruit and it's going to be hot dogs and pizza this week. It'll make a nice change from the hamburgers and pizza it's been the last few weeks.

Autism is all about the safe foods. Not the healthy foods. The safe foods.

Moving right along, y'know that job I trained for 5 weeks for? Yeah. We finished all that work. And now they have me doing something else for which I had half a day's training. Unexpectedly. Then two days later said "nope, need you to go back to the other" and it took me over an hour to remember how to do the original job. Bad with unexpected transitions doesn't even begin to cover it. But this is the real world, right? This is how things work in today's modern offices, it's pivot this and agile that and multitasking and moving onward and upward.

Is it too much to ask to work one job, continuously, for a few years? Like 13 years? Long enough that I can retire?

My mom did the same job for 34 years. I did the same jobs with the Postal Service for 14 and 10 years respectively, data entry and then clerk.

At least I'm working at home. I cannot tell you how beneficial that is from an autistic standpoint. The lack of stress from not driving downtown to work, the lack of danger to myself and my irreplaceable car, the time saved, I log off and in two minutes I'm out in my front yard throwing balls for my dog. I can listen to music or podcasts or audiobooks during work just as I used to do back in my early days at the PO and I'm so damned grateful for that. So grateful.

I know I just have to suck it up and deal -- I haven't said anything to my supervisors. What could I say that wouldn't make me sound like I was whining or demanding special treatment? This is business, this is how it works these days, you either deal or you fall off the wheel and end up homeless and starving on the street. I don't have the leeway to make choices yet. I may never have that luxury, I may inherit nothing from my mother after all is said and done. It's so damned ghoulish to think that way. Anticipating her death so I can benefit from it. We all like to think we're good and moral people but this socioeconomic paradigm makes people inherently greedy. What is "moral" when you can financially benefit from your parent's death?

When my Daddy died, I inherited $6,000. I bought my first real computer and modem. A 286 Bondwell B-310V laptop with a black and white screen and a 2400bpm external modem. This was pre-Internet. I was dating a hacker at the time and he gave me a copy of a dialing program called Telex that let me call up BBS systems. And a copy of WordPerfect. And I was off to the races.

So yeah, kids, I'm older than dirt. Modems used to make noises. Your brain started equating those noises to joyful experiences and fun and suddenly you get dopamine from hearing the most godawful grindy modem tones.

The crazy thing? I still do.

This is still the sound of joy.

youtube

#actually autistic #allaboardtheangstexpress #modem strings bring joy #Youtube

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chanelfunnell · 2 years

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mail, no crazies

A) we will loose tonight against Canada I am afraid unless Wright will not freak out from Mrs Troll Ashley Wright poaching Crosby in Cole Harbour and he does not score own goal. Did you see Marner's fake fun from side to side before sending it to the net? Better than 4 players in front of goalie not catching up on rival's quick break away and banging like a young idiot into the gates without finding an angle and a square against the net Draisaitl has waited a micro second for his the best spot by the top outer right circle and fired the puck out. Somehow healthy now...and next question

B) anon, do you reckon Marcus Aubrey looks quite ok and in the shape? I don't mean NYE gym freaks, loose baggy clothes. Don't forget he is not an indie author but a biz boy with healthy life style so you expect it if he runs Innit gym and all crap.

C) yes anon, I like Caley's style. She is 29 and with two kids, good body and she covers NHL after NFLso many girls in NHL franchises knowledge or just for non serious sideline chat but you spot these amateurs attention seeking poaching puckbunnies camouflaging like a female reporter from distance because acres of flesh on the ice rink lol

Check..1990s hair and her Versace like micro mini wih a split secured by safety pin not to score into a five hole. Otherwise a great body ahd a style, just too much. Lile yiung gubs banging nonstop llike deaf to scire but stupod angle, shot, slot, timing...

This one circles around Bedard's team

D) Malkin is an eternal overgrown kid Sidney Crosby is not maybe Bedard now not even McDavid but Crosby throws toys out of his pram like a spoilt kid often. All Brilliant players but Crosby is like Ovechkin, chasing individual records.

E) alnon, yes, they defeated us more times. Juniors as well as A team so Canada is ok for us. I have found only videos in non English but he is a d-man of AHL for December so far. I wonder whether they will be placed into after-school detection with tons of homework in the case Sweden will beat them again because David J who goes often around the net has the 2nd video about the school. He stands in the video like a scorned pupil rather than a player on the ice rink lol. Marketa corrected someone's spelling in the paperwork once in HC Slavia ages ago and she has had a teaching practice in Brno, her hometown, at a sport gymnasium where they trolled her exbf how he did not score or laughed during reading a poem Lorelei bcs she was a swimmer with long golden locks. I am surprised how many NHLers have an uni degree or studied an uni. Tazer at Dakota uni, so McCabe etc. M has masters from Psychology from Czechia and Economics and Computer Science with stats from Prague, then LSE London in UK and one year course at Wharton uni in Pennsylvania. She has copied activity of mobile d men from Klopp of FC Liverpool and his gegenpress and definitely from Joel Queneville from the Blackhawks. Duncan Keith played like that and yes I think the Oilers made it into the play offs last season and more up to the ladder bcs of his defensive skills and axis of their d zone with experience. They are scoring but also getting a lot of goals.. You laugh as Nurse runs to help out to his d man buddy as ,nurse, instead of staying and sticking to his side to protect it and they are not passing away lol. They need Draisaitl's holistic very expensive chain by Chanel. He is healthy again but I think he just had a whale of time yodling and drinking around NYE with his nonstop Ja,ja,ja yaaaaah....sure ya yaaa jaa

#Nhl #Ice hockey #Junior world championship #Sidney Crosby #Geno Malkin #Connor Bedard #Connor McDavid #Mitch Marner #Leon draisaitl #Marcus Aubrey #pittsburgh penguins

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dontfeeltoohot · 2 years

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Have 4.6k of soft, sick paramedic!Eddie and nurse!Steve.

This should all be pretty accurate when it comes to medical jargon/paramedic+emt stuff.

Let me know what you think! :3

X X X He’s tired, which isn’t unusual, but this isn’t his normal kind of tired that’s helped by coffee and stealing some of Henderson’s breakfast. No, this is a bone deep tired that’s making him want to crawl back into bed and pull the covers over his head. As he pulls into the station’s parking lot, the twenty eight year old yawns for what feels like the tenth time in so many minutes, rubs his eyes, and then gets out, fixing his pullover.

He’s worked hard for the navy quarter zip; not the actual sweatshirt itself, but for the title embroidered on it. On the left, a few inches below the collar; which has a ‘five years of service’ pin, reads ‘E.Munson’. On the opposite side, ‘Hawkins Fire and Rescue’. It’s the back that matters most- in big, white letters, is the word ‘PARAMEDIC’. It allows everyone on scene to know he’s the most knowledgeable, the highest in charge when it comes to any medical situation.

Making his way inside the large brick building, Eddie says hi to a few of the guys from A shift, throwing his black tactical backpack in one of the five, small rooms at the back of the station. It pays to be early, especially when private quarters are hard to come by. He’s sure in the end he’ll let Chrissy have the bed, and he’ll probably fall asleep in one of the large recliners they’ve got in the common room.

Walking back out, he goes to the cupboard above the stove and grabs his black mug that has ‘Eddie’s, Touch and Be Ketamine-d’ printed on it, a gift from an old chief. Thankful that A shift’s already started coffee, the long haired man pours himself a cup, splashes some creamer in it, then leans against the wall, waiting for more of his coworkers to file in.

Henderson, Wheeler, and Sinclair come in first, all talking far too loudly, the youngest four at the station. Fucking fire fighters and their disregard for anyone but themselves. Swallowing and wincing as the hot coffee burns his throat, Eddie nods at them, unable to help the smile that falls on his face when Henderson races up to him.

“Eddie! Dude! Did you see the new Game of Thr-“

“I’m gonna stop you right there Dustybun. If you so much as say a word about anything that’s happened, I will kick your balls so hard-“

“Okay, okay. Got it. No talking about it,” Dustin gives a thumbs up and heads back to the other three.

That kid needs some downers or something, he’s far too energetic at six am to be considered normal. Shaking his head to himself, Eddie takes another sip of coffee and turns the tv on that’s hanging on the wall, turning it to the news station. Chief Hopper comes in, Captain Powell and Lieutenant Callahan right behind him. The paramedic salutes them in greeting. Finally, Chrissy, Joyce and Murray walk in, making Eddie stand a little straighter.

“Morning,” Joyce smiles, her own cup of coffee in her usual to-go cup held tight in her hands.

“Morning Joyce,” Eddie smiles genuinely. He’s ridden with the other paramedic a few times, and he always enjoys her company around the station. She’s the mom of B shift, and it’s no secret she likes to mother hen Eddie the most.

“You ready for another day in paradise, my friends?”

“Paradise must have a different meaning in your mind, Murray,” Chrissy jokes. Eddie puts a hand on her arm and smirks.

“I’m going to go check how much shit A shift moved,” Eddie informs his partner, going and grabbing an iPad from the office. He knows she’ll want to get some coffee first. “Oh! I got a room for you, by the way,” he adds, earning a large smile from the petite girl.

“If only he weren’t gay, you two would be a power couple” Murray chimes in, Eddie already half way out the door.

The bays are warm from the heat being blown in, so the curly haired man pushes his sleeves up, revealing numerous tattoos covering his arms and even one on the skin between his thumb and pointer finger. Pulling his hair up and out of his face as well, he opens the back of Ambulance 12, sniffling from the sudden temperature change.

As always, a few things have been switched around from where they should go, making Eddie grumble to himself as he right’s A shifts wrongs. More specifically, he’s cleaning up Jason fucking Carver’s attempt at getting under his skin, and he refuses to admit it’s working. All the guy cares about is getting recognition, Eddie’s sure he doesn’t actually care about helping save lives.

As he continues, he feels his nose getting stuffy, making him cough when he sniffles. Ugh. If he’s getting sick he’s going to riot. Halfway through the checklist, Chrissy hops in, sitting on the stretcher. She’s eating a nutrigrain bar and Eddie wants to tell her he’s proud of her but also doesn’t want to draw attention to it.

“How much damage did Carver do?”

“That man’s going to see me at our next station meeting and I’m going to go off on him I swear to god Chrissy,” Eddie growls, which only makes him cough. Fuck.

“Easy tiger, I hate him just as much as you do, but I don’t need to have a floater for two weeks because someone can’t control their anger, yeah?”

He knows she’s right.

“Fine.”

The EMT peeks at the checklist and goes to grab what they need, while Eddie counts how many collars they have. Sniffling, he rubs his eyes and reaches for his coffee, hoping to chase away the ache slowly starting to appear in his throat. A minute later, Chrissy reappears with the supplies, as well as a few extra boxes of gloves, tossing them in the cab.

“So, how’s everything going at the garage?”

A loud bang interrupts Eddie before he can reply.

“God DAMN it I’m going to smash Ballard’s head against a wall if he doesn’t replace the oxygen tank next time. Does he think my and my physical prowess can lift this shit?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be able to lift at least 159, Murray?” Chrissy calls out, laughing.

“Yeah but not completely dead weight that’s metal!”

Eddie sighs and stands, jumping out of the truck to help the older man.

“Quit complaining man, at least you’re not the one who had the bariatric guy on the seventh floor last shift,” he glares, making Murray snap his mouth shut.

As he and Murray start moving the tank to the side of the truck, a tickle blooms in the back of his head. Clenching his jaw, the paramedic gets six feet away from their destination before he freezes

“Hh! Hold ohhn-“ he sets his side of the air supply down, pulling the collar of his sweater up against his face.

“hih’GHNgKtuhew! ihhKhTshh’EW! hihEhIKtsch’UHEW!”

“If you’re sick, I don’t want your germs,” Murray scrunches his nose.

“I’m not sick, Jesus, can’t a guy just sneeze?”

“Yes, he can. But you- you don’t sneeze unless you’re around cats, dust, or you’re sick. And since there aren’t any cats and we dust pretty well here thanks to how anal Brenner can be on his damn visits, there’s only one explanation, rockstar.”

Huffing, Eddie picks the entire tank up by himself, then drops it into the space it’s supposed to go.

“You’re welcome,” he turns back to his own truck, rolling his eyes.

“Bless you,” Chrissy gives him a smile when he gets in the truck.

“Thanks,” he nods, sniffling.

The paramedic can feel congestion starting to really accumulate in his head, more than just a stuffy head now. It’s as if the sneezes knocked something loose, opening up the floodgates. Clearing his throat, he leans back, sitting in the captain's chair.

“Robin should be working today,” he gives her a smirk.

“So should Steve,” she retorts smugly.

“Base 1- we’ve got a code 2, 10 year old female, possible broken bone, alert and conscious. Address is 4928 Seller Lane, Hawkins Elementary. No posing threats.”

Eddie grabs the walkie hanging from the holster around him.

“We got it!” Eddie calls out to the two. “Ambulance 12 copies,” he says into the walkie.

Chrissy closes the doors, and Eddie hops into the passenger seat, letting the woman drive. He’s tired and needs to wake up more before driving a metal death trap on wheels. Adrenaline is already starting to buzz through him, just like any other call. As soon as they pull out, he grabs the walkie again.

“Ambulance 12 in route, 6:38 am.”

“Copy that Ambulance 12.”

***

“-shhew! snfsnf! Jesus Christ….ihHhNGkTschuhEW!”

“Bless you,” Chrissy says, keeping her hands on the stretcher as Eddie takes one off to cover his face with his collar.

“You got her?”

“Yeah,” the star berry blonde tosses him the iPad, info sheet already pulled up.

Eddie looks up and feels his heart beat a little faster at the sight of Steve Harrington. He’s got navy scrubs on today, ones that fit him well, showing off his arms and ass perfectly. Swallowing and grimacing at the feeling, the paramedic slides up to the nurses station, a smile on his lips.

“Harrington, missed seeing you around on Monday. Not that I don’t love Nancy,” he throws a smile towards the woman sitting next to him, who merely laughs. “But…I missed seeing your pretty face.”

“Was getting over a wicked cold, you wouldn’t have wanted to see me, trust me,” Steve laughs.

Raking his eyes over the nurse, he watches a blush fall faintly over Steve’s cheeks. Beautiful, Eddie thinks. He’s so damn beautiful.

