#'Fuck I have to spend time cleaning and bandaging it and putting a glove over the finger bandaid

[pyrepostings]

workplace whump: restaurants

regularly using sharp knives means sooner or later you're going to draw your own blood

Dull knives can also hurt you and worse (take care of your knives)

Ticket stabbers are sharp and a real pain in the hand to slam your hand onto

Some of the worst kitchen injures I see online and in person come from mandolin slicers (likely because the blade never gets sharpened properly)

Regularly using fire means sooner or later you're going to burn yourself

Burning yourself through a wet spot on the towel you grab a pan from the oven with

Grabbing a metal bowl that was left on the flat top that you didn't know was on the flat top with full force and dropping the bowl full of food on the ground and also burning your hand in the process

Hot oil splashing at your face

Dipping your entire hand into the hot fryer (I don't know how this guy has survived till now either but he did do it a second time apparently. Coworkers that should get their own whump prompt post)

Standing all day

Hot as fuck kitchen with minimal air circulation meaning the entire room is hot and humid and you have to wear long black pants, black sleeved shirt, and a hat (Healthcode+dress code)

Exhaustion. Imagine working 10+ hours 5 days a week and then on Sunday being required to work a double on your day off cutting your weekend in half and the one remaining day being spent at your parents house to spend mother's day (because you weren't there yesterday. Because mothers day is a restraunt holiday. Which means you work more not less) so good luck finding time to relax or get chores done before jumping in to another busy week.

Finding things you didn't know could break skin: tin foil seal edges of oil bottles. Edges of sufficiently fucked up cambros that should have been replaced a year ago. Freezer doors where the plastic has chipped off.

Hungry. Stealing food. Figuring out what food is safe to steal. Never eating more than a mouthful at a time. Chef gives you a mistakenly made side Mac and cheese. It's slightly cold but it's the best thing you've ever tasted. By the time you can actually finish it, it's been stone cold for three hours (deluge of tickets ringing in)

Banging your head on the pots and pans hanging up by the sinks.

Shucking oysters means shucking your own hand on occasion (record here is needing 7 stitches I think) don't be stupid with a shucker it's sharper than it looks.

Contracting something from sticking your hand in the dirty silverware bucket.

Stabbing yourself by sticking your hand in the dirty silverware bucket.

[oops-all-knuxadow]

Help has arrived! Is it enough? Is Knuckles in over his head?

Part four is Here

This story contains graphic depictions of bodily harm/mutilation. This part may contain medical inaccuracies.

Bandage, part five

--

It's quick work to glide down to the ground and meet Vanilla. Securing her in his arms, he catches an updraft and soars back to the island, touching down in silence. She turns and addresses the shorter mobian once they're both back on their feet, handing him a large basket crammed full of stuff.

"There's towels, water bottles, two first-aid kits, some scissors, and a sewing kit in here," she explains. "May I please have an explanation as to why you needed all of this, now?"

"Yes," he says, "but, you'll understand more if I show you."

Vanilla sighs, but she just nods, encouraging him to lead the way. Knuckles warns her that what she's about to see will disturb her, but she reaffirms that she's here to help.

"Besides," she yawns, "I should hope that being woken up in the middle of the night happened for an important reason."

"I'm sorry," he says, "I didn't really have anyone else to go to."

His steps slow once they reach the shrine, the figure on the ground easy to spot, even in the darkness. As they get closer, Vanilla is finally able to identify what it is, and she gasps.

"Oh!"

"He's not dead," Knuckles quickly says. "He's - well, he's nearly dead. But -"

"Nearly? Knuckles, dear," she frowns, ears drooping, "I-I can see ribs, his lung...there's blood everywhere..."

The rabbit looks a little sick at the sight, and Knuckles doesn't blame her. Even after cleanup, Shadow paints a gruesome image like this. But he isn't willing to give up just yet. He can't.

"C"mere." He sets the basket aside, then kneels down next to Shadow's body and reaches for her hand. Warily, she gives it to him, letting him put it against the hedgehog's pulse point.

"Just wait. You'll feel it."

Vanilla looks like she would rather be anywhere else but here right now, and he doesn't blame her, but that little expression of surprise when she does feel a pulse is enough to know that he called the right person for help.

"I can't believe it," she mutters, astonished. A moment later, though, her expression hardens, and she shakes her head. "No time to gawk at a miracle. Knuckles, I need you to open one of the first aid kits and hand me the gloves. Grab a bottle of water, too, and a towel."

He's quick to do what she says, the two of them become a flurry of movement. Vanilla tells him what she's doing as she does it, and Knuckles does his best to commit all of this information to memory, but it's a lot.

The first thing she does is gingerly pick out any loose bone fragments she can see in Shadow's exposed chest wound. The gloves on her hands quickly become soaked in green, but the rabbit doesn't let it interfere with her work. Next, she staples the holes in his lung shut, lamenting that she can't do anything about his other side, since only half of his torso is this exposed and damaged.

"If there are issues on the other side, you're going to have to hope his body can fix them on its own," she warns Knuckles. "Now, here's where you need to pay the most amount of attention; this hole is too large to suture closed, so you have to dress it with gauze, and replace the bandages every couple of hours to keep the wound clean."

"Hours?" Knuckles asks, dreading the answer. He's fucking exhausted. "How many hours are we talking? Like, eight?"

She gives him a sympathetic look. "Based on how badly he's bleeding, about every two or three hours, dear."

Nice. Great. Excellent, this is exactly what he's looking forward to! Little to no sleep and alien blood everywhere! He hasn't even gotten a moment to cover up the craters Shadow's body made on initial impact, yet!

"Any chance you could spend the night and take shifts with me?"

Vanilla shakes her head. "I can't leave Cream unattended. I'd ask you to come to my home instead, but I know you can't leave the Master Emerald unguarded."

Knuckles closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, wrestling down the anger simmering dangerously close to the surface.

It is not his fault he ended up becoming the sole guardian of the Master Emerald, but situations like this really, really make him resent it anyway. He's the last living echidna, the only protector of Angel Island, and he shoulders the burden with pride, even when he wishes more than anything that he could be someone else. Someone who could explore the rest of the world at his leisure, who could socialize and pick up hobbies, who could fucking take care of a dying hedgehog in a more convenient environment.

His hands clutch tightly at the ground, dirt clinging to his nails (he'd cast his gloves aside to carry Shadow out of the crater and never came back for them) and keeping his mind in the moment. Now is not the time to wallow in stolen childhoods and irreparable isolation.

"Guess it's a good thing this communicator has an alarm built in it," he mutters instead, looking up at Vanilla. "Change the big bandage every two or three hours - got it. What else?"

The rabbit nods. If she saw his momentary retreat into his mind, she didn't bring attention to it.

"I'm going to teach you how to suture a wound, and then you need to help me set his broken bones. Hand me a new pair of gloves, and then put a pair on yourself."

Knuckles shuffles closer, doing as she asked, and as the stars begin to recede and birds begin to sing of a new day, he silently vows to treat his new duty with just as much importance as the Master Emerald.

I won't let you die, Shadow.

[tobiosmilktea]

red ink — semi eita

2.5k words | genre/s: tattoo shop!au, friends with benefits, smut | warning/s: uhh badly written nsfw | pairing: musician!semi x tattoo artist!reader

↪︎ in which famous musician, semi eita is a regular at your tattoo parlor and only gets work done from you and you only. the only catch is that fans only know that much and definitely not the fact that you and him are friends with benefits.

a/n: happy belated bday for my good friend @kitsunetea. here’s my shameless second (third?) attempt at writing smut as a late bday gift bc fuck it, amirite haha ✋🏻😔

please take it easy on this one,, this is singlehandedly one of the worst nsfw pieces i’ve ever written and i just want to apologize in advance...

semi had forgotten the tingling feeling of a tattoo gun striking away at his skin. he liked how each indent of minuscule pinpricks would leave a mark on him forever. the pain, though not enough to make him grit his teeth like the first time around when he impulsively got one on the side of his ribcage, was actually quite nice. the sensation was almost addictive, however, it wasn’t as nearly as addictive as you.

it was no shock nor surprise that each reveal of his newest tattoo was always done by you. most would understand the practicality of going to one tattoo artist consistently. if anything, most of his fans would come to believe that he simply just liked your style of tattooing and artistry, but no one would even claim to think that you two had even a pinch of something going on behind the scenes. it wasn’t like he would always stop by your shop all disguised and covered up in a black cap and a face mask just in case there were any hidden onlookers that would blatantly assume the worst.

the worst being that semi eita, the nation’s current rockstar heartthrob, was hooking up with some obscure, back alley tattoo artist.

but it was safe to say he was as addicted to you as he was addicted to the infamous pain of receiving a tattoo.

it had been ages since his last tattoo. this one especially was placed on his right forearm of a snake that spiraled up and around his wrist in red ink.

times like these—here, where your eyes are focused and locked onto his skin, making sure to capture each intricate detail, brows drawing together in concentration as you made swift and accurate runs over his skin—came to realize how much he missed the feeling of getting tattooed. but most importantly, he missed the feeling of you. the warmth of your skin, body blazing underneath him as your breath tickled at the nape of his neck.

at moments like these where he could just stare at your entirety for an hour and a half, admiring how the low lights cast shadows upon each and every curve of your body was enough to keep him occupied through the process.

you lifted your tattoo gun up as your other gloved hand wiped the area clean from any residual ink. you took one last look at your work, clean and well-done.

it was pretty good if you could say so yourself. the linework was easily one of your best, and the shading was even better. no wonder semi liked getting work done by you so much (other than the fact that you two are friends with benefits—he would joke, “i’ll give you the best night of your life and you can give me a free tattoo in return.”)

you’ve never seen that man back out of a joke that quickly in your life. regardless, you still found yourself taking him up on that offer, still paying for his tattoos as a good customer should. support local businesses as they always say.

“alright,” you say, breaking the last ten minutes of silence as you cleaned him up. “you already know the drill–gently wash it with warm soap and water at least twice a day, pat dry, and then apply ointment.”

semi looked up at you once you stood up to grab a box of saniderm from another station. he stands up, making his way to one of the large mirrors on the wall to inspect his tattoo as a smile crept onto his lips.

“how is it?”

“it’s perfect,” he says, “as always.”

“well, you shouldn’t expect anything less from me.”

“you know, you don’t have to be so professional all the time. the shop’s already closed and no one else is here but us.”

you give him a pointed look as you take out a strip of saniderm large enough to cover the circumference of his forearm. you press the thin plasticine carefully around his freshly bruised skin, peeling the protective backing off of the clear bandage. “technically, you’re still a customer. can’t really give you any more special treatment.”

“says the girl who literally gives me tattoos after the shop closes,” semi fires back.

“or you could actually come in during normal hours to get one instead of coming a minute before we close just so we can hook up,” you deadpan, ignoring the look he gave you as you turn around and made your way towards the front desk.

semi doesn’t miss a single beat in following right behind you, stopping in front of the counter as you were on the other side with the cash register.

“well if you didn’t want to fuck in the back room anymore, you could’ve just told me,” says semi as you tap away at the screen in front of you, “we can go to my apartment instead.”

“paying with card again?” you ask, completely ignoring the way your body heated up all of a sudden.

the musician in front of you nods, handing you his card quickly. you take the thin plastic out of his hand and swiped it in one quick motion, handing it to him once the machine properly reads his card. within seconds, the receipt comes out of the printer. you snatch it from the opening before shoving it into semi’s chest.

“so what do you say?” he presses, continuing to follow you around like a dog as you serpentine your way back to your station.

you let out a sigh, huffing as you start cleaning up, “about what?”

“about me taking you home. maybe spend the night?”

you swerve around to face him, a spray bottle of disinfectant in one hand and paper towels in the other. you give him a coy smile, “you’re funny,” you huff before pushing past him to spray the chair then wiping it down.

“come on, (y/n), it’s been a while since we’ve last done anything together.” semi gives you a mischievous pout, “don’t you miss me?”

his words immediately flush out your cheeks as you recalled the memory so vividly, it was like you could almost feel semi’s large hands exploring every inch of your body, memorizing every dip and curve like it was second nature. to think that all happened in the storage closet while there were people still in the shop. the simple thought of your last rendezvous with him went straight to your heat.

no wonder you haven’t done anything with semi in a while after that little stunt he pulled almost a month ago.

in order for a tattoo shop to run properly, it needed to be completely sanitary to prevent any health complications considering your job was to literally puncture tattoo ink deep into people’s skin, the risk of infection runs high in situations like these. so by law, fucking in a tattoo shop, regardless if it was in the backroom, was completely out of regulations. not to mention the scandals to potentially spread like wildfire that one of the world’s favorite musicians being at the root of all this.

those poor fangirls, you thought. drama was the last thing you wanted.

“so?” you say, trying to pull yourself together as you finish sanitizing the chair. you turn to face him, hoping that he couldn’t see the way your cheeks were burning up knowing he would only keep up the teasing. “why don’t you just fuck one of you groupies or something?”

semi scoffs, “i’d never stoop that low. besides, you’re the only one i’ve been with ever since this started happening between us.”

“good for you for not being a whore, i guess?”

you brush past him again, this time cleaning up the mess on your table. placing the spray bottle of water, rolls of paper towels, bottles of red ink, and your gloves away–you discard anything else in the bin.

“don’t be like that,” he sighs as he comes and wraps a strong arm around your waist. he rests his chin on your shoulder, the tip of his nose tickling at your skin as his mouth latches onto your neck. “i for sure missed you.”

“eita,” you say, attempting to hold back a moan as he nipped at the sweet spot on your neck. despite your efforts, quiet mewls escape your lips as his thumbs rubbed circles over your hips. “i-i still have to clean up. let me finish and then maybe we could—”

without another word, semi lets go of you and immediately starts getting to work, gathering up all the one-time-use disposable items and dumping them all in the trash. he moves quickly, rubbing down every nook and cranny of your station until it’s squeaky clean. your eyes widen at his state. it was clear he wanted to get this over with as fast as possible so he can finally have you all to himself.

did he really yearn for you this much?

in just a few minutes, the job is already done. clean and spotless and ready for tomorrow’s workday as semi gives you a hopeful look. “is that all?”

you hold back a smile as you motion towards the boxes stacked up near the entrance of the backroom, “i still have to put those away and then we’re all done for the day.”

the man doesn’t even let you finish as he’s already making his way down the hallway. There was no sign of hesitancy in his actions as he grabbed two of the boxes, one stacked on top of the other as he barged into the backroom. you follow him in with only one box in your hand as you placed them in their respective places on the large industrial shelving.

you let out a grunt as you picked up the last box and inserting it into its spot. you sigh, dusting your hands as you turn around to face semi, “alright, we’re all d—”

semi doesn’t hesitate for a second to push you up against the wall, his lips crashing into yours with such desperation and fervor. he had been anticipating this for the past two hours. from the moment he walked in, to the moment you finished tattooing him; all he wanted was you.

you moan into his lips, his hand cupping your jaw while the fingers of the other were already working their magic. his touch greatly juxtaposed the zeal in the way he kissed you deeply, dipping his tongue between your soft lips as his finger, slightly calloused from years of guitar playing, gently trailed their way up your shirt.

there was a brief moment where you had to pull away from him in order to catch your breath. chest rising and falling rapidly along with the quickening beat of your heart, semi dived down to your neck, marking you with dark red bruising to anywhere he had access to. his large palms rubbed your sides before squeezing at your breasts to elicit a pleasurable groan from you. the pent-up heat within you only built the more he played with your body, fingers flicking at your nipples.

“what happened to taking me back to your place?” you asked breathlessly.

“i couldn’t wait any longer,” he mutters on your warm skin, feeling his soft lips twitch into a lopsided grin as before you knew it, he was already tugging your shirt over your head. “jump,” he says and you don’t miss a beat.

he catches you quickly, hands palming your ass as he steers you towards one of the supply tables. pushing away loose items and paperwork off to the sides.

semi’s lips meet yours again as he fiddles with the button and zipper of your jeans, diving his hand inside. he palms your sex, the pads of his fingers teasing up and down your slit as his thumb rubs circular motions around your clit. your moan muffles into his shoulder, breathe heavy and uneven.

you couldn’t seem to catch your breath as he dipped two fingers into you, pumping them in and out slowly. it was a nice change of pace from earlier, and yet you couldn’t help but let out mewls of impatience as you ground your hips into his hand, desperate for more.

semi knew what the hell he was doing.

he was a musician after all. his entire career was literally built off of his innate ability to play the guitar that each expertly placed finger and movement that accompanied it was guaranteed to send waves of pleasure throughout your entire body. he was good at what he did and he knew it. he didn’t need to see the way you were shaking under him, coating his hand with your juices, or have to hear your addicting moans to know you felt so, so good.

“eugh, eita–” your breath hitches when he curls his fingers inside you, rubbing the spongy spot deep within you in the best way possible. you curse under your breath, savoring the pleasure as you felt your release coiling in your abdomen.

“you’re close aren’t you?” semi didn’t even have to ask to know as your walls tightened around him. you nod hastily, eyes coating in lust and the desire to feel the release as you look at him.

the look that you gave him as enough to send him over the edge, his thoughts blurring once he quickens his pace, his middle and ring finger pistoning in and out of you.

you let out a cry, practically trembling under him. “oh my god, oh my god.”

with his other hand, he finds your clit again, rubbing you over the edge. it was all too much. from the mixing cacophony of the most obscene and vulgar sounds of sex emanating from the backroom to the absolute thrill of how good semi was making you feel—you were ready to feel that euphoric glow.

“fuck,” you clawed at his shoulders, nails digging into his skin even through the fabric of his shirt. “shit, baby, i’m gonna—”

semi doesn’t mind the sting of your scratches at his body as he was too busy paying mind to you cumming all over his hand. gushing fluid escapes from you in waves as semi continues pumping his fingers in and out of you, his pace matching with the way your walls pulsated around him.

as you came down from your high, your arms that rested on the table to hold you up felt weak. almost immediately, your body slumps onto semi as he licks your pleasure off his fingers. you bury your face into the crook of his neck as you both stayed there for a few beats to catch your breaths, savoring the unique afterglow whenever you were with semi.

perhaps it wasn’t so bad doing this type of thing with him a bit more often. you didn’t mind what you had with him right now even if you two were just friends with benefits. you liked what you had now and asking for more would certainly cause a strain you don’t want to happen so soon.

your hand reaches up to run through his soft hair.

“hey,” you softly say. he only responds with a hum, “what about you?” you ask as your eyes cast down to the straining tent in his jeans.

he doesn’t answer. instead, he places a few kisses on your cheek and down to your neck before placing one of your lips. “let’s continue this at home, i have a surprise for you.”

general taglist: @yongboxerrr @rosepetalhaven @tvwhoresblog @tanakaslastbraincell @kellesvt @kitsunetea @anejuuuuoy

[127-mile]

THE PROSPECT.

PAIRING: Biker Hendery x racer female reader.

GENRE: Gang, motorcycle club, strangers to lovers, fluff, angst.

WARNINGS: Car accident (the accident already happened when the fic starts), blood, injuries, strong language, mention of a dead relative, of neglect, illegal race, quick mention of guns.

PLOT: The biker and the car racer, it sounds like the beginning of a terrible joke, but it is not. The biker wants to taste normality, and the car racer is happy to oblige.

WORD COUNT: +6.3k.

A/N: This is part of the Adrenaline rush collab hosted by @lucas-wongs​​ | I'm also working on a fic from Johnny (the club's president)'s point of view.

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!" you scream in frustration.

