apply bandage on burn

The Bergatt Affair; Obi/Zen/Shirayuki

This was written months ago and never finished. Also, never properly edited. SO MANY LIBERTIES TAKEN. This is written as OT3, but the meat of the story that currently exists revolves around Obi and Zen within that dynamic. Mostly SFW, I’m pretty sure?


There wasn’t much time between telling Shirayuki that he had to go and actually leaving, but she still managed to pull him into an alcove off the main passage of the Pharmacy Building. Obi ached to see the tightness of her jaw, and the unhappy line of her mouth. “Mistress,” he murmured, the word tripping roughly over itself. “I –”

“I know,” she cut him off. “I know.”

Stiff, she reached into her bag and tugged out a folded piece of material, most of it pale, expensive leather, but with a flash of gold and black design on one edge. She shook it out, movements sharp, and reached up towards him. Startled, Obi ducked his head down as Shirayuki tugged the head covering over his hair. Her knuckles brushed against his cheekbones, and Obi’s breath caught in his chest.

“There,” she announced, back straight, gaze level. “That’s better. It’s been a while since I saw you wearing something like that.”

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Spy and Pyro

Pyro views both Spies as friends, so he/she can’t understand why the two Frenchmen (even her/his own team’s Spy) always seem to shrink away in fear whenever he/she walks into the room. He/She’s tried multiple times to try and interact with them, but they always freeze in terror the second she/he says, “Huddah huddah." 

One day, Pyro grew tired of the confusion and just cornered her/his team’s Spy. There was no way he could get past him/her, even if he cloaked. Spy rolled his sleeves up as a nervous habit, wondering what on Earth the mumbling monster could want to corner him for. Instead of talking inchorently like Pyro normally did, he/she noticed the many burns on Spy’s arms, which he’d forgotten about when he’d exposed them. 

Pyro didn’t know fire hurt people, or how it especially hurt Spy, but he/she did know that when she/he was first learning how to master fire, she’d/he’d gotten many burns like that, and he/she knew how to treat them. Pyro grabbed Spy’s arm, even though he protested and dragged him off to the room he/she shared with the rest of the offensive class. Pyro pulled a tin out from under his bed where he/she kept his/her burn supplies and treated Spy’s arms. 

Spy sat still in terrified silence while the mysterious pyromaniac applied some sort of medicine to his burns and bandaged them. Medic had told him there was nothing he could do and that he’d just have to live with the scars, but somehow, Pyro seemed to be able to get rid of them right before his eyes. It figures, he thought, the creature who spends all their time with fire knows how to treat burns better than any other. 

After Pyro finished, he/she stared up at Spy through their mask and tilted their head, noticing that the man was no longer shying away or breathing heavily. "My apologies, I…” Spy trailed off, knowing he couldn’t outright say he thought the Pyro was going to burn him alive like he’d seen him/her do to his counterpart so many times. “Merci, mon ami." 

Even though Pyro didn’t speak French, she/he got the message clear enough. She/He leaned in and bear-hugged Spy. Spy didn’t return the hug, but Pyro was happy enough knowing she’d/he’d dinally made a friend out of the cold gentleman. 

First Kiss (JB)

Request: may i request a JB scenario where you burn your hand slightly while making food and JB bandages it up and gives it a little kiss to make it feel better and you say “i hurt my lips too. maybe you should kiss them” like super shyly (you two have been dating for 3 weeks but you told him you wanted to take it slow and its your first kiss) and the two of you have the most passionate kiss ever! thank you!!!!
Length: 824 words
Genre: Fluff

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Look I know everyone and their mothers have written a thing for this chapter, but I just…. wanted to see Lucy tending to Natsu’s torn cheek and somehow it evolved into this fucking angsty thing 

Continuation of this comic, spoilers for Chapter 465. 


After what seems like eternity, he lets go of her and steps back. Cold air rushes to take the place vacated by him. Despite the loosened embrace, they’re still close; his hands rest on her waist and hers are on his bare chest. He’s bruised and bloodied everywhere, and Lucy’s heart contracts painfully.