“On contraire, mon petit prince, I am a sucker for sick, germy boys. Why do you think I took this job?”

Nancy laughs and Robin, who’s just walking up, gives him a confused look.

“Right,” Steve shakes his head, getting flustered. “Who’s the patient?”

“Damn, yeah, that’s a thing. Addison Myers, 10 years old. Was walking into school and fell over the curb. I’d bet a date with you she has a greenstick ankle fracture. Didn’t feel any complete abnormalities but it’s swollen and tender,” he rattles off. “BP is 112/68, heart rate is-snf! uhh..74, respirations we’re 13.”

“Actually 13 or bullshit 13?” Nancy chimes in, always in resident nurse mode. Eddie flips her off discreetly.

“Actually 13, thank you. I take my job as a medical professional v-snf! very seriously,” he rubs his nose with his wrist, clearing his throat. Steve looks at him curiously, but Eddie ignores it.

Turning his iPad, he hands it to Steve, who starts signing off on the paperwork. As the nurse does, Eddie sniffles and leans against the counter, yawning. Chrissy comes out from room 3 with a now empty stretcher, laughing uncomfortably at something someone is saying. He can hear it in her tone, so he pushes off the counter and looks at the other three.

“Be right back.” As he gets closer, he knows the culprit immediately, and his fists clench.

“Hargrove, how ya doin’ man?” Eddie comes up and throws an arm around the nurse who smells vaguely of cigarettes.

“Munson,” Billy smiles, the leering smile he gives to all the girls.

“Yeah yeah, I know I’m hot. However, I don’t appreciate you flirting with my partner, so if you could back off,” he stares at the other with an easy, light smile.

Everyone around them is staring, and Chrissy comes to stand next to him.

“I’m just being friendly,” Billy laughs, almost condescendingly.

“Right, and I’m the queen of England. Just lay off and we can forget this ever happened.”

Suddenly, Hargrove is in his face, their noses almost touching. The scent of smoke makes his nose itch, but other than clenching his jaw, he can’t do much, not when the man is this up in his space.

“You’re pathetic,” Billy whispers, spoken as if the words are venom.

“And why’s that? Because I’m not fawning all over you and your outdated handlebar mustache? Look, I’ve got people to actually save. So why don’t you go back to wiping asses and getting drinks for old ladies, and let us big boys do our jobs.”

“You little-“

“What’s going on here?“

The two men step away as if they’ve been burned. Doctor Owens is standing there with confusion written all over his face. Billy gives the man his most innocent look.

“We were just discussing how to properly insert an airway.”

“Actually, Hargrove here was making my partner uncomfortable, so I told him to leave her alone. Everyone here can attest to that,” Eddie shrugs, smirking when Billy’s eyes go wide.

Owens looks at Billy and frowns.

“Hargrove, I’d like to speak to you alone.”

“Alright handsome, mind if I get that iPad back?” Eddie turns to Steve, who does as he’s asked.

“God he’s going to be insufferable the rest of the day,” Robin groans. “But I’m glad you put him in his place.”

“Just looking out for Chris. Jackass had it coming sooner or later,” the curly haired man assures, rubbing at his nose again.

The scent of smoke is still lingering. When the tickle doesn’t want to recede, Eddie sniffles, which seems to do the trick. Pulling his collar up, the paramedic turns away from everyone.

“huhINGkTschhew! iiGkSHhew! ahiiGShew! Snf!! SnfSNF!“

Both Robin and Nancy bless him as he sniffles and drops his collar down. Steve is staring at him again, making him squirm slightly. The look is intense and makes Eddie feel as though he’s staring into his soul. Nancy grabs a tissue box and the man snags a couple, wiping his nose and shoving them into his tac-pants. As he follows Chrissy out the door to grab a new blanket for their stretcher, he misses the way Nancy and Robin start teasing Steve, who’s blushing and glaring.

Opening the back doors, Eddie watches Chrissy move the stretcher back into position and then raise the wheels up off the ground.

“I’ll push it,” Eddie steps in, chuckling when his partner huffs and goes to get into the driver's side of the truck. When he hears the click and lock of the stretcher, he shuts the back doors and moves to the passenger seat, taking one of the tissues out from his pants, wiping his nose again, feeling it start to get runny.

“Steve is so smitten with you,” Chrissy smirks, plugging her phone back up.

“Nah, he’s jus-snf! just being friendly. I’m pretty sure he and Robin are a thing.”

“She’s told me before they’re strictly platonic,” the girl shakes her head, driving back onto the main road.

“Still don’t think Harrington is gay,” the long haired man sniffles into the tissue, rubbing his nose.

“Are you okay? You sound kind of stuffy. I know that awful cold is going around, a few people on c-shift had it last week.”

“Peachy keen, jellybean. Don’t worry so much,” he waves off, even though her words hold some truth. His throat’s starting to truly hurt, more than just a low ache. His head somehow feels even stuffier, now that his adrenaline is coming down, and exhaustion is hitting him hard.

They get back to the station, where both firetrucks are out. At least it means some quiet, which also means a nap. Joyce and Murray are sitting at the long table by the windows talking when they walk inside. Chrissy puts a hand on Eddie’s shoulder, looking at him.

“I’ll do the paperwork,” she informs and Jesus, he knows it’s a running joke of them being perfect for each other but he thinks if he wasn’t gay he really would kiss Chrissy Cunningham right now.

“You don’t have t-“

“Least I can do for you after you saved me from Billy.”

“Hargrove?” Murray butts into the conversation.

“Yep. He was coming onto me. Eddie got him in trouble with Owens,” she grins, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“Good for you Eddie. That guy always gives me the creeps. He’s probably just overcompensating because he has a small dick, at least that’s what a few nurses say,” Joyce nods, sipping on her bottle of coke.

All three other first responders react simultaneously. Murray chokes on his redbull, Chrissy snorts and Eddie’s mouth drops open. Joyce Byers is an enigma, and the long haired paramedic loves her for it. He thinks about his own mother, and all the shit they went through together before she died. She hadn’t been as bold as Joyce, but she had been just as kind. Heart aching just a little, Eddie shakes his head and rubs his face.

“Well, he was being a dick, and I told him to back off. Owens just happened to be passing by. Honestly if he hadn’t been I’m pretty sure Billy was about to try and deck me,” he shrugged, sniffling quietly.

“Good for you, he needs a good ego check, or maybe a good write up,” Murray says thoughtfully.

“You okay Eddie?” Joyce’s kind voice rings out, and he turns to look at her, their hair practically identical aside from his curls.

“Yeah, just a little tired, didn’t sleep well last night, is all.”

Before Joyce can reply, her radio crackles to life, informing Ambulance 13 of a middle aged woman suffering from chest pains. Murray hops up and salutes him, Eddie smirking.

“Have fun you two!”

Heading to the back of the station, Eddie sniffles harder, now that no one is around to think it’s gross or worry over him. It makes his nose itch, but try as he may, the paramedic can’t quite get at the tickle that’s growing. Pausing right outside the door, the man lifts his collar up, nostrils twitching teasingly.

“hh! Ugh…snfSNF! hhh! hih’iiGKtSCH! ehIKSHHuhEW!” A few moments pass as he goes into the small room where a single bed occupies most of the space.

“IHKISHEW! Guh,” Eddie yanks a tissue from his pocket and blows his nose, grimacing at the soupy, thick sound. Maybe he’s getting a cold.

Laying on top of the bed and the blanket, moving the pillow so Chrissy can still use it, the man drops his head onto the uncomfortable mattress and shuts his eyes, sleep pulling him under.

Thirty seven minutes later, he’s pulled from his dream about a certain nurse and his navy scrubs when his radio sounds. Vaguely disoriented from the sudden interruption, Eddie gets up and stretches, only half listening to the crackly dispatcher’s voice. He feels worse, he realizes as he walks down the hallway to the common room where Chrissy is waiting for him. Scrubbing at his face, they head out and into the ambulance. No rest for the wicked.

Of course it’s a CPR call. They’ve got no Lucas machine like ambo 13 does, and as Eddie does his seventh set of compressions, he’s starting to wonder if he can steal it off the truck. Chrissy’s talking to dispatch about needing Med Air, they’re not going to get the guy to the hospital when they have to stop every time the AED needs to reanalyze a rhythm. Ten minutes and 8 more sets of compressions, 4 shocks later, they’re transferring care to the helicopter team, and Eddie’s arms feel like jello.

“Ambulance 12, we’ve got a GSW around the corner from you, are you able to take it? Police on scene, scene has been deemed safe.”

“Copy that, ambulance 12 in route,” Eddie coughs to his side after clicking the button to mute.

From there, it feels like they get back to back to back calls, no resting in between. Eddie’s driving as Chrissy sits in the back with an elderly woman who’s fallen and requested to be transported due to hip pain. They go over a particularly large bump and Chrissy huffs, making Eddie look in the rearview mirror and laugh.

“Sorry Jean, Eddie’s driving skills are about as good as his people skills,” the EMT jokes, making the woman laugh.

“Hey! I’ll have you know I get shout outs all the time from patients,” he calls back in a playful voice. “The ladies love me!”

Eddie thinks he can hear the woman say ‘I’m sure they do’, but he’s suddenly preoccupied with an itch in the back of his nose, traveling through his sinuses. Sniffling does more harm than good, and as he rolls to a stop at a red light, he aims to the side, into his shoulder.

“iiHKSHHhuew! snfsnf! hihGKTshhUHEW! hah’ITSCHhh’ew!”

Chrissy blesses him, and he throws a thanks back towards her, yanking a tissue from the box they’ve got in the middle compartment, rubbing at his nose and then wiping it, still sniffling afterwards. Coughing into his fist a couple of times, Eddie pulls into the Ambulance bay at the hospital, still rubbing at his nose. His head’s started hurting, and with how he still can’t shake this chill, the paramedic briefly wonders if he’s running a fever.

Steve had been on his lunch break during their last transfer, and when Eddie sees the man’s signature styled hair, he feels himself smile, despite how shitty he’s starting to feel. Nancy tells them to put the woman in room eleven, and Eddie nods, keeping his hands on the stretcher.

“Now Ms. Jean, no more falls alright? As much as I love seeing your pretty face, I want you safe more than anything,” the twenty eight year old smiles warmly, chuckling as the elderly woman blushes.

“Thank you sweetheart, I’ll try not to.”

“Good. Chrissy’s going to get you to sign a couple things on this iPad, all you have to do is use your finger,” he explains, making sure the woman understands before sliding out of the room.

Heading to the nurses station, Steve, who’s working on typing something, looks up and grins, eyes crinkling slightly. Eddie feels warmth spread through his body. A second later, he’s turning away, snatching a few thin tissues from the box on the counter.

“ihGNktchUHEW hah’IKshhh’EW! S-Sorry, snf!”

“Bless y-“

“iHGKktshew!”

“Bless you,” Steve frowns. “You sound like I did last week. You feeling alright?”

Eddie turns back, wiping his nose as he shrugs. Head heavy with congestion, every blink feels sluggish. He can feel mess accumulating under his nose again already, so he swipes at it then finally lowers the tissues.

“I was gonna make fun of you for taking a sick day for a silly cold, but maybe you were the smart one,” Eddie’s voice is nasally, consonants rounded. It’s an easy way for anyone to pick up on the fact he’s unwell.

“You should grab some meds on the way back to the station. You’ve still got, what, another 11hours?”

They both grimace.

“Don’t remind me,” the paramedic groans, rubbing his face. “God, I feel like a fucking biohazard,” he adds, pumping hand sanitizer onto his palms and rubbing them together.

“Good thing you get another three days off,” Steve says optimistically, and Eddie’s never been more grateful for his 24 on 72 off schedule.

Glancing at the clock, Eddie frowns even harder. “All of you are off in fifteen minutes,” he deflates. He’d rather not have to do intake with anyone else. The paramedic enjoys Nancy, Robin and Steve and their constant banter and want to include he and Chrissy.

“Yep, and I’ve got a hot date with a bath,” Nancy sighs dreamily.

“Ugh, I have to study for the stupid final in pharmacology,” Robin growls, throwing her pen down.

Eddie remembers having to do pharmacology. Half the shit they don’t even use, though it’s probably different for nurses. Steve looks like he’s in thought, so the curly haired man sniffles and then looks to see where his partner’s at.

“I’ll see you guys around.”

“Feel better,” Nancy looks at him with sympathy.

“Thanks Nance. See ya Birdie, see ya Stevie,” he smiles at them.

Steve nods, but then stands, walking around the counter.

“Here, follow me for a sec.”

Curious, Eddie tells Chrissy he’ll be right back, then follows the brown eyed man. They arrive at a door, the plaque reading ‘nurses lounge’. Steve leads him inside, and his eyes dart around. There’s a few couches and chairs, tables, a coffee machine and television. Steve grabs a black backpack from the corner, rummaging around. A second later, he produces a little blister pack of pills and an unopened water bottle.

“It’s just DayQuil, thought you might benefit from one,” he explains, twisting the cap off of the water bottle and handing it to Eddie, who takes it, eyes wide with surprise. A pill is popped from the blister pack into his hand, and then put back into Steve’s backpack.

“Thank you,” Eddie swallows the pill, grimacing at how it stings. He doesn’t realize Steve has more until something soft, wrapped in plastic is put into his free hand.

“These are probably softer than whatever shit you have at the station.”

A travel pack of tissues. Eddie kind of wants to surge forward and kiss the man, but then he remembers how germy he is. Right.

“Don’t you need them?”

“Nah, I’m all better now, just have them in my backpack for emergencies. And I think this counts as an emergency. Your nose is like, bright red man.”

“Thanks Steve, this means a lot, making sure I don’t die a terrible death from the plague.”

“No problem. Just doing my civic duty, wouldn’t want a death on my conscience,” he teases, and Eddie wonders if Steve feels the sudden intimacy that’s washed over the air around them.

The paramedics about to turn to walk back out when he decides to cowboy up and do something about this damn crush he’s had for over a year. Maybe it’s this cold, maybe it’s how soft Steve looks, or maybe it’s just the need to be closer.

“Hey Steve? Would you want to get some dinner with me? When I’m not a giant germ factory, I mean.”

Steve’s eyes widen a little, and Eddie braces himself for rejection that never comes. Instead, the nurse steps closer and nods, taking one of Eddie’s hands.

“Yeah, I’d love that. Kind of was hoping for it, if I’m honest.”

