#and I’m tired of being nauseous and in pain and it feeling like someone is stabbing my arm and neck all fucking day

[hobisexually]

long winded rant in the tags coming that’s partly about weight but in a very unfiltered sad way so if that triggers you do Not read on

[maccreadysbaby]

Some of My Favorite Ways to Describe a Character Who’s Sick

pressing their forehead into something cool or comfortable (this could be an array of things. the table, the floor, someones leather jacket, their water bottle, the countertop)

warm to the touch, or heat radiating from them (could be noticed if someone’s gauging their temperature with their hands, hugging them, or just generally touching them)

leaning into people’s touch, or just spontaneously leaning on them (like pressing into their hand when someone’s checking their temp, or just, like, literally walking up and laying their head on them from fatigue. bonus points if the character is usually feral and the other is scared to engage™︎)

falling asleep all over the place (at the dinner table, on their homework, in the car, in the bathroom — just being so exhausted from doing literally nothing)

being overly emotional (crying over things that don’t usually bother them, like their siblings arguing, or their homework, or literally just nothing)

stumbling/careening/staggering into things (the wall, furniture, other people. there is no coordination in feverish brains. running into chairs, hitting the door, falling over the couch, anything and everything)

slurring their words (could be from fatigue or pain. connecting words that shouldn’t be connected, murdering all of their conversations with the excessive use of ‘mm’ and ‘nn’ in place of words) (this is my favorite thing ever)

being overly touchy (basically like a sick kid — just hold them, please. do that thing where you brush their hair back out of their face, or rub circles on their back, or snuggle them. they won’t care. bonus points if this is also the feral character and they refuse to believe it afterwards)

being extremely resistant to touch (flinching away when they usually don’t so someone can’t feel the fever, not letting themselves be touched because they’re so tired they just know they’ll be putty in their hands if they do)

growing aggressive or being extremely rude (it’s a defense mechanism — they feel vulnerable and are afraid of being manipulated or deceived while they’re ill)

whimpering/whining/groaning (this was in my “characters in pain” post but it’s so good that i’m putting it here too. this shite is gold, especially if it’s just an involuntary reaction to their symptoms)

having nightmares caused by a fever and/or delirium (crying and murmuring in their sleep, or being awake but completely out of it and convinced they’re somewhere else)

making themselves as small as possible (curling up into a ball everywhere they lay, hunching over slightly when standing, wrapping their arms around themselves)

TW for vomiting below cut !!

sleeping in the bathroom floor because they keep getting sick over and over (bonus if someone finds them all weak and pitiful. bonus bonus if they find them there in the morning only to learn they’ve been there all night)

using their hands/other body parts to clamp over their mouth so nothing can come out (like pulling their knees up to their chest and using that, or like, their arm, y’know) (~maccreadysbaby who has emetophobia suddenly gets very awkward about this post~) (~yes i have a phobia of puke and still write this happening to my characters, shut up~) (~it’s about the hurt/comfort okay~)

sympathy pukers (people who aren’t the sick ones but get nauseous/vomit when they see someone else throw up) (~aka me~) (~okay I’m done now~)

dry heaving (it’s gross, but good for making your characters absolutely freaking miserable)

rolling/churning/spinning/cramping/ lurching and all those awesome words that describe what stomachs do when sick (i hate these words with a deep, fiery passion. but they’re good for writing or whatever)

[sashi-ya]

𝑪𝑼𝑻𝑺 𝑶𝑭 𝑭𝑹𝑬𝑬𝑫𝑶𝑴 「 part 1 」 soshiro hoshina x f! officer! reader

a/n: yes! first Kaiju no. 8 fic ever! idk how many of you would like to read from Kaiju but I've been obsessed with it lately, and especially with Soshiro. it's pretty short and wrote it cause I needed to think of other things after studying. So yeah, enjoy! tw: there aren't "sex" scenes, however mdni as it has suggestive language, nudity and mature content. (thank god for this manga having almost every character above 25!). Pretty much inspired on Soshi's backstory from Kaiju no 8 side B, so expect fluff too. what happened on the following days? more Soshiro smut, here. masterlist

“I can’t take the suit off” you murmur, trying to lower the front zipper. The mission took much more than what you expected, and the kaiju stench is making you nauseous.

For the time being, most of your squad members have already jumped into the showers. But you, still trying to get out of the suit, haven’t.

“I… this shit… why is it not working?” you protest, forcing the zipper more and more, but it hasn’t been able to go down past the beginning of your chest.

