#I’m still in clinic but have to ride down to the office and get some chart stuff done now and I’m like?? spiraling about it still

[idontmindifuforgetme]

And on this Valentine’s I almost broke down in tears at a wife’s dedication to her heart surgeon husband whose brain is deteriorating with a rare case of dementia

[1moreoffkeyanthem]

More Moose-centric OJV headcanons bc I love that cat.

-so Stan, post college grad and working up the courage to actually put his degree to use (mans self doubt is beatin his ass), is volunteering at the local animal shelter, when someone brings a cardboard box to the front desk.

- they’re like “hey someone left this outside my building, I can’t really have a pet rn” and Stan looks in the box to see the TINIEST little brown cat looking up at him with big sad eyes and he just starts SOBBING.

- immediately decides that this kitten is coming home with him, tells the shelter owner he’s leaving early and BOOKS IT home, got the cat wrapped up in his jacket in the passenger seat, seat warmer on, and Stan’s talking to him still crying a little. The thing is, this boy’s been going through a really tough time and he’s been reading children’s books to comfort himself, so he has “Thidwick The Big Hearted Moose” by dr Seuss on the brain, so he’s like HOLY SHIT IM CALLING YOU MOOSE! And Moose is just vibin he’s a real good cat

- they get home and Stan realizes he didn’t tell Kyle (adhd boy moment) bc he was too excited so he’s FULLY expecting Ky to be mad at him for bringing a pet home spontaneously, but Kyle is JUST AS HAPPY AS HE IS!!! And later that night, when Kyle thinks Stan’s out of earshot, he’s whispering to Moose, thanking him for making Stan smile again askfhdjwl

- bringing Moose to the vet clinic where Wendy works to get his shots and a checkup gives Stan a push to actually apply there, and everyone there LOVES that cat, like Wendy’s facetiming Bebe (they’re married at this point btw) to show her and Stan has a job working with animals now, like Moose really pulled him out of a SadSack slump shout-out to Moose!

-Moose’s favorite spot in the WORLD is Kyle’s chest, like Ky cannot lay down anywhere without him curling up in the divot of his sternum, ESPECIALLY if he senses that something’s wrong. Like when Kyle’s sick or having a bad pain day, Moose is there purring like a lawn mower directly over his heart.

-that cat is spoiled as HELL like I’m talkin everyone who meets him falls immediately in love bc he’s so sweet and so little even years later, he’s also intuitive as fuck and a natural emotional support animal. Kenny builds him a sickass cat tree, if he wants some of whatever the boys are eating all he has to do is rub his little head on their hand and (as long as it won’t make him sick) he gets a bite lmao. He wants picked up? He gets picked up. And everyone knows Kyle Broflovski cannot say no to Big Sad Blue Eyes and Moose is no exception to that ajsgdkwjdk. When Craig and Tweek meet Moose, he LOVES Craig bc he’s quiet and calm and that connection helps crog get over his friendship barrier with Stan. Tweek is nervous around animals but eventually falls in love with Moose too.

- he’s a pretty chill cat, doesn’t yowl in the middle of the night or cause problems, doesn’t bite or scratch even playfully. Occasionally he’ll get suspicious when Stan comes home from work smelling like other animals, but he’s used to it. His zoomies are HILARIOUS but he’s a total crybaby when he gets stuck on top of a door or something and needs help getting down. Once he got himself on top of the kitchen cabinets while Stan wasn’t home, Kyle couldn’t reach him and his stubborn ass didn’t want to go across the hall to get Craig so he climbed onto the counter, fell and aggravated his bad knee, and Moose would NOT leave his side for days after. Moose still got himself stuck in the same place the next week.

-he loves to go on walks! He has a little red harness and WEARS LITTLE CAT SIZED SWEATERS IN THE WINTER!!! The three of them 100% do holiday cards In matching outfits oh my god.

- Moose likes to sit in the windowsill in the home office and *ekekeke* at birds it’s the funniest shit ever.

-he’s very good on car rides except when Kyle’s driving because that man gets horrible road rage and Moose is all oh ok dads mad that means something is Wrong everyone panic and he’s yelling and bouncing around the car and it’s funny but it’s really not bc ~danger~ and yeah if Kyle’s driving Moose is in the carrier lmao.

- is a MODEL patient at the vet (partly bc his dad is the vet in question and he trusts Stan with his whole tiny heart)

-oh my god ok so Stan’s AA chapter has a lot of people who bring their pets to meetings and whenever he brings Moose in everyone is SHOWERING him with attention it’s so cute all the old timers are all “that’s a good cat right there he takes a pet no problem” and he’s wandering the meeting hall saying hi to everyone social king!

- Moose has never met a person he hates. Except Randy. Moose hates Randy.

[stevenbasic]

Growing into the Job Post 303: The Pink Wave, p1

Okay, first off, I am not going to tell you how I voted. I don’t even really want you knowing what state I’m from. No, I’m not from California, where a reality TV star had surged into politics, or Texas, where a dental hygienist with a massive rack was looking to unseat the long-time male incumbent and ride the new wave of female pride into office. Shit like that was apparently happening all over the place. But I can tell you that I did vote and that we here in my midwestern district also had choices from both traditional parties and the New Women’s Party, all up and down the ballot. From U.S. President to City Comptroller, every office had someone from the NWP looking to unseat the incumbent. Or, in some cases, the incumbent had switched parties and was running under their new flag, with a new platform. Women, all of them, of course.

I hadn’t paid too much attention to polls - they don’t know what they’re talking about, most of the time - but I did know that this new female-led third party actually kinda sorta sounded like the real deal, and might shake things up a bit, at least locally. The girls at the office were all certainly pushing for their candidates, including Maura Weisman, a gal from our state that women wanted to send to Washington, to Congress. Olivia was working with her as a consultant, my ex-wife Sheryl had become involved in the campaign, and I do have to admit I checked the box for her. I mean, I did feel a little bit of loyalty, still, to Sheryl. And Maura, at the last press conference I’d flipped though on my new TV, cut a striking profile in a blouse. It actually gave me a little submissive thrill, standing on the booth in my top-big scrubs, checking her box, knowing I was doing it for the tits and maybe helping put them in power. Maura, Olivia, Sheryl. Tits. 

Was there something wrong with me? You have no idea. Well, I dunno. Maybe you’re starting to figure this out. 

I had wanted to vote during my lunch break, which Olivia had now set as one o’clock. She’d done that, been slowly changing policies and schedules; even though we hadn’t seen her at the office in a while, her influence was being felt. So now I ate at a set time, when she told me to. It ranckled me a bit, yes, but there were bigger things to worry about, I guess.

Whatever the case, I’d planned to run out quickly during the break to the middle school where they’d set up the polls. It was close, just a ten minute walk, and I figured I’d be able to get out and back in time for my first patient of that Tuesday afternoon. But dammit if my stomach didn’t start acting up again just a few hundred yards out, and I had to turn around. Weird. What was it? Anxiety, from being away from a familiar place? That wasn’t like me. Anyway, seeing me return, the girls fawned over me a bit until I (quickly) recovered and they promised they’d drive me to vote later, after clinics were done. Then they’d be taking me out to watch the election results at a new bar down on Haverford Street - and, no, haha they laughed playfully…I didn’t have a choice. Melissa had insisted. I thought back on yesterday, the Monday after the painting escapade. There was the handjob she gave me while I sat suspended in the air on her thigh in her office, and then the one before she sent me up to bed. It made me realize I hadn’t jerked off all day today and I could tell. I was trying to hold on, for some reason, hold out. But it would be nice to, uh, see her again, today. If she was going out for the night, and they’d dropped me an invitation…

Okay by me, I guess..!

=====================================

Patreon!

[samuell2]

Cruel Story of Youth (ANPO HANTAI 😾🚨)

What a strange and beautiful movie this was. Looking at everyone else’s blog posts, it seems like there were mixed reactions to this film. I kinda get that— the acting wasn’t great, and the fight scenes were pretty dumb. Still, I thought this movie was a really fascinating exploration of 60’s counterculture. It was almost like a Murakami novel: Anpo, lots of casual sex, cigarettes, and music.

In terms of cinematography, this my favorite movie by far. Obviously I’m biased because of the color, (which is just beautiful) but I also loved the shaky shots. The motorcycle ride down to the ocean was amazing, and almost every scene just had such potent atmosphere. Kiyoshi’s dead eyes after sleeping with his mistress really struck me. Again, could just be the colors, but I love how the film was shot. I also enjoyed how the plot was structured, with all sorts of unexpected connections between the characters revealing themselves as the film goes on— the abortion clinic being owned by Yoko’s former lover, Horio knowing Kiyoshi’s mistress, etc. There were some neat reveals.

But most of all, the cultural commentary is fascinating. To me, this movie is fundamentally about two versions of rebellion.

One version is idealistic rebellion, which the film mostly associates with the youth of the post-war period. These youth fought for what they believed in, and championed democracy and ideals. But, through Yuki and her former lover, we see that many of them ultimately became disillusioned with their inability to change the system, and retreated back into the stability of the past, symbolized by Yuki’s lover.

This idealism, of course, has not died out by the 1960s— we still see dozens of the Zengakuren student protesters that symbolize it throughout this film, snake dancing through the streets in protest. But a new version of rebellion is becoming popular among the youth— a rebellion without a cause. A rebellion of hedonism and casual sex, one that discards entirely any sort of moral framework or ideology. Kiyoshi is this ideology personified. He rebels, but only because he wants to, not because he really cares about anything— including his lover Makoto. He is wary of dreams and ideals, believing that the world is too cruel to sustain them: “We have no dreams, that’s why we’ll never end up like you”, he tells Yuki.

I think a lot of what this film does is display the hypocrisy of this kind of rebellion through Kiyoshi’s actions. Kiyoshi hates women who sleep with older men, but he himself sleeps with an older mistress for money. He feels justified in robbing men who use women for their bodies, though he sexually assaults Makoto several times. He fights with pimps, though he himself is essentially pimping out his girlfriend through his robbery scheme. As the police officer in his interrogation points out, he is no better than the old men he hates so much. He is a corrupted youth— a sour green apple, in stark contrast to the Zengakuren red.

Anyway, I could ramble on— i’m pretty into the whole Anpo and counterculture thing (clearly), but basically what I’m saying is that this film is a critique of a lot of the counterculture ideologies that emerged during the 60s, and the danger of becoming just like the adults you despise when you discard your ideals.

[look-at-the-soul]

A new chance- Epilogue (Emmett AQP2)

Anon requested this as a one shot, but I felt like it needed it to be a mini series.

Series master list

A/N: I had this ready since the day I got shadowbanned (I’m still in jail time), but I feel the need to finish this beautiful story.

✨Thank you for joining me during this incredible ride! I loved writing for Emmett and I have another request saved in my drafts 🥰

⚠️ Smut. Minors DNI

Thank you @lyarr24 for the help with the gazebo! 😊

Going back to the island, the first thing you wanted to do was to make sure that Oscar was alright. Trying to not wake him up, you instantly took the baby in your arms, while Emmett started to get the things you brought from the city. Cece, Lindsay, Evelyn and her kids were around, they wanted to know all about your recent visit to the city as if it was a holiday. While all you wanted was to cuddle with Oscar and have some rest, gently, you kissed his head covered by an adorable knitted beanie, stirring in your arms, you saw him opening his mouth to yawn, you only left him a couple of days and he seemed to be bigger than you remembered, his little eyes struggling to focus when he heard your voice.

Cece told you that Oscar didn’t give them any trouble at night, he was sticking to the feeding hours, and that a couple of people visited the clinic in your absence but nothing too difficult to manage.

Emmett noticed you were a bit overwhelmed and decided to take you into your office.

“Do you need anything?” You asked as he closed the door.

“Yes, this.”

A pair of strong hands pulled you by the face, until his lips found yours. Surprised by the sudden need he was showing, you decided to give in, answering the kiss with the same force. Your hands found their way around his neck, to hold him in place, just in case he changed his mind.

But he didn’t, if anything, you noticed he slowed down the movements of his lips, deepening the kiss.

It was almost as if your batteries got recharged, his hands holding your head in place, your soft fingers caressing his face, the beard tickled, but you didn’t mind. This was the best kiss you ever got; so full of gratitude, of a genuine love that started to grow when you both needed it the most, so full of life, of the things that really mattered. The world could end right after that.

Surviving the invasion wasn’t something easy. Learning to live without the people you loved the most was almost unbearable.

But the moment the two of you met, everything changed for the best.

Despite everything, there was hope, happiness and a whole new opportunity to hold onto.

Pulling apart to get some air, he left his thumbs caress your cheeks, your eyes were still closed while a wide smile decorated your face.

“What is it?” He asked, in a whisper.

“Much better than I had dreamed.”

“I wanted to do that since the day I met you, Y/N.”

“Took you a while.” You stated with a smile.

Taking a deep breath, you saw a sparkle in his eyes. “I needed to be free first.”

“Are you?”

You saw him nodding before he leaned in for another kiss. Shorter this time.

“I gotta find Gabriel, he will help me hide the weapons.”

“Emmett, be careful with that please.”

“I will… See you around six? Same spot at the beach.”

“Yes, I’ll meet you there.”

As he opened the door, you found everyone together pressed against the door.

“Hey! Shouldn’t you all be doing something?”

“Why were you guys locked?” Marcus asked, looking between Emmett and you, Emily made him a sign to be quiet.

Smirks and knowing glances were shared, but Emmett was good sneaking around. “Marcus, Regan, I need your help.” As the Abbot siblings followed him, Cece, Lindsay and Evelyn stared at you.

“Oh, stop looking at me like that! Instead you should help me organize the medical supplies I brought.”

“Will do, just first tell us what’s going on.” The three of them couldn’t hide their excitement, they were acting like school girls.

“There’s nothing to tell, don’t be noisy.”

“I knew you couldn’t resist those muscles.” Cece was like a modern grandma, always speaking her mind.

You felt yourself blushing. “Stop, nothing happened between us… yet.”

“I’m babysitting Oscar tonight.” Linds stated with a wink.

You tried to refuse her offer, but it was more like an order.

Luckily for you, as the word that you were back spread around the island, some of your patients arrived, they weren’t used to you leaving the island and preferred to wait, so it was a busy day for you, but between one patient and other you fed Oscar and changed his diapers, constantly making him feel that you were around.

Closing the clinic a little bit earlier, you went to take a shower, fixed your hair making two braids and securing them in the back of your head as if it was a crown, letting the rest of your hair fall all over your back. Feeling it was a good moment to use the dress with small sunflowers you brought from your recent trip to the city, and you rushed to find Emmett, Oscar attached to your hip, carrying the Moses baby basket in your free hand.

But as you arrived at the spot where he found you swimming in your underwear the other day, you found a handwritten note under a rock.

Meet me at the dock. It read.

It was around, so you walked over there, looking around you found a male frame on the edge of it, you could tell it was Emmett’s back; wide shoulders, the veins in his arms showing since he was wearing a green shirt with a short sleeve. As the wood cracked under your feet, he turned around, but he was different… he seemed like a completely different man, the thick beard was gone.

Shocked by the sudden change, you stopped walking.

“Is there something wrong?” He asked, studying your face.

It wasn’t just how good looking he was, but also there was sparkle in him coming from the inside out.

“Your beard… you shaved it.”

His smile just got bigger as he closed the space between you and then you heard him chuckling. “Yeah, I did.”

Placing the Moses on the floor, you used that hand to caress his jaw and cheek, his skin was so soft. Turning his head around, Emmett kissed the inside of your palm.

“You don’t like it?”

Shaking your head, you smiled back at him. “I love it.”

“I thought it was a good time to leave the homeless look behind.” He admitted taking the Moses in his hand and guiding you to the edge of the dock. “I wanted you to come here, because while we were at the city, I thought how neither of us have a grave for our children… and I would like to make them some kind of tribute to honor them.”

Taking Oscar from your arms, Emmett placed the baby in the Moses and then squeezed your hand, in silence, he opened a bag and retrieved a small boat from it.

“I bought this for Zach’s birthday,” he started to say, melancholy found its way to his gaze. “but we never got the chance to build it together like we wanted to. I think he would like to see that I was able to finish it for him.”

“Emmett…” the words got stuck in your throat, you were unable to hold back the tears in your eyes. “this is a beautiful way to say goodbye, I just wish I had something for Maddie.”

“While we were at your house, I took the liberty to pick up a doll from the couch, I hope that was okay.” He then showed you the Barbie he was talking about, it was a Barbie dressed as a Doctor, Maddie loved that one, she used to say the doll was like you.

Were you ready to say goodbye to the pain and guilt?

You definitely needed to do it, for yourself, for Maddie, for Emmett.

Taking a deep breath, you took the doll from his hands and gently, placed a kiss into its head, imagining it was Maddie’s head. Your eyes filled with tears and you tried to suppress a loud sob, but the emotions were at the surface of your skin.

His strong arm came around your back, in a protective motion, his other hand was holding the boat. Placing the doll on the boat you gave Emmett a small look.

“Alright, shall we push it?” You could see that behind the smile, there was sadness too.

Looking at the sunset, about to go down, Emmett put his hand over yours. “Wherever you are, Maddie… I hope you’re happy and running around with Zach.”

Now it was Emmett’s turn to break, as you saw him struggling to speak, your free hand rubbed his back in a comforting motion.

“Even though it was for a short period of time, I loved being your dad, son. You gave me the greatest moments of joy.” He managed to say in a low voice.

Gently pushing the boat, the two of you saw it starting to sail away.

With no more strength supporting you body, you sat on the edge, leaving your legs hanging, Emmett mirrored you seconds later.

“This is so heartbreaking, but also its making me feel calmer… thank you for this moment.” You told him as one of his fingers caught a tear rolling down your cheek.

“We both needed this, Y/N. They’re at a better place now.”

You nodded and then watched in silence as the figure of the boat was starting to disappear in the distance. For a few minutes, each of you dealt with your own goodbye separately, but together by the union of your hands.

Time was relative in a moment like this, was it too short or too long? You weren’t sure, but sitting there next to Emmett with your head leaned against his shoulder, feeling his slow breathing until you couldn’t see the boat anymore something in your heart clicked, this was the perfect way to allow your Maddie and his Zach finally rest, it didn’t matter anymore if the two of you felt guilty, or powerless to protect them, it only mattered that two broken hearts finally found some peace after a long time.

Looking up at Emmett, you couldn’t stop the smile on your lips as you caressed his soft cheek, you couldn’t believe this was the same man that had mocked your work with natural plants a while ago.

You noticed the remains of a tear rolling down his face, but his eyes were shining like the stars that were starting to show up in the sky, wiping the tear away with your thumb while he closed his eyes. The weight on his shoulders started to fade away too.

Emmett helped you up and then took the basket with Oscar inside of it. Then, he offered his free hand out to intertwine your fingers together to walk back.

To your surprise, the gazebo was decorated with lights and candles on the floor.

“Emmett.” Your hand covered your mouth in surprise and when you turned around to see him, but your surprise grew as you found Regan taking Oscar from the basket.

“Good thing is we’ve got plenty of babysitters.” Emmett smiled and thanked Regan in sign language, before you could even protest they were gone.

Once they were out of your sight, you turned around to find Emmett staring at you with a beaming smile.

“This is lovely, very romantic.” You admitted accepting the small cup he was offering you.

“Had to blackmail Lindsay a little so she could get me a bottle of wine.”

Letting out a small chuckle you raised your glass at him. “Bet she had to get in trouble to find this treasure. I appreciate the effort.”

“It’s been ages since I did something like this Y/N and you’re making me hella nervous.”

Taking a small step towards him, you placed your hand over his heart. “Don’t be Emmett, it’s only me.”

This was the greatest opportunity to be honest, and you felt extremely grateful for him and everything he had done for you.

“Thanks to you, I feel that the hole in my heart, the heavy weight I was carrying around it’s gone…”

“Now it feels like I can take the next step with you Y/N, when you asked me why I was going by myself to the city… I needed to break parts with my wife first, to be able to have a new start with you.”

You frowned at his words, now understanding why he wanted to go the city. “Sorry, I didn’t meant to interrupt your process, Emmett.”

Cupping your face in his hands, you saw him shaking his head. “It’s because of you that I was able to do it, you gave me the strength I needed, Y/N.”

You didn’t know if you would stay in this island for the rest of your lives, or what the future hold, but whatever that was both of you wanted to be in this together.

Staring into each other’s eyes, your heart started to beat faster, going crazy like a drum.

Sometimes words aren’t necessary, one look or a smile is enough.

Leaning in, your lips met midway. Freer than ever as time stopped in a soft motion unfurling all your senses as Emmett’s arms wrapped your upper body. Your hands suddenly moved up from his shoulders to the back of his head, fingernails running through his hair as he tilted it to the other side.

Pulling apart to come up for air, your eyes were locked in each other.

“How did I fall in love with you Y/N?” Emmett asked touching your face with his fingertips.

“The same way I fell for you?” Trying to stop the grin from growing, you kissed him one more time, stealing a couple of quick pecks.

Exuding happiness through every pore, you realized how much it meant to you this fresh start with Emmett, if it wasn’t for him, you wouldn’t even dare to look at another man.

“I made something for you.” He announced while taking a step back. “It might be wrong, though since I only used the features you described.”

You were in awe of his skills to draw, especially because you never showed him a photograph of Maddie, but he managed to capture every single detail. Speechless you could only stare at the drawing.

“Do you like it?” Emmett asked after kissing your temple.

Pressing the paper against your chest, you nodded and kissed his lips with all the gratitude you had in your heart. “It’s perfect, thank you.”

“You showed me that even after something so terrible there’s still hope, happiness, a new beginning… Y/N you helped me to leave behind the pain and I will be forever grateful for that.”

Your heart was beating with such intensity that you were afraid it would come out from your chest.

“I don’t know what the future holds, Emmett, but I know I want to be by your side.”

Kissing him again, your bodies soon started demanding more, becoming heated rapidly. After blowing the candles, you walked to the clinic, rushing upstairs to your room. Breaking the kiss only when you needed to move away to take off your clothes as well as Emmett’s.

His rebel fringe tickling your skin as he kissed your body. His calloused hands setting your skin on fire while the deep but gentle movement of his hips was making you curl your toes and moan with each thrust.

“I just love how you feel around me, Y/N.” He stated kissing the spot where your neck and shoulder joined, and in response you ran your fingers over his arms and back.

“You’re filling me so good.” Arching your back, you didn’t want to leave a single space between your bodies.

Bending one of your legs, he changed the angle, hitting a sweet spot inside of you at the same time he increased the speed of his movements, unable to control the groans coming from him.

“Right there…” you could feel your orgasm approaching.

Bending down to claim your lips again, you matched his thrust by lifting your hips a little from the mattress. Unable to keep holding on, it was all he needed to explode from the pleasure, your own body reaching the highest pleasure at the same time.

The intensity of the moment silenced your thoughts, you could only focus on the wave of warmth running down inside of your body.

Waiting for him to come down his own high, your fingers were running through his hair, taking in his masculine features, the sharp cheek bones, until he opened his eyelids and you found yourself mirrored in the blue orbs.

“I love you, Y/N.” His body dealing with the small shakes of the intense pleasure he just experienced.

Closer than ever you rubbed his biceps up and down and then touched his jaw. “I love you too.” Pulling him down to kiss him again, you felt him break away from your body.

But only for a brief moment, because he soon wrapped his arm around your body to keep you close.

“What are you thinking about?” You asked him after noticing he was quiet.

Adjusting his head on the pillow to look at you, he answered: “what you told me on our way back here.”

“About people asking if you’d run to be the new leader of the island?” You thought he wouldn’t be interested, he wasn’t the type of man after power. But he did have a big heart.

“Yeah, I mean if you guys think I could help around…” he answered still unsure.

“Emmett you will be the best leader this island could get.” You assured him excited.

He snorted. “What could I possibly bring to the table?”

“Values, justice, a fair administration, a genuine interest to help people, all the good inside of you.”

“What if I fail?”

Shaking your head, you kissed his shoulder. “Stay true to yourself and you won’t.”

You could tell he was still unsure, so straightening in bed you straddled his legs and started kissing him once more.

“Say yes.”

“If this is how you’re going to convince me of something then you’ll get everything you want, Y/N.” He laughed and felt your smile against his skin.

“I’ll be by your side every step of the way.”

“So this is a full new start?”

The idea of it was so exciting.

“A new chance to live life to the fullest.”

He seemed to think about it for a second. Looking into your eyes, he found what he was looking for; a healed heart that helped him heal as well. You showed him the way to make something good out of his pain.

“A new chance to start everything over.”

After a long time around sadness, both of you found the way to make each other happy, to help the other heal.

You can call it fate, chance, whatever you want but truth is, it was more than you two ever imagined.

Fully aware than an opportunity like this doesn’t occur very often, Emmett and you decided to make the most out of this new chance.

[talesofstyles]

Drs Styles

paediatric heart surgeon harry, husband harry and dad harry. honestly the holy trinity.

warning: they did it in the car. bloody animals.

Harry

“Move your car, please!”

“What are you going to do? Write me a ticket?”

“This is in the interests of safety for the children!”

I look at the time in the car. I’ve still got about twenty to twenty-five minutes to watch this drama unfold at the school gate. I just wish we had popcorn because drop-off and parking situations at the school gates are always more entertaining than Good Morning Britain. 

The school gate is a strange social scene, and honestly, I don’t blame my wife for trying to avoid it like a plague. Sometimes, you don’t even have to talk to these people to know everything about their lives and more. I swear there are more gossips in the class WhatsApp group and daily playground chattering than in the copies of The Sun and Daily Mail combined. You know who’s married, who’s getting a divorce, whose husband shagged the au pair again, whose party you haven’t been invited to, even who’s looking for a builder. 

I see the school caretaker chuckling to himself as he sweeps the autumn leaves off the pathway, no doubt also enjoying our morning entertainment. 

“Why is Mrs Chambers screaming like that?” Alma, our eldest daughter, asks from the back of the car. 

“Because that man parks his car in a drop-off zone,” I reply, still watching him as he removes a child from his car seat. “Do you know who that is?”