You hit the steering wheel with your fists, and you ignore the throbbing pain in your right wrist. There's smoke coming out from under the hood, and you know it's only a matter of a minute before a spark threatens to set the whole car on fire.

You unfasten your seat belt, probably the only reason you haven't gone through the windshield, and you get out of the car, slamming the door behind you, causing the window to explode into pieces.

A car pulls up near you, and you turn your head. "The finish line is a hundred meters away, why are you stopping?"

Taeyong gets out of his car, and he gasps when he sees the condition of your vehicle. "Because I wanted to make sure you didn't get hurt." he responds, rubbing his sweaty hands over his pants. "She's good for the junkyard."

You didn't need Taeyong to figure it out. "If I call a tow truck now maybe I have a chance to still have a car tomorrow, what do you think?"

"If it doesn't catch fire, yes." he whispers.

You pull away from the curb when other cars are crossing the street at full speed, you don't want to get hit by a car after crashing into a fucking pole.

"You could have been first if you hadn't stopped." you say in a sigh.

He shrugs his shoulders. "There's no money to win tonight, I don't care if I win." yeah well, good money or not you would have liked to win, and you were so close, damn it! "And I can always find a way to be accepted for the next race. I know the organizer, I will tell him about you too."

Taeyong walks over, and he takes your face in his cold hands, which makes you hiss. "You are bleeding, you should go to the hospital." he says firmly and you roll your eyes, which shouldn't be as painful as it is.

"Do you really think I have enough money to go to the hospital? You're cute." you take a step back and Taeyong's arms fall to his sides. "Do you think the Neo garage is open at night?"

Taeyong sighs. "Call the garage to check, I'll call Ten to see if he can sneak you in to make sure you're okay." the perks of having a nursing friend who doesn't care about the rules.

You pull your phone out of the pocket of your jacket, and you wince when you see the broken screen, but at least it still works. It takes you a few minutes to find the garage number, and you heave a sigh. You're always doing repairs to your car yourself, but it's way too bad now.

"Neo garage, what can I do for you?" a voice asks after the second beep.

"Hi, I have a question, when someone calls you to pick up a wrecked car, do you have to call the police?" you ask in an annoyed voice, you have no choice but to ask this question which must be bizarre, since the person chuckles on the other side.

"No, we don't call the police unless you ask us to." good to know, you won't end up in jail tonight.

"Perfect. I had an accident, and if you could come and pick it up that would be nice, if it didn't catch fire before you got there."

The person hums. "Where are you?"

You look around, and you shrug your shoulders even though no one can see you. "I am on the main street, in front of the tea shop."

"Alright, I'll be there in ten minutes." and the person hangs up.

You put your phone in your pocket, and you approach Taeyong who is waiting. "The tow truck is coming." you say, and he nods.

"Ten said the emergency room is empty, you can go, he will let you through without having you fill out the papers."

You have the choice between going to the hospital to check that your wrist is not broken and that you do not have a concussion, or to wait for the tow truck, the choice is already made, you love your car more than you love yourself. "Go, take my car, I'll wait for the tow truck, I'll send you a message later."

You frown. "Are you sure? Weren't you supposed to spend the evening with Doyoung after the race?"

Taeyong hands you the keys to his car. "He will understand." you thank him deeply and get in his car. "Please, no accident with my car or I'll kill you." he says and you nod with a thin smile.

"I'll try my best."

You hope it's not the last time you'll see your car, and you drive to the hospital which is a few minutes away.

Either way, taking Taeyong's car after banging your head against the window was a bad idea, but you park in the parking lot without a hitch. You are an amazing driver. Most of the time.

Ten is already near the glass door when you approach, and he presses his hand against his mouth. "You look like shit." he says, voice muffled by his hand.

"Thank you very much, you should see the condition of my car."

You follow Ten in the hospital, and in one of the emergency rooms, and you sit on the edge of the bed. "You'll have to take an X-ray to see if you don't have a concussion."

You shake your head. "I don't have a headache, I don't feel nauseous, I am not tired, I have nothing Ten. Just clean my wounds and look at my wrist, I have to go to the garage after."

Ten sighs. "Stubborn."

Ten takes care of the wounds you have on your forehead, cheek and lip, then he looks at your wrist. "It's swollen, can you move it?"

You move your wrist, biting your tongue to avoid growling in pain. You can't be in a plaster. "See, it's not even broken."

Ten narrows his eyes. "I don't believe you. I'll wrap it in a bandage, and I'll come see you tomorrow to check to see if it hasn't gotten any worse." he mumbles, wrapping your wrist and part of your hand with a itchy bandage. Great. "If I ask you to spend the night here, you are going to refuse?"

You shake your head and he sighs. "Why are we friends?"

When your phone vibrates in the pocket of your jacket, you pick up. "Taeyong? Did the car catch on fire?"

He snorts. "No, your car didn't catch on fire. It's in the garage, they'll take care of it tomorrow morning, so go home, I'll come pick up my car later."

"How are you going to get home without your car?" but you don't have an answer since Taeyong has already hung up, he finds that hanging up is much easier than arguing with you. He is right, and you love him for that.

"Thanks Ten, I owe you one." you stand up from the bed, and Ten throws his gloves in the trash.

"Take painkillers before you go to bed, it won't stop making you feel like you're dying, but it will help."

You kiss his cheek, and you walk out of the room, making sure no nurses are around, then you walk out of the hospital. The cold night air whips your cheeks, and you close your eyes, it feels good on your burning skin.

It takes you a little longer to get home, due to the fatigue that has suddenly crushed on you, and when you walk in your apartment the first thing you do is drop onto your bed, ignoring your limbs crying out in pain.

When you open your eyes, your room is bathed in light and yet you have the impression that you have barely slept a few minutes.

You turn on your back, and you growl. Maybe you should have listened to Ten and taken an aspirin before going to bed, because the pain is so bad you can't think straight.

It's like you have an elephant lying on you. Or like you've been in a car accident. Your humor makes you smile.

With your fingertips, you reach for your phone in your blanket, and you sigh when you see your friends' messages. Ten and Taeyong want to know if you're still alive, Doyoung is laughing at you, and Kun tells you that you should never have taken part in the race in a "I told you so" way.

You answer Taeyong and Ten with a simple: Alive.

It's almost two in the afternoon, which means your car should be finished, or at least they should know if your car should be scrapped or not.

You get up, and if you thought you were in pain, it's nothing like the pain when you shower and get dressed. It's horrible, you want to die, just like Ten said you would. Stupid nurse.

Rather than taking Taeyong's car, you walk to the garage, and a strange shiver runs through your body as your gaze lands on all the motorcycles that are parked in the parking lot. You know these are the bikes of the mechanics, and the club members.

This club has quite the reputation.

You approach the small building which contains nothing but a desk and piles of papers which are scattered over it. "Excuse me?"

A young man turns his head towards you, and he smiles. "Hello, what can I do for you?"

You clear your throat, resting your shoulder against the doorframe. "My car was towed here last night, it's a black shelby." you explain, and he nods.

"Oh yeah, I thought the mechanic was going to cry when he saw the state your car was in. Something about the Shelbys needing to be treated with love."

You roll your eyes, but you giggle. "I totally agree, but the pole I hit last night didn't think the same."

"I don't think it's over though, do you want me to take you to see it and talk with the mechanic?" he asks, getting up from his chair, and you nod your head. "Follow me."

You follow him to the garage which is only a few steps away, and you wait when he goes inside. "Hendery, the owner of the Shelby is here."

The young man smiles at you, and he goes back to his office. Immediately, a man arrives, wiping his hands full of grease on a piece of cloth which he stuffs in the back pocket of his pants. "I am Hendery." he says. "I'll shake your hand, but I'm dirty."

You shrug your shoulders. "It's okay. How's the car doing? Will I be able to get it back one of these days?" you ask, trying to hide the anxiety in your voice. You put in so much money to have this car, and to make it perfect that it would be a shame to have to throw it away. Well no, it would not be a shame, it would be absolutely heartbreaking.

"Yeah, there's going to be some work to have it rolling again, but I can do it." he says and it's like a weight is lifted off your shoulders. "Though, the way you treated it, I shouldn't even give it back to you."

You open your mouth, and you see the shadow of a smile on his face. "What? But it's my car! It's not my fault I hit a post."

Hendery shakes his head. "Besides, how did you manage to hit a pole? Considering the condition of the car, you must have hit it at a very fast speed."

You shift from one foot to the other. "I wasn't going that fast, I was just driving around town and had to look at a storefront and didn't see the post." you mumble. You're normally a really good liar but for some reason you just can't seem to do it with him.

"I'm giving you a second chance to tell me the truth." he says in a voice he wants firm, but he can't help but smile, he is clearly messing with you.

"If I told you I had an accident during an illegal race, would you believe me?"

He snorts. "Not really, no."

You smile. "So it's definitely not because of an illegal race. Can I see my car?" you ask to change the subject, and he invites you to follow him in the garage to your car. In bright light, it looks much worse than in the dark last night. "My poor baby."

Hendery looks at you, then he looks at the car, then he looks at you one more time. "A normal person wouldn't drive a Shelby." he suddenly says, and you tilt your head.

"Of course it's not a city car." you answer. He works for a club which is known for its illegal activities, it would be hypocritical if he were to report you to the police, and even then there is no proof, so you have no reason to lie. "So do you believe me?"

He nibbles on his lower lip, and he nods. "Yeah, I think I believe you." he puts his hand on the dented hood of the car. "And that's so fucking cool! I've always heard about the races in town, but I've never had the chance to meet anyone participating in it."

You shrug your shoulders. "I am Y/n." and he smiles.

Hendery walks around the car, and he cites all the things that need to be fixed, or changed, and when he stops talking, the weight is back on your shoulders. "It's going to cost me both of my kidneys."

He laughs. "Oh yeah, it's going to cost you a lot of money." when he sees your worried face, he puts his hand on your shoulder, which he regrets because he knows that there will be a trace of grease from the shape of his hand on your t-shirt. "But I'm sure we can work it out."

"Tell me?"

Hendery seems to think about it, and when he has an idea, his face lights up. "If you take me to a race, and if you can convince someone to let me get in their car, I could take care of your car outside of my working hours, and it will cost you next to nothing."

It's something very simple, it's not like the public isn't allowed to watch the races. "For that you have to promise me that you won't call the police."

He arches an eyebrow. "Why would I do such thing?"

"I don't know! We don't know each other, maybe you are looking for a way to get me arrested to keep my car."

Hendery throws his head back, and he laughs heartily. "I love your car, it's true, I'm mad at you because you broke it, it's true, but I prefer my motorcycle."

You turn your head towards the motorcycles. "Is one of them yours?" Hendery nods, proud of himself. "They're cool. They don't go as fast as my car, but it's cool that you like the quietness of a small motorcycle."

The way Hendery's eyes widen is almost comical, so you have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from laughing. "A small motorcycle? Are you kidding me? Have you at least ever been on a motorcycle?"

You shake your head. "No. I don't like motorcycles, they don't give you enough adrenaline." adrenaline is one of the reasons you race on the daily, you can never get enough of it. You crave it, it's a bit like a drug. "But I don't have to get on a motorcycle to know you could never beat my car."

Hendery crosses his arms against his chest, and he tries to make himself taller, which is amusing. "I could beat you in a race with my motorcycle."

You giggle. "You could beat me if I had to drive my car in this state, for sure. But otherwise you don't stand a chance boy."

Hendery's cheeks turn red, and you don't know if it's from anger, or from embarrassment. All you know is it's a lot of fun. "Prospect, what are you doing?" you hear, and Hendery doesn't waste a second getting out of the garage.

You can't hear the conversation between Hendery and the other person, so you run your fingers across the body of your car. You hope you can drive it quickly, you don't want to miss the next race. You could of course ask a friend to lend you a car, but it won't be the same. But you would have an excuse.

When the conversation lasts for over five minutes, you decide to leave the garage, and you meet the gaze of Hendery who you smile at. "Thursday, 10 p.m. in front of the garage, don't be late." you say, and you walk away.

"What was that?" the person asks with a laugh, and Hendery has to shrug because you can't hear an answer.

If you want to impress Hendery, you're going to have to find a good car.

"Not even in your dream. No. No."

You sigh, exasperated. "Please? It's just for one race while I wait for my car to get out of the garage!"

Doyoung looks you up and down, judging you without even hiding it. "You will never touch one of my cars." you pout, but he looks away, he knows you too well.

"Why not? You don't even race, you don't even drive your cars, it won't kill you to lend me one!"

He crosses his arms against his chest, his brow furrowed. "You had an accident with your car, I don't want to risk losing one of my cars." it's a low blow, you think.

"It's not like I had an accident on purpose!" you mumble, and he shrugs. "Taeyong, do something! You know very well that I'll be careful." you turn your head towards your friend who shakes his head.

"Keep me out of this conversation." he says.

"It's okay, I'll ask someone else. Maybe Yuto will accept." you turn on your heels but a hand lands on your shoulder, and you smirk.

"Don't go see that idiot, he would be able to give you a car he messed up with on purpose! You know he is up to no good."

You chuckle. "He would do it to you because you're a jerk, but he wouldn't do it for me." you know this is wrong, Yuto knows that you are friends with Doyoung and he will not hesitate to attack you to reach him. Or any of your friends for that matter.

Doyoung mumbles something you don't understand, and he heaves a long sigh. You know you won. "One car, for one race, and if you damage it, you'll pay for the repairs." Doyoung is filthy rich but he acts like a broke bitch most of the time.

You turn to face him. "I promise you'll get your car back in the same condition you gave it to me, and I'll even fill up the tank!"

"You better."

And that's why the following Thursday, you park in front of the garage, sitting behind the wheel of one of Doyoung's cars. A car that will never be as fast as your Shelby, but which could perhaps give you a chance to win the race, or at least to make it to the top 3.

You really don't understand why Doyoung has so many racing cars in his garage when he doesn't do anything with them. Probably something rich people do that you will never understand.

You jump when little knocks are given against the passenger window, and when you turn your head, you smile when you see Hendery. You weren't sure he would come. "Come!"

He opens the door, and he sits down. "I'm not late?" he asks, and you shake your head, making the engine purr, foot on the gas pedal.

"Not at all. I hope you're ready because you're going to be with an amazing racer tonight."

Hendery's smile could almost blind you. "Oh really, who?"

"Me."

Your shoulders drop when Hendery's smile fades and you refrain from hitting him. "Hey! Are you disappointed? Because if you are you can get out of the car and go fuck yourself!"

Taeyong would have gladly agreed to take him in his car, but since you were lucky enough to be accepted for the race despite not having finished the previous one, you thought it would be better to have him with you.

He shakes his head. "No, I just didn't expect you to race without your car."

"This car is definitely not the ideal car, but that's all I could find since a certain mechanic hasn't finished fixing my car yet." you tilt your head and Hendery laughs.

"Sorry for having other priorities besides your car."

You snort. "And what's taking you so much time? Waxing the club members' pumps?"

He rolls his eyes and you decide to get out of your parking space, it would be a shame to be late for Hendery's first race. "It is more complicated than that."

You hum. "A guy called you prospect last time, what does that mean?" you do not know if you have the right to know since you are not a member of the club, but you are quite curious.

He turns his head to the window. "Prospect means prospective member. Basically I'm being given undesirable tasks until they decide if I have what it takes to be a full member of the club."

You scoff. "So you're their maid? You do the dirty work?"

Hendery shrugs, and out of the corner of your eye you see him smile. "That's a way to see it."

"And what made you want to join the club?" you don't know if it's too personal, but it's interesting. Hendery never had the chance to meet someone street racing, and you never had the chance to meet someone wanting to be part of a club like the Neos.

“My older brother joined the Neos when he was very young, so I grew around them a bit. Then when he died the members said they would always be there for me, to meet my needs and they offered me a job in the garage. Of course, working in the garage doesn't mean I had to join the club, but I do enjoy being around them so when I asked, they immediately agreed to make me the new prospect."

You didn't think he would tell you something so personal, but it's a sign that he trusts you, right?

"I'm sorry for your brother, but it's good if you've found yourself a new family with the club."

His  smile is so big and sincere that you can't help but smile too. "Yeah, they're awesome, they take good care of me."

The race is in another city, which makes the trip a little longer, but the silence is not heavy, it is pleasant. A silence that is suddenly broken by Hendery wriggling in his seat. "So what made you decide to start street racing?"

He decided to be sincere and personal, so now you have no choice but to be too. "Uh," you start to say, "my parents decided to have a child to salvage their mariage, not because they wanted one, so they never had that parental fiber." Hendery hums, prompting you to keep talking. "Life at home was not fun, I was basically left on my own devices all the time. And when I understood they didn't really care what I was doing, or where I was, I started hanging out with the 'bad kids' at school and they introduced me to street racing. I did my first race way before I had my driving license, and the rest is history."

Hendery heaves a sigh. "I'm sorry about your parents, but in a way it gave you the opportunity to find something you love and are good at."

You smile. "That's true."

You would of course have preferred to have loving and present parents, but it's too late to change things and you're not unhappy with the way your life has turned out.

You decide to change the topic, you don't want to continue with the delicate and sad subjects. "You are going to meet my friends, and I hope you are ready, they are impossible to live with."

You stop at a red light, and you see Hendery's gaze. His eyes are bright, and you wonder if it's because he's excited. "Really? I can't wait!"

You chuckle. "Do you have friends Hendery?"

His lower lip juts out and he shakes his head. "The members are my friends, of course, but we don't do anything fun together, just garage and club related stuff." poor guy.

"Well you are about to have new friends and they are terribly annoying, you'll soon regret meeting them, trust me."

After ten minutes, you approach the zone of the race and the crowd is already making it hard to drive to the start line. "Oh come on, I can't have blood on the car, don't make me roll you over." you mumble and Hendery laughs.

When you finally park the car, you get out. "Come on!"

Hendery gets out of the car and it's like being with a child, he is looking around with big eyes and a bright smile. "There are screens that allow you to see every corner of the race so you don't miss anything, a group that takes care of capturing the location of the police, this kind of stuff."

"And over there you have the worst human beings." with a nod you indicate a group of people. Your friends.

You approach your friends, and you put your hand on Ten's shoulder to get his attention. "What are you doing here, don't you work nights normally?" you ask immediately and he shakes his head.

"No, I asked a colleague to take care of it, I wanted to see you lose the race."

You roll your eyes, and grab hold of Hendery's wrist to pull him closer. "This is Hendery, he works in the garage where my car is. He wanted to see a race in real life." you explain. "Hendery this is my friends, Taeyong, Doyoung, Ten and Kun."

"Nice to meet you guys." Hendery says, and the boys shake his hand. "I'm really excited!"

"He's going to ride with me." you add, and Ten puts his hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter. "What?"

He shakes his head. "Nothing at all. Have fun Hendery, because this might be the last time you'll be excited about something. You're going to die tonight. You should give me the number of someone to contact to let them know what happened."

You hit Ten's shoulder. "Come on, I had one accident. And if I crash Doyoung's car, he is going to kill me." Doyoung nods his head.

"She is right."

"The race is about to start." someone says in a megaphone. "To the participants, please join your cars."

You turn to Hendery. "If you want to watch, that's perfectly okay." he shakes his head, and he walks towards your car.

"Nah, I'm going with you." cool cool. You don't remember the last time you had someone riding with you, so you better not mess up, that would be embarrassing.

"One condition," you say, sitting behind the wheel. "you'll take me on a ride on your motorcycle." you never tried a motorcycle before, and even if it was fun telling him he wouldn't beat you in a race, you don't want to die stupid.