A particularly violent wound catches her attention, and she raises gentle fingers to trace along his face where a deep gash interrupts the curve of his jaw.

“You’re hurt.”

“I’ve had worse,” is his hoarse answer, and Lucy shakes her head at him, exasperated, angry, because didn’t he know? That wasn’t the point—

“You should have it looked at anyway. Porlyusica—“

“We shouldn’t bother her with something like this. She’s got enough on her plate—“

“If you think I’ll let you just waltz off into another battle with blood pouring down your face—“

“It’s hardly that dramatic—“

“Wendy, then, if you won’t see Porlyusica—“

“You do it,” he says, and looks at her so intensely that the breath is knocked out of her lungs for a split second. There’s something in those eyes of his, a sadness, a knowing, and Lucy doesn’t like what they’re telling her one bit.

They look like they’re telling her goodbye.

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Comfort and Care- A Freezerburn fanfiction

Words: 2562

Author: Me

Fandom: RWBY

Genre: Shipping,

(Christmas present for Skiretehfox)

Following a heartbreak and tearful phone call, Yang Xiao Long races through the rain to save her friend; Weiss Schnee. But when the tables are turned, the heiress might find herself growing closer to the friend that has always been there for her.

Nitrogen burned in the air, flashes of lightning in the distant sky barely cutting through the almost solid-looking mass of black clouds. Rain pelted the cobblestone roads, filling up each crack and crevice with water. The sound was deafening, drowning out the steady splish-splash of hurried footsteps rushing down the street.

The owner of those footsteps was breathless, golden hair flattened and stuck to her face; clothes dark and heavy with wetness and her exposed skin was covered in goosebumps. She had already been running for twenty minutes, forcing her aching muscles onwards. She knew her destination, and could see it in the distance; the house of Weiss Schnee, her best friend and former teammate.

It had been about seven months since they had seen each other last; with Yang being away on missions and Weiss running the Vale branch of the Schnee dust company. Aside from Blake, team RWBY had all kept in contact following their graduation from Beacon, their bonds stronger than mere friendship or sisterhood. It was because of this that Yang was now running through the heavy rain, cold and tired. Weiss had called Yang during her boat trip back to Vale from a small village off the coast. The heiress’ voice was notably distraught, her sentences broken by infrequent sobs.

‘I can’t believe he would do that to her!’ Yang thought to herself, a low growl escaping her mouth. ‘So much for being cool. If I ever see him again I’m going to punch the blue out of his hair!’

Yang arrived at Weiss’ door, all but collapsing on the doorstep. The big gash in her side wasn’t helping her exhaustion either. Alpha Grimms, as it turned out, were surprisingly sneaky. She knocked, heavy fists on the thick oak door sounding like distant gunshots. Yang quickly tried to straighten herself up, adjusting her jacket and running her fingers through her hair. A few seconds later the doors opened, and Yang’s smile dropped as she studied her friend; disheveled hair; black streaks of mascara running down her face, and clothes that looked like they hadn’t been washed in a few days, complete with ice cream stain down the front. Weiss said nothing at first, lazily putting her arms around Yang’s waist, before burying her face into the taller girls chest.

“You’re all wet, don’t hug me.” Weiss said after a full minute, but made no move to back away, instead tightening the embrace.

“Sorry Weiss. I’m afraid I just can’t help being a drip sometimes,” Yang grinned into her friend’s hair as she gently stroked Weiss’ back.

“No.”

“What?”

“No puns, just hugging.”

“I missed you too,” Yang whispered, kissing the top of Weiss’ head. “But can we go inside and hug? I’m really, really cold.”

***

Weiss sat on front of the fireplace, staring into the writhing tendrils of flame. She felt… grey, somewhere between happy and devastated, between alive and dead. Not even the heat was bothering her, she could barely feel it at all. Weiss hadn’t been out of the house in days, avoiding her responsibilities as head of her father’s company in Vale. Not that she cared; none of it mattered to her. Her sister, Winter, had told her that she was being over dramatic, that she was being selfish and letting down their father over nothing.