“I think the boy is your classmate,” Alma turns to her sister.

Fiona, our youngest, peers over to inspect. “Oh yeah, that’s Rufus and his dad.”

“Do we like Rufus?”

“Not unless we like boys who pee down the slides,” Fiona scrunches her nose up. “He stood at the top and peed down like a waterfall. I haven’t gone down the slide ever since.”

I shake my head and let out a chuckle. “M’sure they’ve cleaned it up since, button.” 

Did you know that choosing a school for your child after nursery can be a head-throbbing, stomach-twisting, heart-pounding experience? Well, it can. How is one supposed to choose a school anyway? According to the proximity? Leavers Results? Adorable uniforms? Parents’ agendas?

After many, many discussions and visits through more schools than I can count, we ended up with Thomas’s Kensington. It’s a great school, and only ten minutes away from our home, making school runs easier. The downside of this school is the fact that it costs us an arm and a leg and that they’re always trying to rip us off any chance they get. Also, they only take the kids until 11, so after that, we’ll have to look for other schools again. But since our girls are only seven and five, we can worry about that later. 

There’s a strange mix of parents at this place. I went to school up in the North and the school gate scene is nothing like this. Here there are more au pairs, fancy cars, nicer clothes and people coming with impressive tans from their last weekend break in Antibes. The kids here are suited up too: the PE kit is the size of a small weekender bag, and we put them in uniforms that make them look smart, hoping that will increase the size of their brains. A child walks past our car with a cello case, another with a hockey stick. It’s a different land here. One that my socialist in-laws constantly tease us about and one which my mum was hysterical about because she was scared her grandbabies would be little Tories. I promised her I’d keep them grounded by only giving them plain hobnobs. None of those luxury chocolate covered ones.

Jokes aside, my girls are happy here. They’re thriving. They learn French and Spanish and Mandarin, even if they share a class with kids who have ridiculous names like Kitty and Archibald. 

A knock at my window calls me to attention. I wind it down.

“Are you Fiona’s dad?” A mum asks me.

“I am.”

“It’s about Ophelia’s riding party this Saturday at the riding stables.” 

Like I said, it’s a different land here.

“I thought we RSVPed to that?” I look at her in confusion.

“Yes, you did, but we have to change the food options as one of the partygoers is allergic to nuts. I’m making everyone aware and we need to let the guests know that they can’t bring any nuts on the day.”

A dirty joke is right there on the tip of my tongue and I’m trying my hardest to keep it in. My wife would definitely find it funny though, I’ve got to remember this and tell her later. 

“Noted,” I mean, I wasn’t going to send my daughter to a party with a packet of cashews anyway but I nod politely.

“And just gift vouchers for gifts please. Smiggle, if you can.”

Again, I nod, biting my tongue at the presumptuousness. But then I suddenly panic, because we haven’t entered the realms of pony riding just yet. Do I have to buy jods and boots? If I don’t, will my daughter be the odd one out? But Ophelia’s mum saunters off before I’ve got the chance to ask.

“Do I have to go to that party, daddy?” Fiona asks. 

“Well, we’ve already replied, poppet,” I tell her. “Did you not want to go?”

“I’ll go if I have to.”

I don’t answer because I get distracted by a vacant space. I edge the car forward so my girls can hop off. 

“I love you both. Have a good day, make good choices.” 

“Bye daddy! We’ll see you after work!”

***

Evelina London Children’s Hospital is our second home. Of course, as a children’s hospital, we try to make the place as fun as possible as not to freak those little patients out at being ill. It is bright and primary coloured, and each ward is decorated according to its own theme with different colours and lovely artworks. There are televisions and toys almost in every corner. We have a giant slide on the ground floor, and even the bins are shaped like red London buses. The aim was to help the children to forget that they’re in a hospital and take their minds off their sickness.

Since my wife and I are in the same department, our offices are next to each other, both overlooking the Thames. It’s nice up here. Would’ve been nicer if we could sneak in a quickie, but that’s practically impossible with our shared secretary’s desk sitting literally in front of our doors. 

Speak of the devil.

“Good morning. Here’s your tea,” my secretary follows me into my office with a cup of tea and a tiny plate with a couple of rich tea fingers. “Clinic until 3 pm, scheduled PDA ligation in the laboratory for 4 pm and then evening rounds on the wards.”

“Mornin’ Rhonda, you look lovely today,” I greet her cheerily. She’s a stern-looking woman who definitely likes her tea as strong as tits and who has probably never cried in her life. With such severity, she runs a tight ship, but she secretly has this affectionate side in her too. Not only is she a great secretary, but she also takes care of us in a way as a grandma does. She makes us tea, feeds us in between surgeries with biscuits or nice baby cheeses and crackers just so we wouldn’t starve. 

See that sofa over there in the corner of my office? Rhonda got me that. It was around the time when I had just become a new father with the sweetest, most gorgeous little baby who did not sleep. Alma wasn’t a fussy baby though. For some reason, she just wouldn’t go back to sleep after her midnight feed for months. Believe me, I tried everything. I changed her nappy, I swayed and jiggled and rocked and sung her to sleep. Odd nonsensical songs like, ‘Alma darling go to sleeep. Sleepy sleep sleep. Pleeeeease. I’m so tirrrred. My eyeballs may actually exploooode. I don’t want you to see thaaat.’ And she would just look at me all wide-eyed like I’d lost the plot. Those were song lyrics? That was rubbish. Please don’t give up your day job. Also, it’s not sleeping time. I’m awake. I’m ready for life. Come on, entertain me, old man. Isn’t this nice, just you and me? Tell me everything you know. EVERYTHING. 

Except of course she didn’t say all that. She would just stare at me and I had no idea what was going on in her little head. 

I took over my wife’s patients at the hospital during her maternity leave, so I had longer hours at the hospital. One day Rhonda found me napping on the floor between surgeries, so she sweet-talked some porters into looking for any old sofas on the go and paid to have this one reupholstered. She even bought me a fleece throw for it too. We really don’t deserve her.

“You hittin’ on me?” She deadpans. “Yer wife not doing it for you these days?”

“It’s the blazer. I’m a sucker for a blazer.”

“If I’d known, I would’ve worn it more often,” she replies. “Did my nice dress yesterday not give you the fanny flutters?”

“It’s schlong shiver for me,” I roar with laughter. “And it’s the tartan, makes you look well old.”

“YN, yer husband’s a bloody git, did I ever tell you that?” Rhonda says loud enough for my wife to hear, and I can hear my wife’s laughter from her office next door. “Drink your tea. Your first clinic appointment is in twenty.”

“Yes ma’am,” I salute her. 

***

The Arctic ward in the Evelina is home to many of our imaging, heart and kidney services. The name is probably giving it away, but everything is decorated in blue and white to go with the theme. We have several zones, and since paediatric cardiology clinics are held in the Walrus zone, I spend a great deal of time each day looking at walrus and snowflake decals. 

“Doctor Styles!” I hear a little voice shouts in excitement as I walk towards the waiting room in the outpatient ward. I smile, because I recognise that voice even before I see the little person.

The waiting room is very open here compared to other hospitals. There’s a sea of noise, snacks, tiny juice boxes and colouring pages. There’s also always a look of expectation, judgement on the faces of parents and guardians every time I walk in. They want to see if their doctor is old or qualified enough to see their children. There’s always one child who has the whole gang with them; parents, two sets of grandparents and even several aunts and uncles, and there’s also at least one child running around in circles out of boredom. 

This little lad bounces off his chair and hurls himself at me in a way like a little puppy would when its owner comes home from work. I put an arm out, hoping that he’ll apply the brakes but no such luck and he bundles himself into my arms. “Nice to see you, mate.”

His parents smile as they watch their son’s antics, who then runs off as I shake their hands. I turn around to see what caught his attention, and I can’t help but chuckle when I realise it’s my wife. 

“Doctor pretty Styles!” He exclaims excitedly as he bundles himself into her arms. She gets a mouthful of curls in the process. 

“Hi Rory,” she greets him as she runs her fingers through his curly mop. 

“Oi,” I pout as I walk towards them. “You don’t think I’m pretty?”

“Your wife is prettier,” he says with a shrug, his tone matter-of-fact.

She laughs and gives him a high-five. “Rory, you are officially my favourite patient.”

She is right. Rory is one of our special patients for sure. We’ve both known him for about six years now, ever since Rory’s mum gave birth to this tiny human next door at St Thomas and his heart was literally broken. I remember watching proudly from the theatre when my wife replaced two of his valves when he was born. It was in our early years of training. Long time patients like Rory almost always feel like family. We’ve seen all their parents’ tears and watched over their children throughout the years. They send us cards and wine every Christmas and despite all attempts to keep a professional distance, their kids do feel like our own.

Rory shrugs off his dinosaur rucksack and unzips it, pulling out a drawing of a blue whale and an opened packet of KitKat. I like that the whale wears a top hat and appears to also don a moustache. 

“I drew you both a picture. Only one though, because I figure you can share,” he says with a big toothy grin and hands the packet of KitKat to my wife. “And I’ve got half a KitKat here. Do you want it?”

“I’m good for now. Keep that KitKat for later on the tube,” she smiles and waves at Rory as she begins to walk away towards the fetal cardiology ward just down the hall. “Bye Rory, thanks for the picture.”

“Bye doctor pretty Styles,” Rory replies, making my wife laugh as she walks away. I give her a wave and a wink. 

“Hey Rory, did you know a blue whale has a heart the size of a small car?” I ask him and his eyes widen.

“No way! That’s mega!” He exclaims. “Do you think you could operate on a whale heart?”

“I would need a very big ladder,” I tell him. “And a wetsuit. I’d give it a go though.”

A senior nurse from the outpatient ward, Florence approaches us with a junior nurse trailing behind her. “Dr Styles, always a pleasure.”

I smile at her. “Florence. How are we today?”

“Busy as usual,” she replies. “We’re about twenty minutes behind I’m afraid. We had Dr Goodridge in this morning and you know he likes to talk.”

“He always runs over,” I chuckle. “Well, don’t worry. I’ll skip lunch and get us back up to speed.”

“I’ll make sure to send some snacks for you. Here’s your chart, your files are already in your office. And this is Alice, your nurse today. She’s newly qualified so might need some instructions.”

The new nurse looks terrified so I smile at her to try and calm her fears. I totally get that. When you work in medicine, unfortunately, you’ll realise that there are a lot of rude self-important wankers. 

I look down at my chart and find Rory’s name on the top of the list. “Well, look who’s coming with me to the exam room.”

Rory reaches out to hold my hand and we walk towards the examination room. His parents follow us closely, carrying the usual coats and devices that people do when they know they’re bound for a hospital waiting room. I see them inside and sit behind the desk.

“So, young man, I hear we’ve had a touch of drama with you. Can you tell me what happened?”

I’ve actually already got the information in the file, but I like the way this kid tells a story. He reminds me of my youngest. 

“So… I was at school and we were doing PE and I wasn’t really feeling it because it was cold and really we should have been inside but Mr Witter makes us go outside because he used to be in the Army apparently and he says we should get used to the cold but that’s what they do in prisons.”

I smile. “Go on.”

“And then my heart started running.”

“You mean racing?”

He nods firmly. Racing isn’t even the word. It sprinted to the finish like Bolt at 252 beats per minute, three times the speed it should.

“It felt like bubbles in my chest and then the school went crazy panicky and they called the ambulance and they brought me to the hospital but not this one, it was another one and it wasn’t as good because you weren’t there and they had really bad biscuit.”

His mum adds. “And they gave him some drugs to bring it back to a steady rhythm; they were close to shocking him.” Her voice trails off and both parents’ faces look drawn and pale remembering the incident.

Rory looks absolutely unbothered by this. To be fair, we have put this little man through everything. We’ve cut his chest open more times than is necessary for someone so small, we hook him up to machines and put him on treadmills. His resilience and character amaze me, and I really can’t imagine what it feels like to see your child so vulnerable and helpless, to be paralysed and weighed down with such worry.

“Alright then, little man, we need to make sure that your heart is working as it should. This is Alice, and she is going to take you over for an ECG and we just need to make sure your tick-tock is in good shape.”

Rory nods and jumps off the chair. His dad offers him a piggyback, and his mum smiles at them. I can hear Rory offering that half KitKat to Alice as they leave the room. 

His mother turns to me as the door is closed, her shoulders relaxing, allowing herself to breathe. “And how are you?” I ask her.

“You just think it’s done and then something like that comes along to scare you,” she says with a sigh.

“Let’s have these tests and then see if it’s anything major to worry about,” I try to calm her. “Episodes of rapid heartbeat is quite common in Rory’s case, and we can look into drugs to remedy that if necessary.”

She smiles, nodding.

“Did you have any other questions for me?”

She studies my face for a moment too long. “I… well, it will show up in Rory’s records soon, but my husband I are… I mean we’re getting a divorce.”

I pause for a moment. Of course, I know these things happen in life, but I’ve known this couple for years. I’ve seen them at their lowest ebb, bound by friendship and their love for that boy. I really do feel sorry for them.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I mumble.

“We just… we’re terrified about telling Rory.”

“He doesn’t know?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “We’re scared of breaking him. I mean, look at him. All of this stuff he’s been through and he carries on like nothing has happened. We don’t want to upset him.”

“It took a team of us the best part of six years to build Rory’s heart. There's a warranty on that workmanship,” I reassure her. “Have that chat with him. He’ll be fine.”

***

“Have we got time for dinner first?” I turn to my wife as we walk out of the hospital. We don’t normally have the luxury of ending our shift at the same time, but today is exceptional. We have parents’ evening at the girls’ school so Rhonda made sure to clear up our schedule after our evening rounds at the ward. 

“No, but we can raid M&S and eat in the car?”

I’m starving and I almost cry with relief at the suggestion. “Always knew I married the right woman.”

She chuckles. “Damn right you did.”

We leave the car at the hospital and she drags me along the walkways to Waterloo, the breeze biting at our cheeks. I pull her into M&S, dodging the marching commuters and grab a basket. 

“I’ll look for some wine,” she says before she saunters off. “Oh and I want sushi. None of that crap with the mayonnaise please.”

“Alright.”

I skipped lunch today so the whole place calls to me. I start taking very random things off the shelves: a packet of raspberry iced buns. That’ll do. I also take some hummus for my wife because she bloody loves hummus. I’m not even joking, I’ve seen her down a whole pot of it. Then I take some sushi as requested, some coleslaw, a family bag of mature cheddar and red onion crisps and a trifle. I hope I don’t bump into Rhonda. Next are cheese twists, noodle salad and cocktail sausages. 

It takes me a while to notice that there is a man right next to me with a roll of yellow stickers in their back pocket. Hello there, you are one of my favourite people tonight. Have I managed to find that sacred hour when all the food is being marked down? He labels some prawns with dip and even though I get a little squeamish about eating fish near its expiry date, I put it in my basket. I then follow him around the corner. Now, this is dinner. I put all sorts of random food in my basket and smile at the thought.

Ooh, knockdown pizzas. I should get a pizza. That’s tomorrow’s tea sorted, the girls will love it. Although I can’t help but wonder, what’s the limit for us to feed our daughters frozen pizza in a week before they get taken away from us? But eh, we might be able to get away with it if we give them frozen peas on the side. 

“Look at you,” says my wife, depositing two bottles of red in the basket. 

“Yes, it’s me. I’m the yellow sticker bitch.”

She snickers as we turn to head for the tills. “Excellent work.”

***

“Mr and Mrs Styles, welcome.”

“Mrs Ebner, always a pleasure,” I shake the headmistress’ hand who’s standing at the door. 

“Busy evening?” My wife asks her as she shakes her hand next.

“Always,” the headmistress replies with a smile, then proceeds to speak like she’s reading out of brochures. “But such a wonderful opportunity to connect with our parents and build on the special relationships we have with our school community.” 

Two uniformed minions appear.

“Lewis, Maggie, could you please show Mr and Mrs Styles through to the drinks reception?”

They both nod in unison. The boy holds his arms out like a waiter showing us to our table. We follow them through the school’s grand corridors to the main hall. It’s the one thing I like about this place. It’s very Hogwarts-like with hefty engraved name boards and sepia photos of successful sports teams. In the hall, a throng of parents mill around waiting to see respective teachers. It’s the same every year. We all dodge the people from the PTA trying to sell us quiz tickets, and the bowls of crisps out of hygiene concerns.

“Red or white?” Asks a lady in an apron.

This right here is the very reason we get through parents’ evening. From the look of the bottle, it’s decent wine too. I think that’s where a good proportion of our fees is going. 

“Red, please.”

We both take our glasses and walk to the corner of the hall. It’s essentially a holding area without the background music. The idea is that all the parents will get on and create a party vibe but it just becomes a strange family gathering. As terrible as it sounds, it’s sorted into cliques: parents who know each other via NCT groups, the international expat brigades who keep to themselves, the parents who’ve ostracised themselves by gossip, the ones who you know regularly brunch and ski together.

The boy from earlier suddenly appears in front of us. “Mrs Hughes is ready for you.”

I put my hand on the small of my wife’s back as we walk towards the classroom. Fiona’s teacher first and then Alma’s straight after. Right, we can do this.

“Mrs Hughes, we meet again,” I shake her hand. I’ve got no qualms about Mrs Hughes. She’s a seasoned teacher who likes a slack and sensible moccasin and we’re familiar with her since she taught Alma two years previously. When we enter the classroom, Lewis bows in reverence, taking his leave and I wonder whether to tip him. 

“It’s always lovely to have another Styles girl in my classroom. Fiona is a particular delight.”

My wife and I smile proudly. I’m sure Mrs Hughes says this to every parent here about their child, but that’s always nice to hear. 

“She talks a lot about you,” my wife says. “She seems to have settled in well.”

Mrs Hughes opens up a couple of books and it’s classic Fiona. Alma is ordered and neat—if she makes a mistake then she erases it completely and she underlines things with a ruler and listens to instruction carefully. She gets that from her mum. Fiona though, on the other hand, she’s all me. She has more wild abandon about her; no rulers, no rubbers. She puts giant crosses through things that don’t work and likes her bubble writing decorated with doodles of many, many cats.

I glance around the classroom as Mrs Hughes talks to us about standardised scores. The theme of the school is to show you how smart and educated these children are. Look at the copperplate handwriting, their reproductions of Van Gogh and our languages corner where they’ve all had a go at telling us what they like in French. I spy a contribution from my girl. J’adore les chats et le gâteau au chocolat. 

I’ve lost track of the conversation so I try to catch up.

“So to push Fiona into those top scores, perhaps we can look into tutoring? For maths, in particular, so she can grasp some of the concepts a little more tightly,” says Mrs Hughes. 

My wife and I look at each other confused. “Uh, I don’t think there’s a need, right? She’s only five.”

“It’s never too early,” replies Mrs Hughes. “We run an after-school tutoring club on Tuesdays that would help.”

Back when I was a youngster, clubs were fun endeavours that involved matching baseballs caps or were a chocolate biscuit that you had in your lunchbox. Maths tutoring session was not a club.

I ask her. “Is it free?”

“It’s fifteen pounds per session.”

See? My point being this should be a parents’ evening, not a sales session.

“Well, then it’s something to think about,” says my wife. “It could be that Fiona catches up with people throughout the year.”

“Possibly,” Mrs Hughes nods. Still, though, she proceeds to go into her folder and passes me a form. Sneaky. “Fiona has also shown great interest in languages and art. Her pictures have been a joy.”

Mrs Hughes goes to a file and pulls one of Fiona’s drawings. I glance down at it. It’s a standard child piece of art. The grass and sky are strips of colour to the top and bottom. It’s a family portrait, and we are as tall as the broccoli style trees. Wait, hang on a second. I count the number of people in the picture again. Is that-

“And Mrs Styles, I gather congratulations are in order,” she says with a smile. “Such lovely news.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Fiona told me it’s a boy,” she adds, and the sheer terror on my wife’s face at the realisation is priceless. “You must be very thrilled.”

I study the picture. There’s a house in the middle, and standing in a line in front of the house is our family. The one slightly taller than the broccoli tree is me. I’ve got my white lab coat, and I look like a serial killer because I’m holding a scalpel with the size of a butcher’s knife. Next to me is my wife, also with a white lab coat, but instead of a scalpel, she’s holding a very chunky baby who rather looks like a basketball with a head.

“Oh dear,” I chuckle. “Guess now we know what she’ll ask for Christmas.”

“Yeah,” my wife shakes her head. “We’re not expecting.”

“Oh, I apologise,” Mrs Hughes says with a sheepish smile.

“No worries, Mrs Hughes,” I tell her. “So, what else has our girl been up to here? Besides gossiping of course.”

Mrs Hughes laughs under her breath. “Well, in class, Fiona is attentive, bright and very helpful. She is a credit to you both.”

***

“I swear your daughter, Styles.”

We’re sitting in the car now. Finally done with parents’ evening, still laughing at the slightly creepy, chunky basketball baby in Fiona’s picture and the fact that three people, including Mrs Hughes, have congratulated us for the ‘baby’.

“You haven’t called me Styles in years,“ I turn to her with a grin. “Not since medical school.”

I can’t help but flashback to the good ol’ days when we had matching university hoodies and we’d test each other on the parts of a kidney whilst walking into lectures, sitting next to each other, sharing pens and cans of Lilt. 

“Well, after that I became a Styles too,” she chuckles. “Would be confusing then, wouldn’t it?”

“True,” I laugh under my breath, then I grab her hand and pull it to my mouth so I can kiss her knuckles. “Thank you.”

“What for?”

“For being a Styles.”

“Aw, aren’t we soppy tonight?” She smirks. “Alright, stop the car.”

“What?”

“There,” she points to a dark empty spot and I oblige. 

Then, before I can even ask her why, she reaches over and grabs me by the collar. Pulling me close to her and gives me a kiss. I kiss her back, and I smile when she bites gently on my bottom lip.

“Oi, oi. Something’s got you randy.”

The next thing I know, she undoes her seatbelt and then rolls her trousers down her legs along with her knickers, fumbling and giggling at the awkward movement. I push my seat back and pull my trousers down. 

“Don’t fall on gearstick now,” I joke as she climbs over to straddle me. “Well, unless you want to, of course…”

She laughs as she lowers herself over my lap. I really can’t believe what’s happening here.

“Mrs Styles, we’re about to have sex in a car. Around the corner from our daughters’ school.” 

“I know,” she says with a smile before she runs her tongue along my neck. “Not our first rodeo though.”

“Oh right, we did it in our Volvo years ago, didn’t we? Thought the suspension couldn’t take it.”

“And it turned out fine. Told you that you needed to have more faith in the Swedes, they’re a reliable breed.”

“I love it when you talk about Sweden.”

“Ikea.”

“Fuck.”

“Meatballs.”

“Billy Bookcase.”

She throws her head back in laughter and I take this as an opportunity to run my tongue along her collar bone. She gasps. I reach down to lift her before I slowly lower her over my cock. We both sigh as I enter her, a long exhalation with our lips barely touching. 

“Viggo Mortensen.”

“Isn’t he Danish?”

“Tomato, Tomahto.”

I smile at my wife and push my hips up, silently telling her that we don’t need to talk about Swedish people anymore. She grabs onto the car seat and levers herself up and down. I look at her in the eye, a goofy smile still plastered across my face.

But then I squint. Light. Bollocks, what’s that? Where’s that light coming from? Crap, that’s bright. Shit. I see the flash of a hi-vis jacket, a knock at the window and someone shaking their head.

Oh sodding fucking bollocking shit wank.