"Deal."

You start the engine. "If you feel sick because of the speed, please don't throw up inside of the car." you don't plan on stopping for any reason. And you don't plan on cleaning the car if he gets sick.

Hendery laughs softly, but he stays quiet.

Out of the corner of your eye, to see his mouth open when you press your feet on the gas pedale. "Let's go baby." you whisper.

During the first part of the race, Hendery is mostly silent, only making little surprise noises when a car gets a little too close to his door for his liking, but after the second roundabout he starts to laugh. "It's incredible!" he exclaims, a hand resting on his heart which must beat wildly.

"Do you like it?" you ask, and he nods vigorously. "Being behind the wheel is even better. I'll give you a try someday." not during a race, but on a racetrack, with no other car around, and with a car that you won't have a problem with if it breaks.

You laugh when you drive past Taeyong's car, and he gives you the middle finger which makes you laugh even more. "That's it Taeyong, stay behind, that's where you belong."

You see the finish line, but you also see the car in front of you, but you don't try to overtake it, second place is perfect, especially with Doyoung's car.

Hendery screams when you cross the finish line, and when you brake, he's quick to unbuckle his seatbelt to turn towards you. "Oh my god you are the best!"

You can't help but smile. "So I've been told! You don't regret going up with me?" he shakes his head, and you get out of the car.

"You cut me off!" you turn when you hear Taeyong's voice, and you scoff.

"It's a race Taeyong, not a ride, it's normal that I cut you off!"

He pouts. "I made a bet with Ten that I would finish before you. I lost 100 bucks."

You shrug. "That's too bad."

You congratulate the winner of the race, and you make your way to Hendery who is already talking about his experience with Ten and Kun. Both of them are listening to him with attention, something you are not used to. Did he win the hearts of your friends in less than an hour when you've been trying for years? That's not fair!

"Thanks again for the car Doyoung, I owe you a big one." you say, handing him the keys and he shakes his head.

"Keep it, at least until you'll get your dear Shelby back." how sweet of him, and you wonder if he would have offered his car if Hendery was not around. You hate it here. "Hendery, it was a real pleasure to meet you, I hope we can see each other again." he says, and the other boys agree one after the other. "Y/n, please give us his number so we don't have to go through you to see him."

You bite the inside of your cheek, and Hendery wraps his arm around your shoulders. "We're a package deal. If I come, she comes."

"Already? That's adorable!" Ten cooes and you want to punch him, but not in front of Hendery. Later.

"Come on, I'll bring you back." you mumble, grabbing Hendery's wrist to pull him back to the car.

It's a bit difficult to ride with the crowd around, but you manage to do it, and when you finally find yourself on the road, you heave a sigh. "Will you come back for another race?" you ask, and he nods.

"If you want me, yeah, I'll come to all the races! I'm gonna work hard on your car so you can show me everything you've got!"

"And if you're good, maybe you can even ride my Shelby one day." it's a decision you can change depending on Hendery, but it could be fun.

His mouth opens wide, and you giggle. "It would be such an honor!"

The rest of the road is pretty quiet, and after the hubub of the race, you're not unhappy. When you arrive near the garage, you notice that a lot of people are in the yard. "A party?" you ask.

"Yeah, one of the club members was due out of jail today so they're celebrating his comeback."

You hum. "Didn't you want to participate?"

He shrugs his shoulders. "He was already in jail when I joined the club so I don't know him. And frankly? I'll miss every parties in the world to participate in another race." adorable.

"Good to know. Thanks for being a good co-pilot." Hendery smiles, and he even leans in to kiss your cheek before getting out of the car and waving to you.

Well, that was unexpected.

The next two weeks are pretty much the same. You wake up, and you spend your breaks at the garage, looking at Hendery working on motorcycles, cars, and of course, yours when he is done. And you honestly appreciate his presence. His, and the members of his club, they are all very sweet to you, and to him. They mess with Hendery a lot, but you can see that they cherish him a lot. And weirdly enough, it appease you to know he has a family to look over him.

"Your car is done."

A weight falls down on your stomach when Hendery speaks, but you smile nonetheless. "Already? I thought it would take more time." you say, stepping inside of the clubhouse. Hendery is sitting on a stool behind the bar, a glass of water in front of him.

"The guys gave me more time to work on it." that explains a lot.

You sit down next to him. "I'm happy to have my car back, but it's a shame, I really liked spending time with you here." Hendery turns on his stool, a smile on his face. You wonder if he ever stops smiling.

"Me being done with your car doesn't mean you can't hang out at the garage. I asked, and Johnny doesn't mind." Johnny, you learnt, is the president of the motorcycle club. He is still young, but he was apparently voted in after the death of the past president.

"...we need to figure out how to get the guns out without.." the door of the clubhouse opens, and the conversation stops when your presence is noticed. "Oh hey Y/n! What's up?"

You smile at Yuta, the sergeant-at-arms. "The usual!"

The young man's smile is a bit tensed, maybe because you heard a part of the conversation and as you are not part of the club, you probably shouldn't have, but you don't mention it. "Stay out of trouble, okay?" you nod and he steps inside of the meeting room with a few other members that you saw a couple of time around the garage.

"Did you hear what he was saying?" Hendery asks, nervously playing with his fingers and you shrug.

"Heard what?" you like Hendery, and he likes the club, you wouldn't gain anything by speaking up about the things you hear on the daily.

"Do you want to go somewhere?" he asks suddenly, standing up from his stool. "I did promise to take you on a ride on my motorcycle."

"Let's go!"

You follow him outside of the clubhouse and to his motorcycle. He hands you a helmet that you put on your head, and you wait for him to get on the motorcycle to climb behind him. "Hold on to my waist, and if you want to stop, pinch me, I'll understand." you don't know how safe it would be to pinch him while he drives, but you accept.

"Yes sir!"

You became acquainted with the sound of a motorcycle engine, but it still gives you chill. It's different of a car, of course, but it still brings you the adrenaline you love so much. Car, motorcycle, as long as it has wheels and purr, it's the same.

Hendery leaves the garage, and instead of driving toward the city, he leaves it.

And you soon understand why. On the hallway, he can drive as fast as he wants without being bothered by cars and trucks. And the feeling of the wind against your face is amazing. It makes you smile, it makes you want to scream.

And just like that, with your arms around his waist, your head against his shoulder blade, you understand how happy you are to be here. To be with Hendery. With the wind whipping your face, and his laugh echoing around. Breaking your car wasn't such a bag thing, it gave you something akin to love.

[hauntedfalcon]

living in midnight

for day four of Nile Freeman Week: "Nile & Struggle" plus a fantasy AU in which superheroes exist, Nile isn't one of them, and she doesn't let that stop her. 1700 words, rated M for swearing. content warning for wounds and needles because it's Nile's turn for sapphic patching up, as a treat

the title is from Lianne La Havas’s “Midnight”. many thanks to @flightsofwonder for beta reading <3

read on AO3 or below

Nile opens her eyes to see an unfamiliar ceiling. There is an unfamiliar pillow under her head, and she is recumbent on an unfamiliar sofa. Above it is a window, where streetlights reflect in the sinuous trails of raindrops.

Rain. Knives. Three attackers. She fought like hell, might have broken someone’s arm, but they landed one good hit. They left her for dead in an alley. She watched her own blood run into a puddle.

She bolts upright--and hisses when a wave of agony breaks over her, starting in her abdomen and shooting everywhere.

“Please don’t move,” says a softly accented voice. “You’re safe here. I haven’t seen your face.”

Nile collapses back down to the pillow and touches her face, just to be sure. Her mask is still in place. She drops her hand and forces one eye open, blurry with pained tears, to get a look at whoever dragged her in from the alley.

A white woman. Dark shoulder-length hair. Youngish, maybe Nile’s age. Dressed all in black, much like her--not for stealth but for soft goth vibes. Cute, if she’s honest, but this isn’t the fucking singles bar, get it together Freeman.

“I staunched the bleeding,” her rescuer says, “but I was waiting until you were conscious to do the stitches.”

“Do we have to?” Nile groans before she can stop herself.

A blink-and-you’ll-miss-it smile. “I’m afraid so. Would you like some fortitude?” The amateur surgeon holds out a bottle of Everclear.

Ugh. Nile takes the cap off and drinks deep, leaving enough in the bottle to sterilize whatever needs to be sterilized. It tastes like ass and lingers at the back of her throat.

Before the alcohol can set in and obliterate her senses, she says, “Can I borrow your phone?”

The woman hesitates. Very wise of her.

“Listen,” Nile says. “We had two leads come in at the same time. Al-Tayyib took one and I took the other, and mine was a decoy, which means...” She can’t, won’t, say it aloud. She hates how feeble she sounds. “I just have to check in with him. Please.”

The woman hands her a smartphone, unlocked. Nile hits the keycode to make the call anonymous, then dials Joe’s shitty flip phone from memory. He keeps it on silent when he’s on the rounds, and he’ll only answer if he’s safe.

Pick up, she wills him, because if she has to hear his stupid cheerful voicemail greeting now of all times, she’s going to scream right in front of this poor woman who didn’t ask for any of this drama in her life. Pick up, pick up, pick--

“Pronto.”

Nile’s gut tightens (painfully, but that’s not what matters right now) at the sound of another unfamiliar voice. The assassin. Joe walked into a trap.

“Where is he?” she demands, trying to sound hard and not like she’s lying on a stranger’s couch with an open wound.

A gust in the speaker. Is he laughing at her? She strains to hear anything that would give away their location: traffic, a clock tower, machinery, anything. There’s nothing else. No hint of Joe yelling in the background, either.

“I will return him to you presently,” says the asshole. Very formal.

“What, after you shank him like your goons did to me?”

“They were instructed not to kill you,” he says in a voice that wouldn’t fog a window in January. “Did you die?”

White-hot rage flares out of her with no place to go. “Where is he, you son of a--” But he has already hung up on her.

Nile resists the urge to growl. If this was her phone she would throw it against the wall. Instead she quickly deletes the record of the outgoing call, and hands the phone back to the woman, who pockets it. “Thank you,” she says tightly.

“I’m sorry to say so,” says the woman as she holds the tip of a curved needle in a candle flame, “but you are in no condition to save anyone right now.”

She blows out a sigh in answer. When she pulls the hem of her shirt up and peels away the medical tape and bandage pad, she discovers that the woman is absolutely right. This isn’t the worst Nile has been hurt and still fought, but it is pretty bad.

And it’s one thing to trash a gang of traffickers while she’s actively bleeding. It’s something totally different to track down a guy who has been three steps ahead of them this whole time, and seems to have removed his sense of morals with an ice cream scoop.

There’s only one thing left to do: say a silent prayer. The way she learned to pray feels insufficiently casual for the circumstances; she wishes she knew more about the format of the rakat. All she remembers is, “God hears the one who praises him,” so she starts on the Lord’s Prayer because praise comes before petition.

In place of, “Give us this day our daily bread,” she substitutes, “Get Joe out of this with his head,” and then she has to hold back a giggle at the rhyme. She must have lost a lot of blood.

The woman wipes the needle down with Everclear. “You know, I met the old Guardian too.”

Nile eyes her carefully. She won’t say Andy’s name in this woman’s presence. She won’t say Joe’s name either, much less her own. She won’t slip no matter how much blood she’s lost or how strong the alcohol is or how fundamentally good and trustworthy this woman seems or how much this is going to hurt. “Not under the same conditions,” she presumes.

“Very similar,” the woman says with another fleeting smile. “I hope she’s well?”

“She’s good,” Nile hastens to reassure her. “She retired.” And she left Nile her nom de guerre and all the weight that went with it.

“I’m glad she made it that long.”

“Probably thanks to you,” Nile says, and she gets a longer smile for it.

Then the needle bites into her skin and Nile whimpers softly and throws an arm over her eyes. She’s hard. She’s tough. This is what she does.

The woman’s gloved hand pinches the wound closed as she stitches. She works quickly, professionally. “I’m really glad you found me,” Nile manages. “I can’t exactly go to a hospital.”

“I think you would be surprised,” the woman says. “You are well loved in this city. People would protect your identity.”

That’s not it. Nile can’t go to hospital because there’s a chance her mom would be on shift, and the only thing worse than keeping her alter ego secret from her mom is the idea that she would find out because Nile came in on a gurney. She can’t do that to her.

A tug, as she ties the thread off, and then a snip of the shears. Nile lifts her head and looks down at a slightly puckered, neatly stitched, no longer bleeding knife wound.

Her laugh sounds brittle, just this side of hysterical. The woman glances at her. “I have work tomorrow,” Nile says weakly.

The woman tapes a fresh bandage over the wound. “Me too.”

No rest for the righteous. “The struggle is real, huh? Sorry for keeping you up late.”

“I will call in if you do,” the woman offers.

But going into the office in the morning might be the soonest opportunity to make sure Joe is okay. Nile pulls her shirt down and zips her bomber jacket over it. “I should go.”

The woman sets one hand on Nile’s arm. “Please stay. You shouldn’t be out alone tonight.”

“They might have been watching when you brought me inside,” Nile warns.

“Then I will need your protection, won’t I?” the woman says without blinking, as if she’s not the one that just saved Nile’s whole life.

Nile cracks an incredulous smile but the woman just gazes at her solemnly.

“Okay,” she says at last. “Okay, I’ll stay. Thank you. And I’m sorry for bleeding on your couch.”

It’s not enough, but the woman just sets about cleaning up her supplies. Nile settles back against the pillow and wills her muscles to unclench.

“May I ask,” the woman asks as she washes her hands, “why you do this? You don’t have superpowers.”

No, and none of the people who do have taken this city under their protection. Flippant, lazy answers parade through Nile’s mind, because she’s not in a charitable mood. Anger issues. No one else is gonna do it. I’m a giant masochist, actually.

But when she opens her mouth, the first thing that comes out is Andy’s answer, from when Nile asked her years ago. “Because there are people worth fighting for.”

Then Joe’s answer: “People who won’t get justice any other way.”

And, finally, one that’s all hers. “I have a responsibility. This is my city”

She’s going to pass out any minute, but beneath her fatigue there’s still a live coal of the feelings that made her put this mask on in the first place. This is her damn city. She spends so much time in the guts of its shitty justice system, and the rest of the time punching assholes, that she sometimes forgets her city is full of ordinary, decent people. Good people. People who will bring someone in from the rain. People like…

“What’s your name?” Nile asks, and then catches herself. “I can’t--give you mine. Sorry. It might be safer if I don’t know yours.”

“Celeste,” says the woman.

Good people like Celeste. How comforting that is.

Her pain is down to an ache instead of a burn, and her eyes drift closed. In the morning, she’ll be out of Celeste’s hair. She’ll shower at her apartment, carefully, and she’ll go into Legal Aid, and Joe will be there, a little banged up but alive. He’ll hug her, quick and tight, and they’ll loiter by the coffee maker and speak in low voices and sort out their next play. And when the work day is over, they’ll go with Andy and Quỳnh down to Booker’s for drinks and darts, and Nile will order a bouquet of flowers sent to Celeste’s apartment in thanks. Everything, for given quantities of everything, will be fine.

Confident in her safety, secure in her purpose, Nile rests.

[whumpmatsus]

Do they have to be whump related? Also Ichimatsu getting a shot pls

wasn't sure if you wanted a draw or a fic, so I did both!

and yeah, any draw or fic requests you send here should probably be whump-related since this is a whump-focused blog

though if you wanna send any draw or fic/scenario/reaction/etc. requests that AREN'T whump, you can send them to my general Osomatsu-san blog at @kisskissmatsu!

enjoooooy <3

-

-

Usually Ichimatsu is the sextuplet who’s fine being left all by himself.

Being in the hospital without his family, though, is a much different story.

It started innocently enough ― with a persistent cough that was almost certainly the herald of a cold or sore throat on the horizon. As much as he hates being sick, he sort of resigned himself to it. He’s the one among his brothers who’s forever catching what happens to be going around, despite the fact that he doesn’t spend a lot of time around other people. That’s why he started wearing a face mask when he does leave the house.

It was about a week or so of sneezing, coughing, and sniffling his way through various attempts to rest. His throat felt worse than it usually did with a cold, and even more alarming was that his chest felt like it was on fire, especially when he started coughing. Even though he started having trouble breathing, he thought maybe this was just something that would linger for a bit, something that needed more sleep to recover from.

When things didn’t taper off after that, since a week was typically all it took for him to start feeling better, the others started commenting on it.

When Ichimatsu started to spend more time in the bathroom with a sink full of hot water in the hopes that the steam would help him breathe easier, and it didn’t seem to be having any effect, they all got worried.

When Karamatsu blurted out, “I secretly took Ichimatsu’s temperature with a forehead thermometer while he was sleeping and it read 39.4!”, Mom and Dad immediately carted their fourth son off to the hospital.

It figures Shittymatsu would get him into this mess, but Ichimatsu supposes that the sneaky gesture was only out of care, otherwise Karamatsu wouldn’t have spoken up about a number that concerned him.

That doesn’t mean he has to like it. After a distressing, panic-inducing few hours of waiting and a date with the X-ray machine, the doctor diagnosed him with bacterial pneumonia. That particular diagnosis ensured that he had to be admitted into the hospital under quarantine, because as the doctor explained, bacterial pneumonia is extremely contagious and potentially life-threatening, particularly to someone with a fragile immune system like Ichimatsu. They can’t send him home to infect his brothers or the rest of the community, and even though he isn’t technically immuno-compromised, his tendency to get sick easily means that it’s better for him to be here in the hospital in case things suddenly take a bad turn.

Being in here is like he’s trapped in hell and can’t get out. Because he’s in quarantine, he never sees anybody. Which would be fine normally. Feeling so poorly is a significant reason for wanting his family nearby, though… and he can’t have them.

The most they can do is visit outside his room and talk to him through the speaker system. That’s even worse, seeing them all and not being able to have any real contact with him. Right now more than anything, what he wants is a hug from his mom. God, he wants a hug from his brothers.

It’s hard to even get any rest like he’s supposed to be doing. Most of his time is spent sitting up, trying to get a sufficient breath in while he listens to various TV channels. The idol news reminds him of Choromatsu, sports statistics remind him of Jyushimatsu, game shows remind him of Osomatsu, American dramas remind him of Karamatsu, and fashion shows remind him of Totty.

Those are just distractions, because it’s still hard to breathe. He’s struggling for most of his breaths, but too deep a breath will trigger a coughing fit. Which, in turn, makes it more difficult to breathe.

It’s barely been a day since he was admitted and already he wants out of here.

His brothers visit sometime after lunch, and they spend a few hours. Eventually the nurse gently chases them out, telling them that Ichimatsu needs to try to get some rest. Shortly after that she comes into the room, rolling her little cart with the tray on it.

“How do you feel today, Ichimatsu?” she hums, pulling on a pair of gloves. “Any better than when we admitted you?”

He shakes his head and tries to answer when another series of coughs interrupts him. Although it’s hard to cover his mouth when his whole body is aching, he does his best. After all, he doesn’t want to get anyone else sick. He’s already in quarantine, so all the doctors and nurses are taking their own precautions; still, he shouldn’t just give up and spread his germs carelessly. “N-not really.”

She nods and picks up a wrapped packet from the tray. “Well, to be honest, that’s understandable. It hasn’t been very long.” The packet is ripped open, and the distinct smell of alcohol fills the air as she carefully pushes his sleeve up. “The lack of improvement does concern us, though. So I just have to give you an injection of some medicine, okay?”