Weiss curled up, hugging her knees close to her chest. From the stairs behind her, she heard the steady, heavy clomp of someone descending. Out the corner of her eye, Weiss could see Yang furiously drying her hair with a white towel. Her bare feet were slapping against the hardwood floor, shaking the whole floor with each step. The tall blonde plopped down beside Weiss, gently nudging her as she tried to sit as close as possible.

“Are the clothes okay?” Weiss asked as Yang put her arm around her, leaning into the other girl.

“They’ll be fine. The shirt is a little tight, but I can manage.”

“I’m glad. Are you hungry or thirsty?”

“Nah. So! Are you ready to tell me what happened?” Yang asked as she began to gently stroke Weiss’ shoulder. Weiss clenched her jaw, the grief and anger overriding the comfort and warmth she usually felt in Yang’s arms. She swallowed, a lump painfully going down her throat.

“I found him…” Weiss started, her eyes welling up with tears as the images from that day played like a slideshow In her mind. “I found Neptune in bed with her. That harlot Ember Key. Remember her? She was that short girl from Mistral with the chainsaw. Well I came home from work, not even early or anything, and when I went upstairs to change… There they both were; buck naked.”

“Wow! What an asshole! What did he say?” Said Yang, her eyes slowly changing from violet to red.

“J-Just that he didn’t expect to see me. I’ve found out since then that Ember isn’t the only girl he’s had relations with since we’ve been together.” Weiss was crying freely by this point, her speech broken up with intermittent sobs.

“You’re kidding!”

“And that’s not even the worst part!” Exclaimed the distraught heiress, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a small box.

“Is that what I think it is?” Yang asked as she gingerly took the box from Weiss’ grasp, who just nodded once, before turning and burying herself into Yang’s chest once again. The now crimson-eyed blonde dropped the box and put her other arm around Weiss, pulling her into and even tighter hug. “I won’t let anyone ever hurt you like that again. I’ll be a bouncer for your heart if that’s what it takes.” Weiss nodded furiously, not able to say anything through her sobs. And they sat there for the next few hours, eventually falling asleep in front of the dwindling fireplace.

***

Weiss awoke the next morning to what sounded like a fox being tortured beside her. She sat up, cringing at the sharp pain in her back, an unfortunate consequence of sleeping on a hard floor all night. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she turned to the source of the noise, only to find Yang doubled over, violently coughing and sniffing. Her eyes were watery and bloodshot. 

“Oh, gud morbing Veiss,” Yang smiled loudly. “I dink I bide hab a bit of a cold.” Weiss covered her mouth with her hand, hiding an ever-growing smile. But it wasn’t long before she could no longer contain herself and burst out laughing.

“Aw Yang, only you could get sick while helping someone,” she joked as she got to her feet. “Come on you big brute, let’s get you into bed and-“ Just as Weiss grabbed Yang’s outstretched hand to help her up, she recoiled, hissing with pain and pushing her hand into her body.

“Veiss, wud happened?” Yang asked with concern, reaching toward the other girl again, only to have her recoil.

“I… Think you have a fever. And it might be messing with your semblance,” came the reply, along with a long look at a large, shiny burn on Weiss’ palm. 

“Oh my gob, I’m so soddy!” 

“It’s okay. I’ll treat this in a second. Are you able to get yourself upstairs and into bed?” Weiss asked calmly, belying the internal screams of pain. Yang nodded sleepily, slowly rising to her feet, groaning with each movement. She was still smiling despite it all, that enthusiastic, confident smile that Weiss knew so well. The blonde moved toward the stairs slowly, giving Weiss enough time to run to the kitchen and cool the burn under cold water, apply a burn poultice and bandage herself, before walking back to find Yang only halfway up the stairs, coughing loudly.

Weiss sighed, running back down the stairs, only to return to her sick guest wearing thick, padded oven mitts. She dragged Yang up to the guest bedroom, tucking her in and placing a cold wet towel on her forehead.