They exchange numbers and by the time he’s back out and sliding into the truck, Chrissy is looking at him expectantly.

“Please tell me you two kissed.”

“I’m germy as hell Chrissy.”

“Ugh, he’s had it anyway, who cares?”

“…we’re going on a date, once I’m not a biohazard,” Eddie admits, smiling so much it makes his cheeks hurt.

“No way! Oh my god!” The pitch of her squeal makes him wince and she looks guilty. “Sorry, sorry. You and Steve Harrington. What a couple.”

“It’s a date.”

“It’s a stepping stone to boyfriends, Eddie.”

The rest of his shift goes by in a haze. He may feel like shit, but he also feels oddly light and giddy. Joyce is just as excited as Chrissy is when the news gets to her, hugging him tightly. He tries to pull back immediately.

“I’m sick, I don’t want to get you-“

“I have kids, Eddie. Sometimes, you just have to give a hug, no matter the circumstances. Now, go lay down. We can take the next few calls for you. You kind of look like shit.”

#my fic #em #sh #st #nw #rb #cc #paramedicau

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ichigomis · 3 years

Text

taking them to the nurse's office | kuroo, atsumu, sakusa, iwaizumi

in which they refuse to go to the nurse's office despite being obviously sick, so you /force/ them to. just some soft, pouty, sick baby boys.

❊ KUROO slumped down on his chair, burying himself deeper into his jacket. he woke up with the worst headache this morning but he brushed it off as a common cold. he got sick and it was normal, there was obviously no need to make a big deal out of it all the time. unfortunately, you and he thought quite differently.

"you're going to the nurse's office with me, right now," you demand as you force him up his seat.

kuroo struggles to stay seated as he scoffs, "it's just a fever, y/n. it's a natural phenomenon, no need for all that." he says with a tinge of whining. "my body's currently fighting off the bacteria and possible virus by raising my body temperature enough to cook them alive, leave my fever alone." he says matter-of-factly as he crosses his arms in front of him.

you roll your eyes and place your hands on your hips, "which is exactly why you should be resting right now. your body's working hard to kill those viruses so might as well give it time to do so, am i right?" you smile, knowing you made a very very good point.

kuroo stares up at you knowing well that he's been defeated, but as usual, he refuses to admit it, "i'm resting just fine here." "no, you're not." "yes, i am." "no. you. are. not." "yes. i. am." "kenma?"

you call and kenma looks up at you and then at kuroo, "you're not, kuroo." he mutters before getting back to his game.

kuroo winces at the sudden betrayal, "stop teaming up against me!!" he complains but you're not having any of it.

"get up," with a pout and some pleading puss-in-boots-type of eyes, he finally gets up and leans against you as you make your way to the nurse's office.

❊ ATSUMU sniffles, not even bothering to hide his sickness. osamu sighs, what ticked him off was the fact that his brother wasn't doing anything about his condition.

"go the nurse's office," osamu says out of a balanced mix of annoyance and concern.

atsumu sneezes and shakes his head, "i don' need to. em fine." he points out, barely audible from his clogged nose.

osamu scowls at him, "i don't care if yer fine or not, yer gonna get the rest of the team sick!" he argues as atsumu only continues to change and get ready, not paying his brother any mind. osamu rolls his eyes and brings his phone out, "fine, then i'll call y/n." he mutters as he dials your number.

"i cannot believe you wouldn't go when samu already told you to!" you exclaim as you spot atsumu getting ready to do some wall drills. atsumu stops what he's doing and lets out a big smile as he sees you approach him.

"y/n! what are you doing here?" he coos, pretending not to hear what you just said.

"samu texted me, you're sick! let's get you to the nurse's office." you say as you try to drag him by the sleeve of his jacket.

"noooooo em not sick!" he complains like a little kid as he presses his feet firm to the ground. "he is, y/n. take him away," osamu approaches you with his hands covering his nose and mouth, "he'll get the rest of us sick."

atsumu grumbles at his brother's words and whines, "em not! see i can do my drills just fine." he tries to pick up a ball but you stop him. you shake your head and gesture for the door, sometimes ordering him around was just the easiest way out. atsumu pouts and slumps down, "b-but..." he looks over at his team and brightens up as an idea pops into his head, "aha! no, kita-san will get angry if i suddenly leave like this! we're in the middle of practice!" he pumps his fist in the air, relishing in his smart argument.

"no, go get some rest at the nurse's office." kita suddenly appears behind you, staring at atsumu whose whiney pout quickly returns to his face.

"yeah, get him outta here!" suna joins in and atsumu only whimpers more.

"well, you heard them. y/n, take him away." osamu delivers the final blow and atsumu just straight up starts throwing a mini tantrum.

weirdly used to this, you roll your eyes and take his hand, "let's go, time to get you to the nurse's office," you take atsumu away from his team, but not before teasing him just a little bit, "you big baby."

atsumu lets out a dramatic gasp and pouts even more, "not you too..."

❊ SAKUSA huffs from behind his mask, his warm breath doing nothing to ease his headache. he would rather be stuck in a room with a spider than admit he was sick. thinking that he took all those extra precautions and still ended up in this situation just makes him furious. he leans his body on his locker, trying to get a hold of some paracetamol he had tucked away when he just crashes, no energy to even stand up. lucky for him, you were coincidentally passing by.

"kiyoomi!" you shriek, getting a hold of his arm to balance him. "what happened? are you alright?" you ask.

he looks up at you with crimson cheeks and beads of sweat on his forehead, you let out a small gasp but he just shakes his head, "i'm fine y/n. i just needed to get-"

"you're coming with me!" you announce guiding him to lean onto you. without giving him any time to reject you, you close his locker with your elbow and start walking towards the nurse's office.

"let go, i'm fine." sakusa mumbles under his mask but makes no effort to push you away. "i'm fine..." he whispers hoping to assure you and himself at the same time.

"okay, i'll let the teachers know you're here so just rest up..." you say as soon as you finish filling up the form the school nurse handed you. "oh also, i texted motoya to come pick you up later."

sakusa finally turns to look at you, revealing his flushed cheeks. you give him a small comforting smile, "get some rest, omi."

you stand to take your leave but his warm hand suddenly reaches for you, "y/n, can..." you look down at sakusa who was now blushing over his fever, "can you... pick me up... later?"

you bite your lip, forcing down the smile creeping on your face. you bend down and gently swipe away loose hair from his forehead, he flinches at your cool touch. "if you promise to get some rest, i will." sakusa nods like an obedient puppy and you let out a smile. sick omi is a cute omi please

❊ IWAIZUMI groans as he tries to fight back his headache. he knew something was wrong with him, he's been practicing for longer hours and the pressure of the upcoming matches did nothing but stress him out. still, he didn't want to admit that he was feeling sick, he thought that it meant he wasn't looking out for himself enough. that's why during lunch, he fought to keep the same calm expression he always had. unfortunately, you saw right through him.

you knew iwaizumi would never admit he was feeling sick, so you had to get a little creative.

"haji," you tap his shoulder lightly, getting his attention.

he turns to you and you see the hint of a fever on his cheeks, "what?" he asks a bit too snappy than usual, he notices his tone and avoids your gaze.

"uh," you scour your brain for an excuse, "can you help me get to the nurse's office? my cramps are killing me."

iwaizumi looks you up and down then stands from his seat, "do you need help standing up?" he asks offering his hand, and when you shake your head he tucks them in his pockets, relieved you wouldn't notice the growing warmth in his body.

"you tricked me." iwaizumi accuses you with furrowed eyebrows as you write his name down the sign-in sheet. you pay him no mind as you jot down his temperature, which showed he definitely had a fever. "i'm fine, y/n. i'm not sick."

you glare at him and sigh, "38.7 °C screams fever to me, hajime. you're not getting out of this."

iwaizumi pouts and looks away. he ponders on how you saw right through him when he suddenly remembers why he accompanied you to the nurse's office in the first place. "your cramps, what about your cramps?" he looks up at you with worry written all over his eyes, you open your mouth to speak, feeling just a little bit bad. you decide to shoot him an apologetic smile instead and iwaizumi immediately frowns, "you're not leaving me here." he half commands and begs. you nod, you weren't planning to anyway.

a/n: waaaaah these turned out better than i thought! my random 2 am creativity boosts really don't let me down :D

» m. list » request + ask here

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souyasbabyy · 3 years

Text

• pairing: baji x fem!reader

• requested by anon: request here! thinking about baji angst. his childhood friend, who he has major feelings for, has cancer. and its slowly eating her away 😭 he visits her everyday in the hospital and talks for hours. but then she tells him she only has a couple weeks left to live. how would baji spend the remaining time with her? what would baji be like after her death? have a nice day/night! <3

• genre: mostly angst

• warning: reader's death, talk about cancer and disease

• note: i wanted to cry when i saw the request, like i love angst so ofc i was happy to see it but baji baby 😢, i also love to hurt myself when i write angst so yay, i hope you'll like it hehe

Baji was on his way to the hospital like he always do after classes. He know you since forever and yes, sometimes it was hard to see you in such a bad state, seeing your disease hurting you, phisically and mentally, seeing it slowly killing you was hard, but he couldn't spent a day away from you.

Everytime he was coming, he made it his personnal mission to see you smile, even if it was weak, even if you weren't feeling good, he had to see a smile appear on your face, because it gives him hope. Hope that you'll feel better, and he really doesn't want to lose hope. Because there's still a lot of things he want to do with you, so much things he needs to tell you. Loosing hope was loosing you. And he couldn't.

He open the door of your bedroom, you were looking through the window, turning your head when you notice he was there "Hey, feeling good?" you ask, giving him a weak smile "Yup, I just couldn't wait to come here, i had two test today, it was boring" he says, removing his shoes to sit next to you like he always do "Hey, you better work hard" you smile, he looks at you, smiling "I am!"

He put his hand in his bag, taking the scans he bringed for you, giving them to you as he took the one he bringed for him "The nurses will kill you if they know you give me food in secret" you joke. He shrugs "I bet the food here is horrible, and they love me anyway" he says making you giggle "It does taste horrible"

You ate a bit, not wanting to throw up in front of him, you listen to his story about his day, and things he had to do with the gang. Looking at him, suddenly feeling nostalgic of when you were kids, playing at mikey's house. You missed this. Going out and being able to play with him, you turn your head, you didn't wanted to tell him.

"Hey" he says "Weren't they supposed to do another scan to see if the chemo is working?" he ask, remembering hearing your nurses telling you the day before. You close your eyes "It's now, you have to tell him" you think. You look at him, smiling "Yeah they did" you say, your voice breaking a bit, you cough and he caress your back "And?" he ask, smiling.

"Don't loose hope, never." He remembers his mother telling him when he came back from your place, crying because you just told him about your cancer"You have to stay strong baby" she told him, engulfing him in a tight hug "She'll be okay, but she'll need you "

You shake your head "My doctor said that it'll only get worse" you say, finally letting your tears pour on your face. His smile slowly fade, looking at your tears, the way you hide your face in your hands, because you hate crying in front of people. "B-but" he stutters, his shaky hand trying to take yours "They gotta do something, right, they can't leave you like this?" he says. His throat was hurting.

Stay strong. I can't loose her. Stay strong.

You shake your head again, hearing you sob was destroying him. I can't break in front of her. Cupping your cheeks, he makes you look at him, smiling "It'll be okay, I'll stay with you" he says. You could see his eyes starting to get glossy, making your lower lip shake again "Until the end" he says. And the rest of the time he stayed with you, crying and holding you until the hours of visiting hour ended.

Your mother called his during an afternoon, her mother really tried to find a way to tell him without hurting him, but how could she not when the girl he was in love with since he was five died. When she told him he didn't cried at least not in front of herhe stayed silent, looking into the void not really listening. But the second he was in his bedroom she could hear his cry. Crying herself at the heart wrecking sob her son was making.

#mel 🌻#baji x reader #baji keisuke #tokyo revengers baji #tokyo revengers angst #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers imagine #tokyo revengers headcanon #tokyo revengers fluff #tokyorev x reader #tokyorev headcanons

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specialagentlokitty · 3 years

Text

Rossi x Daughter!reader - Worry

Good morning/afternoon/evening could i please please request a David Rossi daughter fic where she is overworking herself but he doesnt notice for ages becasue he is away on cases also she is hiding it and he only notices when it gets reall bad so he takes time off to nurse her back to health and they soend a bunch of time togther. I hope thats not to much and thankyou - Anon💜

Sitting at the table, you were rubbing your eyes, trying to keep yourself awake.

Letting out a soft sigh, you turned on your phone fo check the time before looking at all of the books you had to work through.

“This is hell…�� you whispered.

Setting one book aside, you picked up another and begun to read through the questions that were in there.

Trying to keep up your grades was hard, especially when you struggled in quite a few of your subjects.

Setting to work, you slowly work through the problems you had written.

“Darling? Why are you awake?”

You jumped, spinning around you grabbed the baseball bag next to you without thinking.

When you saw your dads face you smiled softly and set the bat aside.

“Hey.” You waved.

Padding into the kitchen, you turned on the kettle and grabbed two cups.

“It’s 3:30 in the morning kiddo.”

“I’m doing some work, it’s cool dad.” You smiled.

Rossi walked over, turning the kettle off he turned to you and nodded his head towards the stairs.

“Go get some sleep.”

“Dad I’m busy.”

“(Y/N).” He warned softly.

You rose your hand in defence, giving your dad a little salute you made you why to bed.

You weren’t going to complain too much, you were exhausted and your bed was calling your name.

As soon as you laid down it didn’t take long for you to fall asleep.

When you woke up, you could smell something nice coming from the kitchen.

Throwing on some clean clothes, you padded down and found your dad setting a plate of pancakes on the counter.

“Shouldn’t you be at work or something?” You asked.

“I’ve taken a few personal days.” He replied, “have some breakfast.”

“Sorry dad, I’ve got revision class.” You smiled.

You grabbed your bag and started making your way to the door, but he quickly stopped.

“When was the last time you ate little miss?”

You rose a brow.

“You don’t wash dishes, and there’s none in the sink. So?”

You sighed.

“I don’t know, maybe yesterday morning I’ve been too busy.”

Rossi took your bag, setting it by your door he spun you around and started leading you towards the food.

“Eat. Then we’re going to go shopping, see a movie then taking a drive.”

“Dad! I’ve got finals!”