Shit. He thought that might be what was going on here. He knows he’s too exhausted to fight it, and yet, his brain evidently isn’t too exhausted to not be fucking anxious about it. “I… I have to get a shot?”

The cold wipe is rubbed against the top part of his arm. “Yeahhh… I’m sorry. This is penicillin, and it’s one of our standard treatments for pneumonia. The doctor thinks you’ll have better luck sitting still for one shot than for a whole pill-and-water deal, since you’re coughing a lot. I kind of have to agree, since you might accidentally inhale some water if you cough while trying to take the pills.”

Immediately he starts to panic. Most of the time the idea of a shot doesn’t bother him more than it might the average person ― he gets the yearly flu vaccine without any problems. Right now, however… the idea of a shot while he’s already feeling so terrible, the initial pinch and the ache that might happen afterwards and being alone, it just feels scary.

The nurse must hear the way his breathing starts to quicken, or maybe the way his hands start shaking. She gives his shoulder a little pat. “Ah, I know on your chart it says you suffer from some anxiety. Are you a bit anxious right now?”

“Y… yeah…”

“Okay. That’s totally fine, you know? Different people get anxious about different things. Would it help if I distracted you, or if I gave you a countdown so you know when it’s coming? Sometimes that helps so it’s not a surprise… or, sometimes people prefer it to be a surprise. Which one do you think would be best for you?”

… Oh. He wasn’t expecting something like that. It almost feels like he has a little control over this, despite the fact that he has to get the injection either way. “C… can you… count down?”

“Sure, of course. No problem.” Then she reaches over with one hand, grabbing the syringe with the other. “Would you like to hold my hand?”

That’s kind of… babyish, isn’t it? “I-I’m not a kid… I don’t wanna…”

She chuckles. “Well, you know, earlier today I held the hand of an elderly lady who was getting a shot. It’s not just a kid thing. But if you don’t want to, that’s fine too.”

He takes a moment to consider that, then silently slips his hand into hers.

“Alright, just squeeze if you feel like you need to. I’m all set, are you?”

“I… I think so…”

“Okay, I’m gonna give you the countdown then. Here we go. Three ― two ― one.”

As soon as she says the last number, he feels the needle pierce his skin. It’s uncomfortable, a sharp kind of pinprick pain. There’s a slight feeling of tightness and soreness as the medicine is emptied into his muscle, and a brief jolt when the nurse pulls the needle out.

All in all, even though it isn’t a pleasant experience, it’s not as bad as it could have been. It’s certainly better than choking on a pill and a glass of water if he had to try to swallow the medication.

And, at least, it’s over now.

“There. You did great, Ichimatsu. Probably my best patient of the day!” With that, she sets the syringe back down on the tray and gingerly smooths a bandage with a cotton ball over the injection site. “That should keep you clean just in case any blood trickles out from the shot, and someone will come take it off later if the adhesive starts to make your skin itch.”

He nods and coughs into his arm again, giving a soft groan. He’s just so tired, from the fever, from the coughing, from not being home. “Is it gonna m… khh… make me tired?”

“Haha, it shouldn’t, no. You might feel a little nauseous, or you might have to go to the bathroom more, or you might get a small itchy rash… just press the call button if any of that happens or if you feel strange otherwise, okay?” Her cart is all packed up already, and she’s heading out of the room. “If you get tired, it’s probably because you’re sick and need rest. So, try to sleep as much as you can.”

“’Kay.” He just feels like this illness has drained everything out of him, and there’s a little throbbing where he got the injection. But, the more he sleeps, hopefully the sooner he can recover and go home.

On her way out, the nurse dims the lights. Practically as soon as she does, Ichimatsu’s eyes start to drift closed. God, he’s so tired.

He lies down, though the bed is still a little elevated since sleeping flat will just make him cough more. Sleep tugs at him, and he has to move a little bit so he’s not putting any pressure on the area where he got the shot.

Soon. Soon he can go home.

Just as soon as he gets better.

[birdsaesthetic]

My Guardian Angel

Summary: In the dead of the night, Jane’s stitches start bleeding…. 5x05 tag. On fanfiction.

Note: THANKS to @lurkingwhump for sending me the prompt: "Jane being ill or injured and Kurt giving her some TLC, or Jane's suffering from night terrors/nightmares and Kurt comforts her."

Kurt kissed Jane good-night, made sure she was comfortable in bed, and asked her if she needed, or even wanted, anything at all, his own heart included. But she shook her head with the tiniest of smiles, whispered her love to him, and that she was good, as long as he was beside her, within hand reach.

There was the dull pain, still, throughout her entire body after the surgery she had earlier, but she said nothing about it, and insisted to sleep it off. And she did, almost immediately, only to be woken up yet again by another nightmare in the dead of the night, her breathing rapid, her mouth dry, and her stomach stinging in pain she wished she were still having the same awful nightmare instead.

She cried quietly, even soundlessly, as she saw flashes of the nightmare in her vision, and endured the pain all alone. She shed a great amount of unbidden, salty tears, like she'd never done before, and they easily slid from her eyes to her cheeks, down her neck, before dampening the pillow. It was too much. The nightmares; the reality; the misery; the pain; the could have happeneds.

A full minute passed, two, three, then she had the slightest courage to place a shaking, cold hand on her wound beneath the sweater, and found out that the bandage was soggy, sloppy. There must be blood, lots of it, it must be bleeding again, she thought. Goddamnit.

When she pressed on it in an attempt to stop it, helpless yet brave, she was rewarded with such sharp, fast pain—as fast as the speed of light. Someone else might've screamed their heart out at that, but she didn't. She swallowed it, as her breathing got heavier, her heart skipped a beat, and her eyes squeezed tight in pain that seemed to transport her to another state, one in which everything, even the past she'd been working so hard to forget, seemed to fade into a gray watercolor wash.

"Kurt," she whispered, or tried to, withdrawing her hand from beneath the sweater. But when he didn't seem to respond, she whispered his name again and again and again, like a prayer, her voice needy, cracking, and scared. "Kurt…Kurt…Kurt."

It took Kurt some time to come to consciousness, and realize that his name was being repeated in the present, softly, and that the voice was Jane's, his Jane, not from the nightmare where he was being restricted to a chair by the enemy, unable to move, helpless by all means. But then he turned over like the world was coming to an end and propped himself up on his elbows, his mind fuzzy for the first seconds before it became alert. Wasting no more second, he stumbled on his way down to Jane on bed. "You okay?" he blurted.

"No… My wound…" Despite all the sweat she had exuded by now, she was shivering when he laid a hand on her, and in the semidarkness, she took a glimpse of his eyes and saw warmth, life, hope. He, from his point of view, saw tears shimmering in her eyes. Saw the pain, too. His heart sank, and quickly yet carefully, with feather-like hands he reveled on her wound, and by now it looked haphazardly covered in red-soaked bandages. Every alarm in his body sat off at the sight, and he clenched his jaw, forced himself to calm down and assess the damage, see his options. He could go and get Patterson and Rich and Tasha right here so he could use the help. But he wouldn't leave her alone while bleeding. He wouldn't. He would have to do this on his own, here and now and quickly.

"Kurt…is it that bad?" Jane asked between gritted teeth. She couldn't bring herself to have a look herself, and now she watched her husband stare down at her with intense concentration while frowning his brows.

"It's bleeding, but I'll clean it, okay?" he told her, before rushing straight to turn on the lights, wash his hands, grip the first aid kit, and return to her in bed. He looked at her face tight in pain and, with shaking hands, he put on a pair of gloves. "It'll be okay, Janie," he reassured her, "It'll sting a little, maybe, but it won't hurt much."

She only managed to nod, deep down knew exactly how much it'd hurt, and it'd be more than just a little. "I'm ready", she confirmed, biting her lip to hold a whimper in so Kurt wouldn't feel bad.

He began with exposing her abdomen to the fullest then, holding his breath, he discarded the bandage, to which she let out a hiss, and her hands flinched, almost pushed his away. But instead she took fistfuls of the blanket beside her, and steeled herself for what was yet to come. After Kurt threw the bloody bandage, and was about to do the cleaning, he looked her in the eye. "You have to tell me when it's painful, Janie," he said, as he breathed and sweated and prayed for her in his head.

"I trust you… It won't be painful," she whispered, eyes only half open, lips pale, forehead creased in a plea for him to get her out of her misery. If he could, he'd have stopped the time, taken away all the pain in a heartbeat. She didn't deserve this. His wife. Jane. Kind. Strong. Lovely. Resilient. Ass-kicker. Beautiful. Unstoppable. Talented. So damn stubborn. But all he could do right now was this, cleaning her wound quickly yet gently before it'd get any worse.

"Stay with me. Keep breathing. It'll be quick," he told her, as he got one of the gauzes wet with saline solution. "You're gonna hate me right now, but try to—"

"I'll never hate you," she rushed to say, shaking her head. "Never."

"You sure?" He began cleaning, gently wiping all the oxidized blood away. Jane winced once that gauze came into contact with the fresh stitches on her abdomen. The skin around the wound was so fragile, so delicate, and it stung like a fire. "Deadly sure."

After stealing one look at her determined face, committing it to memory, Kurt continued, frowning at the way the gauze was already staining with Jane's blood. But he continued, replacing the gauze and wetting it and wiping as needed. She… She was painting by now, her body jolting, and so Kurt wanted to talk her down. "You said…that you are deadly sure you won't hate me? Huh? Even if I might be hurting you now?"

"You're healing me…" she corrected. "I'm…in the safest hands I could ever—" She gasped, aloud and hoarsely, as her head lifted from the pillow. "Fuck—it's painful, Kurt."

"Scale of one to ten?"

"Seven. Eight."

"I'm sorry," Kurt replied. "I'm almost done, I promise. Two more minutes, okay?"

Jane's head fell back to the pillow, and she didn't nod, nor showed any indication that she'd heard him. But she did count to something close to hundred, making herself go slowly. Slowly. Slowly. Slowly. Until she lost count, before losing full consciousness…

It would be the most pleasant way to go, to die in his arms. Her husband. Kurt. Brave. One of a kind. Loving. Caring. Owns the sexiest of smiles. Deadly when needed be. Overprotective. Loyal to the marrow. But it wouldn't be fair to leave him behind, alone, just because things didn't go their way. They were supposed to spend their lives together, share happiness and sadness together, get older together, against all odds. It was true and unfortunate that they may not have everything they used to have: freedom, family, safety, good reputation, property, some kind of control. But truly, they did have everything they needed: each other, and friends for life.

There were fingers brushing against her cheek with surprising gentleness when she fluttered her eyes open, and she hummed—not in pain any more but in contentment. And then, there he was, her guardian angel, wearing a smile that she'd trade the world for it. He inched closer to her in bed.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, just when he reached for her hand and dotted it with kisses.

"Better." Last time she saw the same hand he was kissing now, it was covered with blood. Her own blood. But right now it was clean and warm and being kissed by him.

"How long have I been out?"

"Six hours." He smiled sadly. "Was it that painful?"

"Honestly?"

"Yeah?"

"It was more painful than being shot…and as painful as the surgery. But—"

"I'm sorry."

"Hey, doesn't matter. I'll be okay." She touched his cheek to comfort the two of them. "Really, though, what I would do without you, Kurt?"

"Let's not think about that."

They shared a smile, a kiss, and a moment of comforting silence.

[ohgodsalazarwhy]

So yesterday was... A Day.  I talked about it on twitter but not here.  I woke up at 5AM on Friday and as I was getting out of bed Natasha was there to greet me.  She rubbed up under my feet, being sweet.

Then we walked down the hallway together.  At 5am it’s still a bit dark in the house, and Natasha starts to hiss at me.  Not uncommon to be hissed at by her, so I ignore it.  Then at the end of the hallway, she’s a bit ahead of me, she turns and yowls.  I freeze.  That’s a danger sound.  I don’t know why she’s turning on me but I try to slowly back away towards the bedroom.  She’s had these weird moods in the past, but never attacked me... though I’ve been afraid of it.

This time I take one shuffle back and she lunges at me in a blind fury.  It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before, she’s screaming and attacking and I’m kicking out trying to get her off my bare legs.  I then dart down and manage to pin her to the floor with two hands but now we’re at a stand off.  If I attempt to relax my grip she screams louder and makes a move towards me.

So here I am, 5AM, bare legs bleeding and with a crazy cat under my hands in the middle of the hallway.  Absolutely nothing to grab like a big blanket or a stick or something to get distance between us until I can get to the bedroom.  I’m next to the craft room door and my legs are starting to shake and I realize I don’t have a choice, if I kneel down she’ll go for my face.  So I take one hand off her to open the door.

Natasha scratches my wrist and palm, then twists and sinks her teeth into my right pointer finger.  Deep.  It happens in second and then I’m shoving her into the craft room and shutting the door.  I’m breathing hard, shaking... I wander vaguely into the living room, try to turn on my floor lamp but I’m shaking too much.  I give up and walk into the kitchen to deposit the medications I’d taken out of my bedroom.

I can feel blood dripping from my finger as I walk back to the bathroom and finally look at my wounds in the light.  The scratches are up and down both legs, I’ve got massive scratches on my left wrist... and the bite on my finger is bleeding everywhere.  I run it under cold water but start to feel sick and am forced to go back to bed before I pass out or throw up.  I’m covered in cold sweat.

I breathe through it, getting blood on my sheets and pillow.  Natasha is meowing loudly in the room next door.  I breathe through the feeling of illness and shock and get back into the bedroom to clean the wounds and get antibiotic ointment on them.  I put bandaids on the bite wound, bottom teeth sank into the side of my finger under the second knuckle while the upper teeth had sunk into the top of the finger above the second knuckle.

I spend the next several hours in and out of bed as the sickness washes over me when I do too much.  But I clean the blood off the floor, and Natasha had emptied her bowels in the hallway so I clean that too.  When I go to the door and speak softly to her she hisses and yowls, so I leave her in there.  I don’t understand why this is happening, this is completely out of character for her.

My parents show up around 9am, and I’ve moved to the couch to lay there.  We’re supposed to go 8 hours south for a family camping trip.  And I’ve REALLY been looking forward to it.  I had all my stuff in the hallway ready to go.  But my parents are very concerned about the bite, and mom says I need to go to urgent care.  The more I talk and move around the sicker I feel.  I’ve bled through the bandaids.  Mom wraps my finger in gauze.  Before I leave the house I open the door to the craft room and quickly exit, I don’t want Natasha trapped in one room for hours.

Dad drives my car and he’s driving... aggressively.  That doesn’t help how I feel, which I think makes him even more nervous about me.  The first urgent care we visit is closed.  The second has a 4 hour wait for walk-ins.  So we finally just go to the ER.  I’m able to find a soft bench to lay down on while we wait... probably at least an hour.  While we’re waiting dad is informing family members what’s going on.  My Aunt, who is an RN, is glad we went to the ER.  My little sister tells her friend what happens to me, her friend loves cats and works with feral cats.

Dad comes over and tells me that Amber’s friend offered to take Natasha while I recover and I nearly tear up and say I’d love that.  I haven’t cried once, but my throat closes up when I think about what happens next with Natasha.  I love her so much, but the damage she did can’t be repeated. 

We get into the ER around 10am, but we don’t get out until 2:30pm.  We were supposed to be on the road by now.

I got a tetanus shot, xray, and my bite cleaned and bandaged as well as an antibiotic prescription.  Horse pills twice a day for 10 days.  Dad drives me to the pharmacy closest to my house.  Across the street is a booth selling Spooners blueberries (Spooners is a famous local farm, renowned for their berries).  Dad says he’s going to zip across the street for blueberries while I fill my prescription.

I come out after filling to see him across the street with the hood of my car up and he’s on the phone.  Goddammit.... I get my pills and text him, asking what’s going on.  The battery, the BRAND NEW BATTERY, has died unexpectedly.  I sigh and walk to the other side of the street to join him.  The sweet person at the stand has called their dad and told him what had happened, and Dad had called my little sister.  We wait around in the sun to see who will show up first.  Sure, this might as well happen today too.  I’m fucking exhausted.  I just want to lay down.  I sit in the backseat because blueberries are in the front seat that my dad is snacking on.  He says they’re the best, and Spooners doesn’t spray them.  I have no appetite or I might snack too.

The Spooners employee’s dad arrives first, and he jumps my car.  We thank him very much but he says it’s not a problem. I call my sister and tell her to meet us at my house, no problem she states.  Finally we’re home, and I cross the street where mom has been with the dogs this entire time, walking them around the neighborhood and staying in the trailer attached to the truck.  The dogs are very happy to see me and I’m happy to see them too.

My pointer finger is splinted and bandaged up and Leela sniffs at it and I have to be careful she doesn’t lick it.  We move across the street into my lawn as Amber and her partner show up.  They’ve brought gloves so they can help my Dad catch Natasha and put her in the carrier.  I sit outside with mom and the dogs while they go in.  Natasha pees on my couch during the ensuing chase because she’s afraid, but they catch her and bring her outside in the carrier.  I’m just glad she’s okay, I’ve felt very guilty about kicking out at her when she attacked me.

Natasha is scared as we set her in the grass in the shade of the fence.  I sit down next to her carrier and she curls up as close to me as she can get.  I want to unzip the top just a little to reach in and comfort her but I’m still a little scared she’ll turn on me.  So then we all wait together in the front lawn for Amber’s friend to arrive, Leela desperately trying to belly crawl her way towards the carrier.  When she finally does Natasha hisses and spooks her so bad she tries to hide under my sister’s legs.  Rotties can be such cowards sometimes.

Amber’s friend arrives with a van and I thank her profusely, but she doesn’t mind doing this at all.  She says Natasha is going to be well taken care of, she even has falconer gloves with which to handle aggressive cats.  I tell her Natasha is normally not aggressive, just very scared.  But to watch out for the yowling, that’s the danger sign.

Natasha is set gently in the backseat and the door is shut, the air conditioning turned on.  We exchange numbers, I thank her again, I can’t thank her enough.  With Natasha taken care of my family goes to a nearby burger joint for food while I stay behind to watch the dogs.  I just want to lay down.  Amber buys me a burger with a gluten free bun.  My appetite is non existent but I know I need to eat.

When they come back my mom and dad leave while Amber and her partner linger to talk.  Her partner loves to talk, he talks all the time.  It used to drive me crazy but I don’t mind anymore, he’s a good person.  I’d had the urine cleaned up and before Amber leaves she puts my couch cushion back.  I give her a stack of books I think she’ll like about abandoned places and ossuaries.  I’m finally left alone. 

No camping trip this weekend, it’d simply be too much.  I don’t think anyone in my family is making it.  My brother and his wife had to back out, Amber and her partner had to back out because of his asthma and the air quality down south.  Mom and Dad would be driving a long way for a short stay, and I know I won’t feel up for such a taxing weekend after the Friday I’ve had.

Amazing how quickly everything can go horribly wrong.

[everyhowlmarksthedead]

❛ F*CKING HIGH ❜

with Neron ‘Creeper’ Vargas.

Request: Hey! Maybe prompt 52. When Creeper get shot and Mayans don't know reader but when hé was high on medication he call her at Vicky's House ? 🙈Something really Fluff ? Thanks!! I love ur writings 😊😊

BY ANON

Warnings: none.

Word count: 1.6k

Aurora says: this writing hasn't been edited, you may find some grammar mistakes, I'm sorry about that!

Gif credits: to the author, I found it on Google.

Masterlist.