[dinosaurtsukki]

dating the armed detective agency’s medic

a/n: of course i have to write one for the ADA even though i’m a biased port mafia bitch. there’s a bit more characters here so i’ll try to keep each one short but still very fluffy and sweet <3

this man is always getting himself injured and even though agency has yosano, fukuzawa thought it would be a good idea to hire another medic who could deal with less life-threatening injuries

ofc dazai flirts with you the first chance he gets and every time he comes into your clinic

dazai: good morning my dear belladonna! the weather is beautiful today, but not as beautiful as you of course

you: YOUR ARM IS BROKEN PLEASE SIT DOWN

although as much as he likes to slightly mess with you, dazai genuinely enjoys coming to the clinic and being treated by someone like you

he likes observing your hands and how careful they are when they bandage his arm or that cute little scrunch of your brows when you’re bandaging his forehead

while on a mission, atsushi and kunikida go the extra length to protect dazai because they know you’re worried about him 

and then one day dazai comes into your clinic again and instantly you think that something has happened

until he surprises you by bringing out a bouquet of flowers

‘if i get injured less on missions, would you let me take you out on a date?’

jokes on you though after you guys date dazai finds every excuse to visit you in the clinic

he’ll get papercuts on purpose just so he can get you to put a bandage on them 

kunikida is annoyed because dazai they’re just papercuts jfc also please go back to work

seeing that you’re always concerned about his health and well-being, dazai finds himself making much less attempts cause he knows the stress it puts on you when you have to bandage him up after and make sure he’s alright

thanks to you our man is able to take care of himself a bit more

even though he is your boyfriend he’s still going to mess with you in any way he can

he’ll barge into your office claiming that his chest hurts because you didn’t give him a kiss that morning

also will highkey hug you from behind even if you’re treating another patient

the first time he meets you is for a physical exam check-up because it was required at the agency and he feels embarrassed at first seeing that the agency’s medic was gorgeous

atsushi was fresh out of the orphanage so of course he was quite malnourished and still had some injuries from his abuse

you had no idea who’d dare hurt such a sweet boy so you do your best to treat him and instructed atsushi to come in for some follow-up check-ups

although when he comes in for that check-up he talks about how he’s been healthy because he eats a lot of chazuke and you’re like ‘oh no, no, no, please eat other things too’

you end up packing him a bento box because he’s your patient so ofc you have to keep him healthy 

the two of you run into each other a lot in the morning because atsushi tends to come in way earlier than he’s supposed to so you often find him sitting in front of the locked door

thus begins your early morning chats. atsushi’s always polite and never interrupts when you talk and you love how he shows so much interest in whatever you say

atsushi began to realize that he has feelings for you but boy is he bad at concealing them also ranpo kind of busted him in front of everyone in the agency including you

but atsushi was saved by you hinting that you wouldn’t mind going on a date with him at all and he’s ecstatic until he realizes he hasn’t been on a date before

he takes you out to a nice restaurant and insists on paying for everything

nothing much changes with your routine but atsushi likes to bring you breakfast in the morning and the two of you have little dates before going into the office

he knows how worried you get when he goes out on especially dangerous missions but he does everything he can to protect the city and the new home he found with the agency and you

this guy was one of the people, other than yosano and fukuzawa, who interviewed you for the job and you can’t forget how intense he was when it came to asking questions

of course, you answered all of them well but kunikida was very serious that you knew how dangerous it could be to be involved with the agency

there was a self-defense portion in the interview that you knew about and of course kunikida was the one who added that

to his pleasant surprise, you managed to dodge all his incoming attacks (kunikida lowkey found it hot, like that’s requirement number ten on his list checked right there)

kunikida does get injured a fair amount during missions and he doesn’t want to get dissected by yosano all the time so he goes to your clinic that’s right near the office

he likes how efficiently you work and how gentle your hands are that even when you’re stitching up his wound he almost can’t feel a thing

however, kunikida does have a bad habit of not resting for the appropriate number of days. like, even with a bullet wound he’ll still hobble over to his desk to finish his paperwork

once, he came down with a terrible case of the flu so of course you sent him home only for kunikida to sneak back into the office when he thought no one was looking

you ended up taking kunikida home but poor guy could barely do anything by himself so you took care of him too

kunikida is definitely the delirious babbling when he’s sick so he ends up talking about his list of traits for an ideal woman and how you filled out a good portion of it

when he wakes up (much more sane) he sees you reading that list on his notebook and he’s like WAIT WHAT ARE YOU DOING

he handed you the notebook personally before passing out and kunikida can’t live it down

you: well, even if i don’t match all these requirements, would you still be interested in going out?

kunikida: yes... please

everyone can tell that kunikida’s about to go on a date because of how nervous he is the entire day

he knows how tight your schedule can be and how busy he is with with work but he always makes time to have his lunchbreak with you

loves to hear about your day and even has some space in his notebook dedicated to any interesting stories you have

the first time you met him was when he also had his physical check-up which ranpo insisted he didn’t need but fukuzawa made him so he had no choice but to follow

the entire time ranpo’s just like ‘nothing’s wrong with me, see?’ and then you do a simple dental check-up and find that he has like two cavities he didn’t want to tell anyone about it because he’s scared of the dentist *cue ranpo trying to run away and you grabbing him by the poncho*

of course fukuzawa makes him go to the dentist too but ranpo insists that you have to be the one to take him and schedule the appointment and come along

truth be told, you’ve always been pretty attracted to ranpo because you know of his skill as a detective so you were excited to have this day with him

only for you to have to physically restrain ranpo to the dentist’s chair (you even had to call kenji to help) while his teeth was getting checked

ranpo was squeezing your hand the entire time and he was fairly grumpy after the whole ordeal that he wouldn’t even talk to you until he asked if you could get ice cream

you: the dentist just told you to eat less sweets

ranpo: but i neeeeed them

you: fine, how about frozen yogurt?

after the dentist trip, you know how much of a hard time ranpo has with eating less sweets so you decide to leave fruit on his desk as a healthier alternative but he won’t TOUCH IT

after some bribery on fukuzawa’s part (’i’ll acknowledge you if you eat fruit more and also tell atsushi to give you a piggyback ride every day’) he finally concedes

he actually finds himself liking fruit so in the afternoon he’ll swing by the office just in time for you to be slicing fruit

ranpo gets over the fact that you sent him to the dentist and enjoys his time in the clinic eating fruit with you and sleeping on the cots inside

your clinic is where he hides when he doesn’t want to do work and when he pouts and asks you to say that he’s sick you can’t help but go along with it

he’s also super physically affectionate around you. will literally have his body draped over yours sometimes while you work

people start talking about how you two look good there and one time someone asked if the two of you are dating and ranpo’s like ‘of course we are!’

and you’re surprised self is about to protest when ranpo smirks at you and says ‘why? am i wrong?’

lmao ofc he’s not you’ve been struggling to keep yourself from being a flustered mess around him

he’s still clingy around you but this time he comes into the clinic every few minutes to ask for a kiss

▸ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ┈┈┈┈ 🎕 ◂

taglist (check out my post for details on being part of my taglist): @waitforitillwritemywayout @atsumu-brainrot​ @laure-chan @goodfoodxoxoxo ​ @guardianangelswings @ah-kaashi @amberalisa​

[rothjuje]

I’m (mostly) recovered from the weekend/spring break. I forgot how much time I need to process something even slightly emotional. And moving and carrying four other people’s feelings about it is a lot.

I’ve been starting to give away and sell off my plants and it actually makes me really sad so leaving my chickens will probably be harder than I’m anticipating. I sold my mini monstera and she was 38 inches tall and in a beautiful (perfect) ceramic pot and wahhh. Which I know sounds especially whiney given people are currently having to actually flee their homes and leave everything behind in Ukraine. Ugh. The news is so awful, my heart breaks for them.

I don’t even know why I am this way with plants. I don’t name them but I talk to them all the time. They’re like my little friends, they make me so happy. I’ll have to start all over when we move.

George is doing great (as long as he is in his routine). Surprisingly well, he has learned several new skills. He talks while his therapists are here but not much otherwise. I’m not sure why. Praise? He associates them with having to speak? Not sure. We did call his developmental clinic awhile ago to get him an official diagnosis, waiting for an appointment. They’re booked two months out so hopefully it will happen before we leave.

I don’t know what to do about our senior dog. His pain is controlled. He can wear doggy diapers on the car ride to MA. But he is losing his little doggy brain. He is fully blind and can barely walk without bumping into things in our house where he knows the layout. But the part that concerns me more is he is just so confused. He’ll lay down, get up, stare, lay down, whine, get up, stare. Pace. Like he doesn’t know where he is anymore. I tried to give him water the other day and he was licking the air. I tried to lead his head to the bowl and he started licking the air even more aggressively, desperate for water. He has no quality of life, but isn’t in pain, so I can’t put him down. But how is he supposed to deal with multiple hotels and a probable temp stay? And then a new house?

I’m gonna have George and the temperamental cat, Justin is going to have a large very anxious dog that will be very drugged and another half alive dog. It’s gonna be a shit show. There is going to be so much screaming and hissing and howling and I’m laughing about it but it’s really not funny. Justin will have to carry drugged dog to hotel and then come back to carry blind/confused dog, then come back for his luggage. He’ll also have my sister’s urn (which is large, heavy, and marble). Guys. I really can’t think about the trip up there or I will go insane.

I’m never moving again. Really.

I am excited for a new house. A blank canvas. The kitchen will be retro with yellows and oranges. Our room will be calm and navy blue. Living room will have some kind of wallpaper with foliage or citrus. Girls’ room will have either a flower mural or sprinkle wall, haven’t decided yet. I just want it to be fun and full of whimsy. Boys’ room will be dinosaurs or space, haven’t decided yet. Guest room/playroom/office will be beach/anchor themed. I still plan on doing a mini dance studio shed outside, especially for winter months. If we have a small room or large closet I’d also like to do a mini theater room with a built in bench for seating. I have all the ideas and want to put a lot of work into our house to make it fun and ours. Dreaming about this is my current happy place.

[nightingaelic]

Fnv Companions react to Fem Courier being trans girl (sorry feel abit of self projection today hahah)

Don't feel sorry for wanting to see yourself reflected in the world around you, we all want to know that we belong.

The Forecaster frowned, and his eyes moved rapidly from left to right as if scanning some hidden radar. "Your face does the thinking... two to the skull, yet one gets up," he said.

The courier who stood before the boy nodded and touched her fingers to her temple, almost reflexively. "That's me."

"Odds are against you," the Forecaster went on, squinting. "But they're just numbers after the two-to-one. You've changed suits once, clubs to diamonds, and now you're playing the hand you've been dealt."

At this, the courier stiffened suddenly. "Um..."

The Forecaster went on, unaware of his customer's discomfort. "But you don't let it rest, you shuffle and stack, and a gamble... a gamble that may pay off? But how? Forecast: Rapidly changing conditions."

"Um... thanks." The courier counted out the caps and handed them over to the boy, then beat a hasty retreat from beneath the overpass.

Once back atop Highway 95, she took her traveling companion aside. "Before you think I worked for some Mojave faction and deserted, that thing he said about changing suits... I didn't think he'd... what he meant was... I wasn't always..."

She sighed and ran a hand over her head. "Hell, it's about time I told you anyway. I'm trans."

Arcade Gannon: Arcade stopped her before she could stumble into an over-explanation. "It's, uh, it's okay. I... may have already known."

"You..." The courier's eyes widened. "You did? But who told you?"

"I, um..." Arcade straightened his glasses and looked up at the sky, avoiding eye contact. "Oh boy. Doctor Usanagi..."

Immediately, the courier's eyes narrowed. "... doesn't betray doctor-patient confidentiality, but I was in one of her medical clinics that day you came in for the NEMEAN sub-dermal armor," Arcade finished hastily. "She, uh, asked me and a couple of the others to help her close you up."

"Oh." The courier relaxed her stance a bit. "Oh yeah, I remember. I mean, I don't remember you, but I do remember signing the form that said I was okay with med student assistance. Why didn't you say anything, when I first asked you to tag along?"

Arcade shrugged. "I don't betray doctor-patient confidentiality either. Usanagi hammers that into you pretty hard on day one. Besides, something like that doesn't matter much outside of a doctor's office."

Craig Boone: Boone shrugged. "Okay."

The courier's eyes darted around his countenance, looking for some kind of stronger reaction. "Nothing? Not even a 'congratulations' or a disapproving grimace? Who are you, Boone?"

"Unconcerned," he shot back testily. "Unless it affects your aim somehow, it's not a problem. If that's what you're asking."

The courier sighed. "No, it's... you're fine. I guess I'm still pretty defensive about it. Especially around NCR types."

Boone nodded. "There were a few officers that Manny and I operated under who weren't the open-minded sort. They didn't last long."

Lily Bowen: Lily looked positively stormy. "Did that young man just air your personal business for the whole trading post to hear without a care in the world?" she thundered, with all her grandmotherly might. "Let's go back, dearie, I need to give him a piece of my mind."

"Lily, no," the courier protested, grabbing the nightkin's arm before she could stomp off toward the overpass again. "He probably doesn't even know what he said, it's just part of his gift. And no one's going to put two and two together unless I tell them outright, like I did you."

"If you say so, pumpkin." Lily smiled and settled herself. "But I can always ask Leo for a little help if anyone has cross words for you about this."

The courier sighed and patted her companion's arm. "No need for that, Lily. That reminds me, you should take your medication today."

Lily wrapped her up in a hug. "You take such good care of Grandma, my sweet girl."

Raul Alfonso Tejada: "Mija." Raul smiled. "How long you been holding onto that for?"

The courier let out the breath she'd taken, and her shoulders sank back to a normal level. "Well not everyone takes news like that too well. I didn't know if you would... mind."

"Mind?" Raul shook his head. "Oye. I've lived a long time, out here in the desert. It's a lonely place, even if you're surrounded by a crowd on the Strip. You can lose yourself pretty easily, lose sight of what you want, what you are. I'd know better than most. If you held onto who you want to be, then that's a victory, in the Mojave."

"Um..." The courier's eyes were shiny with tears, but before Raul could comment or pull out a handkerchief, she'd enveloped him in an unexpected hug. "Thanks, viejo."

Rose of Sharon Cassidy: "Well, I'll be a gecko's uncle." Cass grinned. "You're serious? All this time on the road together, and you didn't think you could tell me that? I'm wounded, Six."

"Hey now, you were slow to trust me, too," the courier pointed out with a growing smirk. "I was gonna tell you after the Silver Rush situation, if we made it out alive, but then we did and you were riding so high at the Atomic Wrangler that I didn't want to dampen your memory of that day."

"Dampen my..." Cass chuckled and clapped the courier on the shoulder. "Better fix your metaphor there, Six. Rain in the desert is a good thing. And trust between friends would never dampen my day."

She held up a hand before the courier could protest. "I know, I know what you were worried about. Trust me, I'm not the type to froth at the mouth over propriety or 'family values.' Thought you'd've picked up on that, with my smart mouth and wanderin' eyes."

"Wandering..." The courier ducked out from under her arm and danced away, laughing. "Uh-uh. I helped you with your vendetta, now you help me with mine. Then we'll buy a drink at the Tops and talk, whiskey rose."

Veronica Santangelo: "You..." Veronica's eyes went as wide as the Mojave's full moon. "Oh. Oh."

Slowly, the Scribe sank into a sitting position on the cracked asphalt. "That explains a few things, I suppose."

The courier sat down next to her. "Like what?"

Veronica started ticking things off on her fingers. "Both that guy in Primm and the bartender in Goodsprings called you by a different name, but they were the same name and it sounded kind of like yours so I wrote it off as a coincidence. Benny didn't recognize you right away, even though he shot you in the head. And Arcade locked us all out of your room that time you took some shrapnel to the torso and were laid up in the Lucky 38 until you weren't covered in bandages."

"Oh yeah." The courier grinned. "Surprised you didn't piece it together sooner, then."

"I sometimes forget that's something people can do," Veronica admitted. "Remember when I said that some in the Brotherhood don't look too kindly on those who choose relationships that don't produce new children? Well, ditto and worse for those who want to transition. Most of the ones brave enough to do it anyway don't stay Brotherhood for long."

ED-E: The eyebot beeped in mock surprise, then whizzed around the courier three times playing triumphant music. She giggled and swatted the bot away playfully. "Go on then. I have no idea how you could've known, but there it is."

ED-E beeped quizzically once it came to a stop.

"Why hide it?" the courier responded. "Well, unlike robots, some people think it's strange to change your... parts. Or even just your classification. Honestly, it's old-world thinking, no clue."

The eyebot beeped long and low, almost like a coo of affection and reassurance.

"Thanks, ED-E," the courier said with a smile. "I'll try to remember that."

Rex: Rex cocked his head to the side. The courier knelt down to his level and scratched his ears, inspecting his new brain and cybernetic limbs as she did.

"I don't know why I'm telling you this," she murmured, increasing her attentions as Rex leaned into her. "You probably already knew, with that amazing nose of yours. I think your owner knows, otherwise why keep spouting that line of his whenever I come around?"

Rex whined, and the courier smiled. "You know. 'Do what's right for you, so long as it don't hurt no one.' Got that seared into my brain as surely as that bullet, thanks to him. I bet that king he's worshipping never even said that."

[thesunshinebunny]

When the world falls apart, the only thing we can hold onto is ourselves (Part III)

Series Master list

pairing: canon Eren Jaeger x reader

content: Angst, unstable relationship, breakup, smut/nswf+18, major character death, violence, blood (obviously), war (pretty obvious)

Summary: War and hate. It’s what defined the world at this exact moment. You failed your comrades, and by failing them, you failed yourself. Your relationship is hanging by a thread and your enemies will not only be found on the other side of the sea, but also in the mind of the person you love the most. How will you take the reins in the face of so much destruction?

Chapter summary: It will take more than a betrayal and blood blath for the reader to stop protecting those who really need it.

Words count: 4.7k

I knew things were going to go from bad to worse when we returned to Paradis; but I never imagined that I would have a letter from the Supreme Commander on my desk. Days had passed since my fiasco conversation with Eren, spreading the word of my insubordination towards the lack of notification to the respective authorities. Sure, the guards had let me into the cell just because they knew me, but I never had the decency to tell Hange-san or even ask for a meeting with the Supreme Commander.

And here I was. Wrapped up in a much bigger shit roll since I decided to enlist in the Survey Corps, with a simple letter demanding my presence in his office for a little "talk."

The medical center where I could do my practices with ease was quite far from the justice’s court where the Supreme Commander was, having to go out to ride through the beautifully paved streets. A street I crossed, a street I saw citizens read the newspapers that had brought so much catastrophe to peace within the walls. People were revolting against the militancy, demanding Eren's immediate release, praising he was the only one who could lead Eldia to its ultimate glory.

If they could heard themself right now. They spoke as if Paradis itself had become an empire, a power on the verge of attacking and taking every country under its feet. It was as if they wanted to turn the game around, to be us the empire and our enemies the war slaves.

I was still far from my destination, but the crowd could be seen cowering above the barred court doors. Men and women with posters screaming without sense or unity, an angry mob demanding explanations, ready to use violence to make their way into the hierarchy.

I got off my horse when I faced the crowd, needing to get up front and through the secured gate and with my loyal traveling companion I wasn't going to make it. I left him tied up outside a local, asking the owner to take care of him, if necessary, I would give him a monetary compensation on my returned.

I tried to get through the mob, asking permission, even nudging some people, but no matter how hard I tried to take a step forward, there was always a bastard blocking my way or pulling me back; They even had the decency to grab my coat and throw me off.

"Excuse me, but I need to pass"

Empty words at this situation. If they didn’t listen to the specialized people of the militancy, it was obvious that they wouldn’t listen to me, a simple doctor in practice for the legion.

"Free the leader of the Eldian empire"

"Free Eren Jaeger"

"Give us some damn answer"

"Fuck off you cheap bitch"

The day wasn’t even beginning and I was already receiving hateful comments, typical of closed minds.

I looked around for a solution, I was wasting valuable time and starting to get irritated. If I was late for my meeting with the Supreme Commander, who knows what punishment he would give me apart from my insubordination.

Besides of the mob there wasn’t much more than a few elegant houses and shops, no other entrance except the one in the backyard, but to get there, I would have to go all the way around the building and it would take much longer. The walls were too high to jump alone and too smooth to climb, otherwise enough people would have sneaked in by now.

I turned my head towards my horse, which was still in the same position where I left him, patiently awaiting my return. Surely what I was about to do wasn’t going to please him one bit.

I ran as fast as I could and unhooked him from the wooden post, ignoring the comments of the owner of the premises who was indisputably claiming for his pay. Without turning my head to such scum, I motioned for the horse to turn around and run down the avenue, against the crowd. Being at a considered distance, I again instructed him to turn around and go as fast as he could.

"I'm sorry Phillip, you're going to have to forgive me for what I'm going to do"

We were a few meters from the mob, mentally preparing myself for the feat that was about to be accomplished. Almost arriving, about to impact, I gave him a little jerk to the right, guiding us towards the wall, and raised my legs towards his back, squatting against him, waiting for the right moment and the impulse he would give when braking hard.

When he was about to slam his trunk against the wall, Phillip stopped his galloping, propelling me forward and flying toward one of the door columns. I grabbed the stone as best I could, avoiding falling on my backside, and raised my legs towards the top, finally reaching my goal. Being already on top and looking at the terrified faces of the rebels, I went down to the other side of the door, slightly hurting my feet and hands in the fall.

"That was quite a show"

Hitch was already in front of me, malicious and proud on her face. She was giving a few applause to the air, trying to lift the spirits of the people of the military squad, even if her acting was a bit cocky.

"Desperate situations call for desperate measures." I waved my hands over the coat, looking at her with the same smug visage she was giving me.

I didn't like Hitch per se, but we weren't friends either. The way she acted and talked gave me bad vibes and I planned to stay as neutral as possible in her presence. Even her gazes seemed to want to pierce the soul of whoever she was speaking to, as if she wanted to undress you internally and seek your darkest and most shameful secrets. I would stick my hands in the fire by assuming that in her younger years she had been a bully or a blackmailer.

But it was better to keep those thoughts for yourself, before generating greater repercussions in the times that hugged us.

"Did you come to see Armin and Mikasa?"

Any thoughts I had of her dissipated.

"They ... are they here?"

I was fuzzy. Not because of the fact that I was uninformed about their actions when they left the legion barracks in the morning, which I was getting used to since last year, but because they were in the same place as me. What a coincidence.

To be honest, the two of them never owed me anything and it wasn't their duty to tell me where they were going every minute of the day, just like Hange. Each one of us had their own will to go where we were sung; But if the three of us were in court, and if they gave me the chance to guess, I would say that to see the Supreme Commander, it made me a bit suspicious.

"Yes, they are talking to the Supreme Commander to try to go talk to Eren"

I must have hit my head at some point in the battle of Marley, because lately every occurrence was quite impossible to believe. They were the ones who asked me to go talk to him a few days ago, they were the ones who questioned me when I returned to the waiting room where the few survivors of 104° Squad were;it was them who gave me a compassionate look as they saw I hadn’t accomplished much and I had ended any relationship that bound me with Eren.

And now here they were, demanding an audience with their childhood friend, while I would have to be judged for the same action. Something wasn’t fitting. I looked around trying to find them, or maybe to find an answer to the thousands of questions that were forming in my head, and finding no help, I turned to Hitch.

"What is going on? Why-"

Before I could finish my question, an explosion rumbled across the cobblestone floor, hurting our ears and knocking us to the ground. Fire and debris couldn’t only be seen in the air but also smelled, flooding our nostrils, causing us to cough and cover our eyes with debris.

I looked up to find a flare coming from one of the court offices and a heavy body falling in our direction. I couldn't make it out until it fell to the ground, leaving a stain of blood and ash around it, apart from leaving a trail of smoke from where it flew off. My eyes were opened with shock and amazement, since the person in front of me was nothing more and nothing less than the same militant leader, half of the body lost and burned by the explosion.

"Well ... that's new"

In all my years of service I have seen every horror inside and outside the walls. True, even the Survey Corps had acted against the law, but it was for the greater good, to expose the bastards who lived on the wall farthest from the sea. I had seen people hit and kick another for a piece of food when the wall Maria fell. I had seen how we were massacred one by one with bullets to the head as we tried to go beyond the walls.

But never in those years I had seen a rebellion like the one taking place, being willing to eliminate such an authoritarian figure as Darius Zackly.

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The chaos went unnoticed by a large part of the population, only those who were present at the time of the explosion and the military police were aware. Faced with such an atrocious event of treason, a small meeting was convened involving the most important heads of each faction; unfortunately I couldn’t be there, my presence had been required in a clinic a few meters from the court. There were quite a few injured.

Some had mild and harmless burns, others had large parts of the body with third degree burns. Some had splinters stuck in their arms and faces, some had a piece of wood stuck in their stomach.

A couple of hours had passed which seemed like weeks to me. I had been assigned the milder cases, but as I pulled the splinters out of a patient's eyes, I had the countless howls of people echoing in my head, listening as they took their last painful breaths. People who asked to die on purpose to ease the pain.

Hours passed and welcomed the next day. I had terrible black circles under my tired eyes, hands stained with dried blood and splintered; they’re fucked up and I needed to heal them as quickly as possible before they got infected. I grabbed the cutting tools and placed them on a metal tray, the cold of the surface soothing the pain in my hands, and although it wasn’t too heavy I felt like it trembled on my grip.

I heard the door open wide at the other side of my last patient's room, the front door, letting in multiple heavy footsteps on the hardwood floor. Apparently, the soldier who had entered was in a hurry or was about to deliver terrible news...I wish I had been wrong in the second option.

"Bad news, Eren Jaeger has escaped from the underground cell"

I dropped the metal tray on my feet, making the sound of metal and utensils rumble across the room. My hands were shaking even more and surely if I saw myself in a mirror I would see my face completely pale.

"If you want to free yourself from this cell, go ahead"

My words invaded my mind like a bucket of cold water, as if they wanted to make me see that I was to blame for his escape. I knew that sooner or later he’s going to free himself, his eyes showed it and by not getting an answer that contrasted with mine, it was perfect evidence of his plans. But even knowing it, even Hange knowing it, I didn't expect him to do it in a moment of such betrayal.

I cleaned my hands as best I could with a towel hanging over the room sink and grabbed my coat, rushing out of the clinic.

"I’m sorry, I need to go"

But where to go was the question. I had no idea where Eren might be, and even if I knew what he was going to win, surely he was with his followers and with the simple image of me approaching from the horizon, I would be dead in a matter of seconds ... or imprisoned, whatever happen first.

At the exit of the clinic, there were two soldiers of the military police standing guard and watching the justice’s court from the distance. I approached them with the intention of asking them about the whereabouts of the Survey Corps, but they looked at me like I had the plague and pushed me aside hostilely, almost knocking me to the ground. I kept my composure as best I could and looked for someone else to ask; I didn’t have to wait long, since a woman of my age with mahogany hair, extremely black and matted, pointed the way where my comareds had gone. According to her words, they’re heading towards a large and luxurious building in the middle of one of the main avenues, recognizing the word restaurant from the conversation between the riders.

The only place that matched that description was the restaurant where Nicolo worked.

I hurried out with Phillip galloping through people, avoiding stepping on them and apologizing on my back. If there was something clear to me in all this mess, it was that Hange would go to find answers among the working Marleyans of that place. Maybe something could be solved.

I was very wrong.

I rushed into the building, finding only a long entrance hall and a corridor that led to god knows where. No one was even around to see me panic and I didn't see a soul nearby either, the only thing if I could hear a heated discussion far away and heavy footsteps on the floor. I let myself be guided by the sound, running back to its origins and finding a bizarre and meaningless scene in front of my eyes.

The room that seemed to be the main one hosted the orphaned children of the Blouse farm as well as Sasha's parents, sad and anguished parents if I paid better attention. The children were just as sad, with tears in their eyes, especially Kaya; they were crying the same way as on the day Sasha's death was reported. They were cornered under a window all together, hugging each other and letting the rays of the sun streaming through the window illuminate their figures, as if those rays could replace the heat that Sasha had left behind.

That scene broke my still fragile heart. I would have liked to reach out to them and try to help them move on, as I would have liked to stay on the farm with them when we came back from Marley to help them get by; obviously I could never have replaced Sasha and they could never have replaced my family, but in these times of battle, what mattered most was healing the wounds between all of us.

I would have liked to talk to them, but my eyes shifted from the Blouse family to the figure of Hange carefully placing a child on the floor. The blond boy was very badly injured on the side of his head, he was bleeding and his clothes had stuck to his body due to the large amount of liquid that had flowed down his torso.