Rossi walked over to the table and picked up a few papers bringing them over.

He spread them out, letting you see the grade marks on the top right hand corners.

“See this kid?” He asked, “these are perfect grades. B, B, C+.”

He slid the food in front of you with a soft smile.

“Those grades are perfect (Y/N), don’t push yourself too hard. It’s all about balance.”

You stared to slowly eat, refusing to meet the gaze of your dad.

“I know you’re going to be brilliant, okay? Take a break.”

“Alright.”

Rossi slugged brightly and kissed the top of your head, giving you a little hug.

He didn’t know how long this was going on for, but he wasn’t going to let it happen any longer

#criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine

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blissfulparker · 3 years

Text

Wipeout⇔ Surfer!Dad!tom

Parings: surfer!dad!tom x surfer!reader

Summary; You and Tom spend your whole relationship in the water. Surfing under the summer sun and competing in summers biggest surf competition. To a surpise, you and Tom take on the biggest challenge nature could throw at you. A baby.

Wc: 9k

Warnings: mentions of insecurities durning pregnancy, fluff

A/n: I know this isn’t a birthday themed fic for Toms b-day but I hope you all enjoy! My little spin on a summer fic with dad!tom 🥰

June.

The summer breeze rose goosebumps to your skin. Your hands coming up to rub your arms as the water was only a bit colder today.

it was summer, the best part of the year when you lived with a beach in your backyard. Spending your whole life surfing you now prepared for the summer tournament that happened only weeks away from now. Surfers, fans, media come in from nearly all over the world just to compete.

To feel a wave under their boards and the adrenaline that rushes through your blood when you finally get on top. The same competition that lead you to Tom, Tom who was now your boyfriend of two years. At first, you laughed at the boy.

Pale, shy—yet so cocky and from London of all places. The most water they got is from the sky. You wanted to laugh with your friends for how confident he was acting, little rain boy wanted to have a chance in the big ocean and he did. To your shock, he scored better than you and scored to be in the top 10. Your laughs stopped after competition and maybe it was the slight momentary enemy thing or it was that deep blue bikini that made him find you after the games and get you out for a drink.

That drink was truly a shared basket of fish and chips as you talked more and more about each other. Pale, rainy London boy ended up being the best thing that ever happened to you.

“You wiped out twice!” He sits atop his board and your hands rub over your face.

“Maybe because I’m distracted!” You splash water in his direction. His toned abs always tanner during g this year and it was hard for the both of you to control yourself. “I’m just tired, stressed.” You shrugged it off truthfully.

“You fell asleep at 8:00 last night, grandma.” He teased and you rolled your eyes.

“Competition stress.” You point to him and he shrugs. If he’s honest, within the two years he’s known you, two years he’s loved and wondered where you had been all his life, he knew your stress. When you were stressed you oftentimes took long showers or wrote in your journal for hours on end but this time your stress was sleeping early/in late and a few times he’s caught you throwing up. All under the name of stress.

He didn’t push anything though, reminding you that he is there and you could tell him anything. But nonetheless, he left you be and just kissed your cheek and told you everything was okay.

“Race you to shore and whoever gets back inside first gets the leftover chicken from last night!” He starts to swim and you quickly flatten yourself on your board.

“What are we like five?” You call out but still push yourself to go faster. Pushing yourself to race him to shore.

Even though Toms board was definitely double his size, he still beat you into the house, already washed off and reheating the leftovers for lunch. After a morning swim you always had lunch before you went off to work where you would teach little kids how to surf. No matter what, you were always around the water.

“So I was checking the competition list this week, checking to see if there’s anyone new…” he trails off on a story. The two of you share the chicken and fries before you suddenly get a disgusted taste in your mouth. The chicken suddenly becomes sour in your mouth but you force yourself to swallow, Tom notices the change and he stops everything to make sure you’re okay.

“Darling, what is it?” He has a worried look but you shake your head.

“Nothing—it’s nothing. I-I just think this part of my chicken was a bit undercooked and it grossed me out. It’s nothing.” You smiled at him and he waited a second before continuing his story.

But that wasn’t the end of it, the next bite even more sour and this time you drop your fork and open the trash can to spit it out. The spitting then followed by spitting up all of your breakfast and lunch. Tom quickly coming to move any stray hair and rubbing your back as he tried to not throw up himself.

When you were done, he quickly closed the trash can lid and got you into the bathroom where he assembled the toothbrush for you.

“Peaches, I know that you told me not to worry but this is the third time this week.” He folded his arms as he leans against the wall.

“I’m fine.” You say through a mouth filled with toothpaste. Spitting into the sink and rinsing your mouth while also splashing some water over your face. When you look back up, just a bit, your eyes flicker to the untouched box of tampons.

One week late wasn’t so bad, one week late was just some built up stress and every women had been a week or two late before. But before tom can take notice in your distraction, you turn around to him who hands you a towel.

“But you’re not fine.” He argues a bit gently, not wanting to offend you.

“Tom, in school I would throw up during exam seasons all the time. It’s just stress okay? Better than losing hair or breaking out I guess.” You try and joke with him but he doesn’t exactly laugh. Just stares at you worried and you push back a few of his curls.

“Hey, look at me,” you tell him and his eyes meet yours. “I’m fine, seriously! Just a bit of stress and nothing the ocean water and you can’t fix.” You kiss his cheek and he finally smiles.

“Can you go see a doctor? For yourself and if not for yourself then for me, I want you to do good at competition and you know they won’t let you compete if you are sick in anyway.” He rubs up and down your sides and you sigh. Hating the doctors but you agree.

“Okay, okay. I’ll make an appointment but they will just tell me I just have butterflies.” You tell him and that’s when he grows a smirk.

“Aw, babe, I didn’t know after all these years I still gave you butterflies!” He teased and you rolled your eyes playfully nudging your body against him. Both leaving the bathroom, your eyes flicker over to the untouched box to tampons that just taunt you one last time before tom shuts the bathroom door. It was possible, you just didn’t want it to be possible just yet.

“I should’ve canceled, I should be there!” Tom speaks through the phone. You sat in an empty, cold doctors office waiting for blood results to get back.

Despite Toms over worrying, everything was fine. They couldn’t find anything physically wrong with you and agreed when you mentioned how it was just anxiety and nerves. Yet they still had to run a blood test to make sure it wasn’t anything they missed and couldn’t see with the naked eye.

Meanwhile tom had to be the most dramatic person out there. You always told him if he was not a surfer he would be an actor. It was impressive how every single night before bed he had a new condition to diagnose you with. Some so severe and outrageous you had to remind him that this wasn’t 1600s England and that you didn’t have the plague. That things were just from stress and if it was a stomach bug then let it run through.

Yet he would rant to you nearly every single night about how he’s always loved you and hated that this was the way to go. Always with that you would smack him with a pillow and tell him to go to sleep and with that he would kiss your cheek and hold you tight as he fell asleep.

“Tom, it’s fine. Seriously! They said they couldn’t find anything wrong, you’d be wasting your time to come here. The most you’d get out of this visit is maybe a sticker. Does Tommy want his girlfriend to bring him back a sticker?” You used a baby voice and you could practically hear him going red.

With a scoff he replies, “Ugh, no. What am I like five?” He pauses for a moment. “But what kind do they have? Were you able to check?” He asked in more of a quiet voice and you laugh.

“No clue. But the nurse told me the best thing I could do is just drink some tea and rest. Maybe they have some spiderman stickers or Sofia the first stickers.” You fiddle with the loose thread on your pants. Ending with a joke to calm both yours and Tom's nerves.

With a smirk, Tom Says, “you’ve been drinking some British tea for awhile—“ he jokes and you quickly cut him off.

“Tom!” You say and as if it was a sign, the nurse comes back in with a clipboard and a gentle smile. “Hey, I’ll call you back, the nurse has my results.”

“Wait! Before you go, ask them to check for tapeworms—“ before he could finish you hung up.

“He’s just dramatic.” You laughed a bit and the nurse laughed along before taking a seat across from you. She clicks her pen which makes you nervous for some reason.

“So your blood came back fine, everything is okay. I just have a few little things such as are you on any birth control?” She asked and you shook your head.

“Oh no, um...haven’t been for a while. But my boyfriend and I use protection and we’re safe. We only used planB once and that was a year ago.” You tell her but she looks up at you. Nodding as she purses her lips.

“Condoms only go so far sweetheart. We just have to ask patients who we find to be with a child incase of any birth control so we can remove it immediately, the birth control, I mean, remove that immediately.” With child. You were with a child. Pregnant. Your heart nearly falls out of your chest and the nurse says a few more things but they don’t register.

“Y-You mean there’s a baby inside of me?” You don’t know what color you look right now but you would assume pale, or green with the feeling of vomiting and this time not from slightly uncooked raw leftover chicken.

“Yup, about one month along it looks! We still will want to run more tests and…” she talks more and more but you don’t listen. Your brain foggy, you don’t know if you’re going to pass out or throw up or shit everywhere from how nervous you were. Hell, even all three seemed like an option as she talked. “So I’ll leave you to tell the important news?” She asked. This was apart of her regular day to day, she probably had hundreds of girls like you come in. Clueless and thinking of a stomach bug and then finding out they are pregnant.

“Y-Yeah.” You try to form a smile.

“Perfect, just meet me up at the desk whenever you’re ready. There’s a bathroom down the hall if you are feeling queasy and of course, help yourself to as many waters in the mini fridge in our waiting room. Congratulations!” She says before she turns out and all you hear is the door click shut. The white noise of the light and the taps of your fingernails against the cool metal bed.

You know it was professional and sweet of her to allow you space to call your significant other but you only stare at Tom's contact. Staring at the word ‘Tommy’ with almost all the heart emojis and his contact pictures of him with the biggest smile.

You have no guts to tell him right in the moment, but rather get off of the paper coated bed and grab your things to leave. Setting up a new appointment with your doctor to see more into the baby. Pregnant, with child, before competition. You and Tom were going to have a faimily.

July.

Tom still hadn’t known the news. It had only been a week but the guilt still ate you alive.

You didn’t want to worry or stress him. You yourself still tried to wrap your brain around it. A baby, every breath you took, every bite of food you ate, every drink you swallowed and every step you took there was a baby you shared it with.

You think about how every time tom had wrapped his arms around your waist this week he gently touched over the baby. Kissing your lying lips, you hated yourself for it.

As for competition, your mind nearly forgot. Still getting in the waters everyday with Tom but this time a bit more cautious. Everytime Tom worried for you, you quickly would cover his worry up with either a joke or kisses.

As for the throwing up, morning sickness was something that came in and out. You started hating the smell of bacon tom cooked in the morning but just waved it off. He noticed your decline in caffeine and beers and wines but you just told him the best athletes only had what’s best for their body before performing.

Tom believed all of it. Every single white lie you told—even though you hated yourself for telling them— believed them.

“How ya feeling?” Toms lips met your forehead as you cuddled up on the couch today. Extra tired and almost positive the baby was screaming at you for rest. You cuddled a bowl of popcorn and a water bottle.

“Mmh, just fine.” You give him a smile as his lips come down to meet yours.

Stealing some popcorn from the bowl, he heads over to the kitchen to prepare dinner.

“I’m thinking we do shrimp tonight?” He looked over and you made a face.

“Ew, no.” You shake your head and he gives a furrowed brow look.

“What? You love shrimp!” He responds and you feel yourself growing hot. Hiding deeper in the Blanket and not wanting to show your face.

“Well, I’m just not in the mood for it tonight.” That was another thing, lots and lots of emotions. Luckily Tom had plenty of emotions to match.

“Okay...tuna?” He offers and you shook your head. “Steak?” Once again and no. “Chicken?” No. “Okay, love, you’ve gotta help me out. I know you’re not feeling well but I’m helpless in here.” He says and your eyes start to water. He notices and immediately comes over.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he comes in front of the couch and crouches down to you. “What’s wrong?” He stroked your cheek and you shook your head.

“Nothing, it’s nothing.” You sniffle. “Seriously, I’ll help you. I’m thinking pasta.” You smiled and he did too.

“Yeah that’s not too bad.”

And so you two made and ate dinner completely normally. No tears from you, no sickness from you. Tom only talked about the waves out today and how much you would’ve loved it. Now you two spent time washing up.

“You think that one girl with red hair will be there like last year? She was so annoying.” You laughed as you got excited again for competition. Tom grew tense as you mentioned it. You noticed that. How he didn’t talk much about competition anymore. It went from the only thing you two talked about to now nothing. You knew how excited he was, the both of you were but suddenly it was like that excitement was put in a box to rest.

“Yeah...she was.” He kinda laughed but then just washed harder at the dish.

“Everything okay? You’ve kinda stopped talking about competition.” You put down your plate and that's when he took a deep breath.

“It’s nothing, I promise.” He tells you, pressing his lips into a lying smile that you knew.

“Baby, you can tell me anything you know. I’m always here for—“ and with that, he cut you off and told you the words you hated to hear.

“I-I took you out of the competition,” Tom sighed, dropping the dish rag on the counter in defeat. He watches as your face goes from annoyed to shock. Anger builds behind the eyes he find peace in. “It was wrong me me to do so—“

“damn right it was wrong of you to do so!” You slam your hand on the counter. “W-why would you?”

“You were sick! You were so sick for so long and what was I going to let you do? just make yourself worse—“

“it was the stress! I told you it was the—“

The built up ignored tension between you both finally caused him to snap.

“Is your period being late stress too?” His words caused the room to be silent. You take a sharp breath as you stare at him with anger but not at him anymore, at the fear of your new life.

“I’m just late, it’s normal for a woman like me to be rhis stressed and late...” you trailed off and this time he had the red face.

“Bullshit. What happened at that doctors appointment.” He demanded. You didn’t say a word at first which only angered him more. “Damnit (y/n)—“

“I’m pregnant.” You finally cry out and he knew his thoughts could be true, he knew they had to be but the moment those words left your mouth his whole body froze. He went pale with fear and shock, his hand no longer gripping the counter out of anger but out of support in case he passes out. The tears that left your eyes were uncontrollable as you let out a sob, the first sob that snapped tom back into reality.

He didn’t think twice, his arms supportively wrap around you as he tells you sweet nothings to try and calm you and himself.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He mumbled into your hair. You swallowed hard as you pulled back, your face wet with tears and you sniffled. His thumbs come up to wipe away each tear and each trace of mascara.