The books over the table with a lot of notes scattered around them are starting to give you a horrible headache. You don't know how many hours you have been studying, but you're sure that it was daytime. When you focus your gaze on the horizon, through the window, you're aware of the streetlights turned on outside and the dark sky above Santo Padre. It's your final week to complete the MIR and you have left just one exam. The last one. So, when Creeper told you he was going to travel to Las Vegas for a couple days, you have to recognize that you felt a little alleviated. You want to spend the maximum time possible with him, but you also have to study, but both things aren't compatible. Even so, he should be at home already.

Checking the time on the clock in your wrist, you snort getting up from your chair to pick up the books and your pens. It's enough study for today and you're really hungry. After cleaning the table, you fall down on the sofa turning on the TV and looking in your phone for something to take away. Cooking it's not an option today. Choosing the local pizzeria for excellence, you're about to make the order when an incoming call interrupts your plans. Reading his name on the screen, you answer quickly.

“Babe!”

“Maaaaamaaaa”. He sings, making you frown somewhat confused sitting on the sofa. “Heeeeey, maaaamaaaa”.

“Are you… high, Neron?”

“Yeah… Fuckin' high… for you, my loooove”.

“What the hell? Where the fuck are you?”

“Mama, I want you here. I need you here, maaaama!”

“Ner—”.

“I am… close”.

“Close from what?”

“Border, mama. Close to the border. Come with meeee. I need my nurse, mama, pleaaase”.

“Are you okay? What happened?” Your heart is racing, jumping off from the sofa, running to your shared room.

“A guy shot me, mama. But don' worre', I'm okaaaay”.

“Neron, send me your location right now!”

“Mama, mama, mama, are you comen'?”

“FUCK, NERON, OF COURSE I'M COMING. SEND ME THE FUCKING LOCATION”.

“Don'... Don' shout at me, mama”.

From nowhere, you can hear him crying like a child. Even if he's high, that shit breaks your heart into pieces. Stopping next to your bed rubbing your forehead, barely gulping, you try to calm yourself.

“Are you alone?”

“N—No…”

“The bul—”.

“It's out, mama… I wan—want you here with me. I'm okay, mama, I'm okay… Come with me. Don'... leave me, don' break with me, mama, please”.

“Send me your location, okay? Could you do that for me?”

“Yeah, mama… Are you comen'?”

“Sí, Neron, I'm gonna get dressed, okay?”

“Okay, mama… I love you. I love you, mama. I truly love you, I swear”.

“I know, mi flaquito”.

Hanging up the call, you take some second to breathe calmly before looking for some clothes to put on and grabbing the medical kit when you're ready. They better have something to eat, or there will be more than one man shot. Leaving your house, your phone rings with a notification. The address of Vicki's house. You have heard about it, and you're not surprised at all. According to your boyfriend, this is the favorite place of Mayans. You don't know them, not yet, but you can imagine why they like it this much. Keeping the kit on the back seat, you step in your car turning the engine to follow the instructions recited by the gps.

When it says that you have reached your destiny, you focus through the Camaro's front window to find the house, looking exactly as he described you one day. Going out of the pilot seat and carrying the medical stuff in your right hand, you go upstairs practically jumping them to hit the door with your palm. A girl with brown hair, big eyes and almost naked welcomes you, pushing her by a side before she can talk.

“Hey, hey! Wait! You ca—”.

Coming into the living room, you finally meet his other family. They were drinking and laughing until you appeared, now staring at you confused. The one who you recognize as El Presidente gets up from his chair, the other two are pointing at you with their guns, warned by the bitch behind you.

“I'm from Tijuana, you can't scare me con una pistolita”. (With a gun). You spit with a strong mexican accent, containing a sarcastic laugh.

“Who are y—”.

“MAAAMI, MAAAAMIIIIIIII”.

Hearing your boyfriend calling you, you don't give them a single chance to let you introduce yourself, running upstairs following the laments of Creeper between moans and pleased begs. Disgusting. Opening the last green red door, you finally reach him. The medical kit falls from your hand shocked. Taking a step, you tour his silhouette lying on the mattress. Being shirtless you can see the bandage covering the bullet hole, with some blood trespassing the cotton, and the sling holding the other. His face isn't much better, with some scratches on his left cheek and his temple. The most disturbing is watching him crying like a scared child, trembling and trying to sit up on the bed.

Before the other mexicans can reach you, you're already kneeling on the bed not knowing where you're allowed to touch him and where not.

“Mami, I missed you”.

“You're an idiot, you know it, rai'?” You ask him with your eyes filled with tears, gently caressing the other cheek, while he nods.

Leaning forward you kiss his shaky lips once and again, before feeling his right arm surrounding your waist.

“Let me see the shot, okay?” Whispering, you get up from the bed to take the medical kit, under the look of the men waiting on the door.

“The doctor put it out, disinfected the wound and stitched it up”. El Presidente says, making you frown your eyebrows.

“The doctor, or the vet?”

“Wha—”.

“Answer before I fucking punch you”.

“The vet”.

Of course, it's not the same. Even the medicines that give you in the MIR are stronger than the ones for a veterinarian. Opening the kit over the bed and wearing a pair of blue gloves, you lean on Creeper to take off the bandage and the gauze, narrowing your eyes to see every stitch on it. It's… acceptable, but you could have done it better. Wetting some cotton with iodine, you clean the blood around the suture with soft moves to not hurt him more. Your boyfriend is assorted on how concentrate you look taking care of him.

“Do you know what you are doing, niña?” The oldest one rests his body against the frame.

“'Amma real doctor, not a veterinarian”. You respond without turning at him, but at your kit to find clean gauzes and an adhesive bandage to cover the sewn hole again. “What happened with the other, Neron?”

“Dislocated”. He just says gulping with parted lips.

“What did they gave you for the pain?”

“Just some pills, mami…”

“How many hours ago?”

“Almost ten”. El Presidente replies in his place, making you twist towards him.

“Okay, Creep', I'm going to prick you some morphine”. He just nods.

Grabbing a needle wrapped on a security plastic, you open it to fill it up with the transparent liquid from a small glass bottle. Hitting it softly with two fingers and letting some of the medicine spill on air, you lead the needle to his bare skin over the wound. Nailing it slowly until the metallic part has disappeared inside it. Then, you push the plastic container until empty. Taking off the needle and keeping it again inside its paper, to throw it later, you close the medical kit.

“You need to rest, okay?”

“Mami, stay with me, please… Don' go”. He begs you crying low and holding your hand as strong as he can.

“You need to rest”. You repeat raising both eyebrows and nodding with your chin one time, caressing his grip with your fingers. “I will talk with your friends for a moment. Ain't going anywhere, mi flaquito. Not without you”.

“I love you, mama. I really do”.

“I love you too, Creep'”. Smirking at your boyfriend, you kiss him again having a little more of caring to not hurt him. “Sleep, flaquito”.

Placing the medical kit over a desk, you leave him closing the door, killing with your eyes the men in front of you.

“I'm hungry, so you better find me some dinner”.

“First, tell us who you are, because he's high enough to confuse himself and believe that he's the fucking Messiah”.

“I'm his girlfriend, pendejo. And you're gonna be a dead man if you don't bring me my fucking dinner”.

El Presidente chuckles rubbing his chin, before nodding, seeing you disappear through the opened door again. Coming back to the bed, you can notice that your boyfriend isn't crying anymore, smiling like an idiot. Sighing you lie down by his side, wrapping his body with both arms, letting him find a comfortable posture under them. You can feel his lips kissing your right forearm somewhat sleepy, purring like a cat. Definitely, he's too high.

“Mami, I love you…” He whispers when you begin to caress his neck with your fingertips. “You are the love of my life…”

“Yeah, you already said it… like a lot of times”. You laugh softly, turning towards you with a soft grimace of pain on his face.

“Love you it's my favorite thing”. He mumbles stunned because of the smile on your lips.

“Mine too, babe. I love you more than anything”.

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[generallybrontidefeelings]

He Smells like Petrichor

Pairing: Din Djarin/female reader

Summary: The Mandalorian gets protective when you burn your hands.

Warnings: T, talks of burns (blisters, nothing gory), swearing, fluff, hand bandaging, hand holding-ish

“Listen,” you tell the kid after scooping him up maybe the tenth time that day, “either you stay with me and play with your ball and your bath only lasts five minutes-” he cocks his big ears at you “-or I let you soak in a pot until you’re stew.”

He gives you an annoyed gurgle and sinks a little in his robes. He’s got mud halfway up his body from running through grime, but he’ll sleep great tonight. And better yet, as soon as he’s plopped in a cooking pot with some warm water and a handful of pollywogs you’d found in a nearby stream, he forgets how upset he was and splashes happily. You settle on the ground with the cook pot full of baby between your outstretched legs.

You’re going to sleep great too tonight. Before the kid was awake, you took the afternoon to repair bad paneling and poorly functioning machinery in the Razor Crest. The planet you’re on is humid, icky. The Mandalorian’s cast off gloves you’d found under the cockpit dashboard hadn’t been any help while welding, so you’d risked handling the metal bare and ended up with first degree burns and a dozen blisters.

You lift your shiny hands out of the water to inspect the burns running down the edges of your palms. “Your dad is going to be so annoyed,” you tell the kid. He’s busy and ignores you.

You blow air out your mouth in exasperation and the baby mimics the sound. You set your hands back in the water and watch him try to catch the wriggling critters.

Putting the paneling back up had been tenderly done. Even holding the child was irritating your hands after a few minutes of respite, which wasn’t good, because...that’s your whole job. Hold the kid. Technically you didn’t have to do any paneling work or write a ship schematic or cook. You do that because the baby sleeps twelve hours a day and hyperspace is boring, and Mando doesn’t talk to you that much except when he has too.

It’s really talking at you .

“You’re much better company,” you tell the kid. He really does not care about you right now, so you take the chance to cup some water in your hands and run it down the back of his head. He grumbles unhappily when some runs down into his eyes, but quickly rubs it out. His bath water is cooling rapidly but you’re reluctant to dump it out, especially when it’s the first time in hours your hands haven’t ached.

There’s a soft contentment in your chest watching the kid float on his back and chew on a pollywog. Normally you’d be terrified to be out in the bush alone, but the Razor Crest stands guard behind you, and Mando is the scariest thing in the woods right now, so you’re happy to let the baby play a while longer and just listen to the dusk noises of this planet. Water noises from the stream you’d gathered the pollywogs from bubble along peacefully. A bird that looks similar to a double-horned heron from your homeworld sits in a tree nearby and makes a grating sound in its throat, the vibrations pass through your body. You keep your ears open and blaster nearby in case that bird decides it is a predator. You aren’t a bit surprised when it takes off suddenly, and Mando appears on the other side of the clearing. He’s got his bounty trailing behind him sullenly. Probably one of the few resigned to their icy fate.

“Time to go, kid,” you say and gently pull him out of the steel pot and swaddle him snugly. You try to keep him secure with your fingertips instead of your whole hand. You kick the pot over to dump it out and follow Mando up the ramp to get ready for flight. You squeeze past him to the hatch ladder, and try to cover up the sound of hiss that escapes you climbing the ladder rungs one handed, and injured. Baby in your lap, you start the flight check and set the navigation. The engines turn over gleefully as you urge them to take off.

He’ll take a couple hours to clean up and go over his weapons.

Maybe he just won’t notice.

It’s fine.

.....

“What’s wrong with you?” he asks. You choke on your caf, but manage to swallow it down before spitting all over the controls.

It’s been quiet for hours and you were happily snuggling the baby against you as he slept curled in the v-shape you’ve created.

Peeking over your shoulder, sure enough, Mando is there. Taking up the whole doorway.

“Nothing.” You take your feet off the dashboard and sit up straighter. Go away, you will.

“Yeah?” he asks. You let out a yelp when he snatches one of your wrists and turns your palm over to inspect it. “ What is this ?” You swallow hard. He almost sounds mad.

You purse your lips and meet his gaze through the slit in his visor. Slowly, you try to rescue your wrist but his grip only gets tighter. “It is a first degree burn from a welding gun.”

With a sigh he says “stay here.” He drops your wrist and disappears down the hatch. You look at your hand. It isn’t really that bad. You’ve had worse from heating lines and power grids keeping the greenhouses warm back home. A scar from a live wire graces your thigh. These won’t be your last burns. It's a lifelong hazard when you work with electronics.

He comes back at last with a medkit and the cradle, and takes the baby from you.

“Show me your hands,” he orders. Sheepishly you swivel in the pilot chair and present them to him. He sighs audibly.

“You know where I’m from we call this ‘sign of a job well done’,” you try to joke. The helmet shakes a little as he sets your hands on his knees palms up and starts applying bacta directly to the abrasions.

“I call it ‘inability to mind your surroundings,’” he says back. You almost snort at the sarcasm in his voice. “How did you get these?” He presses a thumb into one scarlet mark and you snatch your hand back hissing sharply. He waits patiently for you to return it.

“I was opening some panels on the outer hull, then welding them back on. The sun heated up the metal, my hands were slipping…” you trail off.

“A blueprint isn’t worth burning your hands over,” he answers. “As much as I appreciate you trying, I’d prefer if you stayed uninjured.”

Your lip turns up in a half-smile. He holds gauze against your palms and the heels of your hands. One of your thumbs has the worst singe mark, near blistering, and he spends extra time padding it with cotton before wrapping it in medical tape. The engines rumble softly as they sling you sub-light through the system's gravity well.

“We’ll land in the next system in a few hours. I’m changing these before I go,” he tells you.

“I could do it myself, you know?” He tilts his helmet up but keeps applying the tape to your left hand.

“You won’t. Then you’ll blister, then I’ll have to listen to you be in pain for weeks.” He releases your left hand and moves to your right. “This way I know it gets done.”

You aren’t sure what to say. You nod in affirmation and let him finish what he started.

.....

“This moon is dangerous,” he says while sandwiching your hands between his and around a cooling pack. “Don’t open the hull for anything.”

You yawn into your shoulder but nod.

Mando woke you up with a shake on your ankle to shower and get dressed so he could change your bandages before he left for a quarry. You stand bleary eyed and in need of caf in your soft clothes while he has a full munition belt and rifle strapped to his back.

You’d set down on the moon of a dry gas giant less than an hour ago, and already he was ready to move. You were the only thing keeping him from going, and now you see why perhaps he’d like to stop injuring yourself.

“How long will you be out there?” you ask. He releases your hands and takes the cool pack away, and quickly pads your palms with clean gauze.

“The fumes outside are toxic. An oxygen pack should keep me going for one day.” He motions for your other hand and repeats his ministrations. “When I leave the hull will depressurize and I only have the one O-two pack. You’ll have to stay in the cockpit until we can set down one moon over and pressurize with cleaner air.”

“What about you?” you ask. “You’ll need clean air if it takes long.”

“It won’t.” He says it like it’s obvious. This bounty isn’t even worth giving a thought of his safety over. The surety sends a jolt down your spine.

“Copy that,” you say. Probably a little too quietly to give the impression of listening.

.....

He’s back in six hours flat. The quarry is slung over his shoulders like a sack of rocks.

The baby is overly excited at his return and taps the glass of the viewport. The moon’s surface is gusty and Mando probably can’t hear the child over the howling wind and his O-two pack.

You’re already ready to fly by the time the hull closes and the comm beeps at you.

“I’m here,” you say.

“ Fly to the third innermost moon.” He says it without preamble.

“Copy.”

You set down near a lake, or really surrounded by lakes. This moon is covered in water, a huge contrast to its dusty cousin. You hear the hull clunk open and you scoop the kid up-mindful of your hands-to go visit his dad. When you open the cockpit hatch you almost vomit.

“What the hell is that smell?” you yell down. Even the kid wrinkles his little nose. “Is that you or the outside air?” There’s no way in this good universe you’re going down there now.

He appears, looking up into the cockpit hatch. Instead of reaching for him, the baby shrinks back into your chest.

“It’s me,” he says simply. “That moon is covered in sulfur deposits.”

“Maybe you should, I dunno, shower? This place is safe right? We can set down for a while?” You’re rambling but good maker you refuse to take off with him smelling like that. “You fucking reek, Mando.”

His shoulders rise dramatically. “What the hell,” he says tiredly. You hand the baby down to Mando who holds the poor kid away from his body in the tight space as you clamor down the ladder, trying to use the less-blistered hand. He cocks his helmet at you knowingly.

“I need to change those bandages-” he starts and you snatch the kid before he can finish.

“ No. Shower first. Bandages later. You’re not touching me like that,” you say and start down the ramp before turning around. “In fact,” you whip around. You swear the metal mask shifts slightly to his moods because he looks exasperated. “Throw your flight suit and clothes out. I’m soaking them.”

“Not a ch-”

“Mando the scent has sunk into your clothes. It all has to be cleaned,” you reason. Glancing at the water surrounding the Razor Crest, there’s plenty of soft pebbles and spring water to scrub the sulfur out. “Keep the armor, just toss the soft stuff out.”

He doesn’t move for a few breaths. A breeze floats across your face. Finally, he lets his head hang back and you think grumbles out “fine” before turning away from you and starts undoing the complicated holds on the beskar.

Moss covers the ground everywhere you look, so delicate you wonder if stepping on it would suffocate it. Delicate pink foliage and yellow-green plants poke out of the hundreds of water pools. You haven't’ seen any life forms yet, but the baby seems happy just to walk around the Crest and explore. There are no forests as far as you can see, only grasslands and springs. You could walk barefoot for miles.

Every world you stop on is incredible. Pamarthe is home, and it always will be, but traveling with Mando and the kid, getting to make progressive adjustments and have a real project to work on, running your hand on the sleek side of the Razor Crest and seeing the wind ripple the wild flora is home too.

Back at the hatch a pile of dark clothes sit balled together, you pick them up just as you hear the fresher door snap shut. Mando only has two flight suits, so that means-

-you blush furiously and take the clothes to the nearest pool of water and start soaking the wretched smell out of them.

He spends what feels like three showers worth of time in the fresher before you rap against the door.

“What?” he calls out. His voice sounds different without the filter, and you’d never bother him right now except-

“Pass me a bar of soap.”

The door cracks open and the end of a soap bar wiggles out at your eye level. “Scat,” you hear him say, and you grab the soap and run away before your fingers are crushed.

The kid is napping in his cradle. You’ve scrubbed the flight suit, flak vest, and other garments as best you could and have them laid on the ramp drying in the star’s light.

“My armor will need to be sanitized. I can do it once we’re in hyperspace,” he says behind you. You can tell he has his helmet back on. His voice is raspier through the high pass filter.

“Do you want to leave now?” you say. You’re still staring at the endless mossy plains, the glassy waters. The fresh water had felt so good on your heated hands. You just held them under the surface for a while and breathed.

“Once these are dry,” he says nudging his clothes. He’s got his boots on, and when you glance up at him, he’s in a clean flight suit but without any armor. You really had thought his broadness was all due to the armor, but looking up at him, you can tell it’s him. He’d be broad without pauldrons. You tap his thigh with the soap bar and he takes it from you with a gloveless hand.

“Stay here,” he says. You nod and wait. He’s clunking back down the ramp with a medkit and sits down next to you. He’s already so quiet in the armor, you hope this armor-less phase doesn’t last, otherwise you’ll never be able to predict him. Not that you have so far. But it’s the principle.

You set your left hand on his knee without prompting. His hands are warmer than you expected. He just got out of the shower, hot water, dummy. He applies the bacta and new gauze, helmet down, concentrating.

“No infection,” he declares and gestures for the right hand. You give it up easily. He keeps working, checking between your fingers for anything he missed.