You try to look for the intercom; pressing it to call the Operations leader Konomi, will surely help you out with the captive suit. But, you can’t find it. Did you lose the little intercom before coming back to the base? Or did it fell around there?

Everything seems to be flaunting tonight. It’s late, you are tired. You’ve been hit several times by different Kaiju, but none of them -luckily- was able to injure you.

However, you begin to feel an incredible -and uncontrollable- heat coming from the suit itself and reaching the inner layers of your skin and organs.

You don’t panic. At first.

You definitely panic two minutes later, when the heat is unbearable and the pain in such restrictive jail is almost deadly.

“Help…” you whine, not loud enough to be heard by anyone else. Or at least, definitely not enough to be listened over the lively chattering coming from the showers.

But it hurts, as much as the acid of those despicable monsters when their core explode. And it really begins to interfere with your breathing, and thus, with your consciousness.

“Help me… I’m burning…” you scream louder this time. But no one comes, and your knees hit the ground in pain.

Tears flood up your eyes, your nails aren’t enough to tear the thick skin of Izumo Techs’ innovative suit. No guns are enough, probably, even if you had the chance to go grab yours… it wouldn’t be useful.

You pray, you wish for someone to cut that trap into pieces.

“H- help… me…” “WHAT IS IT?!”

In between blurred eyes and painful frown, you device an angel of slanted eyes and deep purple hair.

“I… the suit… it’s boiling… it’s overheating… I can’t take it off” you grasp a little bit of air and try to communicate -effectively- the reason of your suffering.

“Stay quiet” he commands, and you comply. There is nothing you wouldn’t do to go against his orders.

An immediate relief comes with enough cuts that you couldn’t even see. Completely naked, completely soaked in sweat. There you lay, panting, with still stings of pain reverberating all over your skin.

“Come here” he says, ripping the remaining pieces off the suit still ferally attached to your burning skin. And as feral as the suit is, the feral his hands are when ripping its pieces away.

“Vice-captain Hoshina… th-thank you…” you cry, completely unaware of your impure show off.

His eyes open widely, and for the first time you see the beautiful bloody irises he usually keeps hidden away. But his expression is not jovial, nor even neutral. He is by far worried.

Probably for the first time in ages, the blades have fallen to the ground and with those same hands he saved your life he hurries to carry you to the men’s showers.

At the speed of light, cold water begins to gush from the showerheads. Your body feels instant relief; so much there is even some vapor coming from your skin.

As it bathes you, it also bathes him.  Completely dressed, Soshiro gets drenched in the same water as you. And, as his hair becomes wet, one of his hands moves it out of his face, revealing his façade completely.

Your arms hang from his shoulders into his back. Your knees, fight to keep you standing up even if the one actually holding you up is no other than him.

Soshiro is completely mute, and so do you. There is, maybe, no need to speak.

He lets his jacket slide through his shoulders to finally fall into the shower’s floor. The compressive shirt underneath gets also wet, becoming something like a second skin of him. Showing off the hours of training, and why he is the vice-captain of your division.

Immorally, you that were on the brink of death a couple of minutes ago, now feel in heaven because of your saviour. Because of your blades wielding hero.

Once again, he was able to save a life with those thinly cut masses of iron.

His hand, with soft but still steady pace, clean something off your back. And for that your breasts are pressed against his chest. You can see his neck from the side, as he tries to take a deeper look at your shoulder blades. You inhale the scent of his skin, a mix of sweat from the last battle and manly hints of fresh perfume.

“You got them almost engraved on your skin. What the fuck? The suits aren’t supposed to hurt you this way” he whispers, close to your ear. “We should go to the medical pavilion, now” he adds.

You nod, feeling how everything has started to spin around you and your stamina decreases more and more.

“Thank you, Soshi- Hoshina fuku Taichou…” you babble, realizing your faces are closer that what they should ever be and your arms and his are interlocked pretty strongly to the other’s body.

He takes a deep breath through his tiny nose, looking at you with lazy eyes. Just a tiny line of red is visible, as tiny as the opening of his lips that let prominent fangs barely flash.

Soshiro’s chest goes up and down, harder every time. His muscles tense more and more, especially the ones on his neck. His hug gets even tighter, pulling you so closer that ever before.

“It’s… ok…” he barely words; something is affecting that man… and it’s probably all your body, all your still warm skin being his for at least a couple of minutes, the way your lips have become red and pouty, your sloppy eyes and the warmth of your breath closer to his mouth.