“I’m soddy Veiss. I wandend to take care of you for a few days,” Yang pouted as she bunched the doona around her neck. Weiss used a mitted hand to brush sweat-darkened blonde locks out of Yang’s face.

“It’s fine Yang, honestly. You were sweet to even come, thank you.” Weiss told her, the corner of her mouth curling into a smile. “Now rest, I’ll get you some water and leave you be alright?”

***

A few hours had passed since Yang had gone to bed, her fever had only gotten worse, and she was shivering in her sleep. Weiss, on the other hand, was sitting in a large armchair at the opposite end of the room, reading through a letter sent by Ruby.

The girl with the red hood had become a world-famous huntress, travelling all over and saving countless lives. At the moment however, she was on a personal mission; to find Blake and bring her back to Vale. Periodically, she sent letters to Weiss and Yang; mainly updates on her investigations, as well as the occasional photo of places she was visiting. 

Weiss looked up from the page as Yang let out a loud groan. The doona suddenly flew off the bed, hitting the side wall and falling in a heap. She sighed, making her way across the room, and peeling the now dry towel from her patients forehead. It was the third time she’d wetted the towel, with the water almost instantly evaporating as soon it came into contact with Yang’s skin.

When she walked back into the bedroom, she found Yang sprawled across the entire double bed, her chest steadily rising and falling with every breath. The gash on her side was bright red, a result of the fever and her immune system going into overdrive. Her muscles were twitching, bulging and receding as her body fought the infection overwhelming her system. Weiss placed the towel back onto Yang’s face; the water hissing and steaming like sweat on hot concrete. Returning to her seat, Weiss continued to stare at her friend, thinking about all the things that had happened in the past week. Neptune, the cheating, her tearful phone call to Yang and the fact that she showed up a day later, drenched from head to toe.

‘I guess that’s just Yang. She’s always been there for me, right from day one. Pulling me back from ruining my friendship with Blake, helping me with my home work, teaching me how to unwind. Man, was I uptight when I was young!’ She smiled, cheeks going crimson with the memory. ‘She ran through the rain to hold me while I was crying for Grimm’s sake. No one else I know would do anything of the sort. Not even my own sister… I-I think I should thank her more than I do. I don’t deserve her friendship sometimes.’ 

***

The next few days were much the same, with Yang showing very little improvement. Weiss had considered calling in a doctor, but Yang had always rejected the idea, smiling her smile ?”and giving her a thumbs up. But the entire time, Weiss had been striving to be a perfect nurse, caring for her patients every need, even going so far as to spoon-feed her.

One afternoon, after Weiss had finished making Yang some dry toast, the blonde finally feeling like she was able to handle some solid food, there was a knock at the door. The sound echoed through the cavernous house like the footsteps of a giant Grimm. Confused, Weiss took a moment to clean herself up, tucking her matted hair under her shirt. She’d kind of forgotten to shower ever since the incident with Neptune.

Another knock on the door had Weiss half-jogging across her lounge room, doing one last check over herself. She was, after all, a Schnee, and had to present herself properly, regardless of any personal issues she might be having. She opened the door, her face draining of all colour as her eyes met those of the person standing on the doorstep.

“Hey Weiss, I’m home.” Her hands curled into fists, face turning bright red with uncontrollable rage.

“Neptune…” She growled. There he stood ; smirking like the day they met. Oh how suave she thought he was back then, all blue hair and burgundy jacket. But she should have seen through his veneer of coolness, to the emotionally abusive, cheating troll that he truly was.

“Yeah so look babe; I know I was wrong. I shouldn’t have done what I did. I was weak and I promise never to do it again,” Neptune said, obviously going through a pre-practiced mental script. “So how about you give me a kiss and we forget this whole thing ever happened?” He leaned in for a kiss, closing his eyes as he got closer. Weiss was paralysed with rage, unable to speak or to push him away. His face was inches away from her own, when her ears became filled with a paf-paf-paf sound. Weiss was then physically shoved out of the way, a golden blur speeding past her and colliding with Neptune, who suddenly vanished.