"Hange-san, Wha-" As I stared at the blond boy on the floor, I could see that he was one of the children who had sneaked into our war balloon.

“Isn't that one of the Marleyan children? Why is he here and why is he bleeding?"

Unconsciously my body leaned forward, resting on one knee on the ground and reaching out to the boy. My instincts as a doctor were screaming for me to tend to the poor injured boy regardless of his race and I was willing to do so.

"We will take care of him, go to the room continue with Mikasa and Armin"

I got up without hesitation, taking one last look at the room I was in and it was just at that moment that I recognized Nicolo and Jean in a corner away from everyone else. They both looked very distressed, but I didn't have the opportunity to ask why, they had given me an order and I had to carry it out. I would have to wait until got back to base to understand this terrible situation.

The room they sent me to was at the end of the corridor, the door was closed but every step I took I could hear the soft voices of Mikasa and Armin, apparently talking to someone else. Well, that conversation must have to get a pause because I was about to slam the door in and leave the doors wide open.

“What the hell is going on? Why is a Marleyan child unconscious in the kitchen?"

Upon entering, all excited, my eyes only saw the figures of Armin and Mikasa around a table. They both looked up at me in disbelief when they saw me standing on the threshold. For the second time that day, I looked back across the stage in front of me and spotted a small brown-haired figure sitting at the same table. With a little more attention, I saw that the small figure was trembling, perhaps from fear or from adrenaline, at the same time that its face was bruised and full of blood; and putting all my attention on that bloody face I realized that I recognized those eyes, those same eyes that I had looked at with contempt and had looked back at me with the same feeling the night of the invasion.

The missing girl from the Marleyan duo was sitting across from me staring with sheep's eyes.

All exaltation I had in my body dissipated, my gaze fell, leaving nothing more than a neutral countenance. But ... anyone who could see through my eyes, would know they reflected the fatigue and sadness of several accumulated days. Seeing the girl was perhaps a way of attaching all the harmful feelings in a single part of my body.

I let out a long sigh and closed the door slowly behind me. I walked slowly towards where the girl was, running Mikasa to the side and looked at her with the best possible adult countenance. She had a red nose, it looked like it had been hit right on her septum causing her to bleed and stain her dress, which I assumed was courtesy of the Blouse family. Her cheek was scratched and red too, traces of broken and inflamed skin could be seen around her wound, but without any bleeding. This girl would have a swollen face the next day if we don't give her some ice.

“You’re hurt. Care to explain me what happened?"

I reached my hand out to her, but was greeted with a flinch from her. I could tell she was scared and she had every right to be.Either way, way I brought my hand to her face, placing my index finger and thumb on her jaw to move her head and look for other injuries.

Her face was the one that received the most impact, nothing in her eyes which was a very good sign, and I didn’t notice any kind of fracture in the bones of her cheek or septum. Good. I looked around the room for something I could use, but I only found empty tables adorned with a classic tablecloth and a very well elaborated and cared wine cellar, apart from showing off one of the best wine collections in recent years.

"Armin, can you go get some alcohol to disinfect the wounds? Surely they have something in the kitchen "

The blonde gave me a slight nod and left the room, leaving me alone with Mikasa, who was absolved of the situation, but still maintaining an imposing posture. The girl was still shaking on my hand, so I pushed her away and inspected her body for more injuries.

The palms of her hands were stained with blood, I guessed from the bleeding from her nose, but they also had some slight scratches, perhaps she had fallen to the floor. Her dress didn’t seem torn in the area of ​​the knees, so I assumed that they weren’t injured or it was a very slight scratch, almost no bleeding. Her arms seemed intact as did her torso. I turned to the back of her head, running her hair gently trying to find any trace of blow that could generate a contusion. I didn’t find anything that could be fatal or serious, but I did see something that caught my attention.

“You have marks on your head, diffuse, but they are there. What happened?"

"... A horse bit me"

Of all the situations that could have led to those brands, I didn't expect to hear this one. I didn’t expect it, not at all. It caught me off guard and I let out a giggle which I covered with the back of my hand.

"Sorry, shouldn't laugh… you deserve it thou" I gave her a little pat on the top of her head before ruffling it a bit and bending down to look into her eyes.

Armin returned to the room, alcohol in hand and a clean cloth. Thank God something was clean in this whole city, I was beginning to lose my faith in the cleanliness of this people. I reached for the items and I proceeded to apply a large amount of alcohol to the cloth and apply it first to the frightened girl's cheek.

"Why are you so good to me? I killed a one of your friends"

That comment made me stop for a second, just like I stopped looking at her wound. My gaze fell to the floor in search of an answer; I searched, searched and searched for answers to questions that didn’t have one or weren’t as simple as they seemed...or simply looked in the wrong places and the answers were always in my mind, only that my heart wasn’t prepared to face them.

"The girl you killed the night of the invasion was called Sasha Blouse and she was the best archer and sniper of the legion"

I turned my gaze to her, continuing to heal her wound on her cheek. When I saw that there was only a small pink stain left on the surface, I moistened the cloth further with alcohol and ran it under her nose, removing any trace of blood. The girl pulled back a bit when she felt it’s smell her nostrils and I had the opportunity to cover her nose for a few seconds to stop the bleeding.

"You know ... you remind me of a boy exactly like you"

When I saw that the bleeding stopped and the girl stopped moving due to the burning and itching that the alcohol was surely causing, I grabbed her hands and began to clean them with small touches avoiding tearing her skin.

“Just as intense and ready to fight for what he thinks is fair. You are just a little girl who was taught that we were the bad guys. It’s the way you were raised, the way you see the world. They taught us something else, but at the end of the day, apart from everything... we are the same"

It hurt. Yes, it hurt to see the one guilty of the death of my best friend, but it hurt more to see in her eyes the hatred and contempt they had taught her towards our race. The hate cycle we were getting into wasn't going to get us anywhere and it was better to nip it in the bud, even with baby steps.

When I finished cleaning all her wounds, I put the cloth on the table and looked at my performance with deep pride. It wasn't much, but it was enough; Not only had I cleaned a few simple wounds, but perhaps, I wished that perhaps, it would begin to heal her mind ... and mine as well.

I got up heavily, noticing how my knees creaked when squatting for a long time and I stretched my body generating more crunches, but noting at the same time how the heaviness of my back left and leave behind a much lighter load.

“Very good, you’ve been a good patient. Surely there is something sweet in the kitchen that I can give you” I patted her head again and gave her a sincere smile, one that I hadn't given anyone for quite a while. I headed to the door unconcerned about the situation I assumed was still going on in the main room.

"What's going to happen to Eren Jaeger?"

What will happen to him? And why does she ask me that?

"Don't worry, I'm not letting him put a finger on you" A sincere answer to a question asked out of fear. I reached the door and in the middle of the sentence I turned the knob wanting to make my way into the hall, but a tall figure blocked my way.

Eren was right on the threshold with the intention of opening it.

Well mark me impress

My body jerked back instinctively, avoiding taking my eyes off his. I moved to the right side, avoiding the figure of the Marleyan girl from being in Eren's point of view. I didn't know why he was here or if the others knew about it, but whatever the reason, he surely wasn’t alone and this wasn’t going to lead to anything good.

"Sit down"

He took a few steps forward, closing the door with his foot, not even paying attention to his surroundings, or maybe yes, now everything was a confusion when it came to the brunette in front of us.

"You can't tell me what to do" I planted myself in front of him, without taking a step back. We were both facing each other, him carrying me several inches tall, several dominating inches that made my legs shake and my heart race.

If it had been in any other situation, that trembling, that acceleration would have been very well received. It was impossible not to feel small next to Eren, the damn bastard had hit a big stretch and there was a great difference around the body between the two, a difference that I always loved to admire.

But not now. Not at this moment when everything was going to shit and I had to stand up to the figure of a little girl who was internally dying of fear thanks to him.

"Sit. Down"

Few centimeters separated us from each other, his chest too close to mine, I could feel how it swelled with each breath. He raised his hand to my face, letting me see his cut palm and dripping blood. Fear took hold of me, making me stand even more in my position, but I wasn’t going to give in so easily.

"You wouldn't" I looked him in the eye, defiant, longed for and everything in between.

"Try me"

It was all he said before grabbing onto my shoulders and pulling me back. My body collided with the table and instinctively I placed my hands on it. I heard how Armin and Mikasa tried to get closer to where we were, but a single glance from Eren made them stay still, submissive, as they lost in their positions. His gaze returned to mine. My breath hitched and I had to avoid with all my might thinking about the position we were entwined.

It wasn’t the time to think about how my hips were slightly elevated, just my butt up on the table and one leg dangling, his knee between my legs, preventing me from closing them and keeping the leg that was hanging in the air. His gaze wandered between our bodies and he returned to my eyes. He tightened his grip on my shoulders and pushed me to the side of the table, dropping me onto the chair next to the girl.

"I said. Sit. Down"

He took his hands off my shoulders, took the seat next to me and Armin and Mikasa sat with him, leaving an air of discomfort and tension in the environment.

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[maatryoshkaa]

young god | epilogue

chapters: | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11| 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | epilogue

word count: 4.4k

description: it’s been five years since the Miroh Heights murder cases came to a close — and five long, bittersweet years since you’d caught a glimpse of Han Jisung. Things in Miroh Heights have changed drastically since then — but when Felix sets you up on another blind date in an attempt to help you move on from the past, you realise that, once again, you’ve signed up for much more than you bargained for.

masterlist

recommended listening: stray kids - “sunshine”

epilogue.

“See ya, Miss l/n!”

You turned to wave back at the little girl who had called your name, her round eyes visibly bright from the waiting room of your clinic. Seven years old, front teeth just beginning to come in. One of her hands clutched a half-unwrapped lollipop as her mother held onto the other. 

The first time you had seen them, the child had been unwilling to speak — bullied relentlessly at school, her mother had informed you through a veil of desperate tears — but now, her laughter filled the warm air, traumas that had once been etched into a too-young face already beginning to heal and fade.

Evening sunshine warmed your cheeks the moment you stepped out of the building’s doors, a light breeze rustling the papers in your hand as you quickly tucked them into your bag. “Five years of graduate school hasn’t made you more organised,” Felix often teased you, and you would smack his shoulder in retaliation.

Five years hadn’t changed your friendship in the slightest, either—and you had to admit you were beyond grateful for that.

As always, the city around you was humming with life: evening rush hour, with people darting here and there, frantically flagging down taxis and catching their buses. Usually, on days like these, you should have been hopping into the first cab home and collapsing like a corpse as soon as you reached your apartment. But today, you remembered with a sigh, was not going to be one of those days. 

“Hey, Doctor l/n!”

You whipped your head towards the voice, a smile spreading across your tired features as you saw who it belonged to. In a slightly jaded Mini Cooper—second hand, of course, but worked just like new — Yang Jeongin waved at you from the driver’s seat.  

“I’m not a doctor, ‘innie,” you reminded him playfully as he unlocked the passenger door and let you climb in.

“Not a doctor yet,” he corrected you, grinning. “Besides, ‘child therapist’ doesn’t have as much of a ring to it.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing, and waved at another one of your patients as Jeongin started the engine. “You really didn’t have to offer to drive me, you know — the streets are a nightmare during this hour.”

“It’s not that far,” Jeongin protested, “Plus, I barely get to see you now, you’re so busy.” You didn’t have the heart to argue. The kid loved being behind the wheel so much, he made it seem like you were doing him a favour.

You watched Jeongin turn onto the main road, squeezing the car in between a van and a motorcyclist. He really had grown up over the last few years — his hair was darker now, remarkably sharp cheekbones overtaking his once-rounded cherub cheeks — but in some ways, nothing had changed at all. He still had that natural knack of brightening whatever room he stepped in — the Yang Jeongin effect, Hyunjin called it. And his heart was still too big for his own good: you remembered how he had adamantly refused to take the money Jisung kept offering him after the case had finally closed, and when Hyunjin had asked him why, Jeongin had simply replied, “After everything that’s happened, it doesn’t feel like he’s the one who owes me.”

On the other hand, Jeongin had been more than happy to take Prosecutor Kang’s compensation money instead, and had finally visited a car dealership with you and Hyunjin. 

The moment he had seen the Mini-Cooper — a beat-up thing from the 90s that you were amazed was still running — the younger boy’s eyes had lit up. “It’s just...it looks like the one our family used to have, before...the incident,” he had explained sheepishly, making you and Hyunjin exchange a look. And so, after a fiery back-and-forth between you and the salesman—not to mention a few sleepless nights at the mechanic’s — the rest was history.

The light turned green, and you spotted a photograph wobbling on the dashboard — a laughing child you recognised immediately as Jeongin. Behind him, a woman with a familiar wide smile had her arms around a man with eyes resembling a fox’s, with none of the slyness. “How’s your dad these days?”

“Mostly stays at home taking care of my mum, but he swears he wouldn’t have it any other way.” Jeongin turned his head to you excitedly, as if a thought just hit him. “She got out of bed a couple days ago, you know? The first time ever since my dad left.”

Your mouth fell open in a surprised smile, and Jeongin continued, “He’s real excited he got to teach me how to drive, too. I think he feels like he missed out on a lot of things, like...walking me home from school. Teaching me how to ride a bike. Graduation.” He shrugged. His words might have sounded sad at first, but you could see the way the lines of Jeongin’s face were more relaxed now, at peace. 

“Mind if I make a quick stop?” Jeongin asked abruptly, and you checked your watch before shaking your head lightly.

“I’m still about twenty minutes early. We’ve got plenty of time.”

He turned onto a familiar street, and you rolled down the window as Glow Cafe slowly came into view. It was just as busy as it had ever been — even the cars were stalling by the curb — but Hwang Hyunjin spotted you almost immediately, waving through the glass window. Quickly hopping out, Jeongin popped the trunk open, and you watched him haul two crates of coffee beans into the bustling cafe. The once-famed “delivery boy” of Miroh Heights only really did deliveries for Glow Cafe now, after Hyunjin had offered Jeongin a position as a barista until he graduated—and although he wasn’t the best with his hands (or his memory, for that matter), Hyunjin didn’t mind in the slightest.

“Him being here is more than enough for business. You should see the students flock in here every morning just to catch a glimpse of him.” The former barista snorted. “What’d I tell you? They’re eating him right up.”

They waved at Jeongin now as he jogged obliviously out of the cafe, Hyunjin’s laughs muted by the glass as he threw you a knowing wink. He had graduated himself, two years ago, officially inheriting the business after his grandmother had passed away. Glow Cafe had since come a long way, with Hyunjin always at the forefront of new design ideas and enthusiastically telling you about his plans to expand even more in the future.           

“Get this: ‘CEO Hwang, the most eligible bachelor of Miroh Heights,’” Felix held up his hands as if picturing a giant headline, giving his signature wolf whistle as you burst into laughter and Hyunjin kicked the blond man in the shin. “Ow!”

“How did you even get into the press with those cheesy titles?” Hyunjin  groaned.

“Not just ‘get into the press’, ‘jinnie,” you reminded him, giggling, “he’s the head journalist now!”

It was true—with his impeccable wit and seamless way with words, it came to nobody’s surprise when Felix maneuvered his way to the top of the local press in a matter of years. The head of the press still loathed him with a biting passion— “I can feel her glares all the way from her office,” Felix retorted — and rumour had it that the two seemed to fire shots at each other all day long. The image of a powder-faced, middle-aged woman bickering with your notoriously insufferable best friend made you laugh, but you also knew deep down that Felix always took his job more seriously than he let on. His eloquent articles had gotten his name out across the city in no time,  and so you took comfort in knowing that — no matter how hard the head of the press bared her teeth—nobody could touch Lee Felix now. 

Five years, you thought to yourself wistfully, eyes catching a familiar detective’s office as Jeongin drove past. What a trip down memory lane. You’d seldom come by this part of town since then, and seeing the familiar buildings sent a flood of memories and mixed feelings stirring in your chest. 

The well-loved Detective Bang, much to the disappointment of adoring students and professors alike, had moved abroad to a bigger city—whether he had been taken by a new precinct, or a new big case, you couldn’t be sure. “Rumour has it he’s doing undercover work now,” Seungmin had mentioned to you once in passing, “We haven’t heard from him in a while, but he’s making a big name for himself out there, that’s for sure.”

The District Nine police station whizzed by you in a blur, and more of the prosecutor’s words rang through your head.

“Meanwhile, the chief of police keeps insisting he’s glad to be rid of him, but we all know he secretly misses Chan.” Seungmin had shaken his head, and you had smiled at the image of the stoic police captain—chief, now—grudgingly sulking over the loss of his best friend.   

Jeongin made one last turn, and the narrow buildings opened up into the heart of Miroh Heights—the oldest part of town, where the roller rink, record shop, and the diner were. The sight of Mia’s Diner made you sink down instinctively in the passenger seat, and you couldn’t keep the raw dread out of your voice as you let out a long sigh. 

Jeongin gave you sympathetic look. “For someone who’s going on a blind date, you don’t sound too happy.”

“That’s because I’m not, Jeongin. I don’t even know why Felix keeps insisting on these. The last time I agreed to one was—” you broke off before you could finish what you were saying, the unspoken words echoing in your mind. The last time I agreed to one was when I met Jisung.

That’s right—the last official blind date you had been on, you had met Han Jisung — and he had turned your entire world upside down. For years afterwards, you had told yourself that you wouldn’t take that day back for the entire world, but now...now, you weren’t so sure.

After all, how could you be sure of someone you hadn’t heard from in over five years?

The rehabilitation centre didn’t allow letters in or out— you had learned that the hard way after your first letters had been sent directly back to your doorstep. Usually, they had told you, if things went well, patients could start correspondence again after a year or so—but you had gotten absolutely nothing. Not a single word. 

Five years—he should have been out by now. He could have been anywhere, doing anything—but he certainly hadn’t remembered to write or even call you. 

Had he really forgotten about you?

“Five years is a long time, y/n,” Felix told you gently, after you had adamantly refused the blind date he kept insisting on. “People...change, and maybe he’s—moved on.”

Moved on. 

You didn’t know how to tell Felix how much the thought of that hurt more than you were willing to admit, how this was the sole reason why you hadn’t been able to go on a single date for the past five years. You didn’t know how to tell him that Jisung hadn’t left your mind since the moment he had disappeared from your sight, five years ago, in the corridor of that courthouse. 

“I’ll be waiting,” Jisung had said.  And yet he was nowhere to be found. Meanwhile, Felix wasn’t taking no for an answer.

“You’re in your mid-twenties now, y/n. Loosen up a little, yeah? You’re allowed to go on dates, for goodness’ sake.”

“I’m hopeless, ‘lix. I’m pretty sure the stray dog on the street has a more interesting love life than me.”

“Maybe,” Felix mused, “I think I saw it running around with a litter of puppies the other da—ow!”

“You okay? You look kind of sick,” Jeongin remarked, pulling you out of your thoughts. “Got everything you need?”

You resisted the urge to laugh. If only Jeongin knew how you had prepared for this date—by mapping out all the ways you were going to end it as quickly as possible. Faking food poisoning? Check. Arrange a time for a friend to call you and pretend an emergency came up? Check— although Hyunjin had had a strange glint in his eyes when he had agreed to it. Worst comes to worst? Pepper spray, check. You let out a slow exhale. “Sure. All set.”

You thanked Jeongin with a hug and hopped out of the car. Just as you began walking towards the diner, you heard him call out behind you.

“Oh, yeah, Felix told me pass on a message — from him to you.” You turned back, and Jeongin gave a boyish grin that was half apologetic, half laughing. “‘Go get ‘em, tiger!’”

You gave an exasperated cry and yanked open the diner door.

━━━━━━━━

You were beginning to wonder if you’d been stood up.

Mia’s Diner was usually busy, bustling with students and townspeople alike, and tonight it truly was: booths packed with couples both old and new, laughter and the smell of food wafting through the warm air as friends and families celebrated the start of summer. The jukebox was on and playing an old disco song you liked but didn’t know the name of, the checkered floor tiles clicking with the sounds of brisk waitresses’ heels and dancing feet.

You didn’t know why Felix had insisted on coming here, of all places, what with the mixed emotions and memories you had tied to it, but you had to admit that the jovial atmosphere of Mia’s Diner on a Friday night never really disappointed. You found yourself relaxing slightly—just slightly, bobbing your head lightly to the music.

“Mia’s Diner?” You repeated incredulously. “Seriously, Felix, do you only know one date location? For the so-called ‘Matchmaker of Miroh Heights’, you’re sure lacking in the variety department.”

“Easy, tiger. Just trust me on this one, okay? You’re gonna owe me one.”

“I’m not—” you began indignantly, but Felix continued.

“Plus, the poor guy in question hasn’t been on a date in years, either. You both need this.”

“Years? Are you setting me up with a hermit?” 

“Oh, yeah. A big-time loser, seriously— but don’t tell him I said that. Just — indulge him a bit, okay, y/n? I promise you won’t regret it.”

And so, for the second time, Felix’s schemes and pleading puppy eyes had gotten you here—sitting at an empty booth, waiting for a blind date. He hadn’t even bothered to show you a picture of the man in question. You couldn’t help the smile from slowly slipping from your face as each minute passed, and you nibbled your lip anxiously.

Your date was thirty minutes late.

You peered out the window, at the lights of the town glowing a faint neon  against the clear evening skies. Each time a car filled in a parking space, you sat up, craning your neck to see if it was him—before slumping back down in disappointment. Five years, you thought to yourself glumly. Five years, and you still had no luck with dates. Maybe you just had no luck with love, you thought dryly. You imagined Felix laughing later when you told him about it and sighed, a twinge of worry replacing the dread in your gut.

Had something gone wrong?

After turning the waitress away for the eighth time, you fished out your phone from your pocket, tapping on the foreign number Felix had given you. Zero new messages, zero missed calls. At least I can tell Felix I tried, you thought glumly. Maybe I should just call Jeongin again, and ask him to pick me up. And then you could drop by Glow Cafe for a bit, before trudging back to your apartment like a fallen soldier.

Just as you were punching in Jeongin’s name, feeling a sense of guilty relief wash over you, you vaguely registered the diner door swinging open beneath the lively music, and a pair of footsteps trying to shuffle past the dancing couples.

For a split second, you thought you saw a pair of tattered black Converse—laces untied, soles worn—but the mirage disappeared, and was replaced by a pair of dress shoes that eventually came to a stop at your booth. You sighed, fighting back the tears that had suddenly threatened to well in your eyes. Shit. This is not the time to be thinking about him. Why were you still thinking about him? And why on earth had you agreed to this? 

You lifted your gaze, trying to muster up a smile, hoping your disappointment didn’t show on your face— 

And immediately froze.

“Hello.”

Standing before you, looking almost like an apparition — a golden silhouette against the backdrop of the dim diner — was Han Jisung.

You had to blink several times to realise you weren’t hallucinating again. He looked...different, and yet in some ways, he looked entirely the same: his hair was shorter, but tousled as it had always been, cheeks flushed and breathless as if—as if he’d been running through a storm.

You felt your body moving before any intelligible thoughts could form in your head, pulling you forwards like a magnet until you were standing face-to-face, your shaky eyes darting across his features, not daring to believe what you were seeing.

All of a sudden, the glint in Hyunjin and Jeongin’s eyes made sense, Felix’s words replaying in your head as overwhelmed tears began welling in your eyes without warning.

“The poor guy in question hasn’t been on a date in years, either.”

“A big-time loser, seriously — but don’t tell him I said that. Just — indulge him a bit, okay, y/n? I promise you won’t regret it.”  

“Y-you—are such a dork,” you stammered out, one hand weakly hitting Jisung’s chest as you felt the tears finally spill down your face. “Han Jisung, you are such a d—” 

Your words were cut off when Jisung pulled you into his arms, his head falling to rest in the crook of your neck. Your shoulders shook with muffled sobs as you buried your face in his chest, memorising everything about this feeling, not wanting to take a single second for granted, memorising everything about him. Jisung no longer carried with him that scent of gasoline and fire — instead, he smelled faintly of lemongrass, and a hint of warm, fresh laundry.

“I missed you,” you finally whispered hoarsely, “I just—missed you, so much.”

He chuckled in your ear, the low, familiar hum stirring faint, faraway memories in your head, and you gripped onto his shirt harder, as if he would disappear completely if you didn’t hold on tight enough.

Jisung had found you in the crowded diner before you had seen him — just like the first time he had met you. And just like the first time, he had felt his breath hitch in his throat, hands hesitating on the door, wondering if he should turn back instead. He had watched you bob your head gently to the music, a small, tentative smile on your face.

You looked good — no, amazing. Different, and yet entirely the same. Kind, worried eyes catching him completely off guard, like the flash of a camera.

Just as bright.

Just as brilliant.

The truth was, there hadn’t been a single day where he hadn’t thought of you — of your voice, your touch, your laugh. Jisung had asked Felix for help the moment he had gotten released, but what he hadn’t forseen was your reaction.

“She won’t go on a blind date, mate,” Felix had informed him exasperatedly, “Took weeks of convincing. Good news, though — she finally caved. You sneaky, hopeless romantic bastard.”

She might have forgotten me, Jisung had thought. And even if you hadn’t, you might not even welcome the sight of him—after all, he hadn’t been in touch since he had left, all those years ago. But in the end, the inexplicable pull in his chest had grown unbearable, and he found himself walking towards you, wading through the crowd, feeling the ache in his heart softening with each step he took. All the way back to you.

You pulled away slowly, vision blurry as Jisung lifted a hand to cup your face, never taking eyes off yours. He had grown in the time you had been apart—he was taller, his once-lean frame stronger—and, most of all, there was a light in his eyes that hadn’t been there before.

“Hey, pretty girl,” he murmured softly, and you laughed in disbelief, “I think you’re my blind date.” 

“How—w-why—”

“I told you I wanted to do this all over again, didn’t I? And I promised that I would try to do it right this time.” Jisung smiled apologetically, wiping your tear stained cheeks with his thumb. “I’m sorry it took so long.”