“Because I wanted to be normal still! I wanted to compete, I wanted to surf! I can’t surf anymore tom, i'm going to be a mom and I won’t have time for surfing.” You sob more and he only pulls you back into his grasp.

“I’m so selfish and stupid to even think to compete but I just want to n-not—“ you can’t even spit it out anymore.

“Who said you can’t surf when you’re a mom?” He moved back to hold your face. You didn’t look at him, he wasn’t going to force you to either. This was your decisions right now, he just wanted to listen.

“When you’re a woman and a mother, everything is for your child. You will have time to surf because you’re a dad but no one wants a mom to do anything but take care of their kid and I’ll love this baby so much, I will, but don’t want to lose myself. I’m young, you’re young and you’re about to be the next big thing.” You punch his shoulder playfully trying to lighten things up. “I—i-W-we’ll—“ you start again and he shakes his head.

“Don’t even say it. Sweetheart, you’re having a baby, our baby. I will make sure you still surf, when it’s safe, Of course. I-I don’t even have the words right now, my heart is racing, feel it.” He placed your hand over his chest to feel his pounding heart. “You will be (y/n) Holland, the infamous surfer that beat Tom Holland twice last year and you will be the mother to our kid. Their badass mom.” He cracks a smile as his hand goes to your stomach.

A shared moment where he only touches the stomach as he learns about it. You look at him softly and he looks at you as if you were the entire world. As if he was a little kid at sea world for the first time, he looks at you with beauty and hope and a hint of thankfulness

“For a minute,” you speak again. “I thought you were completely calm about this.” You chuckle and he shakes his head.

“No, I actually think I’m going to throw up.” He held his breath for a moment before he moved to the trash can and emptied his worried stomach.

This time it was you rubbing his back and wiping his mouth. Maybe you wanted to roll your eyes at the Irony but you just knew he loved you.

Holland. He used the last name Holland on you for the first time you’d ever heard it. He said it so confidently as if you two were already married. Holland. You can get use to that.

Day of competition

there was this sort of shock in everyone’s face as they watched you walk in shorts and a tee. Joining the crowds of people instead of getting ready for the waves of water.

This year was no wetsuit with your board, slathering sunscreen on your face as you got ready but rather taking a seat in that sand just like everyone else. Carrying a baby no one knew about except you and Tom and a few friends and family.

Your body was warm with nerves, hundreds of cameras here usually captured the sea, interviewing the surfers afterwards. Although it was not like Hollywood, there was no TMZ or dailymail, but there was enough interest and news casters to tilt their heads for why they infamous (y/n) (y/l/n)—soon to be (y/n) Holland—took a seat with the friends and family. Cheering on from the sand.

“Hey.” Z snaps you out of your constant looking around, how your eyes never focused on one thing.

“Ease up a bit, babes, no one even knows.” She knew, you knew you had to explain to her when you were sitting out. Just as Tom explained to his brothers and the two of you both would explain to his mother after competition. For he knew the women would get so excited she would explode

“Right.” Was all you said as you started clapping with the rest of the crowd when the games begun. It would be a moment for them to get to tom, they always let the younger ones go first, you and Tom were in that fine middle where you had to wait just for the middle of the games.

“Do you want a boy or a girl?” Z asked with a hint of excitement to her voice. She kept it quite enough to where it was just you.

“I’m okay with either.” You didn’t ever care much for gender, although a girl would be nice to balance out the male testosterone you’re always around. “A girl would be nice though.” You smile at Z.

She gives a smile back, leans back on the towel as she soaks up the sun. “And Tom?” She asked and you shrugged.

He had talked about almost everything but a boy or girl, when you asked if he cared he told you,

“as long as they have two arms, two legs, a torso, a head, comes out of me with no trouble, then it’s a perfect surfing buddy.” You quote him exactly, smiling at his words from a few nights ago.

When he found out, his hands never left your stomach, even though you reminded him the baby was only the size of a grape. That well...it was just a bunch of cells forming up in the moment that couldn’t exactly kick for it had legs the size of your pinky nail. He still waited, he waited and waited, you didn’t even know what he was waiting for at one point for he would pause between his words at the baby or when he asked you a question he looked down at your stomach as if they would reply for you or before you.

“I know hes nervous as hell, but he’s so excited, I know it. The other day Harrison told me he cried when he told him. Tom, crying.” Z laughed a bit and you did too.

“If you think I’m the emotional one...turn on coco or inside out and see what happens to that man.” You chuckled as you turned your head back to the waters to watch tom with a smile on his face blow a kiss in your direction before getting on his board. Paddling out to the sea you watch him get ready to take the first wave, the crowd goes wild and your hand rests over your stomach.

This time, next year, you would sit on these sands with a smaller version of the two of you.

August.

Being early in your pregnancy but far enough to show was not as glamorous as people made it be.

Your shorts no longer fit, shirts started to get loose at the top and tight at the bottom and for the love of heaven you slept so much. Tom liked the idea of endless naps, somedays you wondered if he was the pregnant one instead of you. As he slouched around, ate just as many snacks as you and started to even complain about some of the same things you did.

Maybe it was the impact your moods had on him or the fact he stopped drinking caffeine since you no longer could have it and he didn’t know what his life was before morning coffee was with you. He was almost the same as you were durning the pregnancy.

“What are you doing?” Putting on a bikini for the first time since you told Tom. For the first time in about a month. You didn’t like the fit much anymore, the bloation you constantly had and the extra weight you now carried in your thighs, arms and breasts made you insecure. The top that used to fit perfect now had you grunting to tie. But you had to wear what you had to wear to get you in the water.

“I’m coming with you to the beach.” You say innocently and he shakes his head.

“You’re not picking up a board, you know that. Besides, the waters have been rough lately, there’s that storm coming in and one hard wave can hit you and I don’t want that to happen.” He exaggerates and you look at him with a dead stare.

“Tom, I haven’t touched the water in over a month, I’m pretty sure my skin cells are changing because of it.” You exaggerate as well and he comes up to you.

“Well, I’m not letting you in the water. It’s too dangerous.” He was serious, at first you thought he was just being dramatic, he was still going to let you swim but he was 100% serious.

“Tom, you’re kidding.” You scoff a bit and he shakes his head.

“I’m sorry darling, I know a lot is happening—“ he starts and you move back.

“The doctor said I am healthy enough to be physically active and I—“ before you could finish he cut you off.

“The doctor said you could do some squats, leg workouts, lift a 5lb weight, that was the type of exercise he said. The waters are too dangerous, please don’t argue with me.” He pleads but your emotions get the best of you. Anger starting to build and your body heating up.

Tom had learnt one thing so far; don’t upset the pregnant women and that’s exactly what he did.

“You’re telling me to not argue with you when you are the one holding me hostage in my own home? God, Tom, I have a life still too! A month ago you said you understood what it was going to take and now you’re treating me the way I specifically asked not to! I’m getting in the water, I haven’t been in the water for months it feels like and that’s all I know—“ your rant continues but Tom isn’t looking at you anymore. He’s looking at your side view in the mirror.

Your bump is showing, the bump he swore he could kinda feel but not see was now showing. Almost like it grew overnight.

“Fuck, Tom! Look at me while I’m—“ you start to yell again but he steps closer.

“Look.” He stares at the mirror and comes closer to your bump.

“Oh my…” you see exactly what he’s seeing. The small curve outwards that is your swollen stomach. Your bump.

“May I?” He asked and your mood went from angry to overfilled with happiness. Your eyes starting to tear ss you nodded.

“Tom, it’s your child too, you can touch.” You told him and he did. Your hand even went to your stomach as you rubbed over the bump that was barely forming.

“It’s like it happened overnight.” He laughed a bit and you did too.

“I swear it wasn’t there last night when I got out of the shower. I swear.” You let a few tears fall and he peppers soft kisses.

“I’m sorry.” He gently stroked at the stomach and you sniffled.

“I’m sorry too. I know you just want what’s best for us but I’m just…” you sniffle some more not being able to finish.

“I know baby, I know.” He gets up and wraps his arms around your back. Pulling you in for a hug for you to cry on his chest. So emotional over everything but he was right there. Right there with you.

“We can call the doctor about you surfing, we can call him right now if you want. But I just can’t lose you.” He gives a smile and you nod as your lips meet with his.

“C-can you order the chicken from the place I like?” You finally regain your composure and he nods.

“Of course, anything else?” He looks down at the stomach and you shake your head.

“No, not for now.” You smile down at the small bump forming. “Wait!” You stop him as he’s leaving to grab the phone. He turns to face a guilty looking you, “and mozzarella sticks.” You rub your stomach and he nods. With a faint smile he goes,

“always.” As that was your constant craving. Leaving you in the room for a moment and coming back to see you dressed back ins sweats and a tee shirt, Tom smiled and gladly cuddled up next to you, rubbing and talking to the bump about the future. Maybe you couldn’t surf, but you had Tom right by your side.

December.

Christmas cookies and sweetly salted popcorn occupied your side as you spent a snowy Christmas in London. No beach, no blazing sun even during the day, Tom took you home where you were now five months pregnant.

Heavily showing and to even think you wanted to go surfing months ago was laughable. You hated getting up to shower somedays for it was too much work.

“Darling, Angel, my pretty girl,” Tom sat next to you nervous with his next words. “I know you’re pregnant but there are only so many Christmas cookies.” He told you and you smacked his shoulder.

“Thomas, she’s pregnant! She’s allowed as many cookies as she wants besides there are more in the oven but pregnant women gets first pick as she is carrying my grandchild.” His mom immediately came to your defense. Taking so much good care of you while you were here, Tom doesn’t even think he got this much affection as a sick child.

“I wasn’t saying it’s a bad thing for her to eat cookies, I just want one!” Tom defended himself and you handed him a cookie and you felt your baby kick.

“See? They don't even want you stealing our cookies. I’m eating for two, I’m eating for your baby. You eat a lot by the way! Remember that summer you went through the whole fridge in a week? Yeah, now I’m eating for a tiny version of that! And myself! It’s hard out here for me and what did you do huh? Take two minutes!” You snatched the cookie back from him and rubbed your stomach. His brothers stifled a laugh and Tom grew red in embarrassment.

“I last longer than two minutes.” He says is a mumble.

Rolling your eyes, You rested your head on Toms shoulder and moved his hand over to the kicking stomach. “She says thank you.” You smile as you take a bite from the cookie.

“A she?” His mom perks up and the rest of the family does.

It was a mistake, you and Tom had a battle of the sexes. It seemed as if you didn’t want to know the gender right before your winter holiday. Or really the gender at all. The gender was available for you guys now but you both didn’t see it as a big deal. The baby’s room would be filled with ocean themed toys and a gentle blue wall Anyways. And besides, whatever they decide to be they would make the perfect surfing buddy. Although it was still fun to think of, You thought a girl and Tom swore a boy.

“No, mum, we still don’t know I promise. (Y/n) is just messing around.” He swore and the family relaxed again.

“He’s right, I am just joking. Tom is probably right with his assumption, thinking it may be a boy. With all this moving and eating, just like Tom.” You poke his cheek and Tom again flusters in embarrassment.

“Hey, I have a fast metabolism.” He told you and you kissed his temple.

“I know baby, I’m just teasing you. My man knows how to stay fit and sexy.” You playfully rub his stomach and suddenly the stifled laughs from the boys turn into disgusted noises.

There was everything to indicate a boy, well, mostly just a gut feeling. Tom's mother described her pregnancy with Tom to you and it was nearly the same. A baby boy, you could see that. You would need another fridge and a lot more paper towels assuming the babe will be like Tom and eat yet spill everything. You liked the idea of a boy. Plus, Tom had been playing a stupid game where he asked the baby questions making it kick for an answer. When Tom asked if it was a boy or girl, it kicked the moment he said boy.

The ding of the kitchen timer went off, more cookies fresh out of the oven and Tom was quick to jump up.

“Let me help m’lady up.” He grabs your hands and you grunt as you stand up. You walk with Tom at your side and once you are alone eating more cookies in the kitchen your hand rubs over your stomach as you feel the baby kick in excitement.

“Off the topic of gender, I think they miss the ocean. They kick so much just when I sit in the bath like they are having fun in the water.” You mention water and you feel a kick. They couldn’t understand, but they could hear and a smile rose to yours and Tom's face.

“Then they’re just like their mama.” He leans in and kisses your cheek.

“Who knows, maybe once we get back I’ll get in the—“ before you can finish your sentence about surfing, a sharp kick to your bladder causes you to hunch over with a pained face. Tom worried as he held you panicked but you got back up with a deep breath.

“Nevermind, little one didn’t like that idea.” You hold onto his arms tightly.

“Everything okay? Just a bladder kick?” He panicked and you just nodded.

“Yup.” Your face scrunches up again. “Just the bladder.” You suddenly have the urge to pee. “Now shoo, I’ve got to pee.” You tell him and he looks at you in confusion.

“You just peed like—“ you give him a look making him think about how he’s finishing his sentence. “Right, my darling.” He moved out of your way to let you go. Snatching one more cookie from the tray, he smiled as he thought how next year at this exact time, you would be holding a little baby.

April.

One week. You were one week late and as any normal pregnant woman would be resting in bed and rubbing over her swollen belly and anticipating the child’s arrival. Although that was not what you were doing.

Against Tom's wishes, you went back to work to see the kids start up their surfing lessons. Although there would be no swimming for you, no waves for you just yet, seeing the kids happy to be there was something that sparked joy to your heart always. Helped ease your nerves and turn them into excitement.

“Mrs. (Y/l/n)-Holland, look what I learnt how to do!” One of the kids calls out. You had a smile for not only did they call you by both yours and Tom's name, but that they had always been excited to show you new things.

“That was amazing Ryder!” You clapped at the boy who did a handstand. He had a big smile with teeth missing. Your hand went over your stomach again, an aching pain that was noting but a false labor.

The doctor said it was fine. Women always experienced this right before birth and just take a deep breath but don’t waste your time rushing to the hospital just for them to send you home.

It was normal to be late and that you had a stressful year so it was okay. The doctor mentioned that you still felt contractions which meant you were close. But when it was Tom, every slight indicator of pain you felt meant a freak out where he rushed around the house to get the baby bag and try and get you in the car when in reality, you just had to pee.

“T-That’s really cool.” You wince and the boys face goes from excitement to worry. Within the luck, Tom comes jogging from the parking lot with lunch for the two of you. Hoping to get in the water with the kids and keep an eye on you.