When her eyes focused, Weiss found Yang standing in the doorway, one arm outstretched, fist shaking. She was wrapped in the doona from her bed, still sweating and pale. Neptune had been thrown clear across the street and straight through the white picket fence of a neighbour. Yang slammed the door, swaying slightly on uneasy feet.

“D-did I uh… Did I… Is his hair still blue?” Yang stammered slowly, sounding almost delirious. Weiss shook her head, still aghast at her sudden appearance. The blonde sighed, turning back toward the door. “Dammit, I… Uh… I promised to p-punch the hair off his blue. I mean the blue off his hair for what he did to you.”

Weiss grabbed her friend, feeling only a warm sensation rather than a searing burn. Her face was flushed with red once more, but it wasn’t out of anger. Something else had set her off; seeing Yang rush to her side at her time of need, defending her honour. The steely gaze of someone determined to protect, like a hawk with its chicks or a big cat defending it’s mate. Weiss’ heart started to beat faster, every memory of Yang over the years bursting forth; every gentle touch, every kind word or meaningful glance, the secrets they had confided in each other. She trusted Yang, more than she had trusted anyone else in her entire life. And she could not imagine her life without the blonde brute in it.e end, Yang was still sick, and what she wanted to ask could wait until later .

“Next time Yang, you need to get back into bed. You’re still very ill,” she said gently. Yang scowled, shooting another look at the closed door, but nevertheless nodded. “But thank you for saving me.” 

“Heh, no worries… You uh… You really mean a lot to me and uh… Uh… I’ve lost that sentence. But you know what I mean right?” 

“Yeah, and I love you too. Now back to bed,” Weiss giggled, letting Yang lean on her as they ascended the stairs. “I have a letter from Ruby I think you’ll like to hear.”

“Woo! Then you better hop in bed with me and read it then.”

“Of course Yang, anything for you.”

anonymous asked:

how would the members of seventeen react if you burnt your hand while cooking

freaks out, drags you over to the sink so you can get water on the burn, tells you not to move as they get the first aid kit and while they’re applying bandages to your burn they scold you gently for not paying attention and being clumsy, they keep murmuring about how much they worry about you if you get hurt like this: S.Coups/Seungcheol, Jun, Woozi, Seungkwan 

provides medical attention to your burn, but assures you in a soothing voice that it’s not your fault you got hurt. kisses your forehead and turns off the stove, saying you two can just order out tonight instead: Jeonghan, Wonwoo, DK, the8 

panics a bit about how to deal with your burn and doesn’t understand how you’re calm about it, keeps asking if it really hurts, tries to look up ‘how to heal burn’ on their phone, you end up having to bandage your own burn, but you thank them for helping and they pout and tell you to sit back down while they finish cooking instead; Joshua, Hoshi, Mingyu, Vernon, Dino 

Dean and Cas own competing sandwich shops across the street. Cas’s is really refined, and he spends all his time plating in the back, while Dean’s is family style, ad he works in the front doing a whole bunch of different things. 

One day (against his will), Cas gets dragged to Dean’s place by Gabe because the latter wants to check out the competition. Though he tries to hate it–Hunter’s Helper is the competition, after all–Castiel thoroughly enjoys the comfort food and relaxed atmosphere of the place, and starts showing up every day for lunch. Dean thinks he’s attractive and starts flirting with him. Cas becomes a regular.

But on a random Thursday, Castiel is swamped and doesn’t make it across the street. Samandriel is sick so Cas is stuck doing the entire service alone, while his cousin Gabe (usually in charge of desserts) is on cash. He’s incredibly frazzled, and his panic gets even worse when Dean decides to take an early lunch, and consequently decides to check out the competition. 

Dean sees Cas rushing around and just kinda smirks when he gets up to the counter. His nerves fried and pushed over the edge, Castiel spills the coffee he’s carrying and burns his arms. Dean immediately begins walking around the counter to help, but Cas waves him off and works through the rush. Fumbling, he slides Dean’s food across the counter. 