You shook your head, eyes widening when you saw what he had been carefully clutching in his other hand: a small bouquet of sunflowers, their golden yellow petals as tousled as Jisung’s own blond locks. 

“Apparently they symbolise new beginnings,” Jisung said, pulling a stray petal from your hair and chuckling, “Keeping promises. Eternal happiness. That kind of thing.”

“Why didn’t you write?” You whispered, as Jisung tucked the bouquet into your hands. 

“I wanted to...to heal. In every sense of the word. I didn’t want to show you, until I...knew I was really better. Believe me, I wanted to.” Jisung’s voice dropped to a whisper, as if he were fighting back tears. “I wanted to, so, so badly.”

You shook your head, mumbling something about how much of a stubborn idiot he was, and Jisung’s laugh made a hesitant smile tug at your lips. As if sensing the lightening atmosphere, the waitress had promptly appeared behind Jisung and meekly cleared her throat, setting down the menu. Jisung turned back to look at you, his grin growing playful.

“I hope you’re hungry?”

The diner seemed to come back to you all at once in a flood of senses, the music and murmur of restaurant goers sending a pleasant hum through your veins as you and Jisung sat down. The night went by in a warm blur, Jisung telling you about his life at the institute, the unlikely friends he had made, the dreams he hadn’t realised he had. 

“I’m going to go back to school,” he admitted, one hand rubbing the back of his neck shyly. “I’ll be a bit behind, but...I want to study something I actually like this time.”

You had told him about how you had been working in a child therapy ward ever since you had graduated, about all the children you had met and loved and cared for. As you talked about them, you saw a wistful look in Jisung’s eyes, and a thought crossed your mind. “Have you heard anything from—from Minho?” 

He gave a small smile, but shook his head. “Rarely. It hasn’t been long since he was released, but he said he was planning on going abroad. Doing some travelling. I think...he’ll reach out when he’s ready.” He then added, as an afterthought, “And if he doesn’t, I wouldn’t blame him.”

The sad simplicity of Jisung’s words stirred a strange feeling you couldn’t quite place in your chest, and your mind flashed back to the cold-eyed coroner and his stiff smiles; then, to the raw pain that had cracked through his strained features the last time you had caught a glimpse of him. Maybe you would meet again one day, or maybe that truly would be the last you ever heard of him.

Healing of the mind, you knew, was a strange process—one that always took much longer than you would expect. There were always scars that reopened along the way, old hidden wounds that surfaced right when you least expected them. There would always be answers you might never find, you mused sadly, closure you might never get.

But sometimes, you thought as you listened to Jisung talk, memorizing the feeling of his fingers interlaced with yours, sometimes we can only hope to hold onto what we already have. 

The end of the night drew closer, and when Jisung and you had stepped outside the diner, the city was swimming in the dark ochre of the setting sun. Eventually, the two of you ended up back in the wide garden behind the hospital, your laughs and giddy conversation slowly hushing into softer murmurs. In the distance, the rush of cars on the main road grew sparser, the windows of the buildings around you flickering to life one by one like young stars. Here, though, as you rested your head on Jisung’s shoulder beneath a willow tree, the world seemed to stand still, and all was quiet.

You heard Jisung yelp suddenly and looked down to see a familiar dog pattering around your feet—a stray, with scraggly fur like an overgrown teddy bear that had been through the wash one too many times. It immediately pounced onto Jisung, beginning to lick your boyfriend’s face like no tomorrow.

“Oof! Hey there, old buddy.”

You laughed, scooping the dog off—only after it had gotten a few slobbery licks in—and shivered slightly as a cool night wind swept past you. Noticing, Jisung shrugged off his jacket, draping it over your shoulders as you raised a teasing eyebrow at the cliche move.

“It looks good on you,” Jisung insisted, and you laughed incredulously.

“Your jacket?” You asked, ruffling the dog’s ears as it curled up at your feet.

At that, Jisung looked back up at you—seeing the faint outline of your smile in the dark, your eyes sparkling as you looked back at him expectantly, obliviously—and in that moment, Jisung wondered what he had ever done to deserve someone as perfect as you. 

After a beat, he replied, “Happiness. Happy looks good on you, love.”

Your mouth parted in surprise—both at his words, and at the unexpected name—and Jisung took the chance to lean in and kiss you, pressing his soft lips to yours. Gently, at first — carefully, but as you began to kiss him back, you felt Jisung slowly relax. You kissed him the way you had wanted to for so long, feeling the years of distance, of heartache, of endless waiting finally unravel beneath your lips. His hands reached up to gingerly cup your face, pulling you closer into him as if he never intended to let go. 

Happy looks good on you, too, Han Jisung, you wanted to say once you pulled away, forehead still lightly pressed to his. And you deserve it, more than anything. You watched Jisung’s features come back into focus beneath the dim moonlight. His gaze was fixed on yours, filled with nothing but pure adoration, and you felt a sudden surge of warmth coursing through your chest. 

I love you, you wanted to tell him, more than you could ever know — but something in the warm yet playful look in Jisung’s eyes told you that he was already thinking the exact same thing.

So you just smiled, and leaned in to kiss him again.

                                                YOUNG GOD | END

ryu says: to you — yes, you, who has reached the end of this series! this epilogue is my way of saying a big thank you to those who stayed along for the entire wild ride that was young god. thank you for loving the characters, the world of miroh heights, and of course, the story! there are easter eggs and full-circle moments all throughout this epilogue, so i hope you enjoy and have fun finding them all ^^

disclaimer: in my opinion, all epilogues are open to interpretation: i’ve left some characters’ stories untold, some loose ends untied for this exact reason. miroh heights’ story has finally come to a close here, but what happens to the characters from this moment on continues in the reader’s mind now. 

all that cheesy, pretentious stuff aside, i hope to see you in the next story!

[bloody-bee-tea]

Tender

Jiang Cheng can feel his pulse pounding behind his eyes. He has been stressed more than normally at work, with how his father simply keeps unloading all of his own work on to Jiang Cheng, without caring if he can manage it or not, and with the headache Jiang Cheng’s mood has plummeted like it hasn’t in a long time.

He snaps at everyone who steps foot into his office that day and in the end his father comes by to specifically tell him very sternly that he’s more than disappointed with Jiang Cheng and that he expects a better behaviour on the next day.

Jiang Cheng has half a mind snapping at him, too, but in the end he clenches his jaw and simply nods.

His father leaves without another look back and Jiang Cheng doesn’t actually feel like putting in over-time that day, so he simply gathers his things and leaves.

His mood doesn’t magically improve when he comes home, even though Thyme and Garlic weave around his feet as if it’s their sole purpose to make him feel better, but the headache only marginally lessens.

Jiang Cheng is pretty sure that it’s about to be a full on migraine and he couldn’t care less for that. He hopes he can get it under control somehow before it makes thinking too hard.

Jiang Cheng decides to go to bed early that day—maybe sleeping it off will help him—but before he goes to sleep he has to give Garlic and Thyme their treats. It’s not their fault that he’s in a bad mood, after all.

They come running as soon as they hear him opening the cupboard and Jiang Cheng gives one treat to each of them, before he relocates to the living-room to make them work for it.

Everything is fine in one second, and in the next Thyme is making a noise as she staggers around on three legs.

“Thyme? Baby?” Jiang Cheng tries, and watches in helpless horror as Thyme walks backwards, not putting any weight on her left front paw, before she hides under the table.

She only stays there for a moment though, before she retreats into a safer corner, and Jiang Cheng already fears the worst.

She does take the offered treats, but she doesn’t come out and Jiang Cheng still sees her favouring her left front paw.

“What happened?” he asks and carefully takes the paw in his hand, but Thyme pulls it back and then curls around it.

Jiang Cheng’s eyes start to burn, because it’s clear that Thyme is hurt, even though he has no clue how it happened, and he doesn’t know what to do.

It’s late already, and he’s not sure if this warrants a trip to the emergency vet or not, and so he decides to wait.

Thyme is skittish but she does leave her hiding spot at one point and limps through the apartment. She eats and she jumps up on several high places, even though she doesn’t seem to know how she’s supposed to get down from them again and every time that happens, Jiang Cheng bursts into tears again.

It’s objectively not that bad; Thyme lets him touch her and her hurt paw, and she is still moving, albeit carefully, and she’s even eating and purring when he picks her up, so it simply cannot be that bad, but when she walks it’s clear she’s in pain and Jiang Cheng hates to see it.

And with how his day has been going, he really can’t help himself but to cry as he watches her limp around, because he is honestly in no emotional state to deal with this.

Jiang Cheng decides to check on her during the night a few times and then call the vet first thing in the morning and he does feel a little bit better with that decision, but it still doesn’t help the tears that are still flowing down his cheeks.

He just hopes his headache doesn’t get worse.

~*~*~

His headache of course does get worse, and Thyme doesn’t get magically better over night. He slept like shit, jerking awake at every sound in fear it’s Thyme and that she’s in more pain now, but she mostly slept on his stomach that night.

Her limp is more pronounced in the morning—as is Jiang Cheng’s headache—and so he calls the vet as soon as he can.

They tell him to come in at noon and Jiang Cheng decides to sleep his headache off until then.

He swallows two painkillers and goes back to bed, but when his alarm goes off, his headache turned into a full blown migraine and Jiang Cheng doesn’t know what to do.

He is always nervous when he has to drive with Garlic and Thyme in the car—worried that he’ll have an accident and get them hurt—and he doesn’t trust himself to drive with the steady pounding behind his eyes at all, but he needs to get to the vet to get Thyme some treatment and he doesn’t know what to do.

He’s in too much pain to even think about being ashamed when he bursts out into tears again, and there is only one place he can think of to go.

So he knocks at Nie Huaisang’s door.

“Holy shit, what’s wrong,” Nie Huaisang greets him with when he opens the door and it only prompts Jiang Cheng to cry harder.

“I need help,” he cries out and Nie Huaisang is nodding before Jiang Cheng even says anything else.

“Of course. What do you need?”

“Thyme is hurt, but I can’t drive like this, but I have to be at the vet soon and I don’t know what to do. I’m so sorry about this, but can you drive me?” he gets out between his tears and his heart falls when Nie Huaisang grimaces.

So he doesn’t have time, that’s just Jiang Cheng’s luck.

“Da-ge,” Nie Huaisang yells into his apartment and Jiang Cheng’s eyes get big.

“What are you doing?” he hisses through his tears, his heart already beating faster and this confused state is no help at all with the tears or his headache.

“I have a meeting in half an hour, but da-ge has the day off. He will drive you,” Nie Huaisang resolutely says and Jiang Cheng shakes his head but stops when that only makes it worse.

Nie Huaisang knows that he has the worst crush on Nie Mingjue and Jiang Cheng doesn’t actually want Nie Mingjue to see him like this.

“What’s wrong?” Nie Mingjue suddenly asks and his eyes go wide when he sees Jiang Cheng. “What’s wrong?” he asks more frantically. “What do you need?”

“His cat is hurt and he needs a lift to the vet,” Nie Huaisang sums it all up for Jiang Cheng, and Nie Mingjue nods before he finishes.

“Of course,” he agrees and honestly, Jiang Cheng is too relieved to feel much shame at all in that moment.

“I’m so sorry to bother you, but I can’t drive like this and Thyme is limping and I don’t know why and I just need to get to the vet,” Jiang Cheng rushes out and he only relaxes when Nie Mingjue puts a steadying hand to his shoulder.

“Breathe, Wanyin. Of course I’ll drive you.”

“Did you call in to work?” Nie Huaisang asks him and Jiang Cheng goes cold with horror.

He completely forgot about that.

“Don’t panic!” Nie Huaisang rushes out, clearly able to read Jiang Cheng’s face. “I’ll call Wei Wuxian and he can just pretend you told him this morning and he simply forgot to tell your father. Jiang Fengmian will believe that,” Nie Huaisang says with a nod and Jiang Cheng has to admit that it might work.

“Alright,” Nie Mingjue says. “You go do that. Wanyin, did you get Thyme into her carrier already?” he wants to know and Jiang Cheng shakes his head.

“We’ll do that first then,” Nie Mingjue decides and gently pushes Jiang Cheng towards his own apartment. “I’ll gather my things, and you try to get her in there, okay? Can you do that?” he softly asks and Jiang Cheng nods.

Thyme is limping and in no state to run away from him. He’ll just be able to pick her up and put her in, no problem at all. He can do that.

And he does, with minimal fuss even, and he’s kind of glad it’s Thyme and not Garlic who needs to go to the vet. He would be bleeding all over if it was Garlic, he knows that from experience.

By the time Nie Mingjue knocks at his door, Jiang Cheng is ready to go with Thyme in her carrier.

“Alright then,” Nie Mingjue says and carefully picks up the carrier, waving Jiang Cheng off when he moves forward to carry her himself. “You’ll need to give me the address to the vet.”

“Sure,” Jiang Cheng mumbles and then his eyes start to burn again. “I’m really so sorry to bother you,” he chokes out yet again, because he cannot believe that this is his life today and he really doesn’t know how to deal with any of this.

“You’re not a bother, Wanyin,” Nie Mingjue reassuringly tells him. “I’m happy to help you.”

Jiang Cheng doesn’t actually know what to say to that and so he stays silent as he allows Nie Mingjue to lead him towards his car.

“No,” Jiang Cheng rushes out when he sees that. “We can take my car. You don’t have to take yours.”

“Of course we’ll take mine, come on,” Nie Mingjue gives back and doesn’t allow Jiang Cheng to argue about this.

Before he knows it, he’s already in the back of the car, Thyme’s carrier carefully buckled in and Nie Mingjue is driving, following the instructions of the navigation system.

The drive is a silent one, mostly because Jiang Cheng is still in too much pain to hold a decent conversation and Nie Mingjue doesn’t seem to mind that at all.

“We’re here,” is the first thing he says during the ride and Jiang Cheng looks out of the car window.

They have arrived, but what Jiang Cheng mostly notices is that there’s no free parking space for them.

Nie Mingjue seems to realize that in the same moment.

“Do you have my number?” Nie Mingjue wants to know and Jiang Cheng shakes his head in confusion.

“I’ll tell Huaisang to send it to you. I’ll park somewhere else and you’ll just call me when you’re done so I can pick you up again,” he decides and Jiang Cheng never knows how to deal with kindness, but especially not today.

“You really don’t have to,” he chokes out, his eyes dangerously watery again, but Nie Mingjue shakes his head.

“Of course I do,” he easily gives back and Jiang Cheng can do nothing but nod.

“Fine,” he agrees and gets out of the car when Nie Mingjue pulls up at the side. “I’ll call you,” Jiang Cheng says as he takes the carrier out of the car as well and Nie Mingjue gives him a thumbs up.

“I bet it’s not that bad, Wanyin. She’ll be okay.”

“I hope so,” Jiang Cheng mutters and then closes the door before he steps into the vet clinic.

He doesn’t have to wait long and everyone is kind enough not to mention the more than obvious tear tracks on his face for which Jiang Cheng is grateful.

He gets a text a few minutes after Nie Mingjue dropped him off; it’s Nie Huaisang forwarding him his brother’s contact details and Jiang Cheng tries to ignore the flutter of his heart as he saves the number in his phone.

This was not how he ever imagined to get this number, but he’s not going to complain about it. Not that he’s ever going to use it beyond this day, either, but before Jiang Cheng can delve too deeply into that spiral, the vet calls him in to tell him the diagnosis.

It’s stupidity. Thyme got diagnosed with stupidity.

She actually has a sprained paw, but since it happened on plain ground in the apartment Jiang Cheng has lived in for more than two years already, it cannot be anything else but stupidity.

The vet doesn’t even do anything besides giving him some pain meds for Thyme that she’s supposed to get once a day.

Jiang Cheng can’t believe this.

He’s out of the clinic before he realizes it, and dialling Nie Mingjue’s number.

“Wanyin?” Nie Mingjue greets him with and Jiang Cheng hums.

“We’re done,” he tells him.

“I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

It doesn’t take Nie Mingjue more than two to come and pick Jiang Cheng and Thyme up and he seems to realize that Thyme is not seriously injured because he smiles at Jiang Cheng.

“It’s not so bad?”

“It depends,” Jiang Cheng says with a frown at Thyme. “It’s just a sprained paw, but what’s really worse is that she’s too stupid to walk straight without getting injured,” Jiang Cheng says and his stomach does a funny thing when Nie Mingjue laughs at that.

Jiang Cheng settles into the back of the car again, wanting to be close to Thyme who doesn’t seem as stressed out as she normally is, and now that all the worry about her finally falls off him, Jiang Cheng’s migraine comes back with a vengeance.

He groans softly and closes his eyes, and he must have drifted off because the next thing he knows is that they are back at their house.

“You alright?” Nie Mingjue asks and Jiang Cheng jerks with the question, which causes him to let out a painful groan. “Do you have painkillers at home?” Nie Mingjue wants to know and Jiang Cheng nods, even though he doesn’t think he should take any more today.

“Thank you,” Jiang Cheng whispers as he climbs out of the car, Thyme’s carrier in one hand. “I’ll make it up to you,” he promises and Nie Mingjue smiles at him.

“No problem at all,” he promises him and then leads Jiang Cheng to his door.

“Did you eat today?” Nie Mingjue asks as Jiang Cheng fumbles with the key and Jiang Cheng shakes his head.

He was too worried to even think about eating, and with his migraine he doesn’t think he’s about to change that now.

“Let me make something light for you. You have to eat at least a little bit,” Nie Mingjue says, and walks into Jiang Cheng’s apartment before he can protest.

Garlic meets them at the door, clearly anxious to have Thyme with him again and Jiang Cheng is quick to get Thyme out of the carrier.

She’s still limping and Jiang Cheng remembers the pain meds the vet gave him. It’s probably time to give that to her.

It’s a liquid painkiller and getting it into Thyme is easier than Jiang Cheng feared it would be and soon enough she’s limping away from him, clearly eager to hide and rest for a while.

Jiang Cheng watches after her and he can’t help the relieved laugh he lets out because besides some stupidity there’s nothing wrong with his cat.

“Hey, she’s alright,” Nie Mingjue suddenly says from behind him and tugs him around with a hand on his shoulder. “She’s fine.”

“I know,” Jiang Cheng sobs out. “She’s just stupid,” he mutters and then he leans forward to rest his forehead on Nie Mingjue’s shoulder. “I cannot believe she was diagnosed with stupidity,” he says again, because really.

She’s a cat, for heaven’s sake. How she can sprain her paw while walking is beyond Jiang Cheng.

Jiang Cheng lets out a relieved giggle and he’s aware that the events of the last few hours are all catching up to him now, but he can’t help it.

And Nie Mingjue doesn’t seem to mind at all, seeing as he’s currently pressing a kiss to Jiang Cheng’s head.

“What are you doing?” Jiang Cheng whispers, but he doesn’t dare to move in fear that Nie Mingjue will stop and never do it again.

“You’re exhausted,” Nie Mingjue says instead of answering him. “Come eat something and then go to bed. You need some rest.”

“Mingjue?” Jiang Cheng carefully asks as he pulls away from Nie Mingjue and he’s not prepared for the tender look on his face.

“And when you’re feeling better, let me take you out for dinner. On a date.”

Jiang Cheng blushes at that—which really only makes his migraine worse—but he nods.

“I would like that,” he admits and Nie Mingjue cups his face in one hand and presses another kiss to his forehead.

“Good. But now food and rest. Clearly you need both,” he decides and Jiang Cheng allows Nie Mingjue to guide him towards the kitchen, were a simple congee is waiting for him.

He does get drowsy after he ate—not even the migraine enough to keep him up anymore—and he’s asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow.

When he wakes up, Nie Mingjue is gone, and Jiang Cheng would chalk it off to a particularly vivid dream, but when he picks up his phone there’s a message waiting for him.

Barring any more cat emergencies, dinner is still on if you want. Call me when you feel better.

Jiang Cheng immediately dials his number, because he does feel very good. Especially about going to dinner with Nie Mingjue.

Yes, believe it or not, my cat got this very diagnosis today. A sprained paw out of pure stupidity. The only difference is that I didn't have a migraine, but also no Nie Mingjue :(

Link to my ko-fi on the sidebar!

[drabbles-mc]

House Call

Neron “Creeper” Vargas x Reader

Request by my #1 @est1887: Ok here goes for creeper can you make it fluffy lol I love a good love story clearly lol: “Anything, just call me okay” “Call me now it urgent” “Actually I just miss you”

Warnings: language, mentions of blood/injuries, hospitals

Word Count: 4.9k

A/N: Soo this is my first time writing for Creeper and I’m pretty happy with how it turned out! I may have gotten a little carried away...hence the 4.9k but this was a really fun one to write haha. Hope you guys enjoy! xo

Taglist: @mayans-sauce @thesandbeneathmytoes @paintballkid711 @tomhardydallasstarsgirl @queenbeered @sillygoose6969 @sesamepancakes @yourwonkywriter @chibsytelford @gemini0410 @multiyfandomgirl40 @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @plentyoffandoms @georgiaaintnopeach @twistnet @garbinge @amandinesblogofstuff @bucky-iss-bae @encounterthepast @everyhowlmarksthedead @rosieposie0624 @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo 

He winced, letting out an exaggerated groan as you stitched up the cut. You knew it probably hurt, but you also knew him well enough to know that he had been through much worse and wasn’t so dramatic about it. You smiled as you continued his stitches, “Pretending it hurts more than it actually does isn’t going to make me give you stronger painkillers, you know.”

He instantly dropped the act as a smile crossed his face, still looking up at the ceiling for a moment before looking at you, “What if I’m really convincing?”

Your eyes met his for a moment as you arched on eyebrow, “You’re not that good of an actor, Neron.”

He chuckled, and a genuine pang of pain shot through him as he did so he tried to still himself again. You hated how often he seemed to get banged up, but he was at least a good patient. You weren’t positive that he always took the full amount of recovery time, but all of his injuries seemed to heal with minimal issues so you couldn’t complain. His stitches always stayed clean, and he swore that he always did the full run of whatever types of meds you had him on when necessary. For someone who seemed so accident-prone, he took good care of himself.

There was a comfortable familiarity between the two of you. Friends may have been too strong of a word, but whenever he had to come and see you, or the rare occasions that you had to stop by the clubhouse to patch someone up, you always enjoyed talking to him. Even if it was while you were swabbing out and stitching up stab wounds or bullet holes.

You were putting a light bandage over the stitching so it wouldn’t get dirty. The slice went down the inside of his bicep and it wasn’t exactly the shallowest cut. It would take a bit of time to heal but you had no doubts that he would be back to normal sooner rather than later.

“I think,” you lightly traced your finger along his arm, inspecting your work, “you’re good to go.”

“Sending me away already, Doc?”

You smiled, “You’ll have to come back soon anyway so I can keep an eye on your stitches. You’ll be seeing me again in no time.”

“You always take such good care of us,” he was looking down at his bandage.

“That why you keep getting busted up?”

“It is a bonus.”

You laughed and shook your head, “Right. Well, I’m gonna send your prescription out. It’s a low-dose pain killer. Nothing crazy. Only take it if you need it. You know the drill.”

He chuckled, “Something like that.”

You looked at his arm and let out a small sigh, “Alright. Just because I know how you boys are, and that cut isn’t exactly in an optimal location, I’m gonna give you my number so you can get in touch with me if something starts to feel off or the stitches rip,” you scribbled your number down on a piece of scrap paper before handing it to him, “Anything happens, just call me, okay?”

He nodded, carefully folding and tucking the paper into the pocket of his kutte, “Thank you.”

You nodded, saying goodbye to him before walking out of the room to send his prescription to the pharmacy. The other doctors didn’t understand why you always jumped at the chance to treat the guys from the MC, but you did genuinely enjoy their company. They were all good to you, and you weren’t put off by the ink and kuttes like some of your coworkers.

He walked out of the room while you were sending out his prescription. You only noticed because you could hear all of his friends in the waiting room, instantly starting to crack jokes at his expense when he walked over to them. You smiled, shaking your head slightly—you couldn’t hear exactly what they were saying but you were sure that it was amusing.

Once it was all sent out, you made your way over to Creeper and the few guys from the club who had been there waiting for him to get patched up. They were all smiles when you walked over, and it was impossible to not return the gesture.

“You guys are in charge of making sure that he doesn’t get any new injuries while this one is healing, alright?” you gave them all pointed looks, “And no bikes for him until further notice.”

“They aren’t my parents,” Creeper said with a chuckle and a shake of his head, “I can take care of myself.”

You glanced at the bandage on his arm, “Mhm. I see this,” you laughed as your eyes met his, “Give me a call if anything happens, okay?”

He nodded, “Sure thing, Doc.”

As you walked away, you could hear Angel’s voice, “Give her a call? Alright, ‘mano. Good for you.”

You chuckled quietly as you walked off to see your next patient. There were, but one of your favorite things was the fact that you really got to meet and help so many different kinds of people. Stumbling into the circle of the MC had been completely out of your control, but you were glad that it happened. You just so happened to get assigned the right case in the free clinic a couple years ago and since then, you were essentially on Bishop’s speed dial whenever anything went down. He knew you were good at what you did, and could be discreet about it.

Days came and went, and you hadn’t heard anything from Creeper, or anyone for that matter. You supposed no news was good news, but you were curious to know how your patient was doing. You didn’t have his number, though, he only had yours. So you waited. You waited for a call from him, or a notification from the hospital that he had scheduled his follow-up appointment. Either one would be fine by you.

You were just getting off your shift, walking out to your car when your phone started to ring. You didn’t recognize the number, but you picked up anyway.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Doc,” you recognized his voice immediately.

“Neron,” your tone was cautious as you fished your keys out of your purse, “Why do I get the feeling that this isn’t a good call?”

“Because…it’s not,” he chuckled, “It’s not terrible. I just…did something stupid.”

“Oh did you?” you shook your head as you sat down behind the wheel and threw your purse over into the passenger seat.

“Think I could come in and have you fix me up?”

You sighed, “I’m leaving for the day. Text me your address and I’ll just come to you—you shouldn’t be driving anyway.”