“Hey Angel.” He kissed your cheek but noticed your pain. “Everything okay?” He panicked and you nodded.

“Yeah, yeah, Ryder here was just showing me how he can do a handstand now—“ you can’t even finish as the pain was strong.

“(Y/n)?” Tom needed to be calm, your face scrunched up as you held your swollen stomach. “Darling, Angel, pretty girl, look at me.” He used all the pet names you liked and you looked up at him with worry in your eyes. “I think it’s time for us to meet the little one.” He nods with a trying smile and you feel an even sharper pain.

“Mmh, I can’t do this.” You breath heavily as you hold onto the stomach. “Yes you can, if you can surf a wave that is 12 feet with no wipeout then you can birth our baby.” He promised and also got the little boy who was so excited to show you his new moves a moment ago to run and get another adult.

“Tom, I-I can’t.” You felt yourself tearing up and he shakes his head. Your heart pounding and mind swarming with worried.

“You can, you will. You are the strongest women I—“ before he can start his motivational speech you cry out in pain.

“Get me in the goddamn car!” You cry and he nods and gets you up before anything worse. He rushes to the hospital as quick as he can, holding your hand and trying to not crash as you hold your stomach and scream.

When he gets to the hospital, he’s still in a wetsuit. They take immediate action into getting you into a room where you are laying with your legs up waiting for a doctor. Holding Tom's hand as you cry.

“Uh sir?” The doctor walks in and looks at the man in the wetsuit. “We’re going to have to ask you to put on scrubs...helps prevent any ourside clothing germs getting on the baby...are you wearing anything under that?” She asked and he immediately started unzipping.

“Jesus tom, not here, she wants you to get changed in the bathroom.” You shake your head as you run your hands over your face. In pain but want to laugh at your worried boyfriend for how he was acting in the moment.

“Right! Right!” He quickly changes from the wetsuit into the scrubs. The doctors look at him funny but let it go as you’re clearly in pain and needing the baby to be out.

“You got this love, you’re doing so good—“ he starts again but you don’t even want to hear it.

“was this really worth two minutes! I’m getting my fucking tubes tied!” You scream at him and he flushes a deep shade of red as one of the nurses giggles.

After one more big push you heard the sound of a cry filled the room. For just a second, all the pain you felt went away as you see the body of your baby, baby boy. You both were right, a beautiful little boy.

“A boy.” Tom breathes out in awe.

“Dad you wanna come cut the cord?” He looked at you for approval and you nodded. He cut the cord with shaky hands, couldn’t focus for the life of him as he just stared at the boy. You only got to hold him for a second before he’s taken off to a bath. Tom following them before they bring him back in a bundle of blankets.

“Oh my…” you hold the beautiful boy. His little lips open just a bit to make a sound while his eyes flutter to adjust to the light. “Look at him tom.” You feel yourself cry and Tom does too.

“Wow, look at you.” He touched the boy's cheek who immediately tried to take the finger into his mouth. “You did that.” He tells you as the two of you admire it.

“We did that.” You tell him and he smiles a bit. “Although yeah, it was mostly me.” The boy stares hard at Tom, Tom who was still in just swim trunks and scrubs.

“Hey, I ate a lot with you during this pregnancy. Even had my own morning sickness.” He teased and you only laughed.

The room going silent for a moment. Hearing the little cooes of your boy as you held him. Toms finger tracing over his cheek when you finally spoke, “Caspian.”

Tom had mentioned how he liked the name for a boy, more than once. It had connections to the water and to Europe so the child would have a bit of both. You had to admit to yourself that you liked it but just wanted to stick with a more casual name. But looking at how he looked at you the moment you said that name, you knew it was the one.

“Caspian?” He repeated and you nodded.

“Caspian Holland.” You told.

He smiled as he kissed your forehead. “Holland? Just that?” He asked as well and you nodded.

“Yeah, yeah just like that.” You smiled. A perfect moment in the perfect situation was interrupted by a small nurse who held a tee shirt.

“Uh sir?” The nurse looked at the two of you and both of your attentions were caught. “So unfortunately we have to ask you to wear a shirt, we got one from the lost and found for you hoping that it would fit.” The shirt read “I’m not as fun as mom” and Tom's face dropped. A proud smirk rises to your face as you look at Tom who’s flared his nostrils just a bit to show his embarrassment.

“Yeah Tom, put on the shirt.” You encouraged and he looked at you. His eyes telling you that you’re going to regret that but you can’t wait 15 years into the future to tell your son.

Sighing as he took the shirt from the poor nurse and sat back down on the chair in a huff.

“You’re never letting me live this one down are you?” Shaking your head you look back down at the boy,

“no, I don’t think we will.” You brought your dry cracked lips down to the boys forehead, you had no water within the past hour and screaming with crying seemed to make you as dead as possible. “Caspian. Caspian Holland.” He whispers again. “Thank you.” He looked at you and you furrowed your brows.

“For everything.” After months of no surfing, months of pain and aches, instead of saying anything back you looked at him and said

“sushi.” Was all you said and he furrowed his brows.

“W-what?” He questioned.

“I need sushi, please.” You sigh and he smiled. Months of being unable to eat any fish that was all you wanted in the moment.

“One California roll coming up.” He kissed your cheek and then the boy's cheek. Calling in the nurse, sending for a California roll and tuna.

Caspian was sleeping soundly in Tom's arms while you ate and rested. Everything was worth it, from the moment he stepped on a plane one summer to Hawaii he knew it was worth it for he found a family in the end.

June.

Once again the sand was squishing under your toes. Feeling each and every grain as you held your baby boy tightly bundled in blankets against your chest as you walked out to the beach. He was freshly bathed, you and Tom took turns. You were so eager the moment you were cleared to get back in the water after birth that the day the doctor cleared you for physical activity, you did it.

But tonight wasn’t you getting in the water, it was you greeting Tom and telling him to come back inside.

“Dinner is done.” You call out to him as he jogs back to the two of you. The baby boy cooing as he sees the ocean and his fathers dripping wet figure coming towards them.

“Hey, look who’s out.” He immediately leans in and kisses all over the pretty baby boy's face. “My sweet boy is so fresh and clean.”

You and Tom had argued about who he had looked more like,You or Tom. he had Tom's nose for sure and his big brown eyes that you knew were going to be trouble. If you had a hard time saying no to Tom when he batted his lashes and gave a glossy look, it was going to be impossible to say no to your beautiful boy.

“He just took a bath. But it wasn’t the ocean.” You smiled and Tom pressed a kiss to your face too.

“Mmh, did you?” He looks at the boy who was yawning in his mother’s arms. “Want to swim a bit?” He asked and you shook your head.

After birth, Tom did a lot of the work. He loved it too. He claimed you needed rest, in which you did, but you would often find him just sitting in the nursery staring at the baby boy. Telling him stories to sleep and kissing his face. He would let you surf, bathe, sleep, all while he took care of your beloved boy.

“No, I’m so tired I think if I use my legs any longer they will snap.” You give a pout and Tom immediately kisses it away.

Tom started to gather his stuff, the beach towel and the bag he normally carried and the moment he started to pack up your baby boy let out a wail.

Within the two months of his birth, you were able to identify each cry. When he was hungry it was more of a gurgle, when he was sleepy it was more strained and forced, when he craved touch it was a whimper sounding cry and then there was this. He was simply upset something did not go his way. May you or Tom stepped away for a moment, the bottle gone too early, but now it was his father packing up his stuff that makes him scream a cry that makes heads turn.

“What’s the matter bubs?” Tom pouts as he sets the stuff down and comes over to him.

Once the stuff is set down the cries settle just a bit, settle enough until tom takes him out of your arms and presses him up against his body.

Still wet from the surf, you both think the baby liked it. While Tom occupied little Caspian, you picked up the towels and his bag for him and once again the boy let out a wail cry which made you and Tom furrow your brows.

“I-I don’t know what it is. I-I changed him and I bathed him and he was perfectly fine and—“ you start to panic and as you panic you drop the stuff which calms his cries. Tom immediately took notice and grew a smile that made his heart flutter in his chest.

“(Y/n),” he stops you and you look up at him with a worried look as if you’ve done something wrong. “He wants to stay. He wants to stay on the beach.” Tom says in a calm voice and the boy was now only cooing in Tom's arms. He bounced gently but mostly cooed as his daddy smiled at him.

“H-He knows we’re leaving the beach.” You sigh and come over to the boys. Petting your sons head as he relaxes in his fathers arms.

“Like I’ve always said, just like his mama.” Tom smiled up at you and you caught his lips for a kiss. “Well…” you rub your hands on your thigh, wiping off the sand you got stuck all over your hands. “Since Caspian always gets his way, I better bring dinner out here.” You smile as you poke at the sweet boys face and Tom moves and has a serious face.

“(Y/n), no, you can’t just whip out your boob in front of—OW! I’m kidding!” You smacked his arm for the stupid comment he made that at first had you worried.

“I hate you. I’m bringing out the dinner.” You start to walk off and he smiles.

“You love us!” He shouts back.

“Just Caspian! You? Not much you. remember...you’re not as fun as mom!” You call out to him, sending him a wink and he wants to say something back but he holds his tounge.

Looking down at the baby boy he says, “when I teach you how to surf I need you to beat mums ass a few times while you’re out there. Just for her little comments.” Tom spoke to the boy and he cooes. “Atta boy.” With that he plots down on the sand towel.

Setting caspian down on the towel for just a moment so he can strip from his wetsuit and be closer to him. You come back out balancing the plates of food for you and Tom as you seat next to them and eat. Leaning your head on Toms shoulder and kissing at it.

You never knew that one competition, one amateur British boy and one shared basket of fish and chips could lead you to the best moments of your life. Could lead you to the best family you’ve ever had.

Please leave feedback! It helps me grow as a writer and lets me know what more you want to see!

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the-wild-wolves-around-you · 3 years

Text

hear those bells ring deep in the soul (a katsuki bakugo/reader fic)

Summary: Pro Hero Dynamight was Japan’s Number Two Hero. He'd worked hard to achieve his position, his fame. And now it was all going down the damn drain, along with his hearing.

~*~*

Bakugo is suffering from hearing loss as a side effect of his quirk, and he struggles with how to face this new challenge. Enter Reader with a healing quirk.

Pairings: Katsuki Bakugo/Reader; Katsuki Bakugo/You

Rating: M(ature)

Warnings: Blood & violence.

A/N: No spoilers or anything. This is just a self-indulgent AU fic with aged up characters. Everyone’s in their mid-20s. Fic title is from a song called “Achilles Come Down.”

Ao3 Link: Here

*****A/N Part 2: This post has now been updated to include the links to Ch 2

Ch 2 Tumblr Link: Here

Pro Hero Dynamight was Japan’s Number Two Hero. Actually, he’d argue he was tied for first place with the current Symbol of Peace, Shitty Deku. Their victory statistics were basically the fucking same, the only difference was the freckled idiot was made of smiles and sunshine and stupid fucking sugar or something. The whole world ate out of his scarred, fucked up hand, and Darling Deku ate up all the media’s attention in return.

In contrast, Bakugo wasn’t a “people person,” as Deku loved to put it, but… he also wasn’t the same fifteen-year-old brat who got muzzled on live national television. Pro Hero Dynamight was known for his crass, blunt language, his vicious streak of justice when it came to villains, but people also looked up to him. Extras cheered for him in the streets as he exploded past mid-battle. Children ran up to him on patrol and asked him to sign their books, their photos, their Dynamight merch. On one memorable occasion, that he may or may not have saved on his computer, a national news channel ran a live clip from a disaster site, a villain attack turned rescue mission after a building collapsed. The soundbite was only thirty seconds, a close up of a pale, dusty woman with a shallow cut on her brow. The splash of crimson and her bloodshot blue eyes were the only spots of color on her, everything else washed out in white plaster and cement dust, tear tracks carving grooves down her cheeks.

But the smile on her face could have lit up goddamn Tokyo.

“Dynamight saved us,” the woman had said to the news reporter, her voice full of awe and tears. “I-I got stuck under some debris, but I heard the moment Dynamight arrived, and I just knew we were safe. The battle was over a minute later, and then he just… pulled me out of the wreckage. He pulled us all out. He’s… the greatest hero I’ve ever seen.”

That was a nice stroke to his ego. And the dazed woman had been right. He had pulled everyone out of that building, and not a single person died that day, which only confirmed what he already knew:

Katsuki Bakugo was the best of the best. Deku might have been the better show pony, but Dynamight was an undefeated hero, fierce, fearless, ferocious.

Except right now… he was fucking scared out of his mind.

This couldn’t be happening.

“What?” he snarled at the extra in the white coat standing before him.

The man flinched and visibly recoiled, shuffling back a step and partially ducking behind his tablet device. When he spoke again, he’d raised his voice an entire fucking octave.

“I-I’m sorry, sir,” the doctor stammered, but then he seemed to regain his composure and lowered his voice a little. “I… I wish I had better news for you, Dynamight, but…”

He trailed off and swallowed, the jut of his Adam’s apple bobbing beneath the thin skin of his throat.

“But what?” Bakugo spat, something like magma roiling in his veins, pops of heat crackling against his palms like splatters of hot oil from a stove.

“B-But this… can’t come as a complete shock to you,” the doctor said as he glanced back at his tablet. “Other physicians before myself must have warned you of the risks.”

The risks. Bakugo bared his teeth in a silent snarl. What did this fucking extra, with his soft hands and softer body, know about risks? The heat in his palms grew until he could see their red-hot glow out of the corner of his eye.

“Well, who and how much do I gotta pay to fix it?” Bakugo demanded as he shoved his hands in his pockets.

“That depends,” the doctor hedged and adjusted the square black glasses perched on his stupid face. “There are a variety of aid types—”

“I don’t want fuckin’ support gear or aids,” Bakugo sneered. “I want mine fixed.”

Now, the doctor’s face grew pitying. “I’m afraid that’s just not possible, given a number of factors, most importantly your current occupation.”

“My current occupation?” the hero seethed, teeth bared again like a wounded dog, a cornered wolf, snapping at the world. “Are you fucking KIDDING—”

A hint of fear sparked in the doctor’s eyes, but he suddenly raised a hand, palm out in the universal symbol for stop. “Dynamight, sir, I know this is distressing, but there are other sick patients in these walls, so please refrain from using your quirk.”