Dean sits at a table in the corner and smiles at him until the rush tapers off. He then offers to buy Castiel lunch. Hesitantly, Cas agrees, and he’s completely forgotten about his burned appendages until Dean asks if he has a first aid kit. Sitting on the counter in the employee bathroom, Dean puts a compress on his skin and applies burn cream and bandages. 

“So,” Dean asks, winding gauze around angry red skin. “You work in a sandwich shop and go eat lunch at a competing sandwich shop?”

Cas shrugs, delicately clearing his throat. He’s blushing. “I suppose I simply enjoy the fare.”

Substitution

A story written on Twitch.


When she complained about her leg, I assured her it was all going to work.
“It hurts,” she whispered, her breath hitting my ear in gossamer gasps.
“You’ll be whole soon, your leg will be back.” I applied the bandages, a salve to soothe the ache and the burn, and gave her another drink of the tea. It calmed her heart and her breath, she lay quiet for another few hours, enough for the leg to grow accustomed and likewise.

The next time she spoke, it was a cry. I was there with a rag at her forehead, brushing the saline from her eyes, “Shhhh your leg is doing well.” It was. It was lively on her knee, wriggling and enjoying the air she breathed, basking in our exhaled whispers.
She fainted, but I waited for her next wishes.

“What is this?” Her words zig-zagged through the steam of the kettle, escaped on the vent in the ceiling like the cruel wind that whipped outside. I wiped her tears again, kissing her jaw and wondering what else ailed her. Her joints creaked in their bandages, and she flexed her elbow, “It’s… it’s…!”
“It’s all happening soon,” I crooned, wetting her scalp and kissing her nose. When the noise was too much I shut the door and used a pillow. And continued to sew her her into shape. It took readily, the stitches melded and rejoiced, finally bound to a form; they sang and danced and I danced with them, in the flickering candlelight as the night wore on. We awaited her next word, her command, we tingled with the anticipation of her needs.

“Water,” was the next cry and water she had, slurped sideways through thick ceramic mugs and hot like her heart, like her limbs, like the air around us. It was a sauna, the inside was the outside, pumping life into the very air and I captured it all for her, for the being she could become.
She stopped speaking after that, the water either having lulled her or letting her rest in her satisfaction, and my work continued, seeing what called out for recovery.

A pinky finger.
A patch on the shoulder.
A long strip of abdomen that felt better when relocated.
The long sigh of skin as it rests and hugs its neighbors. I sighed along with it.

She awoke.
New. But antique. The shudders of pleasure wracked her form but more tea calmed it all, it was so much to take in, yet so much more to do.

The waxen lipstick displaced her mouth for but a moment, and kept them strong for the unveiling.
Her lungs were her own, her throat was a brocade of those I’d loved before, whose lacy forms became a mantle to display. A quilt of love, a hungering canvas.

When she awoke, she was Everything.
“It hurts,” she whined, and my tea made everything quiet. The twitching, the excitement, it soothed the moments before the project was complete. That’s the hard part, you know. Finding a suitable carrier. I’d seen them all, their nervous endings electric, their spasms of anticipation. I knew I had done right. Everything said so.
Now, she was Everything.

I waited for the next breath…..

“Stop….”

But I have so much to show you.
Have you ever been more beautiful than with her calves? Her miracle, musical hands?
Have you ever known such benevolence as what these shoulders have wrought?

Have you ever been truly kissed, with lips such as these?

And I lean down to match my mouth against hers, and what is not hers anymore. The pucker of a princess, the pout of a priest. They whisper prayers, quiet things to me, thanking me for freeing them into the world where they can say whatever they want after so long of just yearning. And she?
She is the heart.
She is the soul.
But she might not be the body. That’s up to her.

As I cradle her perfected being, rubbing salve on the gashes and stitches, she utters:
“Please, release me….”

But I know the lips that form her request.
And they love me, as they love themselves.
They love her too.

Don’t worry.
You’re okay here, you’re healthy.
Everyone here will tell you so.