“It’s relaxing,” he says suddenly, so quiet you almost don’t hear it. You stare at the side of his helmet. “I’ve been caring for the kid for months. It’s...settling, after a hunt,” he explains. His voice sounds almost...regretful. He misses it.

Leaning over a fraction you bump his shoulder with yours.

“Thank you,” you say.

He doesn’t respond. But he takes extra care padding the carmine blisters pearling like asteroid’s down your thumb.

chapter 1 chapter 3

[marvels-writings]

Professional Flirting

Carol Danvers (Captain Marvel) Masterlist

Requested by Anon: Req for carol x female reader where carol gets hurt and the reader who’s the avenger’s medical dr treats her and carol was nervous but ended up so love stricken that she kept finding any excuse to go and gets a check up by the dr again. The dr also likes carol a lot but is bolder than carol and is very flirty which makes carol flustered and gives her butterflies. Please let it end with carol making the first move. Thank u I love ur writing!

Word Count: 2,282 (long and fluffy)

A/N: Do I have a minor sprain in my wrist? Yes. Do I give a single fuck? No. And I love this req

“Tony, I swear to god, what did you do this time?” You groaned when you heard the knock on the glass panes of the medical bay.

You turned away from your workplace to where Tony and Peter were carrying in a blonde woman who was bleeding blue blood. Your eyes widened, the woman’s suit was covered in her blood, her hair messy and falling into her hazel eyes. Peter and Tony seemed as surprised as you were as they helped her inside. Her arms slung over each of their shoulders, she was panting heavily.

“What the hell happened?” You demanded, walking over and helping the woman on one of the medical beds. Blood coated your hands, you quickly washed it off and slipped on gloves.

The rest of your staff was on their lunch break or absorbed in their projects. You were in charge of the entire medical team, none of which were present. For now, you were the only person in the medical bay. The responsibility of treating the woman in front of you was up to you.

“It wasn’t my fault,” Tony defended himself, raising his hands in defense after helping the blonde onto the bed. “She came back from a solo mission that went sideways.”

“For once, this isn’t your fault,” You muttered, ushering Peter over to help you with the suit.

The teenager quickly hurried to help you after putting on gloves. He was familiar with the medical bay. Peter had many accidents while living in the compound. Whenever he came, he was sure to ask you questions and help as much as he could. Your medical team often waved him off, unwilling to deal with his questions, but you didn’t mind.

Carol glanced up at you from the floor. You wore the same uniform as the rest of the medical team. Your hair was down, but you were tying it into a hasty ponytail to deal with her injuries. The blonde stumbled when she saw your face. Even in her exhausted and painful state, she was still able to admire you.

You ignored her statement and quickly analyzed her. Most of the injuries seemed to be on her shoulders. You needed to peel aside the suit to see it. The blonde seemed familiar, Carol hadn’t been to the medical bay since you had been in charge. But you had a hunch it was the famous Captain Marvel.

“Shouldn’t you get the rest of your team to help Ms. Y/l/n?” Peter asked politely, gently unzipping the suit.

“It’s fine,” You waved off his concerns, analyzing the wounds and quickly bringing over a small bowl of water and cotton. Peter’s brow was furrowed with concern. He wasn’t sure what to do or how to help.

“Peter, trust me,” You reached forward and took his hand. “I’m a doctor. I know what I’m doing,”

“You sure sound like it.” The blonde mumbled, you raised an eyebrow but laughed anyway.

“I’m y/n y/l/n, and you are?” You asked sarcastically, reaching one gloved hand towards her to introduce yourself to her.

The blonde rolled her eyes but shook your hand, introducing herself as Carol Danvers, confirming your suspicions. She was Captain Marvel.

“How did the great Captain Marvel end up looking like a bruised banana?” You joked, cleaning up the wounds on her back gently with warm water. Tony laughed, announced he had other things to attend to and left.

“I…” Carol trailed off, unwilling to describe how she had gotten injured on a simple mission. The blonde didn’t want to embarrass herself in front of you in a few minutes of meeting you.

“Don’t get me wrong,” You patted her uninjured shoulder before moving to the other side of the room to get ointment. The blonde looked from you to Peter nervously, unsure of what you were going to say.

“You still look attractive,” You winked.

Carol’s eyes widened at the compliment. She stuttered to reply. Peter joined you in laughing at the prominent blush that tinted her cheeks. Giggling, you made your way to her back to start applying ointment to the wounds.

The blonde stayed quiet, not knowing what else to say to you. The teenager at your side, however, had many things to say and questions to ask. You patiently answered all of his questions about you, how you got where you were, your doctorate, what you were doing. Carol was surprised at the amount of patience you had. Most people Peter asked questions to waved him off, but you answered all of his questions.

“Pete, as much as I love talking to you, could you get some bandages from that drawer?” You asked, gesturing to the cabinet in the corner of the room. Peter nodded excitedly and hurried to find the bandages.

“How, how bad is it?” Carol stuttered, you patted her shoulder.

“It’s not too bad, some of the cuts are deep,” You licked your lips, choosing your words carefully as not to confuse her. “You might have a sprained shoulder which you might need to follow up on.”

Peter handed you the bandages, which you gratefully accepted and started putting them on some of the deeper cuts. On the smaller cuts, you applied bandages. Peter continued to pepper you with questions, making sure to apologize in case he was annoying you. But you easily reassured him that he wasn’t annoying you. Once you were done, you gave her a small pat and got up.

“Alright, that should hold for a few days,” You said, taking off your gloves and tossing them into the trashcan. “If not, don’t hesitate to come back.”

“Doctor y/l/n?” Peter asked, helping zip up Carol’s suit.

“I told you to call me y/n Peter,” You chided, before indicating for him to continue.

“Is she okay?” He asked, his voice concerned.

“Yep, as long as she doesn’t strain her shoulders too much.” You said, watching Carol smile at the teenager for his concern.

Peter helped Carol out of the medical bay after saying their goodbyes. But Carol had intentions of coming back, even if it meant getting injured for it or faking an injury for that matter.

————

The next day, you were helping an intern learn how to use the regeneration cradle when your assistant told you someone was here to see you. Usually, you never had personal visitors except for family and the occasional Avenger bringing you lunch. You were almost famous for forgetting to eat.

But this time, you saw Carol waiting by the doorway. The blonde wore a light blue t-shirt and jeans, her hair was washed, a few strands falling into her eyes, a sheepish smile on her face.

“How can I help you?” You asked, a flirty smirk on your face. Carol noticed but played along, shuffling her feet and fidgeting before looking up to meet your eyes.

“Sorry to bother you,” Carol apologized, lying easily. She wanted to see you again, the superhero was unapologetic about wanting your attention.

“But I thought one of the cuts might be infected.”

“Come over here,” You gestured over to the same bed you had her on yesterday.

Carol promptly sat down, waiting for you as you put on your gloves. The blonde pulled down her t-shirt so you had a better view. You examined the cut, it didn’t seem infected at all. It was just fine, but taking a little longer to scab over.

But you weren’t as oblivious as Carol had hoped. You knew why she was here, the blonde was almost infamous for avoiding the medical wing even if she had a broken ankle. For her to come to you because she thought a cut is infected was almost ridiculous.

“It seems to be fine,” You observed, pulling the t-shirt back over her back. The blonde sighed, hoping you didn’t hear the sound of disappointment.

“I’ve never seen someone more disappointed about a clean-cut,” You joked, taking off your gloves and smiling at her while throwing them away.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Carol covered it up, knowing she was caught when you raised an eyebrow skeptically.

“Come back if you need anything,” You laughed at her expression, “Unless it’s another ‘infected cut’” You used air quotes, walking off towards where your intern was calling you.

Carol watched you leave, wanting your attention again. But she didn’t know how to ask you out. The only time she could spend time with you was when you were at work. So, that was when she would spend time with you.

Even if it required her to come up with injuries every time she came to see you. Every time Carol came, she made sure to try to talk to you before you got back to work. But whenever she tried to flirt, it ended up backfiring. She intended to leave you a flustered mess, but you were always the one to give her butterflies and a blush that stayed with her for the rest of the day.

By about the fourth time, Carol decided to bring you lunch after Peter told her you often forgot to eat. She brought you some take-out that she heard one of your interns had recommended to you.

With the bag of take-out, she knocked on the glass door to the medical bay. You turned around from your laptop, looking around the empty medical bay for a student before turning around to face Carol. You smiled and gestured for her to sit.

“What seems to be the problem this time?” You asked, tilting your head to the side. “Rotator cuff tear in one day? Perforated ligaments?”

The injuries you listed were the same injuries Carol had faked when trying to spend time with you. They were both injuries she had found when she searched for shoulder pain. The blonde had learned later they could not because by minor cuts to the skin.

At one point, she tried to make up an injury, which didn’t end well. A majority of your interns were now joking about the superhero who faked an injury to see you every day.

“Nope, just got you lunch,” She lifted the bag of take-out.

“Thanks,” You smiled, taking out one of the boxes.

It was sushi, you picked up chopsticks and ate them with ease while working and talking to Carol. The blonde realized far too late she had forgotten to get a fork for herself. When she tried to get up to get herself a fork from the kitchen, you decided to teach her how to use chopsticks.

“Like this?” Carol asked, holding them the way you would make the ‘Live Long and Prosper’ sign from Star Trek. You laughed and finally gave up, leaning back in your seat.

“I don’t know how you plan to eat by saying Live Long and Prosper,” You groaned, brushing the hair out of your face. It was one of the few times you let your hair down since you weren’t working. Carol licked her lips while staring at you, trying again to use the chopsticks.

“Come on, it’s not that hard,” You finally reached forward and took one of her hands in yours, guiding her fingers to hold the chopsticks.

The blonde blushed, watching you guide her hands to hold the chopsticks.

“I swear, it’s easier to teach my students to operate on someone than teaching you to use chopsticks,” You muttered, trying to move Carol’s fingers to hold the chopsticks properly. The blonde laughed and shook her head, strands of hair falling into her eyes as she tried to use the chopsticks.

Once she got the hang of it, you helped her put the sushi roll in her mouth while grinning at her. Your warm hands still resting on hers.

“See, you finally got your lips to touch something,” You remarked, brushing a strand of hair away from your face and returning to your food.

“I’d rather my lips touching yours.” Carol quipped, smirking at you.

This time, it was your turn to blush and fluster while Carol laughed at you. You glared at her angrily and took a bite out of your sushi roll.

“Oh, how the tables turn,” The blonde said sarcastically. You raised an eyebrow, turning to face her. Carol moved her chair closer to you, her knee brushing yours.

“Don’t be too sure about that Danvers,” You warned, a prominent blush still on your face as you turned to face your laptop.

“Oh?” Carol asked, leaning forward with a smirk so her face was inches from your ear.

You opened your mouth to say something sarcastic, but you turned around only for your lips to meet hers. The blonde grinned and leaned forwards, resting one hand on your thigh as your lips moved over hers. Pushing herself off her chair, Carol was about to pull you closer to her when a knock at the door surprised her.

Peter was standing behind Tony, eyes wide in surprise. The millionaire stood there with a smirk, his hand against the glass panel. You broke away from Carol in surprise, rolling your chair back and clearing your throat.

“Hi…” Carol trailed off, biting her lip to prevent her laughter from breaking out. The blonde brushed her hair away from her face.

“I thought flirting wasn’t allowed in the workplace,” Tony said, smirking at both of you.

“This,” You gestured between you and Carol, it was professional flirting,”

Carol started laughing instantly, you glared at her to try to get her to stop. It didn’t work, the blonde’s infectious laugh caused you to start laughing too. Never did you expect lunch to go the way it did, but you weren’t complaining.

A/N: Y’all i hurt my wrist typing this so please tell me it was worth it

Tag List: @capcarolsdanver​, @versdan​, @lesbian-girls-wayhaught​, @lovebotlarson​, @dhengkt​, @hstoria​, @natasha-danvers​, @veryfunnyal​, @xxxtwilightaxelxxx​ , @ophelias-heart​  , @never-didbefore​ , @justarandomhumanhere​, @the-most-unicorn-of-them-all , @thatssocamryn​ , @lesbian-x-blackwidow​ , @marvelbbyx​ , @wlw-imaginesss​ , @hcartbyheart​​ , @summergeezburr​​ , @imnotasuperhero​  , @dversstark​ , let me know if you’d like to be in any of my tag lists!

[just-my-fandom]

Fall Out (Natasha Romanoff x Stark! Reader x Carol Danvers)

Request; Yey, thank you so much 😊 same plot idea that R is Tony's sister Batwoman but also Nat and carols ex girlfriend. Reader takes Tony’s and Natasha’s side during Civil War, and Bucky somehow knows about Carol and lies that Carol was severely hurt to knock the reader off guard. Carol and reader spend time together when Carol comes home from space.

Warnings???; Poly Relationship, very rushed towards the end

A/N; Happy New Year!🎉

Tagged; @subject7creed

Note; This stops very suddenly because I just could not find a way to end this, so I strongly apologize for the sudden cut off :(

“Wow, it’s so weird how you run into people at the airport, isn’t it weird?”

Your eyes watch your older brother warily, his helmet turning to look at Rhodey beside him,

“Super weird,” Rhodey looks at Steve in front of him, your eyes following his gaze as you cross your black gloved hands over your chest,

“Hear me out Tony, that doctor, the psychiatrist, he’s behind all of this,” Steve says calmly, looking over when a black figure jumps out from a hidden spot,

“Captain,” TChalla mutters, Steve bowing his head in a mocking action,

“Your highness,”

“Anyway,” You clear your throat, your black leather body moving up beside your brother, “Ross gave us thirty six hours to bring you in, that was, what, twenty four hours ago?” You look at Tony, then back to Steve, “So can you help us out a little for once?”

“You’re after the wrong guy,” Steve reminds, and you chuckle, nodding your head,

“Your judgment is askew. Your old war buddy killed millions,”

“And there are five more super soldiers just like him,” Steve snaps, your gaze hard on his, “You going to turn them in too?”

“If it comes down to innocent people dying, then yes, I will, Rogers,” You snarl in irritation, eyes flicking between his as he stared at you,

“I can’t let the doctor find him first, Y/N, I can’t,” Steve pleas, “You of all people should understand,”

“Steve,” Natasha’s voice has both you and Steve looking over, “You know what’s about to happen. Are you really going to fight your way out of this one?”

“Alright,” Tony heaves a deep breath behind you, “I’ve run out of patience,” Hands cup around his mouth, “Underroos!”

Steve looks up at a sudden noise, a web like rope grabbing at his shield and pulling it from his grasp, pinning his hands together with the web.

You watch as Spider Man lands on his feet, holding up the shield victoriously, “How was that Mr. Stark? Mrs. Stark?”

“You did great, kid,” You nod, sending a tight lipped smile before looking at Steve,

“Okay good because I thought I should have stuck the landing a little better-,”

“Parker,” You hold up a hand to stop his ramble, the flick of your eyebrows causing him to pause,

“Right. Sorry,”

“You’ve been busy,” Steve smirks, your jaw locking as you look at him,

“And you’ve been a complete idiot. Dragging in Clint, rescuing Wanda, from a place she didn’t even want to leave! I just-,” You inhale, “I’m trying to keep you from tearing the Avengers apart,”

“And look how that turned out,” Steve looks at Tony over your shoulder, Tony chuckling and looking down,

“Alright we’re done. You’re gonna turn Barnes in and come with us, now!”

Steve lowers his head, holding up his arms just when an arrow flies by, tearing the web so his hands were free,

You turn around and pull out your gun, searching for the source of the arrow; Clint,

“I got two in the west corridor, ones Maximoff I’m going for her,” Tony flies up, looking around, “Two more in the south tower, that’s Wilson and Barnes,”

“Barnes is mine,” You growl, running forward to duck under Scott’s punch, and skid into the building,

“Shit!” Sams voice has you looking forward, tucking away your gun to slip out two knives, “Run!”

You throw an arm forward, Bucky leaning back swiftly and catching your wrist, grunting when you punch the side of his jaw, locking your hand at his own flesh wrist to twist,

“You’re coming with me,” You order, Bucky blocking the jab of your knife with his metal arm,

“I’m not going to fight you,” Bucky shoves you back, watching you stumble with your booted heels and glare up at him,

“Why? Because I’m a girl?” You raise your eyebrows, throwing a knife so it barely brushed his shoulders,

“Because you’re Romanoffs girl,” Bucky catches your elbow and drops you onto your back, your teeth gritting as you look up at him,

“That’s a pretty shitty excuse,” You dig your foot into his crotch, watching him grunt and tighten his hand at your shoulder, able to hear Sams muffled groan in his earpiece,

“For fucks sake, tell her about Danvers!”

You reach up with your free hand at latch it onto Buckys hair, tugging roughly so you could shove him to the side, throwing your leg over his to cup your hand around his throat,

“What about Carol?” You ask lowly, Bucky coughing when you press pressure onto his neck, “What about Carol, Sam?” You raise your voice for the Falcon to hear,

“She’s been taken,” Bucky wheezes, your eyes narrowing in irritation at his pathetic excuse, “Steve wanted to tell you but you and Tony just wanted to argue,”

“Why the hell should I believe you?” You ask roughly, looking up when Sam lands on his feet, wings retracting,

“So I can do this,” You look back down at Bucky, just in time for him to free his metal arm, curling it into a fist and knocking you back when his fist meets your nose,

Bucky heaves a breath and sits up to look at your fallen figure, frowning as he stands up and looks at Sam, “Was punching her unconscious really necessary?”

“If we want to get out of here, yes,” Sam grabs his shoulder, “Now let’s go before Tony finds us,”

. . .

“Pretty sure it’s broken,” Your eyes watch as Rhodey presses his shaking finger against your nose, your eyes pinching shut to wince at the sharp sting,

“Yeah, no shit,” You grumble, pushing his hand away to press the blood stained cloth to your bruised nose, “Felt like someone hit me with a hammer,”

“We’ll wait for the bleeding to stop, then patch it up,” Rhodey sits down at the table next to you,

“You alright?” You ask, leaning back on one arm, “You look like you’ve seen a ghost,”

“Well I did fall a hundred feet from the sky,” Rhodey chuckles, “Better be glad Vision got to me before I landed, or I wouldn’t be standing here right now,”

“What distracted you?” Tony asks roughly when he enters, Natasha close behind with her arms crossed, “You nearly had him!”

“Now don’t get pissed at me,” You snap, face relaxing as you groan, “I don’t know why the fuck I believed him anyways,”

“What’d he say?” Natasha asks, pulling back the cloth to touch your nose herself and reach for bandages,

“He said something happened to Carol,” You sigh, Natasha pausing to look at you, “He said that she was kidnapped while she’s in space,”

“Have you talked to her? Just to make sure?” Natasha places the bandages in their spot, handing you a clean rag,

“Yeah. About ten minutes ago, she’s fine,” You close your eyes in disappointment, “She’s coming down here,”

“Relationship problems are the reason you didn’t catch him?” Tony asks in irritation, and you open your eyes to narrow them,

“Will you shut the fuck up? If it was Pepper you would have froze too,” You slide off the table, Natasha taking your arm when your mind swirls and your vision blurs,

“Take it easy,”

“I’m fine,” You mutter, sliding your arm from her grip and stepping out into the hallway, grunting when you bump into a figure, “Vision, I swear to God,”

You look up, stopping when Carol frowns at you and brings her hand up to your face, lowering the rag from your nose, “Baby, what happened?”

“I was punched,” You sigh, Carol tilting your head up to look at the bruised mark, “Rhodey says it’s probably broken,”

“Looks like it,” Carol murmurs, “You okay?”