“I’m not usin’ shit,” Bakugo snapped, but then the doctor’s eyes flicked downward, and Bakugo followed them to his hands, wreathed in sparks and flares of flames, lit up like a fucking Christmas tree.

The breath stuttered in Bakugo’s lungs.

He hadn’t even felt himself call upon his quirk.

Even worse… he hadn’t heard it when he did.

He dropped his hands quickly, shoving them back in his pockets. Bile rose in his throat, but he washed it down with blood as he bit through his tongue.

“There has to be… something,” he gritted out, curling his hands into fists in their confines. “A healer—”

“Healers are rarer than you think,” the doctor sighed and shook his head. “And what’s more, they’re usually specific and limited. Their abilities are tied to blood types or restricted to relatives or even limbs. One nurse here can only heal femur bones.”

“Bullshit they’re rare, I’ve met at least two goddamn healers just this month,” Bakugo spat. “These paramedics—”

“And how strong where they?” the doctor cut him off again, raising an eyebrow. “You said paramedics, so I’m going to assume their talents mostly lie in the superficial and basic: triage, stopping the bleeding, knitting skin back together, etc.”

“What’s your fucking point?” He was this close to punching the asshole right in the glasses.

“My point is the inner workings of your ear are much more delicate than a broken rib or lacerated arm,” the doctor said in a really condescending tone that Bakugo did not appreciate. “But let’s say you do find a healer specific enough and skilled enough to restore the hearing you have already lost without damaging anything else in the process. What then? I don’t imagine Japan’s Number Two Hero retiring less than ten years after his debut and hanging up his quirk.”

Bakugo scowled, heart kick-starting in his chest, his gut tying itself in a knot.

No. No, that wasn’t possible. Katsuki Bakugo was a hero, the best of the best. It was all he’d ever wanted, and he would be damned if it was taken from him.

The doctor must have seen as much on the blond’s face because he sighed and adjusted his glasses again. “Exactly. Which means you’re just going to keep destroying your ears again and again, and even if say Recovery Girl was still alive, the repetitive healing sessions would destroy your own body’s healing factor, and after a while, you would still lose you’re hearing.”

“Tch.” Bakugo looked away and gritted his teeth so hard they ached.

The doctor sighed. “You’re already at moderate hearing loss, Dynamight, so while we do still have some options, they are limited. Honestly… I’m surprised you didn’t come in sooner.”

He should have. He fucking should have. He’d been noticing little things for years, but he just brushed it off, yelled at Deku to speak the fuck up and stop mumbling, told himself his phone must be a piece of shit and that’s why he didn’t hear a call or message. The low persistent ringing he’d been experiencing since UA was harder to write off, but after a while, it was also easier to ignore.

Then, on his last mission, Bakugo was shoving some weak ass villain at a couple of cops. The battle had lasted less than five minutes, and he was still itching for a fight, his quirk burning just beneath the surface of his skin, like embers waiting to explode back into flame. In the next moment, a hand had suddenly clamped down on his shoulder from behind, and he’d reacted out of reflex, flipping his attacker over his shoulder and nearly blasting them in the gut for good measure.

“Whoa! Fuck, dude, it’s me!” Kirishima had yelped, his skin rippling and hardening in an instant. Wide, red eyes gaped up at him, and Japan’s Number Three Hero even looked a little worried. “Didn’t you hear me? I called your name like five times.”

Bakugo had dropped Red Riot like he was on fire. No. No, Dynamight hadn’t heard his patrol partner. In fact, all he could hear in the moment was the muted wailing of sirens, the low murmur of shouting extras, and the blood roaring in his head.

Now, two days later he was standing in front of a doctor who was telling him there was nothing more they could do.

But that was fucking unacceptable. He couldn’t lose his hearing. What kind of shitty hero would he be if he couldn’t hear where the villains were in battle or where stupid extras in need of saving were in rescue situations?

He wouldn’t be a hero at all, just a fucking liability.

Bakugo tried to imagine having to retire, to hang up his hero costume, to leave Shitty Hair in charge of their joint agency. What would he do? He’d wanted, and planned, to be a hero since he was five years old. He had no other skills, not really. It wasn’t like he could work a damn desk job. Well, UA might throw him a bone, offer him a pity faculty position.

The thought left a sour taste in his mouth.

“What… are my options?” he asked haltingly as he snapped his eyes up and locked gazes with the doctor. “You said I still had some.”

The man in the white coat blinked in surprise, but then he straightened up and tapped at his tablet. “Currently, you have a few options, but you’d receive the best outcome if we did them all together. First, we can get you fitted for some hearing aids for you to wear while you are off duty. They would significantly increase your hearing capacity in your normal day-to-day life.”

Bakugo felt his face pull into a scowl. “Off duty? I need them while I’m on duty!”

“If you wear them while using your quirk, you’ll ruin the rest of your hearing in one blow,” the doctor said with a straight face. “Hearing aids amplify sounds. Amplifying your explosions is the last thing we want.”

“Well, what the fuck am I supposed to do then?” the hero snapped, heat flaring through his body with a supernova.

“Since I assume you’re going to continue your hero work, I would recommend contacting a support gear company.” The doctor made a note on his tablet. “We’ll email you the contact information for several companies the hospital has connections with, and once you chose one, we can send them your file. There are numerous noise-cancelling devices out there, but given your situation, you will probably need to collaborate with them for something custom. The goal is to having something to protect your ears-- a helmet, headphones, anything really—while you are using your quirk. Between such a device and the hearing aids, I hope we can preserve what’s left of your hearing and maybe give you a little bit back. But I will warn you… you’re hearing will never be as it was. You should know that now.”

You’re hearing will never be as it was.

The words cycloned through Bakugo’s head, round and round and round, destroying every other thought in their path. He felt detached from himself, the doctor’s voice fizzling out into a muffled drone. His vision seemed to narrow and darken, like he was viewing the world at the end of a very long and dark tunnel. One minute, he was standing there in that examine room, and then he blinked and was on the street, people rushing past him like a river unbothered by the boulder in its current.

He glanced down at his hand, at the paperwork for his follow up appointment and his fitting for the hearing aids. Heat squirmed under his skin, in his veins, like something living, something that wanted to get out.

Bakugo bared his teeth, crumpled the paper in his fist, and let the heat rush through his body, down through his arm, and into his hand. He didn’t hear the crackle, but he saw the flares of light, trapped between his palm and the paperwork like fireflies.

Then he opened his hand, and he watched the wind catch the ash and carry if off down the street, out of sight.

He needed a fucking drink.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Several hours later, Bakugo stumbled out of his usual dive bar, the taste of whisky still burning a hole through the back of his throat. The night was colder than he anticipated, colder than it should be for the beginning of autumn, and he grumbled and cursed as he hunched against the wind. He squinted at his phone, debating on whether to call a car, but in the end it was too much trouble. He was less than a half an hour’s walk from his apartment, and it was late, so he wouldn’t have to worry about extras coming up to him for photos or goddamn autographs.

Besides, the whisky hadn’t helped to quench the heat writhing through his veins, in fact the alcohol only made it worse. Bakugo felt restless, all pins and needles and ants, so maybe the brisk walk would burn off some of that energy.

Decided, Bakugo turned in the direction of home and began the long, stumbling journey through the midnight streets.

Time passed as sluggishly as his feet, which he made sure to stare down at so he didn’t trip over them. Like he anticipated, he passed no one on the sidewalks, and few cars rumbled past him. It wasn’t surprising, this neighborhood was mostly shops that closed by sundown and a few residences. The dive bar he’d left was a holdover from past decades when this side of town was rougher, but Bakugo suspected the old man who owned the joint would live on for at least another decade, if only to spite the development companies that kept trying to buy him out. The ornery bastard was half the reason Bakugo loved that bar, the other half being their decent whisky and usually empty stools.

“Shit,” he mumbled as he suddenly slipped, tittering on the edge of the curb.

He shook his head and managed to regain his balance, but when he took another step, he wobbled again.

“Come on, you drunk idiot,” he hissed at himself as he stumbled once more.

Except… he’d been standing still that time.

“Hah?” Bakugo squinted down at his feet.

The pebbles around his shoes rattled and jumped. He didn’t think he was that drunk, but he slapped his cheek with a bit of heat to his palm. The snap of warmth and pain woke him up a little, but when he glanced back down at the ground, everything was still moving.

“What the fu—”

Then the road undulated under his feet like a living thing, and the shockwave hit him a moment later.

Bakugo barked a curse as he was bucked several feet into the air, twin explosions blooming from his palms so he could right himself and land on his feet. He snapped his head up as he skidded to a stop, and the breath stilled in his lungs.

Up ahead, a man stood in the middle of the intersection, staring down the road to Bakugo’s left. Black rubble and goo floated around him like asteroids trapped in a planet’s orbit, and even from a distance, Bakugo could see the crazed smile on the man’s pale, black-streaked face.

A moment later, several heroes lunged out from around the corner and barreled straight for the villain, only to be blasted backwards as the villain flung out his hands and commanded the black debris and goo to slam into the idiots.

The villain threw back his head and seemed to laugh maniacally. Bakugo couldn’t hear it, but that didn’t matter. Lava was starting to boil in his veins, burning off the last of the whisky, and Dynamight felt an equally crazed smile stretch across his mouth.

This idiot had chosen the wrong road to fuck up tonight.

Heat condensed in his palms like collapsing stars, and then he was exploding forward, the taste of ozone and nitroglycerin on his tongue.

Within moments, Bakugo was able to determine the villain’s quirk revolved around asphalt. The bastard was able to pull large chunks of it out of the road and then liquify parts of them until they were scalding and sticky.

The other heroes—whoever they were, Bakugo didn’t even care to check—struggled to evade the villain’s attacks, but evasion wasn’t Dynamight’s style. He came at the bastard head on, exploding every rock and tar puddle in his way.

Of course, asphalt was flammable, so flames were flaring up all around the street now, but Bakugo wasn’t stupid enough to get burned. If the other heroes were, that was on them.

Dynamight was here to get the job done.

“Come here, ya sonvabitch,” Bakugo snarled as he blasted apart a chunk of asphalt aimed for his head.

The villain shrieked out something high-pitched that Bakugo didn’t catch, and then the fucker was swinging out his arm, a blob of black tar following the arc.

Bakugo let out a controlled burst toward his feet and backflipped through the air, crunching down on the roof of a parked car. He could see some of the other heroes waving at him from the corner of his eye, but he couldn’t hear what they were saying over the wailing of the car alarm below him.

The villain’s sneer was a white slash on his black, goo-streaked face, and Bakugo bared his teeth back in an expression halfway between a feral grin and a beast’s snarl. He could feel the heat crackling along his palms as he contemplated his next move, but then the villain shouted something, and all the asphalt floating in the air rocketed back towards him like the fucker was a magnet.

As Bakugo watched, the debris and goo coalesced into a singular shape, liquifying and hardening in turns until a giant black arm the size of a semi was hovering over the road. The fingers wiggled in a jaunty little wave as the villain shouted something again that was lost to the car’s still wailing alarm, and then the giant hand curled into a fist and dropped down on Bakugo like the hammer of some god.

He exploded out of the way and up into the air right before the fist smashed into the car he’d been standing on, and the siren cut out with a muffled crunch.

Bakugo had barely landed before the arm was shooting out again, but this time it wasn’t aimed for him.

A stupid fucking extra had stumbled out of one of the buildings and stood gaping like a goddamn moron on the sidewalk. Several of the on-scene heroes rushed forward, but the hand swatted them aside like annoying flies. The idiot civilian was still just standing there, though, and Bakugo found himself airborne before he could even process the thought.

“Run!” he roared as he reached the extra and shoved him out of the way, but an instant later, he felt stony fingers wrap around his torso and squeeze.

Bakugo wheezed out a curse as the giant hand lifted him into the sky, the pressure around his ribs increasing with every second. The asphalt was hot in some places, too, scalding the skin of his left arm where it was pinned against his hip. He wrenched his right arm around and tried to aim at the wrist of the asphalt appendage, but the angle was off, and the few chunks he was able to blast were quickly replaced by more rubble and boiling tar.

“Fuck!” Bakugo screamed as the fist clenched down around him. His ribs strained, his lungs unable to expand, pain licking at him like the flames flickering in his peripherals.

Distantly, he heard the villain’s laughter below him, and as the arm swayed to the side, Bakugo realized he was right above the bastard. His vision swam, his ribs screaming, his arm burning, but Bakugo gritted his teeth as he aimed his right palm down. He concentrated every ounce of his quirk into his hand until it glowed white-hot, and the asphalt around him began to liquefy again.

The villain’s eyes widened as he realized what the hero was doing, and the fucker wildly swung out his arm in a last-ditch effort. The giant asphalt limb responded in kind, but Bakugo unleashed his quirk right before the arm flung him through the air.

A massive explosion rocked the street an instant later, and the subsequent shockwave slammed into his back and propelled him through a window.

He felt the impact and pain as he struck the glass, and then…

Nothing.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Ouch, fuck!” you cursed as your pricked yourself for the millionth time.

A red drop of blood beaded up on the pad of your index finger, and you scowled before you sucked the smarting appendage into your mouth. It was more of a reflex than anything, since by the time you pulled your finger out, the pinprick of a wound was already healed. Healing such a small injury would usually barely even register to you, but the clock above your desk was inching closer and closer to midnight, and you’d been up since 6am. You also skipped dinner so you could finish altering the dress you were currently working on, which didn’t help your energy levels, but you were just a few stitches away from completing your task, so you hunched back over and powered through the next five minutes.

When you were finally done, you sat back in your chair with a sigh and threw down your needle and thread. The sewing table before you swam and doubled as your vision struggled to focus on something, and you rubbed at your tired, burning eyes. You always tried to work reasonable hours, have a healthy work-life balance, but somehow you always found yourself slaving away into the dark hours of the night. You tried to tell yourself it wasn’t your fault. You’d lived here less than a year, so you didn’t know many people beyond your few neighbors and the old ladies who frequented your alterations shop.

You were also trying very hard to keep your grandparents’ business afloat.