“O-okay,” he fumbled over his words for a moment, “I, I can do that.”

“I’ll see you soon,” you laughed, “Don’t do anything else until I get there.”

You were surprised by how close he lived to the hospital. And, by extension, how close he lived to you. Your house was only about a ten-minute drive away from his, if that. You knew it was a small world, but you didn’t think it was quite that small.

You walked up and knocked on the door, medical bag slung over your shoulder. You’d taken to keeping a decent amount of supplies on-hand once you became the on-call doctor for the club. A few moments later he opened the door, a nervous smile on his face.

“You called?” you offered up with a laugh.

You noticed some of the tension disappear from his body as he nodded, stepping out of the way to let you in. You didn’t know what you had been expecting the inside of his home to look like, but what you were seeing didn’t surprise you. Everything was clean and orderly, but it was sparse. He didn’t strike you as the kind of man who was super into interior design anyway.

You took off your shoes, nudging them off to the side as you followed him to the living room. You noticed that he was keeping his arm pinned to his side, trying to hide whatever damage he’d done. It was amusing to you solely because he was going to have to show you what happened if he wanted you to fix it.

He sat down on the couch and you pulled a chair over from his table so that you could sit in front of him facing him. You looked back and forth between his face and his arm, waiting for him to start offering up some sort of explanation.

“Before you get mad,” he gestured with his good arm, “let me explain.”

“Please do,” you smiled as you started taking things out of your bag.

“I was being good,” he was almost pleading, “I was staying home—no rides, no club shit. Figured that since I’m stuck in the house I might as well get a few things around here taken care of.”

You looked at him, eyebrows raised, “Did any of the things that needed to be taken care of involve any kind of heavy lifting?”

“I didn’t think it was heavy! Not until,” he finally showed you his arm.

A few of his stitches had definitely ripped. It would be a quick and easy fix, but you could tell by the look on his face that he felt like he was about to get in trouble in the principal’s office. You smiled as you carefully undid the bandage and started wiping the dried blood away.

“It could be worse,” you said with a chuckle.

You could see the relief in his body language when he realized that you weren’t frustrated or upset with him. His injury wasn’t at the top of his list of concerns—he knew that you’d be able to fix it. He just didn’t want you to be pissed off at him during or after the process of doing so.

You re-wrapped his arm and reiterated your previous instructions as you did, “No rides, no heavy lifting. You are a one-armed man for the foreseeable future,” you reached into your bag and pulled out a sling, “And just in case you forget I’m gonna strap you down with this,” you laughed as you fitted it onto him.

He shook his head, but smiled, “This isn’t necessary, Doc.”

“Clearly it is,” you laughed as you leaned back in the chair.

A few beats of silence passed before he looked you in the eyes and let a small smirk pass over his face, “Thank you, by the way. I owe you.”

You shook your head as you packed everything back into your bag, “You don’t owe me. I’m happy to help.”

You were putting the chair back in its rightful place when he asked, “I was gonna order pizza if you want to stick around. I know I just made your long day even longer,” he chuckled nervously, “It’s the least I could do.”

You smiled, nodding, “Pizza sounds good.”

The evening was much more comfortable than you thought it might be. It was the longest that you’d spent with any of the guys from the club, especially in a one-on-one setting. Creeper was easy to be around though, and he kept your laughing. You really didn’t even notice the time going by as the two of you lounged on the sofa, television on just for background noise.

“I would love to stay,” you stood up and stretched, “But I don’t get to stay home on bedrest tomorrow,” you laughed.

“Can doctors call in sick?” he asked with a smile.

You nodded, “We can. I try to save my sick hours for hangovers, though.”

He walked you out to your car, and you couldn’t believe how dark it’d gotten. You tossed your bag into your trunk and shut the door with a quiet sigh. Despite how long your day had been, you couldn’t deny that the ending to it all had been worth it. You hadn’t expected to have so much fun, to so badly want to stay a little longer.

“Thanks again for this, Y/N. I owe you.”

You smiled and shook your head, “The only thing you owe me is updates. That way I know your arm is still attached and healing.”

He laughed and nodded, “I can do that.”

You hugged him gently, careful not to press against his injured arm, “Take care of yourself, Neron.”

His smile was soft, “Get home safe.”

Telling him to keep you updated was all it took for him to keep in touch with you. Over the next few days, seeing text messages from him were welcome distractions in the midst of a lot of chaos at work. At some point in the morning, he would always send an update saying that he still had both arms, and that he was still wearing the sling. He would usually include whatever joke the other guys had made at his expense that day, just to reassure you that he was still taking it easy. You’d usually text him back on your lunch break, if you got one, or just when you had a spare moment to breathe for a couple minutes.

Soon it was more than just the once or twice a day check-ins. Slowly but surely the conversations started lasting all throughout the day. You obviously weren’t always able to respond to things right away, but nonetheless the two of you kept the conversation going regardless of what it was about. It was the first time in a long time that you had someone that you could talk to all day and not get bored. It was nice.

You were texting him as you were leaving work late one night, drained and pissed off at a call your supervisor had made. You were glad that you had a couple days off before you had to be back so you could cool off a bit and not say something that you’d regret.

“Free tonight?” you figured the worst that could happen was that he would say that he was busy.

You got his reply as you sat down in the driver’s seat of your car, “Yea. You ok?”

You sighed but smiled as you typed out your response, “Shitty day”

His reply was immediate, “Come over whenever. Not like I’m going anywhere anytime soon lol”

You chuckled, shaking your head. You let him know that you were going to go home to shower and change and then you’d be over. You hadn’t been back to see him in person since you fixed his stitches. And, despite the fact that the two of you had been texting every day, you found yourself missing him a little bit. Even though it had been a rough day, you were glad that you would be able to stop in and see him.

You knocked on his front door, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. Showing up for something that wasn’t medical felt a little strange. You had no idea why there was a hint of nerves coursing through your body, but there was.

He opened the door, a smile spreading across his face, “Hey, come on in,” he stepped aside so you could come inside.

You slipped out of your sneakers and turned around to see Creeper staring at you. There was a smirk tugging at his lips and you felt your face get hot. You tugged at the hem of your tank top, letting out a nervous chuckle, “What?”

He shook his head, “Nothing. Just never seen you outta your scrubs, Doc,” he smiled, “Beer?”

You nodded, “Please.”

You collapsed down onto his couch and he appeared a few moments later with two open beer bottles, handing one to you. You took it happily, taking a long drink from it as he sat down on the couch next to you. He looked over at you, concern flashing across his features for a moment. Before he could ask you anything, you beat him to the punch.

“I know I’m not in my scrubs,” you looked at his arm, “But I’m still your doctor. What happened to the sling?”

He laughed, shaking his head, “I’ve been on my best behavior. No mishaps. I can’t go one night without it?”

You smiled, “Fine. One night,” you paused, can I look at the stitches though?”

He shook his head, “No. You had a long day. You’re not here to be my doctor. Just relax for a bit, will you?”

You rolled your eyes but smiled, “Fine,” you sipped on your beer, “No big club plans on a Saturday?”

“Just following the doctor’s orders.”

You laughed, “Man, she must be a real buzzkill.”

He chuckled, “Yea, but she means well.” You gave him a light shove as you let out a laugh. He smiled, “You this mean to all your patients?”

“Just the ones who make fun of me.”

He finally got you to start venting about what had been going on at work over the past few days, but that day in particular. He didn’t say much, just nodding and encouraging you along. He could see that you just needed to talk about it, to be able to be bitter and complain about it so that you wouldn’t combust from keeping anything inside. Throughout the course of the conversation he’d gotten you each a couple more beers. You took them gladly, just happy that you were able to unwind and have some good company.

As it started to get later, you found yourself not really wanting to leave. It was comfortable at his house, with him. You didn’t quite know what it was about it, but you really had no desire to go home.

He’d put a movie on, and somewhere along the way you found yourself leaning against his good side. You settled against him, soaking up the heat that was emanating from him. He cautiously draped his arm around you, his hand resting lightly on your side. You let out a quiet hum of approval and felt the tension disappear from his body.

You didn’t remember falling asleep, but you woke up to the sound of Creeper snoring. You forced your eyes open, trying to get your bearings a little bit. Your head was rested in his lap, blanket draped over you and his hand still resting on your side. He was leaning back against the couch, head tilted slightly upwards as he slept. You sat up slowly, running your hands over your face.

He felt you stir and started to wake up. You smiled over at him as he wiped the sleep from his eyes, “Sorry I ended up crashing here.”

He chuckled, tiredness still weighing on his voice as he struggled to wake himself up, “No worries. Glad you got some rest.”

You got up and got ready to head home, already feeling like you definitely overstayed your welcome. He wasn’t rushing you out, but he wasn’t going to try to force you to stay, either, assuming that you had other things you had to take care of. He still walked you out to your car despite the fact that it was daylight now. He hug he gave you lingered for just a little bit longer, and you didn’t mind.

“Thank you. Sorry again about the impromptu slumber party,” you laughed.

He smiled, “You don’t gotta apologize.”

You fished your keys out of your purse, “Don’t forget to make an appointment for your stitches soon, alright?”

“Was hoping you’d be willing to make a house call for that.”

You smiled, cheeks getting hot for a moment, “I might be able to swing that. I’ll stop by sometime next week.”

The following week, you were making your way out to your car after your shift. Things were a little calmer at work, and your frustration had decreased drastically. You were digging around for your keys when you felt your phone vibrating in your pocket. You pulled it out, brows furrowing in concern when Bishop’s name flashed across the screen.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Y/N.”

“Hey…everything alright?”

He didn’t sound overly worried, “Yea. Just wanted to ask a favor of you if I could.”

“What’s up?”

“You think you could take Creeper’s stitches out early? Need him on deck for some club stuff. He’s gotta be able to ride.”

You sighed. You know that realistically he’d probably be fine, but you couldn’t pretend that you wouldn’t be worried about whatever it was that was going on. You weren’t going to say no, though. “Yea, I could do that. Was planning on taking them out this weekend anyway.”

“Great. Think you can stop by his place tonight?”

“When do you need him by?”

There was a pause—he didn’t want to answer the question, ��Tomorrow.”

“Fuck, Bish. Seriously?”

“I know. I’ll owe you.”

You chuckled, “You sure will. I’ll stop by his place tonight.”

“You’re an angel.”

“Yea, remember that,” you laughed as you hung up the phone. With a sigh, you texted Creeper to let him know that you were on your way to his house as per Bishop’s orders. He probably knew already, but you still felt weird popping by without saying anything first.

He opened the door for you when you got there, a smirk on his face, “Wow. I bet Bishop that you weren’t going to cave on taking them out early.”

“If your arm didn’t seem to be healing so well, I wouldn’t be,” you shook your head slightly as you got ready to take his stitches out, “You’re lucky you’re such a good patient.”

The two of you were quiet as you went to work on his arm. It really wasn’t the worst thing in the world that the stitches were coming out a little ahead of schedule. He’d been careful with his arm, and you really didn’t have any pressing concerns about it. Your worries branched far outside the scope of his latest injury.

“Do I get to ask what’s so important that Bishop needs you to speed up your recovery time?”

He raised his eyebrows slightly, “You really wanna know?”

You sighed, shaking your head, “No. It’s probably better for my sanity if I don’t.”

“You worried?”

You flicked your eyes up to him for a moment, “Usually urgent club business ends with at least one of you guys needing to come and see me to get patched up. Odds aren’t really in your favor.”

He laughed, “I guess you’re right.”

Neither of you said anything more about it. As much as you wanted to stay, and maybe pry a little more into what was going on, you fought the urge. You knew that he probably had last-minute shit to take care of, and it wasn’t your place to get in his way. You slung your bag over your shoulder as you headed back towards the front door of his house. The knot in your stomach wasn’t going to go away until they were all back and safe from handling whatever it was that they were getting into.

After tossing your bag into your car, you turned around and wrapped him in a tight hug. For the first time since he got injured, he was able to properly hug you back. He kept you snug against him for a few moments, and you really didn’t want him to let go.

You finally stepped back, “Please stay safe, alright?”

“Doctor’s orders?” there was a small smile on his face.

You laughed and nodded, “Yes. Doctor’s orders,” you paused, gnawing at the inside of your bottom lip, “Let me know when you’re back?”

He nodded, “I will.”

“Good. Okay,” you stepped in and hugged him again, pressing a light, quick kiss to his cheek before getting in your car, “Stay out of trouble, Neron.”

He smiled, “I’ll do what I can.”

A few days ticked by and you hadn’t heard anything from anyone. Which was perfectly on-brand for the MC, but this time it made you worried. You had debated texting creeper, but you stopped yourself. They were busy, probably wrapped up in dangerous shit. The last thing that he needed was you bothering him. Still, though, you wished that you knew what was going on.

You were pulling something together for a very late dinner at the end of the week. Your shift had gone way longer than it was supposed to. You were too tired to cook, but it was also too late to get anything delivered. So you were pulling random things out of your cabinets in the hopes of putting together something that resembled a meal.

Your phone buzzed once on the counter. You glanced over and saw that you had a notification from Creeper. Instantly you opened the message, “Call me now. It’s urgent”

Your heart dropped into your stomach as you called him. Your hand trembled as you held it up to your ear, waiting to hear the worst when he picked up on the other end of the line.

“Hello?”

“Neron?” you couldn’t hide the worry in your voice, “Are you okay? Where are you guys? Are you all safe?”

“One question at a time,” there was a touch of humor to his voice, and you couldn’t tell if you found it reassuring or frustrating.

“What’s wrong? You said it was urgent,” your heart was pounding inside your chest.

“It is,” he paused, “Kind of. I mean,” you heard him take a deep breath, “Actually, honestly, I just miss you. Been thinkin’ about you all week.”

You let out a laugh, some of the tension disappearing from your body, “I miss you too. So…you’re still in one piece?”

He chuckled, “Yea. Me and everyone else.”

“Where are you?”

“About to head home.”

“Can I come over?” you blurted out.

You could tell he was biting back a laugh as he responded, “Yea. Of course.”

You let out a sigh of relief, “Alright. I’ll see you soon.”

When you pulled in, you saw his bike in the driveway and knew he was already home. You didn’t bother knocking this time, electing to just let yourself in. He was standing in the kitchen, looking in the fridge when you walked in. He turned around, smiling when he saw you. Without giving it a second thought, you all but ran over to him and wrapped him in a tight hug. He laughed, arms snaking around you and squeezing you tight. You shut your eyes, taking a moment to just breathe him in as one of his hands came to rest on the back of your head.

“I really did miss you, you know,” his voice was softer than you were used to. It was the first thing either of you said to each other since you got there.

You smiled against his chest, “I missed you too.”

He pulled away from you a little so he could get a good look at your face. You could see the exhaustion in his features, but you could see the happiness too. His hands stayed rested on your hips as he spoke, “I know I’m technically not your patient anymore,” he cracked a smile, “But if you wanted to keep stopping in to make house calls, I wouldn’t mind.”

You laughed, hands resting on the sides of his neck, fingers lightly tracing over the ink there, “You wouldn’t, huh?”

“I like you,” you could tell by the look on his face that he was choosing his words carefully, “And I like it when you’re here. Feels more like home. Not being able to talk to you for a week…really fucking sucked.”

You smiled, liking his simple honesty, “I agree. And…I like you too.”

He pulled you closer, fingers drumming lightly on your sides, “Can I kiss you?”

Your eyes widened, not expecting that to be the next thing that he said. Despite the shock, you smiled and nodded. The grin that broke out across his face was contagious, but you didn’t have time to really take it in as he cupped your face and pulled you in so your lips crashed against his. You practically melted into him, hands sliding to rest on his chest. His thumb traced along your cheekbone as his lips moved against yours.

You pulled back to catch your breath, and you could feel his chest vibrating with laughter beneath your hands. Your face was hot and you found yourself smiling when he pulled you close and rested his forehead against yours.

“I guess you were right,” you said with a quiet laugh.

“About?”

You chuckled, “About this being urgent,” you smiled and closed your eyes as he pressed a kiss to your forehead, “I’m glad you’re safe.”

“I’m glad you’re here.”

You rested your head against his chest and sighed, leaning into him. He wrapped his arms around you, one hand sliding gently up and down your back. His arms felt strong, and they made you feel safe. You didn’t know for sure what was in store for the two of you next, but you were ready for whatever the next adventure was.

[spencers-renaissance]

storm-darkened or starry bright

Summary: Spencer contracts HIV. It all falls apart after that.

Tags: angst, illness, hurt!spencer, hurt/comfort, worried derek, depression, mutual pining, getting together, angst w a happy ending

TW: vomit, implied/referenced sex and addiction, disordered thinking, depression as a result of medical diagnosis

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Spencer Reid

Word Count: 6.5k

Masterlist // Read on AO3 // Bad Things Happen Bingo

(I've tagged my usual moreid taglist in this fic, but I won't be offended at all if this is too heavy for you!)

Title from "Where All My Books Go" - W.B. Yeats.

Originally inspired by J_Ballinger's Swift, Fierce & Obscene which is just a brilliant piece of art.

you said I could have anything I wanted, but I just couldn’t say it out loud — richard siken, litany in which certain things are crossed out

It starts with the flu.

He calls into work sick and he makes himself comfortable in bed, preparing to ride it out. It is the middle of January after all, and their last case saw them in Ann Arbor, shivering their way through each crime scene and a police station with abysmal heating.

His lymph nodes are swollen, and he’s running a moderate fever — 102 the last time he checked — and the cough he’s had for a couple of days is definitely getting nastier, but he uses the time to catch up on the documentaries he’s had stored on his DVR for the past couple of months. He tries to see it as a positive: he never gets time to rest like this. Warm soup, chamomile tea, and some Nyquil should be the end of it.

He makes the most of it. He gets better. He goes back to work, and life goes on.

“It’s not like you to get sick, Reid.”

Emily doesn’t mean anything by it, it’s about as innocuous as a comment can possibly be, but something about it makes his heart stop for a second. Because the thing is, she’s right. The last time he was actually sick was the anthrax poisoning three years ago, which can hardly be blamed on his body itself. He hasn’t been sick with a virus since he was a child — certainly not anything more than a mild winter cold.

His world turns upside down in the middle of a Tuesday, a couple of them gathered around Derek’s desk laughing about nothing in particular, the easy camaraderie of a close-knit team without a time-sensitive case on their minds.

Three and a half weeks ago: a night heady with alcohol in a gay bar in downtown DC, a charged encounter with a man just Spencer’s type, a whispered invitation back to his place, not making it past the bathroom…

He pales, suddenly feeling violently ill at the prospect of what’s happened, how badly he’s fucked up this time.

“Spencer, are you okay?” Emily asks, suddenly noticing his appearance. “You look really pale… maybe you’re not ready to be back at work yet.”

Forcing himself out of his stupor, he manages to open his mouth without vomiting. “I don’t feel so good,” he says, and even to him his voice sounds weak and distant. Blood roars in his ears, and all he can think is what that blood could very well be tainted with.

Far away voices discuss something he doesn’t pay attention to before Derek’s placing his hand on his shoulder, drawing him back into the discussion. “I’m gonna drive you home, okay?” Emily isn’t standing at the desk anymore, but he doesn’t think to look around for her, just locks eyes with Derek: noticing his brows knit deeply in concern, worry clouding his dark, striking eyes.

He lets himself be led down to the garage. Later, he won’t remember any of the winding car journey home, Derek’s worried sideways glances, his attempts at making conversation, tucking him into bed, his hesitancy to leave and go back to work. He’ll just remember the weight of his realisation, the sinking acknowledgement of what this means.

What it makes him.

⭐️

The next day, he wakes up ravenously hungry. He doesn’t remember anything after the dreaded realisation, but he remembers that he came to it only minutes after eating lunch: meaning he’s gone over eighteen hours without food. Somehow, he manages to pick himself out of bed and stumble to the kitchen, pouring himself a bowl of cereal. He finishes it all and doesn’t taste a single bite.

He texts the group chat Penelope had made for the whole team last year, ignoring the dozens of anxious messages from his team already filling his phone. Won’t be in.

Almost on auto-pilot, he gets dressed, picks up his phone, wallet, and keys, and walks to his nearest metro station. He counts four stops, gets out of the carriage and walks up the stairs onto the street, weaving through exactly three streets until he finds himself staring at the sign for his Urgent Care clinic.

Words — not ashes, as some small part of him anticipates — manage to spill from his lips as he tells the doctor everything from the unprotected sex he vaguely recalls having on the night of Saturday the 12th of March to his brief flu-like symptoms to his sickly realisation yesterday. Vaguely, he thinks there’s some sort of sick humour in being able to recall exactly what day he had sex, but not the details of the sex itself. Alcohol and dilaudid are the only things that have ever been able to interfere with his memory.

He obediently opens his mouth for a saliva swab, lets the nurse prick his finger and collect a drop of his blood. He wonders if she knows what they’re testing him for. He wonders if she thinks he’s as dirty as he feels, if she’ll violently scrub her hands after smiling politely at him, if she’ll roll her eyes when she talks to the other nurses, lamenting his stupidity.

The sounds of the waiting room melt into the background as he waits for the test to be conducted, and judging by the tone of the nurse who gets his attention when it’s time to return to the doctor’s office, it’s not her first attempt.

He mutters a distracted apology as he gets up from his seat, but she just smiles sympathetically. It shouldn’t get his back up in the way it does.

“I’m afraid you have tested positive for the Human Immunodeficiency Virus, Dr Reid,” she tells him, her voice gentle but straight-forward. He’s at least glad she doesn’t try and soften the blow. It’s not a blow that deserves to be softened. “I know this is a shock, but—”

“It’s not a shock.”

“Sorry?”

“It’s not a shock,” he repeats insistently; impatiently. “I knew it was coming. It’s my own fault.”

“Playing blame games isn’t going to help anybody here, Dr Reid,” she says firmly, meeting his eye. “Whether you were expecting it or not, this would knock anyone off-kilter, and I’d be remiss not to acknowledge that.”

She waits for his reluctant nod before continuing. “The good news is that we’ve caught it early enough to contain the infection. Your CD4 levels are very good, and you do not meet AIDS criteria. I’ve referred you to Dr Frederiks at George Washington University Hospital. He’s an expert in Infectious Disease and specialises in HIV/AIDS treatment. He can see you tomorrow at ten o’clock.”

He arrives back at his apartment almost $300 out of pocket, having gained nothing but a positive HIV diagnosis. The FBI has brilliant healthcare insurance but Spencer ticked the ‘no’ box on the insurance form. He can’t risk anybody knowing about this.

He texts Hotch and tells him he has a doctor’s appointment in the morning and will let him know whether he’ll make it in for the afternoon. Then he lays on the sofa, and cries.

⭐️

“HIV is a chronic illness,” the doctor explains at four minutes past ten the next morning, “a latent infection. Not a death sentence. Medications have come leaps and bounds in the last ten years, and the regimes aren’t anywhere near as rigorous as they used to be. With your CD4 levels this good, your life really won’t be much different than it was a few weeks ago.”

Spencer’s never had much interest in medicine — after all, there’s a reason he’s not that kind of doctor — but he knows this much. He doesn’t tell the doctor that he’s wasting his time explaining the basics of the disease, just stares blankly at the point in between his eyes, staring at the small crease in his skin, the way it moves as he speaks.

“It’s likely that you’ll die of something else, Dr Reid, decades in the future. When managed correctly, HIV is rarely deadly.”

This seems irrelevant: it doesn’t matter to Spencer what he dies of. Whether his immune system gives in or he’s shot in the line of duty or drops dead in the street from an aneurysm he doesn’t see coming, he’ll be dead.

He still doesn’t say anything.

“For the first six months of infection, the risk of transmission to sexual partners is high,” he continues, unfazed by Spencer’s lack of response. “Are you in a relationship?”

“No.” It’s the first word he’s spoken since he entered this office. His voice breaks. He can’t have the person he wants: this feels like the nail in the coffin of a relationship dead on arrival.

A look of sympathy crosses Dr Frederik’s face. “In any casual encounters you may engage in, you’ll need to be extra careful. Do you have the contact details of the person you contracted this from?”

His voice is steadier this time. “No.”

“Do you have any suspicion that you were deliberately infected by them?”

“No,” he answers, because he doesn’t, but it occurs to him that he’ll never actually know. He doesn’t remember if they used a condom; if he even wanted to use one. (All he remembers is his muscles and the way he pretended he was Derek, the amused look on the other man’s face when he whispered his name like a prayer.)

“That’s fine,” the doctor smiles encouragingly. It feels patronising. “We’re going to start with a triple combination of medications: tenofovir and emtricitabine combined with dolutegravir. HIV is an adaptable virus and easily becomes resistant, so it’s best to attack it hard and fast as early as possible to give you your best chances at an undetectable viral load in the next year. Which, I might add, Dr Reid, is a completely reasonable goal. At that stage, you will not be all that infectious. You’ll have bloods drawn before you leave to estimate your baseline kidney and liver function as well as overall health. In three months, you’ll have another test, and in six months, we’ll assess how well the drugs are working for you.”

Spencer nods, his eyes not leaving the crease between Dr Frederik’s eyebrows.

“Make those appointments with my secretary on your way out, and contact me if you have any concerns.” He pushes a brown paper envelope across the desk. “Inside you’ll find a copy of your positive test result, your prescriptions, and a number of leaflets on the condition as a whole.”

He squashes the urge to push the envelope back across the desk and nods again.

“Pick up the medication before the end of today and start them either tonight or in the morning,” he advises, before standing up from behind the desk and walking towards the door.

Spencer follows obediently, nodding once more and forcing a grimace onto his face, before walking down the hallway towards the secretary, another stranger he has to share his secret with. Swallowing down the urge to either scream or vomit, he fiddles with the envelope in his hands and bites the bullet.

⭐️

He tells Hotch that he won’t be in that day, and he goes home and forces himself to get it together. He showers first, the hot water washing the grime of the last few days down the drain, but he can’t do anything about the lingering layer of shame clinging to his skin. For the first time since the realisation, he forces himself to look in the mirror. A thin, pallid man with bags under his eyes and the look of someone harbouring a secret looks back at him.