“Yeah, just hurts,” You wince and press the rag back to your nose, “You’re okay too right?”

“Yeah I’m alright,” Carol smiles, “Barnes was just trying to distract you,”

“Well it worked,” You huff a deep breath, a hand pressing to your lower back so you turned to spot Natasha,

“Tony says you should stay home when we go back out,” Natasha says soothingly, and you groan, leaning your head back,

“Honestly, I’m fine! Just patch it up and I’m fine,” You gesture to your nose, the two females sharing looks,

“I’ll stay here with her,” You glare at Carols words, “We can catch up after me being gone for so long,”

“I would love to join, but Tony wants us gone within the next hour,” Natasha pecks your lips, then Carols, “I’ll see you two this afternoon,”

“Bye,” You pout, Carol waving before looking down at you, putting her hands on her hips, “Movie?”

“I pick,” You grumble, Carol grinning as she watches you walk off,

[tran5rightsos]

My Systems are Critical

Summary: Luke and Calum meet a friendly gleth on Zsashos V who just wants to help.

Genre: Sci-fi

Relationships: Luke/Client

Word count: 1711

Tags and Warnings: Blood and Gore, Prostitution, Alien Sex, Body Horror, Angst

Leave Kudos?

“Fuck, you’re big,” Luke whined desperately.

It was basic, but the quovroli seemed to like it anyway, grunting proudly as they fucked Luke into the bed. They panted, showing off wickedly sharp teeth and a pointed tongue. Luke could feel their hot breath on his chest, their claws on his thighs, and if he’d known the fear of being eaten by a client was this fucking good, he would have offered his services to quovroli a long time ago.

Even without the unfortunate reputation the human meat trade gave them, this quovroli was a surprisingly good fuck. Luke had had his fair share of prehensile dicks and aphrodisiac cum, but there was a simplicity in just getting fucked hard that he liked.

The quovroli’s grip on his thighs tightened, claws digging in painfully. Luke gasped and let go of the bedsheets to jerk himself off. He vaguely thought that he should remind the quovroli to be gentler, but he was so close.

As he came, so did the quovroli, growling and shoving into him one last time. Panting, Luke felt the whitenoise slowly fade from his head and he watched them pull out, realising that he was bleeding where their claws had been holding him. Oops.

The quovroli leaned down and Luke watched with bated breath as they drew their tongue up his inner thigh, along the wounds their claws had left.

“Relax,” they laughed as they straightened up, “I’m not gonna eat you. Just wanna know what you taste like.”

Luke exhaled and sat up, pulling his pearlescent white shirt back onto his shoulders and doing up two buttons. His wristcom, a sleek silver band he’d treated himself to when his old one finally kicked the bucket, beeped with the credit transfer tone and he checked it to see the rest of the quovroli’s payment and a surprisingly good rating, given that Luke had mostly just laid there while the quovroli did all the actual work. They must have appreciated the post-orgasm snack.

“I’ll be back,” the quovroli promised, eyeing the mess between Luke’s legs satisfactorily.

“Anytime.”

As they left, Luke got up and smoothed out his skirt. It would need a clean, but would be fine until he got home. He’d be wearing his coat over the top of it anyway, so it wasn’t like anyone would notice anything they couldn’t smell already.

Once he’d cleaned up a bit, Luke let his human friend, Calummintha, know that he was on his way home. Calum tended to worry for his safety, which made Luke feel just a little bit guilty about some of the clients he chose, but he liked the element of danger too much to stop allowing them.

Calum replied that he’d meet him on the way there and Luke headed out. He found Calum at the marketplace they often frequented, snacking on something smoky-smelling as he waited.

“How was work?” Calum asked, eyes falling and widening, “Shit, are you okay?”

Luke looked where Calum was staring, at the blood running down his legs.

Luke groaned and lifted his coat and skirt just enough to see the wounds. “Shit.”

They were deeper than he’d thought. Probably still not enough to be dangerous, but they weren’t going to close on their own.

“I was gonna clean them up when I got home…”

“Luke,” Calum snapped, “What the fuck happened?”

“Are you okay?” someone else asked.

Luke looked up at the gleth that had stopped to stare. Even being over a head taller than Calum, he still didn’t match the height of any mature gleth.

He lowered his skirt. “Yeah, they’re not as bad as they look. I can close them at home.”

“They should be checked for infection,” the gleth fretted, “I have specialised equipment for humans at base camp.”

Luke shared a look with Calum. Normally he wouldn’t go to a client’s home, but it might be okay if Calum stayed with him. If this gleth really did just wanna help, Luke could possibly get a lot of credits out of them and whoever else was at their base camp. Hopefully they had plenty of Storm so he wouldn’t get tired.

“Okay.”

The gleth’s antennae lifted happily. “I’m Kakkin. What are your names?”

“I’m Tekka.” Luke never gave clients his real name.

“Daxun,” Calum said, apparently coming up with a fake name on the spot.

Although Luke was willing to walk, Kakkin looked scandalised by the suggestion and begged to be allowed to carry him there. Luke immediately switched into poor injured human mode and said that he was feeling lightheaded from seeing all that scary blood. Although Calum rolled his eyes hard, Luke would play into whoever Kakkin wanted him to be and he had to admit that he liked that they kept patting his head and telling him it was gonna be okay as they headed for their base camp.

Their camp was only a few corridors away from the marketplace, what looked like a collection of life pods surrounded by temporary fencing with some kind of logo printed on it, though the pods were in much better condition than the run-down one Luke and Calum lived in.

“Guards?” Calum observed as they passed the two armed gleth at the gate.

“Zsashos V is a bit… infamous,” Kakkin explained apologetically.

They took Luke and Calum to a large medical pod with green crescents printed on the walls and Luke stared as they went in. A human was inside, cleanly dressed and watching them expectantly. At least three more were lying half submerged in tanks full of greenish liquid on the far corner, making for more humans than Luke had ever seen in one place in his life.

“This is Tekka,” Kakkin told the conscious human as they took Luke to an examination table, and gently set him down, “His legs are bleeding, poor thing. Not badly, but the wounds looked deep.”

“I’m Athiid,” the human told Luke and Calum as she took some insanely clean medical stuff from a shelf.

“Could you open your legs, please?” Kakkin asked, pulling gloves onto two of their hands.

Luke obliged.

Kakkin lifted his skirt enough to see the goods. “Your clothes may get in the way. Would you like some clean undergarments to cover yourself with?”

“That’s okay,” Luke replied as he hopped off the table, unzipped his skirt and pushed it to the floor, giving his freed tail a seductive wiggle.

Calum rolled his eyes.

Kakkin helped Luke back onto the table and used a wet cloth Athiid had brought over in a bowl to dab around the claw wounds. “Can you tell me what made these?”

“Quovroli client.”

Calum frowned deeply.

“They weren’t trying to hurt me,” Luke rushed, “We just got kinda carried away.”

“You’re a hybrid human?” Athiid asked, tapping at a tablet she’d set on the exam table.

“Yeah. Gleth-augmented.”

“And you do sex work?”

“Yeah.”

She nodded. “We’ll check for damage and run some infection tests along with genetics.”

“Oh, I test myself at least every rotation,” Luke assured her, but she was already moving on.

“What about you?” she asked Calum.

Calum answered her questions as Kakkin cleaned and sealed Luke’s wounds. When they were done, they told them to wait while they prepared the tests.

“If you start fucking anyone, I’m leaving,” Calum threatened quietly as Luke pulled on the clothes Kakkin had left him. They were much cleaner than anything he’d ever worn before, even though he took a lot of care in keeping his work clothes tidy.

“I don’t think they want to,” Luke said with a pout, wandering towards the humans in the corner, “Looks like they actually do just wanna help.”

“They could be working for a kitchen,” Calum said lowly, “Speaking of which, why the fuck did you take a quovroli client?”

Luke rolled his eyes, then gasped. “Mikey!” He ran to the nearest tank and stared at the human lying there.

There was a mask with a bunch of tubes attached to machines over his mouth and nose, bandages covered half of his face and it had been longer than Luke could remember, but it was definitely Michael.

“You know that human?” Athiid asked, hurrying over.

“His name’s Yovamaikle.” Luke looked down at his legs. His thighs were almost bone-thin and there was skin missing around the middle of them, almost like a messy strip had been dissolved away, exposing what remained of the muscle underneath. “What happened to him?”

“These three were found in a quovroli kitchen. They were being kept in cloning tanks.”

So it wasn’t just his legs and face. They could have been cutting away and regrowing pieces of him this whole time and Luke had had no idea.

“Luke,” Calum said gently.

“I thought he was dead,” Luke choked out, gripping the edge of the tank.

“We found him,” Athiid assured him, “And he’s doing very well now. How long has he been missing?”

“I don’t know, since we were kids,” Luke told her, tears spilling over.

“He could have memory problems when he wakes up,” Athiid said gently, “But if you knew him and want to assist with his recovery, seeing and talking to you may help.”

“How long will it take?” Luke asked her.

“To fully get his memory back? Could be the rest of his life, if ever.”

Luke sobbed.

“We can get him walking again, though,�� she told him, “And we can take all of you to a sanctuary on a gleth planet. You can spend as much time as you need helping him heal and remember there.”

Calum put an arm around Luke. “We’ll think about,” he promised, “This is a lot, though.”

“There’s plenty of time,” Athiid told them as she turned to leave, “If he wants to stay here, we’ll stick around until he’s well enough to survive on his own.”

Luke mashed at his eyes with his palms. “I thought he was dead.”

“Me too,” Calum said quietly as Luke bent down to bury his face in his shoulder, “We’re gonna help him, though, yeah? As much as we can.”

Nodding, Luke peered at Michael again. “Is he gonna remember us?”

Calum squeezed him tighter. “We’ll find out when he wakes up.”

[mrslittletall]

Prompt: Biting Fandom: Bloodborne Characters: Laurence the first Vicar, Micolash Host of the Nightmare, Gehrman the first Hunter Word Count: 3.187 AO3-Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18718291/chapters/54087412

Written for @badthingshappenbingo​

Summary: Laurence gets bitten by a snake that is probably poisonous but he doesn't want to see the doctor in fear that Master Willem founds out just why he had hunted down snakes in the first place.

(Author's note: I know this fill feels a bit like cheating, because the biting is only the setup for the rest of the story, but hey, the blog itself stated that he fic just had to have the prompt somehow inside of it and a setup for the story would suffice. And because I had this story in mind for quite some time now, I decided to make it a Bingo fill.)

Laurence had his eyes focused on his prey and sneaked nearer, ready to grab and tie the animal down. He had managed to get quite a stockpile of the old blood and he was eager to experiment with it... all without Master Willem's knowledge of course. But before he could test it on himself, he needed some lab rats. And the woods around Byrgenwerth had an abundance of snakes, normally shy and timid, they rarely would show themselves. But now he had finally found one and he struck once the guard of the snake was down or so he thought because the next thing he felt was a sharp pain in his left hand and when we looked down he saw that he snake had bitten itself rather tightly into his skin.

“Ow ow ow... you fucking snake! Let go!”, Laurence complained, waving his arm, trying to get the animal off but it only seemed to bite itself into him harder. It took Laurence a good while and a knife which he used to cut into the animal's skin to finally make the snake let go and slither away into the woods, hissing. He just stood there, pressing a handkerchief at the wound and muttered a few more curses under his breath.

“The next time I do this I wear gloves.”, he decided and looked at the wounds. To his surprise they weren't that bad. The bleeding was already ceasing. It still hurt, but that was to be expected. He decided to clean the wound out for safety reasons and apply a bandage to it though. He didn't want to get an infection.

After Laurence had treated the wound on his hand he spend a pretty uneventful evening in his room planning out how to more effectively catching snakes and eventually went to bed so that he would be fit for his studies the next day. They had an exam coming up the next day and while he was confident that he would pass it with ease, he still needed the rest. His hand had stopped hurting in the meantime, actually it felt a little numb. Laurence didn't paid it any attention and went to sleep.

A few hours later Laurence awoke for his usual nightly bathroom break, though this time it took him a few minutes to get up. He felt like he had a fever... damn, maybe the snake bite had infected after all? That he kinda had trouble feeling his left hand also worried him. He could take a look at it once he went to the bathroom.

As soon as Laurence had finished his business, he went to the sink and carefully removed the bandage. What he saw wasn't pretty. The bite marks of the snake teeth had taken on an usual purple colour and his hand seemed to have swollen to double the size. This didn't look like an infection at all... more... he never had asked Master Willem if the snakes around Byrgenwerth were poisonous...

He quickly applied the bandage back thinking about what he should do. He surely couldn't tell Master Willem, he surely would like to know why he got bitten by a snake and then he had to admit to him that he still was researching the old blood despite Master Willem having forbidden it. And he also couldn't go to the doctor, the doctor of the village near Byrgenwerth was a friend of Master Willem and Laurence was a regular patient there... he surely would tell him when Master Willem's protégé would come in with a snake bite.

Laurence decided to just hope that his immune system would be able to take care of the eventual poison and went back to bed. Should the injury get worse over night, he needed to research more.

When Laurence awoke the next day the fever seemed to have ceased for now but what certainly hadn't gone away was the swelling in his hand. He also felt a dull pain that went up to his elbow. This wasn't good.

Laurence quickly dressed himself and freshened himself up a little bit before going to the mess hall for breakfast where he was meeting up with his friends.

“What happened to your hand, Laurence?”, Micolash asked once he saw that Laurence was awkwardly trying to pick on his food with his non dominant right hand.

“Nothing serious...”, Laurence said. “I just have cut myself, is all.” Laurence knew that Micolash was his friend but he also was his rival and he didn't trust him to not run to Master Willem when he would tell the truth.

“Are you sure this is a simple cut?”, Rom, Micolash's girlfriend, asked. “Even with the bandages around it I can see that it's swollen.”

Laurence flinched at her observation skills and hid his hand under the table. “It was a rather big cut.”, he said. “That is why the bandages are so thick. It bled quite a bit.”

“You sure you are alright?”, Micolash asked. “We know how easily you get dizzy when you had a larger injury.”

“I am fine, please don't worry about me.”, Laurence said and stood up before having finished eating, pretty much leaving his confused friends behind. As he rushed out of the mess hall he ran into Gehrman.

“Good morning, Laurence.”, Gehrman said. “Fresh new day? Hm, you look a bit sick. Are you sure you shouldn't lie down?”

“I am fine, thanks.”, Laurence said. “I can't stay in bed for every little thing. I have a scholarship to gain. And there is an exam today.”

“Very dedicated.”, Gehrman said. “Then I won't hinder you to take it.”

As Gehrman went back to his task, which apparently was cleaning the common room, Laurence spoke up again: “Um, Gehrman, a quick question.”

“Yes?”, Gehrman said, looking up.

“Are the snakes in the woods poisonous?”

“Huh... Why are you asking that? Have you got bitten?”, Gehrman put his mop on the ground and gave Laurence a thorough look. “There haven't been many reports of people getting bitten by them, because they are so shy, but if you should see the doctor. He should have all kind of antidotes. I am sure some of them are poisonous.”

“What? No I don't have gotten bitten.”, Laurence hid the bandaged hand behind his back. “I was just interested in it... I was thinking using them for my studies, you know...”

“Then I suggest bringing some gloves when you try and catch them.”, Gehrman said. “We will see us later, Laurence, isn't your class starting soon?”

Indeed the bell was ringing and Laurence all forgot about the pain in his hand and arm and rushed to the class room.

Once Laurence had taken his seat and picked up a pen the pain came back and it was searing, making Laurence hiss for a moment as the pan clattered to the ground. Just as he was bending down to pick the pen up, he saw a pale hand getting it instead and saw Micolash's face staring at him.

“Are you sure this is a mere cut?”, Micolash said, giving Laurence the pen. “If it hurts so much, better go to the doctor.”

“Hm, I just forgot that I can't take a pen in this hand.”, Laurence said, his eyes flashing to his arm. Now that the pain was gone it felt numb again. That started to worry him. He briefly thought about skipping class and read about treating snake bites into the library, but he really didn't want to retake the exam, even though he would need to write with his non dominant hand.

“You are sure you can take the exam like that?”, Micolash pointed at his hand. “You surely can ask to take it another time.”

“No... it's fine. I practiced writing with my right hand.”, Laurence said, even though the truth was that it would come to Master Willem would he ask to take the test another time and then Master Willem would want to know what happened to his hand and then he had to admit he had been bitten by a snake and then he had to explain why he had been bitten by a snake and it would ultimately led to Master Willem finding out that he needed test subjects for the blood research. That wasn't going to happen. He would take the exam and then find a method to treat himself in the library.

Even though Laurence had to use his non dominant hand to take the exam and thus needed longer, he managed to jot down all the right answers. Or at least he hoped he had. The numbing pain in his hand had now travelled up to his upper arm and it was getting more and more distracting. Especially because the numbing pain was broken up by a wave of searing pain once in a while, forcing Laurence to pause and take a few deep breathes to continue with the exam.

After the exam was filled out, he was sure that the fever had returned. He didn't check the answers on the exam again like he used to but just gave it to the scholar and went out of the classroom. Fortunately when someone applied to scholarship they didn't had to stick to a schedule, as long as they would pass the exams, so skipping a class wouldn't get him in trouble. And because of his good grades the scholars would rarely keep him from going where ever he wanted once he had handed over an exam. Laurence headed straight to the library and pulled out every book about snakes that he found.

After a good hour of reading which felt like it had been three, because the waves between pain had become smaller now, Laurence had learned a few very interesting snake facts but not which one it was that had bitten him. He closed the book he had been currently reading and opened the next one where finally, he saw a drawing of a snake that looked close like the one who had bitten him.

“Byrgenwerth Woods Snake?”, Laurence read out aloud. “Really, they are named after this place? Or is the school named after them?” He chuckled a bit but the joy of his fell face when he read further. The snakes were poisonous and apparently, when untreated, their poison would lead to death sooner or later.

“Damn, why did nobody ever warn us about these things?”, Laurence growled, a memory rising in the back of his mind, of Master Willem telling him that he was allowed to explore the woods but should stay away from the snakes and the labyrinths.

“Oh right, he told me when I just arrived here...”, Laurence muttered to himself, more concerned what he should do now. He removed the bandage of his hand and cringed as he saw just how swollen and purple the area around the wounds was. And how hot, the skin felt like it was on fire. No wonder that he had a fever. The reasonable thing would be to go to the doctor right now, but he didn't want to. He wouldn't let Master Willem find out that he still researched the blood.

A few things brewed in his head... some kind of a plan. He needed an antidote and he could either make one himself or steal one from the doctor. But for the antidote he needed the snake and he doubted he would find one so soon.

Maybe he should steal one from the doctor? And try to get the poison out of his blood stream? His reasonable mind just screamed at him to just swallow it, take the lecture of Master Willem who probably would force him to destroy the blood and go to the doctor, but his mind that didn't want to give up on his research, told him that he should go through with the other plan.

Laurence took the book and went to his room where he locked the door behind him. As he searched around his gaze fell on a vial with the old blood. He wondered if he should try and use it...

But... he only had found out so far that it would heal wounds when he applied it to an open one. He didn't knew if it could heal poison. He shook the thought off and finally found what he was searching for, the knife he had fend off the snake with yesterday.

He removed the bandage of his hand and took a few deep breathes. This would probably hurt. He gritted his teeth and – after a few tries – managed to cut open the swelling.