Your grandfather had been a tailor, your grandmother a seamstress. They’d opened a shop together over fifty years ago, and if your parents hadn’t moved to America before you were born, you were sure you father would have taken over the family business. In the end, though, after your grandparents passed, you were the one to take up the needle and pull up your roots. You’d always loved making your own clothes, and you’d always felt… disconnected in America. Nothing had ever felt… right, no matter how many jobs you hopped around to. The US had been the only home you’d ever known, but when you and your parents spoke Japanese together, it had made something ache deep in the center of you, something you couldn’t name or place.

So, when your father said he was taking a trip to the homeland to sell his parents’ shop, you’d gone with him and somehow convinced him to sign everything over to you. Which was more than just a little insane. Your prior work history had been in food service and clothing retail, and your degree was in linguistics for fuck’s sake. You had no idea how to run a business, let alone in another country. Thankfully, you spoke Japanese fluently, so that had been one less hurtle to overcome, but everything else had been a dramatic learning curve. Getting to know the new city, figuring out the currency, hell even navigating the vastly different social norms of Japanese culture was daunting, and you would be lying if you said you didn’t have numerous fumbles along the way.

It, everything, had definitely taken some getting used to.

Now, a year later, things were just starting to really look up. You had used most of the money your grandparents left you to renovate the shop, get new equipment, and fix the upstairs apartment you lived in. About two dozen loyal customers helped to pay your bills and keep you afloat, and one-to-two new customers walked into your shop each month just on word of mouth. You weren’t rich by any means, but you weren’t struggling like you did in America. You felt… happy here, if a little tired. Fulfilled.

That might also have had something to do with your little… side business.

You bit your lip as your eyes shot to your window guiltily, like someone was watching you. You weren’t doing anything wrong—right now, anyways—but for the last six months, it’s been hard to shake off your paranoia.

And your guilt. Which was ridiculous. You weren’t hurting anyone. In fact, you were doing the exact opposite.

But it was still against the law. Here in Japan, at least.

That was another thing that took some getting used to. The Japanese government had strict laws on quirk usage, unlike in America where everything was about individualistic rights. In Japan, only heroes were given almost free reign, but even they had some restrictions on when and how they could use their powers.

For the rest of the Japanese populace, using quirks in day-to-day life, without official permission, was frowned upon at best and illegal at worst.

Because of your specific quirk, you leaned more toward the illegal side of things.

Healing quirks were rare. That’s what you’d been told all your life. Your mother’s quirk was the ability to lower fevers by somehow using her own body to regulate the temperature. Nothing super special or powerful, but she’d gone on to become a pediatric nurse, so she had used her quirk to its fullest and made a long, happy career for herself.

When you were young and your quirk manifested, you thought you would follow in your mother’s footsteps.

But as a teenager, you’d come to some hard realizations about yourself.

One, you weren’t strong enough to be a hero. You’d tried to get into a hero course in the States, several in fact. One course rejected you solely on your application, and then you failed two entrance exams. It had been a devastating blow to your youthful dreams and self-esteem, but your mother encouraged you, said being a hero wasn’t the only way to use your quirk for good.

So, you turned your focus to medicine… and quickly discovered that wasn’t right for you, either. Your mother hated when you said this but… you just weren’t smart enough. You had tried, really did, but everything was such a struggle, like Sisyphus slogging uphill through the mud. It just didn’t click for you like it did for your mom. You also hated to admit it, but you were a little squeamish. You were fine with small stuff, cuts and bruises, broken fingers, but once you had to dissect a large pig in an anatomy class, and the smell and weight of the pig’s slippery organs in your hands made your lunch rise up into the back of your throat. You somehow managed to make it through the class, but directly after you ran to the bathroom and emptied your own guts into the toilet.

With your dreams of being a hero and doctor dashed, you’d been a little aimless in college, taking random courses to fill your time and see if anything spoke to you. Then, during an 8am linguistics lecture you signed up for on a whim, something ignited inside you. Languages spoke to you like science and medicine never did. So, you’d changed your major to linguistics, minored in Japanese to feel closer to your parents, and took ever other language credit you could get your hands on. In between classes, you’d taken up sewing again while you listened to your audio assignments. It was just something to keep your hands busy at first, a skill your father taught you as a child until you abandoned it, but then your roommates complimented your work and started asking you to hem their jeans or take in their skirts. They offered to pay you, but you always declined, saying it was no trouble, you liked the work, and you liked being able to help.

At some point, you realized that was all you had ever wanted to do. Help people. And if you couldn’t save them as a hero, you would find some other way to make yourself useful.

So, you studied languages in the hopes of being able to help others communicate. You altered your friends’ clothes and made them small things like a monogrammed scarf or mittens. And, occasionally, you healed your roommates’ hangovers or food poisoning, stopped the bleeding when they cut their fingers making dinner, pushing through their pain to make them whole again. It wasn’t a lot, nothing really, but it was something, and it made you feel purposeful.

When you moved to Japan, you mourned the loss of being able to use your quirk on others, but you shoved the thought aside and focused on your work and the shop and figuring out how to settle down in your first home on your own.

Then, six months after you took over the shop, Mrs. Kojima, a little old lady in her seventies, had brought in her grandchildren’s uniforms to be patched and altered. She’d known your grandparents for many years, so she was always kind and had a story to share with you about your father in his youth or the gorgeous dresses your grandmother used to make. You always looked forward to Mrs. Kojima’s visits, and she always had a way of making you feel younger than you were, but not in a bad way. She just made you feel… nostalgic and safe, like you were listening to your late grandma talk over the phone.

This was probably why, when Mrs. Kojima slipped and fell in front of your counter, you reacted without thinking. The old lady barely had time to hit the floor and cry out before you were hovering over her, a green aura illuminating your hands. Her pain hit you a moment later, like a heated slap to the face, a bone-deep ache in your leg, but you gritted your teeth and pushed through the discomfort. Then you moved your fingers over to the hip Mrs. Kojima was clutching, and a moment later you felt the drain as your energy siphoned into the elderly woman’s body. Thankfully, it had only been a fracture, not a full break, so you barely even felt the difference in your strength, but as Mrs. Kojima gaped up at you, realization struck you like a freight train.

You had used your quirk, without a license, without permission, hell without the consent of Mrs. Kojima. Healing quirks were illegal for a reason, so many things could go wrong, and you weren’t properly trained. Your breathing hitched as panic seized your heart, squeezing like a vise, and your entire world had just begun to crash down around your ears when Mrs. Kojima sat up and threw her arms around you.

“Thank you,” she’d sniffled into your hair in Japanese. “Thank you so much.”

After the initial shock wore off, you had helped Mrs. Kojima into a chair, and she’d continued to thank you over and over again, saying how money was tight and she would have hated to be a burden to her children with hospital bills and a long recovery. She talked about how a lot of her elderly friends were in similar positions, dealing with perpetual aches and pains but having no way to pay for treatment or seek relief.

The sadness in her face had twisted something in your chest, an ache you were all too familiar with. It was the one you felt after you failed the hero course entrance exams. The ache you felt when you realized you could never be a doctor. The ache of being helpless in the face of suffering.

Your mouth had opened without your permission, and you told Mrs. Kojima that you would help her, and her friends, whenever they needed it. The elderly Japanese woman tried to wave you off, saying she didn’t want to get you in any trouble, but you had just smiled and said, “I’m fine with making a little good trouble.”

You didn’t know where your courage had come from, but you let it carry you past your fears and doubts.

So, for the last six months, Mrs. Kojima had brought all of her friends, and sometimes their children and grandchildren, to you when they were in need of healing. They always brought dresses or pants or blouses for you to fix as a cover, and you did do alterations work for them, but you also eased flaring arthritis, cataracts, fevers, and scrapped knees in the backroom. You refused to take payment for these secret services, it just felt wrong, but the little old ladies somehow always snuck large “tips” into your register when you weren’t looking.

Mrs. Kojima and every one of her friends and family members swore to their ancestors to keep your secret, and you trusted them, but you still couldn’t help proverbially looking over your shoulder, holding your breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop and for the police to barge in and take you away.

It hadn’t happened yet, but the worry of it kept you up most nights, which was maybe another reason why you threw yourself into your work until you were so tired you just passed out.

You sighed again as you stretched and felt your back pop, releasing some of the tension in your spine. Glancing at the clock, you saw it was just past midnight, and you winced. You had to be up at five tomorrow—today, now—because Mr. Akane wanted to come in early before you opened the shop. His bad knee was giving him trouble again, an old injury he’d obtained as a boy. You were unable to fully reconstruct the joint—that took more strength and stamina than you currently possessed—but you were able to soothe his pain for weeks at a time, which he was immensely grateful for. He always brought you fresh fish when he came by, “gifts” he’d emphasized when you reminded him you didn’t take payment, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t appreciate the gesture. You weren’t exactly hurting for money, but you also didn’t normally splurge on fish caught just that morning, and you told yourself you deserved the small treat. Besides, the protein helped boost your energy and stamina levels, which meant you could heal more people, so really Mr. Akane was merely investing in his future treatments.

Your stomach grumbled at the thought of food, and you dragged yourself out of your chair before picking your way across your messy apartment to the kitchen. The apartment wasn’t very large, one large space for kitchen, dining, and living room, with one small bedroom and one bathroom down a hallway to the right when you walked in the front door. But it had been your grandparent’s home for many years before they bought a larger house after having your father, and it sat right above the shop, so you never had to worry about running late for work.

Bolts of fabric, some client pieces, and a few of your own personal sewing projects were strewn over every available surface of the main room, but you had the cleared path through the chaos memorized, so you were tossing leftovers in the microwave barely thirty seconds later. The warmed-up curry and rice—another “gift” from Mrs. Kojima—tasted as good as it had the last several days, and you hummed as the spiced meat slid down your throat and settled in your belly. After the first bite, your hunger seemed to hit you in full force, and you scarfed down every last bite in a matter of minutes. When you were done, the minor headache that had been pulsing behind your eyes abated, and you yawned as you rinsed off the dishes.

You set the damp plate on the edge of the counter as you reached for a towel, but then a sudden tremor, followed by a loud boom, seemed to shake the building, and the plate tittered on the counter’s edge for a moment before it crashed to the floor.

“Fuck!” you gasped as you jumped back and away from the ceramic shards, but another tremor-boom combo had you stumbling, and you scrambled to grab the back of the couch so you didn’t fall on your ass.

Your wide eyes took in the broken plate scattered at your feet before they jumped to the window on the opposite side of the room. The night sky was dark beyond, cut only by the dim street light just beyond the window’s view. You held your breath as your heart hammered in your ears, the hair on the back of your neck prickling, sweat slicking your palms.

What the fuck was that? Your first thought was earthquake—you hadn’t experienced one yet, but you knew they were common in Japan—but then you remembered the booms.

Maybe… maybe an electrical box blew? But no, the lights were still working. A car crash?

Then another boom vibrated you down to your very bones, and you fell to one knee as the breath hitched in your lungs.

That sounded… closer.

With your heart in your throat, you half scrambled, half crawled the last few feet to your window, and you peeked your head over the sill just as a flash off white-hot light lit up the night sky.

“Shit!” You squinted your eyes against the glare as you leaned back from the window, but then you saw a shadow streak through the air before it crashed into a car just at the edge of your peripherals.

You had the distant thought that Mr. Takeyoshi’s vehicle was very obviously totaled before you realized the thing that had crashed into the car was a person.

Your jaw gaped open as a hero pulled himself from the wreckage and shook his head groggily. The shadows—only broken by more flares of light as more explosions and fire seemed to erupt along the street—made it difficult to tell how injured the hero was. You didn’t recognize their yellow and teal costume, but you saw patches of blood along the hero’s bulky frame, and bile burned at the back of your teeth.

Holy shit. This wasn’t an accident. It was a villain attack.

Just as you had the thought, another explosion rattled your windows, making your ears ring, and you snapped your head to the side to see a man standing in the middle of the road about half a block down.

The man—villain, you realized quickly—swung his arms around like a conductor of an orchestra, but his instruments seemed to be the black rocks and liquid swirling around him. The debris glistened like an oil slick in the light of the flames, and as you watched, the villain shouted something and slashed his arm through the air.

Then a figure suddenly exploded onto the scene, lunging out from the shadows in a flare of white-hot light. It moved too fast for you to track, but the villain swung his arm again, and rocks and viscous black goo shot toward the figure still in mid-air.

A futile scream of warning caught in your throat, but then the figure seemed to explode and backflip through the air, landing on his feet but crushing the roof of a car beneath his boots. The wailing of the car’s alarm split the air, and you clenched your teeth until they ached.

The flames illuminated this new man’s face, a snarl of white teeth against the flames and smoke, but only the barest hint of recognition flared through you before everything exploded into chaos again. Another shout from the villain had all the rocks and black slime streaking back towards him, and you watched in horror as a stony black arm fifty feet long formed above the ruined street.

You knew you should be running, trying to find cover, calling the police, but you were glued there, on your knees before the window, you fingers digging grooves into the sill.

The next fifteen seconds seemed to simultaneously happen in slow motion and at hyper speed.

The giant rocky hand wiggled its fingers before it curled into a fist and slammed down on the wailing car and the man atop it.

The man—hero, you distantly thought, although your chaotic thoughts still couldn’t place him—launched up into the air with another explosion that rattled your windows, the car alarm cutting off as the vehicle was crushed an instant later.

The blond skidded into a landing half a dozen yards away, but then you suddenly saw Mr. Takeyoshi standing on the street, a ghostly apparition framed by smoke and flames.

You blinked, and the giant hand shot toward Mr. Takeyoshi, batting away several more heroes who tried to intervene.

Then the explosive hero was just there, pushing Mr. Takeyoshi out of the way, right before the hand wrapped around him.

You could hear the hero’s anguished scream through your window as he was crushed in the fist’s grip, and the sound hit you right in the solar plexus, knocking the breath out of you, bruising your insides, the pain settling into the familiar ache of being helpless in the face of suffering.

You watched uselessly as the hero was lifted up into the sky, struggling, setting off explosions left and right. Then the massive arm seemed to pause in the middle of the road, right above the villain, and your eyes locked onto the hero, his pale hair and skin stark against the black, rocky hand that held him trapped.

In the next instant, a white light, like a star going supernova, bloomed to life around the hero, illuminating the white slash of his snarling teeth before it became too bright for you to take. You slammed your eyes shut against the burning light, and the hair on the back of your neck stood on end, like the moment before lightning struck, as you dropped to the floor below your window.

Then the world exploded, the building shaking to its foundations, right before the window burst into a million shards of glass.

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