His hair has grown out a little in the last few months, actual curls visible around his face (memories flash across his mind of breathy gasps; a hand buried in his hair, pulling ever-so-gently but they’re gone before they’re even remotely tangible), and he lost a little bit of weight he couldn’t afford to lose during his symptomatic period.

But, as frustrating as it is, it’s not what he sees. Not really. He sees Spencer Reid, possessor of five degrees, soon to become six, expert analyst in the FBI, the man who listens to jazz when he studies and watches documentaries for fun and solves crossword puzzles on the metro.

Something inside him shifts as he’s reminded of his humanity in that moment. It’s the most okay he’s felt in the last forty-eight hours.

He’ll take it.

He goes back to work the next day with little fanfare, getting warm smiles and ‘glad you’re feeling better’s from the team before they’re plunged headfirst into a new case, as it so often goes. They fly to Vermont, and part of him is glad for the distraction: no more talking about his illness, no more self-pity — he’s forced to try and bridge the gap between Dr Spencer Reid, Before and Dr Spencer Reid, HIV Positive as quickly and seamlessly as possible.

He does what he’s good at: offers relevant, detailed facts, profiles the victims and the unsub, cites studies that help them get to the bottom of the case, and for a moment he allows himself to forget about the virus coursing through his blood and the feeling of shame he can’t quite shake no matter how clean he scrubs his skin.

They get to the hotel late that evening and Spencer takes his second dose of medication, individually popping each tablet from it’s sheet into his hand. The pharmacist he spoke to yesterday told him that from his next medication order they can put all three tablets into a blister packet for him, but for now he’s stuck punching through three different plastic packets every night. Derek asks him to join them at the bar for a drink, but Spencer turns him down. He’s barely been able to look him in the eye.

If, in some rare and far flung universe, Derek did want to date Spencer, he wouldn’t want to date HIV positive, ex-addict, reckless and unsafe Spencer.

He wouldn’t want to date a man so heartbroken and lovesick that he got black-out drunk and slept with someone — most likely without a condom — just because he bared a passing resemblance to Derek. Contracting the Human Immunodeficiency Virus in the process.

No.

Spencer spends the evening staring into the mirror instead, desperately trying to find the man he was four days ago under the burden of broken suffering he seems to have picked up along with the diagnosis, the positive test, the sympathetic doctors.

When he hears the others come up past midnight and pile into their hotel rooms, laughing and chattering among themselves, Spencer still hasn’t looked away.

The use of the case as a distraction only works until 11am the next day. He’d had trouble falling asleep, and he’s powering through the day fuelled by black coffee and raw determination alone, but those motivators — as effective as they can be — can’t stop his legs from shaking as he stares at the geo-profile, searching for what they’re missing.

It sucks, but he’s glad for the warning the shaking gives him. He finds a chair and sits down, which is likely the only thing that stops him from collapsing when black dots swim in his vision and he’s suddenly vomiting down his front.

“Reid!” Hotch cries, running from the other end of the police station to where he’s sitting, panic clear on his face. They’re the only two from their unit currently in the station, but Hotch quickly locates an officer and turns to him. “Call an ambulance.”

“No,” Spencer manages to protest, although it only makes him want to be sick again, “‘m fine, promise.”

“What’s going on? I thought the flu had passed? Healthy people don’t spontaneously vomit and almost pass out, Reid.”

Somehow, his addled brain manages to concoct a decent enough lie. “Keep thinking I’m better,” he mumbles, leaning forward to put his head between his legs as Hotch places a hand on his back, “and then I’m not.”

“You’re sure this is just the flu?” Hotch asks, concerned but at least appearing to believe him.

“Certain,” Spencer lies.

Hotch nods once before shaking his head at the officer on standby with a phone to call an ambulance. “Well, you can’t work the case like this,” he sighs. “We need to get you back to the hotel, okay? You can rest there. God, Reid, what did the doctor say?”

“Bad case of the flu. Gave me some strong Tamiflu and told me I’d be fine in a couple days.” He gasps the words out in between intense waves of nausea, clasping his hands together in an iron grip.

He absolutely can’t let Hotch catch on. In the nine years he’s worked at the FBI, he’s managed to conceal his sexuality below layers upon layers of closeting, and he’s not about to be forced out now. It started as a purely protectionist strategy — law enforcement in the early 2000s didn’t exactly have a stellar reputation when it came to tolerance — but then he just felt forced too deep, felt the web of lies spun too tightly around him to even begin to unpick them.

Terror seizes his heart at the idea of his team knowing who he really is: not because he expects homophobia or backlash, but because he’s not sure he’s ready to live that openly yet. He’s never been good with change, and this is no exception.

It doesn’t help that the whole team is all too aware of his past addiction. He dreads the thought of them thinking he’s using again and, worse, so irresponsibly that he managed to contract HIV.

Hotch gets a rookie officer to drive him back to the hotel, and she keeps sending him nervous glances, most likely worried he’ll stink up her immaculately kept squad car with his spontaneous vomiting. Both he and the car make the journey unscathed, although he knows he probably looks as green as he feels as he drags himself up the stairs — could there possibly be a worse time for an out of order elevator? — and somehow manages to make it to the bed before he collapses.

Unfortunately, his restful slumber doesn’t last long. He’s woken up not half an hour later with the intense need to be sick again, and he races to the toilet, where he spends the next two hours: intermittently slumped over it, being sick into it, and lying on the cold tiles next to it.

It feels like a punishment. If Spencer was a religious man he’d be certain God was smiting him for his sins, but instead he’s left instead pondering karma or fate or some other theory he doesn’t really buy into either. Logically, he knows it’s just a combination of guilt and regret — he made a mistake, he’s suffering the consequences; there’s no fate or religion or karma involved — but his delirious, out of sorts mind struggles to hold on to that.

Reason doesn’t make the nausea any less crippling, after all.

Eventually, he must manage to pass out on the bathroom floor, because he’s being shaken awake by a pair of gentle hands, and when he finally opens his eyes, it’s dark outside.

“Spence?”

Shit. Derek.

His eyes fly open and he fights to sit up, to make himself more presentable. The smell of vomit lingers in the air and he remembers that he didn’t even put the toilet seat down, let alone flush it. (At least he thought to change out of his vomit-covered shirt. Thank God for small mercies.) He blushes, and thinks he must look a pretty picture of red and green as he finally meets Derek’s eyes.

“God, Spence, how bad is this flu?” he asks worriedly, smoothing his hair with the palm of his hand. Despite himself, Spencer finds himself pressing back into the touch, relishing any contact he can get.

Then it hits him: he’s dirty. He can’t contaminate Derek like this.

“You should leave,” he asserts hurriedly as he pulls away, hating that desperation is so obvious in his voice. “I don’t want you to get sick.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve cleaned everything up, and I used gloves. I’ve been in contact with you the last couple of days, so if you were going to get me sick you would’ve already. I just want to be here for you.”

Spencer squeezes his eyes closed so tightly they hurt. He wants nothing more than to fold himself into Derek’s arms, let himself be comforted by the man he wants to spend the rest of his life with. But he can’t. There are so many reasons that he can’t.

“No,” he says, not opening his eyes, resenting the tear that slips out and spills down his cheek. “You can’t. I’m… I’m not safe to be around.”

He doesn’t really mean to say it, but it escapes anyway, and he opens his eyes just in time to see the confusion cross Derek’s face. “Not safe to…? Spencer, what—”

“I just… I need to be alone.”

“No, you don’t,” Derek says softly, bringing a hand to his hair again, and he knows that HIV isn’t transmitted through sweat or vomit but he’s dirty, and Derek is so so good, he can’t be responsible for tainting him. Derek doesn’t relent, though, not even when Spencer pulls away from his touch and shrinks in on himself, leaning against the toilet. “You need to allow yourself to be comforted. You need to let me help, Spencer.”

Suddenly, he feels incredibly tired: the energy seeping out of his body, and he’s boneless against the toilet, absent even of the effort to hold himself upright.

“Come on, let’s get you into bed.” He puts his arms around Spencer’s rolled up body and lifts him, holding him close to his chest as he carries him from the bathroom to the bed.

Spencer doesn’t just let him, he curls into his embrace, clinging to the material of his t-shirt like it’s his only grip on reality.

(Later, he’ll blame the fever, but deep down he knows that just once, he wanted to play pretend, and just once, he didn’t have the energy to stop himself.)

⭐️

The side effects take weeks to finally leave, his body having a hard time adjusting to not only a deadly virus in his bloodstream, but some of the strongest drugs on the market inhibiting his natural enzyme production. Eventually, though, he’s back at work properly, selling a story about a simultaneous gastro-intestinal virus making the flu exponentially worse.

He’s not really sure everyone believes him, but nobody questions it out loud, so he avoids everyone’s eyes and takes it as a win.

Nobody gets close enough to try, anyway. He pushes everyone away, holds them at arm's length no matter how much they kick and scream and claw their way closer to him. It surprises him how persistent Derek is, and for a moment he feels a sad flutter of hope in his stomach and he’s forced to stamp it down: Derek sees him as a brother, a friend, a colleague, not a potential romantic partner.

And it would be irrelevant, even if he did. Derek wouldn’t want him as any of those things if he knew what he was hiding. Ever since his lapse in judgement on the case in Vermont, he’s refused to spend any time alone with Derek, and he hates the hurt he sees in his eyes, hates that he can’t scream at him that this is for his own good. But he can’t know. Because Spencer is still ruled by his relentless selfish desires, and he can’t let Derek go, no matter how hard he tries to.

Kept at arm’s length at least means he’s still touching his shoulders.

He muddles through the next few months on his own, returning to his quiet apartment every night and eating a sad, lonely dinner on his sad, lonely sofa before punching his way through a blister pack, taking his tablets, and going to sleep. He turns down drinks invitations, declines phone calls, ignores text messages. He pretends he isn’t home when there are knocks at his door.

He takes showers that are too hot and cries on the metro, scrubs his fingernails and his face, and when he got a shallow knife wound on a case last month, wouldn’t let a single member of the team near him. Whispering his status, shame-faced, to the attending EMT.

This is it, he thinks one night, as he opens the microwave and takes out the mac-and-cheese ready meal he’d bought on the way home that night. He doesn’t even like mac-and-cheese. It was just the only thing left in the store at 8.30pm. This is my life now. Standing in my kitchen at 9.15pm, not being able to remember the last time I was actually happy.

(He does remember, really. It was Sunday the 13th of March, 9.37am: Derek had ruffled his hair and joked with him as they waited alone in the conference room to find out what was so urgent they were being called into work on the weekend for. Spencer could still feel the aftermath of his Saturday night tryst, and pretended for a brief few minutes that that encounter was with Derek, and those jokes were actually flirting. But then the case took over, then the flu symptoms, and then. Well.)

Before he can carry the mac-and-cheese into the living room, though, there’s a knock at the door. Everyone had mostly given up on turning up unannounced, so it catches him off-guard, and something in him, some vain flicker of hope, or maybe a masochistic desire to hurt even more, propels him forward until he’s opening it and coming face to face with Derek Morgan.

“Spencer,” he says urgently, and panic immediately grips Spencer as he wonders what could be so wrong that he’d need to show up out of the blue, but Derek must see it on his face. “Nothing’s happened, don’t worry, I just… I need to speak to you.”

A knot of something that Spencer can’t quite place tightens in his stomach as he stares at the myriad of emotions playing across Derek’s face, but he steps aside to let him in anyway. He closes the door behind them and feels a flash of embarrassment at the state of his apartment. It’s completely clean — his already rigorous attitude towards germ and cleanliness have only intensified in the last few months as paranoia plagued his mind relentlessly — but it’s barren of any joy, and it couldn’t be more obvious.

The furniture is drab and Spencer’s packed away all the photos and trinkets that used to litter the entire place because they just made him too sad to look at. The only life that remains is his books, and the sheet he’d hung to cover them up in a fit of rage a couple of weeks ago still hangs there limply. He hadn’t wanted to see his books: didn’t want the temptation of touching them and tainting them. What if he got a papercut on one of the pages and his virus-ridden blood spilled across the words he treasures so dearly?

He watches as Derek surveys the place with a sad expression on his face, before recollecting himself and turning back to Spencer.

“I know you’ve been pulling away from us, Spence,” he says, almost breathless as he takes a seat on the sofa. Spencer doesn’t know what to do with his body, so he settles on remaining where he is: stock still facing the couch, his hands buried deep in his trouser pockets. “We’ve watched you become a shell of who you used to be, and we’re all worried about you—”

“I don’t—”

“No, just let me speak. Everyone is worried, and I am too, but… I’m also… I’m hurt, Spencer. You’re pushing me away, turning me down every time I try to get close to you, and it’s painful because you’re my friend. You’re my best friend, and you mean the world to me.”

I wouldn’t if you knew my secret, he thinks miserably, but he doesn’t say anything.

“More than anything, though, it hurts… because I’m in love with you.”

Spencer stares. He’s hallucinating, he has to be.

“And I know — well, I don’t know because we’ve never talked about it — but I know you’re probably straight and even if you were interested in guys, too, who’s to say you’d be in love with me back? But I had to tell you because our relationship is heading south anyway, plummeting straight for the ground, and I figured it couldn’t hurt, I just… say something? Please?”

He doesn’t mean to say it.

“I’m HIV positive.”

It’s Derek’s turn to stare. Spencer can’t meet his eyes, and suddenly feeling like he needs to Get Out, he rushes to the kitchen and picks up his rapidly cooling mac-and-cheese. He gets a fork out and faces the countertop, away from Derek, as he starts to shovel unsatisfying bites into his not-hungry stomach.

It can’t even be a full minute later that he hears footsteps behind him. “You have AIDS?”

He sets the mac-and-cheese back on the counter. “No,” he answers, not turning around. “I tested positive for HIV; I don’t meet AIDS criteria. My CD4 levels are apparently very good, and the medication I’m taking is proving effective in controlling and managing the virus. I don’t have side effects anymore, and I don’t feel any different than I did before I contracted it.”

There’s a beat of silence. “And this is why you’ve been pulling away from us?”

Spencer hesitates before nodding shamefully, his eyes burning a hole in his dinner. “I didn’t know how to tell anyone, and I—” He’s cut off by a heaving sob. It catches him by surprise, but suddenly he’s choking on emotion: everything he’s been through, everything he’s been dealing with alone for so long a burden he no longer knows how to carry.

“Oh, baby,” Derek breathes, rushing forward and turning Spencer until his face is pressed into his neck and their arms are wrapped around one another. The nickname only furthers his emotion, falling apart completely in such a way that makes him unsure he’ll ever be put back together again. “I’m so sorry.”

He lets Spencer cry it out until his sobs recede and his tears slow, and he feels confident enough to pull away and meet Derek’s eye properly again. It feels like a reconnection; a reconciliation of sorts, and his breath catches at the emotion on his face. He’d expected a meddle of sympathy and disgust, but all he finds is compassion and love, tinged by a sadness Spencer supposes probably comes from watching the man you’ve just professed to love fall apart like that.

Oh wait. Derek just told him—

“You love me?” His voice comes out quieter and shyer than he’d hoped, and not nearly as incredulous as he’d intended, but Derek softens anyway.

“Yes,” he says emphatically. “So much. And if you think you telling me this is going to change how I feel even a bit, then you’re dead wrong, Spencer.”

It’s suddenly too much to think that everything he’d feared happening for the last few months was wrong, and he’s gasping for breath again, sinking to the ground to bury his face in his hands.

“Spence?” Derek asks worriedly, following him to the floor. “Oh, God, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“No… please, you’ve done nothing wrong.” He takes a deep breath, trying to recenter himself, ground himself in the reality that’s unfolding before him, no matter how different it might look than that of his anticipation. “You know, the man. Um, the man I… contracted this from. I slept with him because he looked like you.”

He looks up and meets Derek’s eyes again, searching for anything in them to confirm that he was thinking all the thoughts Spencer feared and coming up empty. “I was so heartsick that I got blind-drunk and slept with a complete stranger because it was the closest to you I ever thought I’d get and then I was just so scared of what everyone would say when I found out. I know logically that HIV doesn’t make someone dangerous or unclean, but I just couldn’t shake this feeling of shame, you know? I was constantly panicked that I’d pass it to one of you. Besides, I’m not even out to the team, and I know the implications of a disease like this: gay or an IV drugs user — I didn’t know how to deal with the fact that I was both. I’m clean, and I’ve stayed clean, I just…”

“Hey, I get it,” Derek says gently, reaching out a hand and cupping Spencer’s cheek gently. “I think if I was in the same boat I probably would’ve reacted in exactly the same way. You can’t be blamed for bowing to a social stigma this heavy, Spence. I’m just sorry I didn’t realise what was going on sooner. And even sorrier, for that matter, that I didn’t tell you I was in love with you before this even had a chance to happen.”

Spencer smiles a little at that. “Hey, I didn’t tell you either. I don’t blame you at all. Neither of us were out and confessing something like that is no small feat.”

“I suppose so.”

Spencer shifts a little in his position on the floor, the raging storm of emotion that he’s been drowning under for the past four and a half months quieting for the very first time. He breathes deeply for a few seconds before working up the courage to ask the question he really wants the answer to. “I know you said that this doesn’t change the way you feel—”

“And it doesn’t.”

“Yeah,” Spencer nods, because suddenly he gets that. He isn’t sure what took so long. “But does it make you not want to be in a relationship with me?”

“Spencer, no.” Derek’s voice is urgent as he makes intense eye contact with him, raising a gentle finger to his chin. “It doesn’t change a single. thing. I don’t know much about HIV, I’ll admit, but I do know that these days you can get to a point where it doesn’t transmit to partners. And we can be really safe about it. I’ll do all the research to make you comfortable, but Spencer, even if it did mean that we could never have sex, I’d still want you. I want you so badly, pretty boy.”

He can hardly believe his ears. “Really?”

“Really.” He swipes his thumb across his cheek, catching a falling tear. “I’m hopelessly, desperately in love with you, Spencer. I have been for years. You can ask, Penelope: she’s been putting up with my pining like a saint, but I’m not sure she could’ve taken it much longer.”

“I’ve been in love with you for years, too.” Another tear falls as the prospect of what’s about to happen really sinks in.

“Can I?” Derek murmurs, as he inches closer ever so slowly.

“Please,” Spencer whispers, barely finishing the word before their lips are colliding and a flurry of butterflies break out in his stomach as his chest glows with the warmth of a kiss he’s long been aching for. Derek’s hands find his waist, his jaw, his cheek, his hair, exploring his body ever so softly as he kisses him with the same inquisitive gentleness, managing to take him apart with just his lips and his hands.

“God,” he whispers as he finally pulls away, pressing his forehead to Spencer’s as he struggles to hide his wide grin. “I can’t tell you how long I’ve dreamed of that. I’m gonna be like a teenage girl tonight, running my fingers across my lips as I remember every minute of it.”

Spencer giggles at that. “Well you can rest easy in the knowledge that I’ll be doing the same.” He pulls away slightly and looks down for a second before looking back up into Derek’s earnest gaze. “I’ve never been kissed like that before.”

“I’ll kiss you like that every day for as long as you’ll have me.” He doesn’t hesitate to lean back in, connecting their lips again as they melt into one another’s touches, and it makes Spencer laugh later that the most intimate and passionate encounter of his life so far happened on the kitchen floor.

They pull apart as soon as it heats up a little bit, and pain flashes across both of their expressions at the thought of why.

“There’s this thing called PrEP,” Spencer says, still a little ashamed of his situation, that Derek has to be protected against him before they can take this any further. “It’s medication that you take before and after sex with a HIV positive person that blocks the virus from entering your bloodstream if you were to somehow contract it. And we can wear condoms. And once I reach an undetectable viral load, it means the virus is untransmittable, and you won’t contract it even if we’re unprotected.”

Derek blinks. “Wow, that’s… that’s better than I thought.”

“Really? You’re still okay with all this?”

He softens. “Pretty boy, I am so okay with all this, and I’m sorry that you spent so long thinking otherwise. We have time to figure all this out, but what matters is that right now, I have you next to me, and we love each other. Don’t you think?”

“Yeah.” He smiles, and leans forward to kiss Derek chastely. “I do.”

“Now, how about we bin that disgusting mac-and-cheese and order some Chinese?” he suggests, matching Spencer’s smile. “We could eat it in bed and watch one of those documentaries you’re always talking about.”

Spencer laughs fondly. “You want our first date to be eating takeaway and watching a science documentary in bed?”

“Well it sounds perfect to me.”

“Yeah, it sounds pretty perfect to me, too,” Spencer whispers, the happiness in his chest feeling warm and inviting, begging him to bask in the moment for as long as he can.

They’ll work out the specifics later — they’ll get Derek started on PrEP and attend Spencer’s appointments to measure his viral load, they’ll have important and serious conversations about the risks to both of them, they’ll work out what their relationship means for work, how they’ll begin to repair the damage the last few months have done to Spencer’s mental health — but right now, none of that matters.

All that does is: the buffet of Chinese food Derek lays out on a blanket on Spencer’s bed, the documentary about bees playing on the TV, and the thrilled little glances thrown each other’s way, the stolen kisses and casual touches, the love palpable in the air around them. And later, when the food is eaten, and the documentary is playing the credits: Spencer’s tired head resting on Derek’s loving chest, and the syncing of their heartbeats as they fall asleep to the sound of each other.

This shouldn't have to be said but please do not use fanfiction as sex education and PLEASE practice safe sex. As far as I know, all the information included in this fic is correct, but I have no personal experience with HIV/AIDS, and this is very much written from an outsider's perspective - albeit a thoroughly researched one.

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith @negativefouriq @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @livrere-blue @hotchseyebrows @jellejareau @reidology @i-like-buttons @spencerspecifics @bau-gremlin @hotchedyke @tobias-hankel @goobzoop @marsjareau @garcias-bitch @oliverbrnch @im-autistic-not-stupid (taglist form)

[the-crows-typist]

Here’s part 2 of the Valentines Even featuring Floyd with the word ‘Cards’. Thank you to @myuminn for requesting this and enjoy.

Previous works: Chocolate feat. Jade

CW: OOC, Slow burn and Slight Angst

Word count: 4961 

A Heart from Me to You

“Floyd Leech, to the principal’s office immediately.”

Ah, Floyd got into trouble again. You grimace, wondering what bad thing he had done this time. Getting up to your desk, you scurry on over to the principal’s office just as your tall friend was pulled in by the wrist and the door shut behind them. You come in closer, planting your ear against the wooden door and hearing the murmurs of both child and teacher.

You could hear Floyd’s deep voice, he only gets like that when he’s angry. There were screams of play behind you and you could see a child crying with a circle of his classmates surrounding him. Jade, Floyd’s twin brother, knelt before him to pat at the sore cheek with some wet wipes.

“Bring him to the clinic, I’ll have a talk with the other one.”

You hear the principal’s words and the sudden fiddling of the door. You run to the bench away from the Principal’s office and hid, watching the teacher escort Floyd out of the office. He was pouting, close to tears, and sporting a small bruise on his cheek. Just as you wanted to follow him, the principal opened the door to see the two off.

“I know you’re back there.” He says, turning his head towards you. “Come on out.”

The principal was a tall man, his hair a mix of white and black, his clothes a very dark but very rich red. There was a small meow behind him, his beloved pet Lucius brushed against his long legs. “You know it’s not good to hide, you’ll get caught immediately.” He knelt, brushing some stray hairs behind your ear.

“Principal Trein. Floyd never does anything bad, he wasn’t the one who started it.”

He sighed, Lucius coming up to greet you by bumping his head against your palm. “Is that so?” Trein asked suddenly. “I’ll take note of that. For now, why don’t you go back to the playground and play with the others?” You pursed your lips and pulled at his red robe just as he was about to push himself up “But—!”

“Floyd will be patched up in the clinic.” He reassured you. “But because he is hurt, he needs to get some rest in the dorms. He’ll be okay.” Your small hands let go of his robe but the expression on your face never left, you were worried and rightfully upset.

Trein’s hand put itself on your head. “He’ll be alright. Now, run along.” He nudged you from behind and you walked off but not to the playground, to the dorms where all the children stayed. Trein sighs, watching you purposefully going the wrong way. He picks up his cat who meows into his arms. “Those two.” He whispers yet his smile betrays his apparent negative mood.

Floyd had locked the door by the time you arrived at the student dorms. It was currently empty with only a few students opting to stay inside and play amongst themselves. In your hands was a board game you, Floyd and Jade played not too long ago.

You knock on his door, three times softly. “Floyd?” You called out.

There was no answer but you knew he was awake otherwise the door wouldn’t be locked. “I brought some games with me. You wanna play?” There was a thump then a long slide down against the door and you knelt close. “Does this mean you don’t wanna play?” You ask.

From beneath the door, a small card was slid through the gap. A ten of clubs. Turning the card over, you saw Floyd’s angry handwriting. “I don’t wanna play right now. I got grounded.” It said and you couldn’t help but grimace. He can be so overdramatic sometimes, “You’re not being grounded, Floyd. Principal Trein just said you need to rest cuz’ you got hurt.”

You hear the pop of a marker and a scribble. The next card that came out was a 5 of clubs. “That’s still the same thing!”

“Then…Do you want to just stay like this?”

The next card came to a little while later. A King of Clubs. “Yes.”

You sat by the closed door, speaking to Floyd through his cards. Your games were largely ignored for the small stack of cards you’ve collected as you talked. “Okay, just open the door when you’re ready.” You didn’t hear any scribbling after that but you certainly were in for a surprise when Floyd suddenly unlocked and opened the door making you fall on your back.

Smiling down at you, he held an Ace of Clubs in his hands. “I’m ready.” He said and you puff your cheek, ready to pounce on his and pinch his cheeks. The Clubs cards you have collected lay on the floor in a mess.

The special card messages extended out until your middle school and even appearing in a place you were never expecting but that’s Floyd for you! He relished the idea of suddenness just like his brother and he loved seeing the surprised expression on your face when you discover a card fluttering out of your locker or slipped into your textbook.