The smell coming from the wound made him gag and he quickly had to swallow down some bile. As he dared to look he could see how wrong his blood looked... or more, it felt like there was only pus coming out from the wound. At least after a while it turned red again but still did look wrong, far too thick and not really like the liquid it should be.

“Oh dear, what am I doing...”, Laurence thought to himself, applying the bandage back to his hand. He would need the antidote, then he could take care of getting rid of the of the rest of the swelling and pus.

He determined if anyone was on the hallway and then hurried it down, leaving school to go into the woods, heading straight for the home which housed the sole doctor of the Forest Village. As he headed there, he noticed with worry that even though the cut had hurt like hell only a few minutes ago, the hand was getting numb again. His fever also felt worse and he had trouble seeing. He gritted his teeth and forced his body to hurry.

Arrived at the doctor, Laurence hid himself. He wasn't there as a patient, but as a thief. It made him feel a bit ashamed. He had done a few things the last few months that would be considered highly illegal, all because the old geezer Willem forbid him his research.

He glanced into the waiting room and when he saw the doctor's secretary and nurse led the next patient into his room which thankfully was the only patient they had at the moment, he hurried into the housre and found the room where the doctor housed his medicine.

As Laurence entered the room, he almost loudly groaned. There was so much medicine there, how should he find the right one in time. Laurence didn't had a choice but to check the labels.

But it was there were his luck run out, because he could hear someone coming. He froze and his eyes darted around to find a hiding place, but to no avail and when the nurse entered the room, her eyes grew wide as he flinched.

“Laurence...?”, she said once she recognized him. “What are you doing here? When you are sick shouldn't you be in the waiting room?”

“I, um...”, Laurence said, raising both hands or he wanted to raise both, but only managed to raise his right one which was holding up a bottle of medicine right now. When the nurse saw this, her eyes widened even more.

“Laurence, did you try and STEAL some medicine? Master Willem won't be thrilled to hear about this.”, she said and he could see the disappointment in her gaze.

“It... it was for a reason...”, Laurence said and he was aware how weak his excuses were. It weren't even excuses. He had been caught red handed. That also was when the nurse noticed his bandaged left hand.

“Have you hurt yourself?”, she said, some more sympathy in her voice. She knew that he was hurting himself constantly, hence why he was a regular at the doctor. “And did you want to take care of it yourself to not annoy us?”

“Well...”, Laurence started without ever finishing the sentence. Not exactly. He simply didn't want for Master Willem to found out what he nature of his injury was.

“Let me take a look at this.”, the nurse said and before Laurence could say anything she had removed the bandage and gasped once she laid eyes on the wound, turning around and shouting: “Doctor, quick, we have a case of slow poisoning.”

She then turned to Laurence and practically dragged him out of the room. “And you go lay down, why didn't you tell you were bitten by a snake? You are lucky you aren't dead. Just how long have you waited until you came here?”

Laurence could only let his head hang low... she was right with everything, he had been unreasonable and put his own life in danger just because he feared Master Willem. He let himself drag down without complain and laid down on one of the beds only having to wait a short while until the doctor arrived who applied the antidote and treated the swelling far more graceful than Laurence could have ever done himself and received a rough scolding for him trying to treat himself.

“For being one of the best students at the school, this was an idiotic thing to do, Laurence.”, the doctor scolded him.

“I know...”, Laurence said. His face felt hot and flushing but he didn't knew if it was the fever or his shame.

“I would like for you to stay overnight until the poison is fully neutralized. Of course, that means we have to tell Master Willem about this.”

“Please, noooo.”, Laurence groaned, the thing he had feared coming true. “He will want to know why I am having to stay and...”, his words trailed off.

“You are still his protégé, even after you have come of age.”, the doctor said. “We can't make an exception. Also...”, the doctor grew quiet for a while. “You did try to steal from me. I would tell this to Master Willem if your situation hadn't been so dire, so I will let this one slip, but...”, his eyes narrowed. “Try this again and I tell him about both incidences.”

Laurence just could stare at the doctor before saying: “...alright... I am sorry... I won't do it again.”

“Good, then I will send for Master Willem. You just make sure that you get healthy again.”

The doctor left the room and Laurence slid down under his blanket. He wasn't looking forward to Master Willem's visit at all. He just hoped that he had hid all the samples of the old blood he had well enough.

Oh well, he had given Micolash instructions if such a case should ever happen. He would be able to continue his research with or without Master Willem's approve.

And he made a mental note to wear extra thick leather gloves the next time he was hunting down a snake. (Author's note: I know the slow poisoning in game is a lot quicker, but this is obviously for gameplay reasons. So this is my take on it how it works. Also, Laurence and Willem pretty much screamed at each other at Laurence' sick bed until the nurse separated them and Laurence got punished pretty hard.)

[macybeckham7]

Hot Medic - Jesse Lingard

"Y/n! Just the girl I'm looking for!" A familiar voice appeared infront of me.

I looked up from my patients notes to Clive one of the paramedics.

"Clive"

Doctor Roberts appeared beside me which made the mid-30 year old turn his attention from me to the five foot doctor.

"I am in need for someone to pair up with me today, and I was wondering if I could borrow Y/n" he smirked.

Doctor Roberts looked at me. "Well I don't see why not, we are very much covered on the ward" he gave me a soft smile before stealing my tablet and files.

Clive gave me a cheeky smile before highfiving me, he started pushed the bed along the corridor with me following hot on his tail.

I've been apart of the paramedic team before and I got such a thrill from it, it's so different working on the ward. You have to have your wits about you and be able to handle whatever you've been pushed into. It's more of a one to one working schedule, rather than with a massive team.

I grabbed a medic jacket and jumped in the passenger side, Clive instantly pulled out of the hospital complex slowly as I tuned the radio in trying to find the tunes, as it was of course on the sport station due to the lack of females usually here.

"Why are we at a football ground?" I questioned looking up at the largely frightening stadium.

"Cause we are based here for the Manchester derby" he announced as feisty fans started hitting the van chanting.

We safely got to the car park area where the team buses go for the players to enter the stadium. I looked at Clive who mirrored a young child who had just been told they are going to meet their hero's.

I jumped out the car and grabbed my bag throwing it over my shoulder and following the security guard. Clive was walking at a snails pace as he practically drooled over everything. As we walked out at the stadium I could see it was already half filled up, I noticed each side warming up. My eyes wandered over them all but the only ones I really recognised was Marcus Rashford and that was only because I went to school with him. As you can probably tell I'm not the biggest football fan.

"Why are you so happy to be here? Wouldn't you rather throw yourself into the deep end, feel that adrenaline rush?" I questioned as I placed my bag down on the seat.

"Oh come on, this is a great way to spend a work day on a Saturday, we are honestly getting paid to watch a football match"

I raised a brow at him, as I pulled on my plastic gloves. "Wait? You're not hoping that one of these highly paid athletes don't hurt themselves?"

"No?"

"Wouldn't you want to see blood gushing out of someone's head or a bone sticking out of a leg?"

He shook his head as he sat down. "Just sit down, let's loosen up  and enjoy this absolute belter"

I let out a dramatic sigh and sat beside him, which gained a small smile from him.

My eyes wandered back to Marcus who was mainly stood speaking to a guy who looked a lot like the same age. His hair was a little longer, with a smaller frame. He was kind of good looking as he laughed at something Marcus said as they nearly fell over while a tall olive skinned guy with a ponytail stared them down like they were morons.

......

The game so far has been rather uneventful in Y/n's eyes whereas there has been three goals with City winning by one goal. Y/n noticed as the time went on Clive was getting more and more quieter as his body tensed up.

United won the ball back by a small player with the number eight shirt, he kicked the ball which fell to Marcus' friend who I've learnt is named  Jesse. He controlled the ball and ran along side the lines man, suddenly a bald guy crashed into him harshly which made him go flying off the pitch and into the advertising board.

"Oh shit" I gasped as the home crowd went crazy at the player and the ref.

I grabbed my green bag and rushed along the touchline with Clive in tow. I was the first one over to him who was now being tended to by Marcus.

"Jesse, Hi." Clive smiled down at the midfielder.

I gave him a look before I looked down at him. "Can you tell me where it hurts" I smiled.

"Ah fuck man. My shoulder" he groaned.

"Ok try not to move it for me" I explained.

I peered at his shoulder and instantly noticed it has popped out of the socket, I gave Clive the look which he instantly knew and radioed to the United staff who were in their technical area.

"Holy shit, you're Y/n" Marcus suddenly announced.

Jesse looked from me to Marcus to Clive probably wondering how he was surrounded by idiots.

"Jesse" I spoke calmly.

"Yes princess" he smiled.

"We are going to have to pop your shoulder back in, but if you keep making those comments I'll damage your other shoulder" I spoke softly.

Marcus let out a child like giggle before he took a swig of his water before walking off.

"I thought you medics are supposed to be caring" he pouted. "I mean if I was dying I wouldn't mind seeing your face last" He winked.

I fake gagged before standing up and grabbing my bag before both Clive and I helped the young Mancunian back to his feet. I wrapped my arm around him, which made him give another snide comment. I was so tempted to leave him but as he was walking gingerly and the whole stadium was watching I couldn't.

We took him to the emergency room, we told him what we needed to do to him and I could see the colour wash from his face.

"Here suck on this" I smiled handing him over the oxygen pipe.

"That's what she said" he mumbled before inhaling.

I started speaking to Clive as we watched him get high so he wouldn't feel the pain. Once I thought he was slightly out of it I made my over to him and took a look at his shoulder.

"You're too pretty to be a medic" he giggled. "Isn't she pretty" He turned his attention to Clive.

I looked over at him as he nodded his head. I rolled my eyes at him as I closed my eyes and tried to feel his shoulder.

"Hey, why don't you let me take you out and show you a good time" he spoke in a joking manner.

"How about you let us sort out your arm" I suggested.

I nodded over at Clive who instantly took hold of Jesse's arm.

"How about you let me take you for dinner once your shift ends" he rambled. "I know the best place, you'll love it doll face" he smiled up at me.

"I've got a long day and I've only just met you, so I highly doubt you know what I'll like, doll face" I sassed.

Before he could answer I pushed his shoulder back in place as Clive pulled his arm. He let out a grunt but instantly gained composure.

"Nice one" I smiled as I patted his shoulder. "Our work here is done sunshine" I smiled at him as I snatched the oxygen off him.

Clive started bandaging up his shoulder as I started cleaning up.

"Ok I'm done now mate"

Finally I can get out of here.

"You know you're a lot more friendly than doll face over there" He smirked.

I rolled my eyes at him. "I swear to god..."

"How about I get a photo with you?" Clive suggested cutting me off.

I silently begged that he was dickhead and denied it. He looked over at me for a second before standing up.

"Only if you give me the hot medics number"

"Deal" he shouted before I could get a word on edge ways.

He instantly pushed his phone to me which I snapped a photo of them together. I throw the phone back at Clive before rushing out the room and back to pitch level, because let's face it I don't want to miss out on anyone getting injured.

.......

I had just hopped out of the shower and put my pyjamas on, I stuck a microwave dinner in which had just pinged off. I sat on the sofa and watched some Strictly Come Dancing before I got distracted by my phone pinging off.

I aimlessly reached for it and noticed it was a text from an unknown number, I hesitantly opened it to find a text that read:

????: I'm really hoping this is the hot medic from earlier. I just want to apologise for whatever I said.

Me: The 'hot' medic has a name, doll face

????: Well if you told me then I could call you it instead of nicknames 😉 Can I take you out for a drink to apologise

Me: no

????: Y/n....

Me; Let me guess Clive told you

???: Yep and I'm also outside, so come out and let me take you out

Me: bullshit

????: truth

I jumped up and peered through my window and sure another he was stood leaning on his car giving me a wave. I silently cursed Clive as I texted him telling him to give me ten minutes before I rushed towards my bedroom.

This going to be a long night!

[starrawrcakes]

Pokemon x nintendogs

You see that ^ Yeah that up there THAT Is what I want to see from nintendo. (also no beta we die like men) I mean sure let’s go pikachu/eevee was... g8. But. I need more. I want MORE than just sword and shield feather toy.  I want a pokemon game for those who are stuck in their npc houses BEcause that’s the energy I have.  I want. Cozy. I want. CUTE. I want to actually play with my pokemon.  And here is my idea.  YOu know how nintendogs had the version exclusive editions like chihuhua and golden retriever? Yeah that’s nice for dogs and everything. But VERSONS FOR POKEMON IS . EVERYTHING.  Pokemon daycare. I wanna pet my pokemon. and not just like stand still pokemon I want them to roll over onto their tummies and be like scratch my neck.  I want to have bathroom shinanigans. I want bathing your pokemon to be a game of either They get clean OR YOU’RE THE ONE GETTING CLEAN.  Due to personality/(it’s nature) types not every pokemon will lie down for cleaning time. Some will be like that dog who stole the hose and is now running at you with water getting you wet. and the screen is now watery.  It’s time for food. prevent your pokemon from eatting everything in the bowl.  Is your pokemon the lax nature? is your pokemon laying in their water bowl after drinking? well time to get your towel before they run across the floor and make all your furnature wet.  Meet with me!: you have a friend with the same game or different version Link your (switches/ds’s ) together to trade items, have one of your pokemons meet your friends pokemon and have friendship or rivalry occur! watch them play or fight over your toys!  You have a electric stone and want your pikapi to stay the same? Give it to your friend with a eevee so they can have the jolteon of your dreams.  Watch wild interactions between the games.  You can choose between your favorite pokemon and unlock more friends too.  Or you can find special eggs or wild poke which have secret pokefriends.  Encounter amazing ledgendarys on your walk. (because ledgendary they’re unavailable for care)  Take wonderful walks around the beach, forests, mountains, towns, and other fun locations. Encounter other trainers with witty diolog and gym leaders.  Shop for furnature, toys, food, snacks, fruit, furnature, and even redecorate your home.  Electric version:  Unlocked immedietly :  Pichu, pikachu, Raichu, (alola raichu) , plusle, minun, emolga, pachirisu , shinx, dedenne, togedemaru, yamper, morpeko, Secret poke: Jolteon, mareep, elekid, electrike, blistle, joltik,  Helioptile Ledgendary encounters: Zapdos, Raikou, zurkitree, zeraora Flavortext time: Pichu: This good baby you just hatched from a egg is ready for love. Inexperienced and clumsy but ready for what life has in store. Careful for spark showers! Pikachu: Ready for adventures and to spend time with you. A world favorite. \ Raichu: This pal might be a bit older than the rest but knows it’s way about. If this pokemon glows in the dark... it’s best to figure out what has them riled up. If you choose them it’s good to be in contact with your local power plant. Alolan Raichu: Goodness Perhaps pancakes are the key to flight? This soft friend has many more things to learn about!  Plusle: Good vibes from this poke. Relaxing for those a little on the downside. it’s electric shocks are thereputic. A good pokemon for lifes little victories! Minun: Careful for tangles on this poke! it’s going to give you a relaxing time if you are a busy person. Has easing energies... and electricity! Or it will surely energize you with spark showers.  Emolga: this little one likes flying in freedom. Even stormy days are a adventure with this one. They like there food all to themselves. Make sure to watch them around bugs...  Pachirisu: Sharing is caring! this pokemon is good at getting along with others and playing. Pachirisu are a bit of horders... so make sure to know where their hiding places are for potentially forgotton food and hair balls. watch the hairballs... Shinx: this cutie pattootie is a bit of a runner! It likes energy and often stores it’s electricity in it’s legs. If it gets upset it get’s  a bit... blinding.  Luxio: no matter what it tells you with that pouty face it gets lonley easy. It might be good to have a few pokemon for it to feel at home... Watch those claws! Luxray: takes it’s family very serious but loves unconditionally. Try not to worry them it can see through anything so... well. Just try not to think about that in the restroom... Dedenne: This little one likes to talk to it’s friends whereever they are... through electricity. They can often sip electricity out of your wall outlets if they don’t have enough.... might want to invest in a raichu for it’s electrical needs...  Togedemaru: this lovely one is a good friend. If you can handle it. invest in bandages and rubber gloves for this friend. I’m sure they will love you just the same.  ... No loud sounds for this pokemon... Morkpeko: this soft friend has a bit of a temper when hungry. It’s naughty in nature. So keep it fed or don’t... but feel the wrath of hangryness... we have all been there... It loves seeds so keep a few around. maybe blinker seeds in case that side comes out...  Yamper: A very food motivated friend. Honestly we all know someone like this. Very loving friend either way. besides who can resist that cute face and tail wag? Boltund: After growing up a bit this good poke can run real fast. like... REal fast. might need to invest in some armor for walks now... incase this one is distracted and takes you on a bit of a drag instead of a walk.  --- Jolteon: Wow your pokemon found a friend! It seems to be weak... would you like to take care of this new pokemon? This friend is very emotional... but now that it has you it’s very thankful and greatful for everything. Even if it accidently shocks you. You know they don’t mean it.  Joltik: Yamper has found a little friend sticking to him. will you keep this new friend? (or: you have found a soft silky egg... with a nice buzzing sensation... will you care for the egg?: ((no: Let’s leave this at a pokemon center... they know what to do.)) ) This little pal is soft and fuzzy and often makes a nice static feeling. Often a good pair for raichus!  Galvantula: Our little pal has grown up big and strong. Often makes wonderful silky doilies and nets. You can sell them because often time they can make them everyday. after you de-electrify them.  Mareep: You found a little lost mareep! upon checking with any near by farms no one seems to own it. And It keeps following you... will you keep it?  This soft friend has wonderful wool that you can sell when it sheds it... The spots that missing wool is a sign it’s going to evolve soon...  Flaaffy: this cute friend makes a lovely night light. Although do you ever think it looks in the mirror and gets self concious about it losing it’s wool....? Probably not. Ampharos: enjoys watching TV with you. Often loves superhero shows. Has big dreams of being a hero. It’s favorite places to walk is in the forest and the beach.  Electrike: This poor pokemon can’t run as fast as the other electrike... Because of this it’s been abandoned... will you care for him...? Even though it’s not the fastest electrike... you have still decided you need to wear body armor during walks... to weigh it down... so you don’t go flying!  Manctric: your kind friend often needs trips to the power plant. It doesn’t mind. Sometimes the sneeky poke runs off to the powerplant without you... What they don’t know is that you don’t mind as long as the house doesn’t burn down...  ect...

Events:  Power up: head over to your local powerplant and get that excess electricity out! recieve poke(money) as payment!  Fruit picking: pick fruit off of trees for poke! Warning some fruit are amazing electrified. but some arn’t!  Contest time: Show how obedient your pokemon is in style and in the care you’ve given them!  Your home!: regular old house with many rubber surfaces, powerplant, fluffy clouds, futuristic neon house.  --- And other fun versions that I just don’t have the brain power to think of.  like  Eevee/normal type Fire friends water palace one iwth the forest edition spooky ghost fairy babies Fuck it master version with just ledgendarys and mythicals.  and you know the rest.  like fire types you have to stop them from.... laying in lava pockets in the mountains, regular house, fake volcano, cuddle crator, funky fake fire house.  water types: jumping contest!, race of the fastest, contest time,. House types: a house with a kiddy pool, a fake beach, under the ocean, a river, a lake, a pool, or a giant bathroom.  Bug contests: polination station, ect, ghost contests: creepy pasta~, halloween festival!, contest time! I hope you see what I’m trying to put down here. But will nintendo respond to this one single post? Probably not.WHY? I DoN’T KNOW. (probably because they’ll have to answer if pokemon poob or pee. I don’t know if they want to tackle that.)  This is my hot take.