“Turn your books to page 38.” Said your teacher and you could only widen your eyes when you found a ten of spades pressed between the pages. You looked beside you and at Floyd whose eyes were glued to his book. Seems like no indication can be given to you at the moment, Floyd was in his study mood. A rare mood to see.

Flipping the ten of spades card over, you began to read. “Class is boring.” Yup, that was true and you couldn’t help the small giggle that left your lips. Your teacher stared at you for a moment and continued teaching the lesson. With the best sleight of the hand you could muster, you produced your own set of cards and pulling out an eight of spades, and using the back to write. “That’s because Mrs. Beedy has a boring voice.”

It was Floyd’s turn to laugh, his shoulders bobbing and smile very evident. A five of spades was passed to you with the message. “If she were the teacher for sleeping in class 101, I’d be passing with flying colors.”

You felt your insides jump and you hunched over trying to stop yourself from laughing. It was only when your teacher tapped the board with a sharp slap of a stick against the chalkboard making all of you in your class flinch.

“Mister Leech, you and your friend seem to be having a nice conversation. Care to share what you were discussing with the entire class?” You felt your stomach dropped and you wished you could shrink into your seat while Floyd was silent but only for a little while.

“Your class is boring.”

There was a collective gasp and your teacher fuming. “The both of you are not allowed to have recess outside.” Floyd huffed and pouted. “And I thought being honest was a class virtue.” There was thunder overhead, the rumbling only ever heard at the quietest of times.

Just as you thought that the day couldn’t get any more chaotic, Floyd passed to you another card. This time a king of spades. “Let’s head out later. Playground will be empty.” You looked at him and he catches your gaze with his chin resting on his palm. You two share a smile when you nod your head, tucking the card into your pocket.

Though staying inside the classroom during breaks was as boring as it was, having Floyd next to you did ease the mind-numbing silence of the classroom. You had brought all the message cards with you and tried to make a tower out of it while Floyd was busy writing on the board.

“D’you ever think about what you wanna do when you get older?”

You let out a small sound and your tower collapses on your desk with some cards falling to the floor. There was a groan and you got down on your knees to pick up the fallen cards. “Not really. Maybe go to that really nice theme park near the sea? I’ve always wanted to go there.”

The squeaking of the chalk stopped suddenly, your eyes wide when a drawing of a large building stood before Floyd. “I wanna go to lots of big buildings. My dad goes to one every day and everything looks so cool and shiny!” he thought of it for a second then nodded his head. “But the theme park near the sea is super cool too. Their cakes are yummy but I don’t eat a lot. Usually Jade finishes my food.”

“Wha?! Did you go there already? I’m so jealous.” You pout, putting the cards back on your desk. “It got pretty boring after the rollercoaster ride.” He says and takes the eraser to quickly hide his work. “But when you’re in those really shiny buildings, you could see lots of things you didn’t think you’d see. Lots of cars, all the people moving wherever, even birds!”

Floyd sets down the eraser, patting his hands of chalk dust. “I wanna see it again soon. Probably when Jade and I are much older.”

“Can I go with you?” You ask.

“Mmn.” Floyd places a finger on his cheek in thought. “If my dad says yes, then you can! If no…Can you fit in a luggage bag?”

The day came to a close, the students going up to their respective dorms. Jade looks around as he went up the stairs, seeing his brother and you hunched over the bushes. He shakes his head with a good-hearted laugh on his lips and went on with his business, keeping your small trouble a secret.

The clouds overhead were gray and the wind was cool but that didn’t stop you from having your own fun on the swing sets that are often taken by children bigger than you or the bars that the teachers never allowed you to climb to the highest point. You sit against the bar, looking over the trees.

“Floyd, look!”

You pointed at the large shiny building that towered over the cityscape. “A shiny building!” Floyd moved next to you and smiled in wonder. “I wonder if my dad is in there. I bet he is.” The first drops of rain began to fall. Floyd’s eyes face forward despite the chilling wind and the hiss of oncoming rain. “He’s not always around, mom usually tells us how he’s doing while we’re away.”

Floyd began climbing down, the both of you running to the nearby tree for safety. “My mom tells Jade and me that he’s always in shiny buildings.” You sit with him on the stone covering. “One day, I wanna go with him too.”

You stare at him for a moment, seeing his eyes stare to the building beyond. As you opened your mouth to say something the loud voice of Principal Trein hammered through. “Floyd Leech, get out of the rain this instant!” He took your hand and pulled you with him, walking towards Trein with a huff.

It was then that the cold had gotten to you and you let out a sudden sneeze.

“To your rooms. Both of you.”

In your room, you were bundled with blankets and a heating pack on your head. Your body was never good with handling the cold and your runny nose and slightly warm fever was evidence of that. The wind rattled your window and wetting the playground you and Floyd just played in.

You remember his look when talking about his dad. You remembered feeling something deep hit your stomach when he looked like that. A knock on the door brought you out of your thoughts, a single card slid under your door.

Getting out of bed, you crawled towards it. An Ace of Spades, a message from Floyd. “Jade brought monopoly. Wanna play?”

You open the door and the twins stood before you with Floyd looking like he just came out of the shower. Jade held the board game in his hands with a polite smile. “I want to be the cat this time.” He said and Floyd giggled. “Then I’ll be the tophat!”

You let the twins into your room and you get into bed. “I’ll be the thimble.”

While Jade and Floyd destroyed you in the board game, you couldn’t help but think back to the time on the high bars. Floyd’s expression looks so sad when talking about his dad. You pat his back suddenly, his eyes looking at you in confusion yet making no move to ask.

You had no idea how Floyd got through high school, especially with his mood changes, and yet, here you are sitting with him at lunch while Jade and Azul discuss notes. “Today’s math test was tough,” Jade said, holding his arms in a stretch. “I didn’t expect our teacher to just add in more information.”

“I think I blanked out halfway through.” You admitted, taking a bite of your lunch. “So many numbers…”

Jade looked to his brother, smile knowing. “What about you, Floyd?

“Hm?” Floyd looked up from his half-finished plate. “I got bored and didn’t finish it.”

A collective sigh passed through the table, Azul’s brows furrowing in annoyance while Jade did not hide his amusement. “Well, I can hope that you’ve answered enough to at least pass.” Your fingers and Floyd’s brush against each other, a card slipped into your palm. Looking down, you pulled the card close to read.

“I don’t want to go to class. Let’s hang out somewhere.”

The Queen of diamonds was stored in your pocket and you only sighed and shook your head. While the next class was boring, you knew the repercussions of not attending a class. “Lunch is almost over, let’s go back to our classrooms.”  

Floyd’s hand grabbed your wrist just as you were about to stand up and Jade looked at you with an inquisitive look. “You two go ahead.” You tell them quickly. “I’ll wait for Floyd to finish his meal.”

You have no idea how and why you were roped into Floyd’s scheme even after years of you two being at each other’s side. Jade and Azul would surely have Floyd’s head and give you a stern talking to when they find out you and he had skipped school.

The beach’s salty breeze cleared your head, the foamy water hitting your bare feet made you sigh in comfort. Floyd sat closer, letting the water hit his body and wet his uniform. “Any reason why you wanted to come here?” You ask and he only remains silent.

“I felt like it.”

Humming, you stared at the looming sun and blue sea. “Y’know, this kind of takes me back to when we were kids. We had the playground all to ourselves.” You put your hands on his shoulders and pushed down slightly on him. “We climbed the high bars when we weren’t supposed to…And we stared at a big shiny object in the distance.”

Floyd looked up at you, your eyes locking with his. Your smile was opposite his bored grin. “Do you still remember that?” It wasn’t long until Floyd mimicked your smile and he leaned back against your knees. “Yeah, I wanted to go to those big shiny buildings the city has cuz’ I thought my dad was in one of them.”

The waves crashed to shore, wetting Floyd’s bottoms and your feet. He looked into the distance, the yellow of the sun turning orange. “I still wanna go there, y’know? One of those shiny buildings. Even if my dad isn’t in there.”

“I’m sure you’ll get there.” You pat his back. “You’re smart, just incredibly lazy.”

Floyd’s hold on your wrists was sudden and you found yourself being carried into the sea and crashing into the cold seawater. You hear Floyd’s laugh between the waves as he pulls you up, he’s equally as soaked as you. “And you’re wet and cold, guess that makes us the same.”

You splashed water at his face, your laugh only fueling your mock battle on the beach. His splashed water at your back, the two of you giggling as the sun began to set. You missed moments like this, just being able to play around with Floyd. You missed seeing the smile he always had when he was around you.

Your heart had a nice heaviness when he finally grappled you into a bear hug, holding you close to him and keeping you down. That heaviness made your heart beat fast, your cheeks begin to redden at the realization.

You had liked Floyd all this time. It had always been him.

Jade set a heavy towel over your shoulders while Azul was as chastising as ever sermons Floyd at the sidelines. “I don’t want to be the broken record here,” Jade began, his hands wiping your cheek of dripping water. “But what you did was pretty stupid.” Though you and Jade were not particularly close, there was a level of casual energy between you. So while you could call Jade out for his personality, nothing was stopping him from doing the same in return.

“Skipping class or going into the cold water?”

“Yes,” Jade answered simply. “You never got used to cold weather. Even after all these years.”

You pulled the heavy towel over yourself with a pout and Jade saw his work fit. Azul’s voice soon died down and Floyd was in a bit of a sour mood. “Be sure to take a warm bath, both of you. We couldn’t want anyone getting sick at such a busy time.”

You had just gotten out of your shower, your skin slightly wet and towel catching the water that dripped against down your hair. Your mind continued to play the memories of Floyd playing with you on the beach to the biggest revelation of your life so far.

You liked Floyd. And for a long time now.

You had originally thought that this feeling of content, the jumpiness of your heart was because he had been your friend since childhood. And now that your feelings were apparent, what will you do with it? Floyd was precious to you and it surely showed that you were special to him…But did he feel the same way?

You rubbed your cheeks, sighing your jittering feelings away. Ah, this won’t do. Panicking like this won’t get you anywhere. You approached your desk, reaching for the hairdryer but only for your hand to stop when you see a familiar card. An ace of diamonds.

“Today was fun. Thanks.”

The heat in your cheeks worsened and you squealed, covering your face with the towel. This wasn’t a good time for that at all!!! You burrowed yourself into your bed and willing your heart to relax and get some sleep.

Floyd’s room was dark, save for the small lamp that lit the room. Jade held a paper to him, lip tight and eyes sharp. “You’ve been sitting on this for a while now.” He said and Floyd, sitting on his bed with a towel covering his head and face only grimaced. “They’re waiting for your decision, I’ve already passed mine.”

“Tell them to give me more time.”

Jade’s sharp inhale gave away his temperance. “Floyd, they gave you the entire year.” He knew the reason why his brother hesitated to choose. “Just…Settle this by the end of the week, alright?” He set the paper down on his desk and turned to leave his brother’s room and give him privacy. “Goodnight, Floyd.”

When the door closed, Floyd slipped off his towel and unfolded his legs; his hands reached over to his desk, and ignoring the piece of paper Jade left for him, a few cards were left in his worn box all of which were hearts. He let out a laugh, a bitter laugh while his grip on the box shook. He set the box down and switched off the lamp, lying in bed but not ready to sleep.

Floyd was quiet, it was a mood you’ve never seen a whole lot. He didn’t eat all the much and he didn’t make much of a fuss during PE class, either. “You okay? You’re looking a lil’ wobbly.” You touched his arm when you were waiting for your turn to fly around the field.

“I’m fine. Just wasn’t able to sleep last night.”

You searched his face yet found nothing to pin your doubts on. “You can try sleeping in the clinic? An hour’s nap can do wonders.”

“Leech, you’re up,” Vargas yelled and Floyd moved away from your side. “Yeah, I’ll think about it.” He zoomed to the sky at almost breakneck speak, soaring through the familiar skies he came to love and looking down at the students below. You blinked up at him, holding your broom close to your chest, there was a tinge of worry in your heart and sickening churning in your stomach.

The end of the week came to a close when Floyd set a heart playing card on your stack of books while you weren’t looking. Meet me at Gazebo. 8 PM. You set the King of hearts down on your book and looking at the clock, hoping it would go faster so you can get to the bottom of this.

The night was cool and the fireflies flew about as you ran towards the meeting place with Floyd already waiting for you. He was gazing up at the stars, eyes unblinking until you called out his name. He turns to you, a smile now on his face. “You’re here.”

“I came as fast as I could.” You tell him between pants and you wrap your jacket tighter around yourself.

“Remember the wish I made? Back when we were kids?? The one about the shiny buildings.”

You nod your head. “Yeah, we were in elementary school when you said it.”

From his back, he produced a paper, the emblem a shining gold and blue against the night time lamps. The letterhead reading the name of a well-known song. “Floyd, you—!” He chuckled at your surprised expression, bringing his paper back to him. “I got accepted, Jade and I. I’ll finally get to see the buildings as I wished.”

“That’s amazing! Congratulations, Floyd.”

You clap your hands together made him melt. “It wasn’t much. The questions weren’t that hard, to begin with.”

“But it’s all the waaaayyy over the sea. So it’ll be a pain for me to go home every day.” He pointed to a place you couldn’t see and something in you froze, your chest going heavy. Just as you realized that you liked Floyd, he was going to be whisked away…But that would mean he’d get his wish to see the buildings, right? Wasn’t that what he wanted??

“W-we have to celebrate, then! This is such big news!! Oh, m-maybe we can order something in the cafeteria o-or…Maybe make a special request for Takoyaki and—!”

“I’m not going.”

“What?” All the excitement in you quickly vanished and soon overtook you when Floyd brought both of his hands to the paper, pulling at opposite ends. “Floyd, what are you doing?!” You run towards him, futilely grabbing his hands just as he was about to tear them. “Stop it! Floyd, stop it!!”

You wrestled with him for the paper, grappling at his wrists and using all your strength. “Stop making this harder than it has to be.” He growls at you, his pupils thin as slits and causing you to freeze in place but instead of submitting, you only held his wrists tighter and fought even harder.

“Then stop trying to stop me.” You tell him back with a shaking voice and that’s what sets him off giving you a window to snatch the paper away.

“Give it back!!” He roared.  

“No!” He grabbed you by the shoulder roughly and you kept your eyes closed and paper secure against your chest, waiting for the next round of grappling and grabs. A gentle weight settled on your other shoulder and you felt Floyd sigh against your ear, one so shakey and tired.

“Please. Just…Please give it to me.” He whispered.

“Promise me that you won’t tear it apart.”

There was silence, a moment where he weighs the consequences. You knew that he knew how bad it was when one of them lied to the other. “…I promise.”

You made the exchange and Floyd let you go. “Floyd…” You reached for his arm and he only closed his eyes. “I don’t want to go.” He said to you, letting out a shaking sigh. “We have to get out of our shell sometime. I’m sure you’ll do fine.”

“It’s not that.”

He looked at you, brows furrowed and lips tight. “It’s not the same if we’re not complete.”

You remember the conversation you had as children, the joy he expressed you asked if you could go with him. You tried to say something but you couldn’t think of anything to say. Floyd stayed in his position and holding the paper tightly in his fist.

“You can enjoy the buildings without me. I honestly prefer that theme park by the sea more.”

The wind blew casting a rain of leaves and nighttime flowers. You smile at Floyd, shoulder bopping. “To me, theme parks are more fun than shining buildings. That’s why…” You hold his tense fist. “Don’t worry about me.”

His movement was sudden, your body colliding with his in an embrace and a very tight one. You reciprocated this gesture with your own hug, hands stroking his spine. “I’ll be okay, Floyd. And I know you will be too. It’s okay.”

The howling wind blew again and all the words you wanted to say all the while Floyd held you quietly, tightly against his body.

The sun shined over the airport and twins were dressed to the nines in travel gear. Azul and you standing next to each other with some warm coffee warming in your hands. “I never understood why airports are so cold…” You whispered, bringing the cup to your lips.

“We did come here quite early,” Azul says, biting into a warm piece of toast. “Perhaps when the sun rises we’ll get to bask in it for as long as we like.”

You sipped at your coffee while Floyd and Jade readied their things. The two discussing and looking for their IDs and booklets, pens and papers they might need, checking and re-checking their things. Under the table, Floyd held your hand and intertwined his fingers with yours. The time you had together was growing shorter and shorter.

“That should be everything,” Jade says and leans back on his chair. “All our IDs are here and we have enough snacks to last the trip.” You scoffed, one brow raised. “Snacks are very important knowing you, Jade.”

“I’m a growing boy, I need to eat.” He’d reason and you only pouted. “I’m gonna miss teasing you.”

“My line will always be open to you, don’t worry.”

Azul wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Do keep in contact with us while you’re away. You know how we are.” And the twins nodded their heads.

“Flight number AF7988, ready for boarding.”

All four of you stood before the check-in counter, Floyd’s hand never leaving yours. “This is it,” Azul said, raising his hands to pat the twins’ backs. “Keep safe and make us proud.”

“My, already talking like a father Azul?”

“I am only expressing my pride in the both of you, that’s all.”

You turned to Floyd, head downcast and hand still in yours. “Floyd, it’s time to go.” You say, touching his wrist. “It’ll be okay. I’ll be okay.” It was only then that he turned to you and raising your hand; a card was placed on your palm. An Ace of Hearts. “Read it when I leave.”

“Okay.”

All four of you exchanged hugs with Floyd’s being practically squeezing tight. And watched the twins walked to the boarding, you held the card to your chest until they disappeared from view. “Now that’s over with, I think this calls for a ‘proper’ breakfast, don’t you think?”

The two of you walked the halls and down to the walkway that overlooked the planes, you see a particular one ready to leave and you stare, suddenly remembering the card in your palm.

“Read it when I leave.”

Turning it over, the engines of the plane was on full throttle and went down the runway at high speeds. The twins closed their eyes, readying themselves for the pressure they would receive. You turned over the card just as the plane took flight, just as Floyd turned away to leave.

“I love you.”

The plane soars higher into the sky and over the clouds, the plane now leveled with the early morning sun. Your eyes do not blink but the tears were what prompted Azul to take you by your shoulders. You remembered the memories you shared with Floyd up until that point, the realization of your feelings to the revelation of his departure.

He loved you. He always had.

Floyd and Jade sat next to each other with Floyd taking the window seat to stare into the sky above. “Well, we’ll be in here for the next ten hours so might as well keep us…” Floyd’s sniffling was sudden, his fingers grappling at the armrest.

Jade placed his hand on his brother’s and squeezed. “They’ll be alright. They promised they will be.”

The plane continued to fly farther and farther away from the person he came to love.

[slowpoke-fics]

The Good Doctor - Part Two

Fandom: TWD

Pairing: Negan x Reader; platonic Rick x Reader; platonic Daryl x Reader

Summary: you leave Alexandria and arrive at Sanctuary

Warnings: touch of self deprecation, everything is off cannon, read at your own risk

A/N: I'm having fun with this one, hard to stay cannon but I tried as best I could

The Good Doctor Part One!!

Negan scoffed, unbelievable that you’d demand that, he’s gotta run his own group, “Are you fuckin’ joking sweetheart?” You laughed, packing up the supplies and giving the bag of supplies back to him, “No, I am not,” you pulled back and crossed your arms, “so how bad do you want me, Negan?”

Negan sighed, not wanting to leave you behind, having to decide if the supplies were worth giving you up. "Alright," Negan stood up, "that's what we fuckin' do then." Negan walked to the door, opening it for Amelia. "Amelia, doll, this is my good doctor friend, she's gonna show you how to do everything around here, while I go find Carl and that little Judith," he grabbed the Twix from the bag, "I get to take credit for this one though," waving the Twix around as he walked out the door.

About two hours or so after showing Amelia how you kept your charts, how everything was labeled and organized, how to make sense of when to give someone herbal tea you grow or actual medicine, Rick barges in. "What do you think you're doing Y/n? You can't go with him!" You scoffed, "Amelia has this covered, it'll be fine it's just a week." You moved around the clinic closer to Rick, "You can't tell me I can't do this when it means we keep next weeks supplies!" Rick shook his head, "Y/n, he will never allow that, he will get his due, what do you think you're doing?"

"Rick! He has always kept his word to me! He thought this through, brought supplies and a doctor with him! He wants this and I might be able to convince him to go easier on Alexandria!" You rubbed your face knowing that Rick would have a problem with this, "Y/n, he's not doing this out of the kindness of his heart, he wants something from you. I can't allow this." You laughed, with your full heart, "You're not allowing anything, I want this Rick, I have a chance to really change his mind about us and you want me to what? Say fuck you we don't need your antibiotics and slack? We're barely making it, so either get on board, or shut the fuck up." With that, Rick stormed out, Negan walking back up the sidewalk back to the clinic, shining his under-your-skin smile at Rick. Maybe that is what he wanted, to piss off Rick.

Negan walked back into the clinic, smiling brightly at you, "You about fuckin' ready sugar?" You nodded, "Amelia, you got any questions for me?" Amelia looked at you, at the charts and her notes, "No, I-I think I'm good." You smiled, "Okay, good," turning to Negan, "one more stop, gotta get some of my stuff and my books so I can study." Negan laughed, "Are you fuckin' joking?" You rolled your eyes, "If you have to ask, then no, I'm not joking." Pushing past Negan and down to your house you saw Daryl, perched on your porch.

"Ay, where do ya think you're goin'?" Daryl just looked at you waiting for an answer, "With Negan, going to go with him for the week, see if I can't trade some of my musty medical books for some new ones." Daryl looked at you with so much fear it broke your heart, "Don't worry, I'll be fine, Negan isn't going to take me to the rest of the saviors to just let me get hurt." Negan perked up at this, the good doctor defending him, "She's fuckin' right ya know, wouldn't ever let anything happen to our good doctor here." Daryl almost growled at Negan, you can't blame him for not liking the man, "Worried it's him that'll do all the hurting," Daryl whispered so only you could hear. "He wouldn't Daryl, it'll be okay, I'll be back in a week." With that, you marched into your house, collecting your toothbrush, an extra outfit or two and your books.

Coming out of your house, Rick, Daryl and Negan all stood on your porch. "You ready to get rollin'?" You smiled at Negan, hiding the fear of getting onto his bike. "Yeah," still smiling, "not like I have much to bring." You went down your steps and stopped when Daryl grabbed Negan by the shoulder, "Ya bring her back or ya die with me." Negan jerked back from him, "Boy don't ever fucking do that again," Negan descended the steps and paused, looking to Daryl, "I'll bring the good doctor home."

You crawled on Negan's bike, grabbing tightly to him, very nervous to ride with him. Negan smiled at you relying on him, it felt nice for you to need him, even if all you needed was to get to Sanctuary. As he rolled out of Alexandria he slid your hands around his waist, raising a blush to your cheeks, "Better to hold there, doll."

You couldn't help but skip a beat and grab a little tighter to Negan during every bump in the road, wouldn't it be something if you've made it this far and what takes you out is a fuckin' bike? You really felt as if Negan was enjoying this, you grabbing him a little tighter every time you got a little nervous. You still didn't really understand why he wanted you to come back with him, why he wanted it so much to lose out of Alexandria's supplies.

As he parked the bike he stepped off, smiling and holding out his hand, "We're here doll." You grabbed his hand, swinging your leg over the side of the bike, when you hit the ground you stumbled a bit, grabbing onto Negan and laughing, "Damn, maybe if I could stand." Negan chuckles at that, "Let me show you around, doll."

Following Negan he led you to the trading posts, where anything could be exchanged for just about anything. Then he showed you the cafeteria, more people than you'd seen in one place than you'd seen since it started. Then he led you up several flights of stairs, Jesus Christ, no wonder this man is so beautiful if this is his workout everyday. Nope, Y/n, this man is ruthless and you are here to fight for Alexandria.

He opened a door to what you thought was a commune it was so big, "This is where me n you are stayin' welcome to your home for the next week." You turned to him with wide eyes, "I'm staying here? With you?" Negan laughed, "Shit doll, just the best way I could keep my eyes on you." You shrugged and started to look around, "I'll sleep here," pointing to the couch, "this is where you live?" Negan again chuckled, "No, this is just where me n you are staying while you're here," moving past you to set his things down, "figured you'd like to be close to everything, maybe to the doc so you can learn." Maybe Negan had done something nice and actually just wanted to do something for you and this was the best way that he could do so. "Come on, I'll show you the fuckin' garden, you'll love it.

After showing you the entirety of Sanctuary, you finally got to go see this Doc he's been yapping about. "Doc," Negan started as he opened the door, "this is that fuckin' firecracker I thought you'd like to work with!" Carson smiled at you, happy he was able to teach someone again. "Ah yes! The doctor from Alexandria! I've been prepping for your arrival all day! I understand you're going on a run tomorrow, but we can work together the remaining time Negan doesn't have you tied up!" Carson seemed genuinely excited to work with you, but you knew nothing of going on a run with Negan tomorrow.

Whipping around to Negan, "A run tomorrow?" Negan scratched his beard and smiled at the you, "Dammit, Carson, hadn't really told her about that, see you later." Negan led you out of Carson's office and back up to your designated home for the week, "I was going to tell you," pulling out a bottle of liquor from the desk, "there's a place about forty miles from here I thought you'd like to help me ransack." You hummed in consideration as he poured two glasses, "I reckon we can go as long as we don't take the damn bike, not sure I'd last that long." Negan smirked, "Oh, baby, I could make you last that long." You laughed, a blush rushing to your cheeks and a desire to your core, "Not sure you've got it in ya man," you downed your drink and held the glass out for him to refill. "You could find out ya know," Negan winked at you, "we'll take the fuckin' truck, gotta have something to bring the supplies in."

That night you lay on the sofa, writing your entry for the day in your journal:

May 21st

I made it to sanctuary with Negan, it's actually a little unbelievable, still not sure what my purpose is, did he bring me here to learn from Carson? to be able to trade my books? to be able to help him on the run? what's the point? I'm no more useful here than at Alexandria, knot on a log, maybe he isn't so bad and I'm overthinking it, I know he read this journal, maybe he thinks he can fix me, sucks for him, I'm broken beyond repair