“What happened!!??” “Vice-captain?!” “are you two allr-“ the girls scream in terror. Probably, once they were out of the showers they faced the dantesque scenery of blades lying on the ground and a anti kaiju suit completely destroyed and fuming scattered all over the floor.

Within seconds, not only the officers of squad 3 have reached the place but also the men. Some of them, thinking not the worst… but probably that Hoshina fuku Taichou and you have finally caved in for lust.

With a fast reaction, Soshiro grabs the coat of his own uniform to cover you up. And with a much more severe tone ever heard, he orders Kikoru to call Mina and Okomi and let them know he is taking a badly injured officer to the medical pavilion. As for the rest, a scary deadly look over his shoulder was enough to make them run away from the place allowing him to pass.

You, however, couldn’t quite experience such happenings, as your consciousness had fade away right before your comrades arrived.

A soft white light shines in between your shut eyes; the sound of unknown solitude reaches your ears as well as the synchronic beep of your heart reflected on a machine.

“What-“ you mumble, regaining consciousness. Your body feels cold, and you are thankful for that. Your limbs are heavy, but you can move them. Your lips and mouth are dry, but you smile as you remember vague flashes of Soshiro and you under the shower.

You finally open your eyes to discover you are indeed at some kind of medical facility, soon remembering this is the place you all come when you are severely injured after battle.

Everything on your body seems to be on its place, and for that you breathe alleviated. Thankful to your hero, you wonder how to thank him when you are out of here… or maybe, you just plan to leave the squad as he has seen you completely naked.

“I didn’t know you were awake already” a well-known voice scares you away. You try to stand up, but his hand stops you from doing so.  “I couldn’t sleep, I was worried for you” he says, with that sweet funny tone he often uses to communicate.

There is, as far as you could see, anyone around but you and him. Soshiro, who apparently couldn’t sleep, has come to see you.

Your cheeks burn, and it’s not because of a defective suit now. It is because, you are deeply embarrassed, and still, something inside you is jumping with genuine happiness to see him here.

“I’m ok, Sir. But.. you didn’t have to come! I’m deeply thankful for you saving my life, and I promise you I will replace the uniform you got all wet” you say, trying to look away from him who has came closer to your bed.

Soshiro bursts out laughing, the way he only knows how to. He grabs his stomach, and soon flashes of the way those abs looked with wet fabric sticked to them, makes you shiver.

“You- you should worry for your own suit! Not mine!” he continues laughing while, little by little, he ends up sitting right on the bed. “By the way, you know why your suit almost killed you?” he asks.

You swallow. What- why is he sitting next to you?

 You shake your head in denial, out of words, because you couldn’t think of a reason for such big flaw on that impressive technological miracle.

Soshiro, who is well known for being at least a little bit irreverent -and that’s exactly what you love the most about him-, gets himself comfortable next to you. He lies back, as you move to the side to make him some space.

Now, the scent of his skin is clean and delicious -even more than earlier-. And you can smell it, because there isn’t much room to be separated on a single bed.

“Well… you had a piece of Kaiju tooth stuck on your lower back. Therefore, the suit either processed it as a threat or… it reacted with the pieces of kaiju within it. In any case, you will be given a new one in a couple of days” he tells you, with his right arm stuck underneath the back of his head.

His bicep, perfectly moulded to be strong, but still lightweight to be as agile as possible, protrudes with the hem of the compression shirt around it. Does he really know how sexy he looks? Or he is absolutely unaware of the effects he has?

“Oh…” you sigh. You take it as a personal failure; how were you not able to see it? “Don’t worry, this incident helped them to investigate further security measures… however, isn’t your back hurting?” he asks, this time turning to you.

You deny, again, without any words coming from your mouth. But there isn’t much you could do, when Soshiro turns you around so that your back faces him.

“You do, in fact, have a big bruise. I should report this, too” he comments, as his soft index travels down your spine, to the small of your back.

Your eyes, opened big enough to look like moons, have stopped seeing all around and all you can think of is the proximity of that man to you.

“You good?” he murmurs, ignorant of everything happening to your body. “Ye-yes, vice-captain. I wanna thank you for taking care of us the way you do; hadn’t been for you, I’d be dead by now…” you pull those words from who knows where, even if your muscles seem paralyzed from his touch. Your speech sounds like those you give when you follow commands during battle.

He laughs; this time softer and sweeter. You can feel his body coming closer, enough to feel the tip of his nose grazing your neck.

“We should have each other’s backs in here, or else… but most importantly, being told my blades will not be useful to fight and protect, you remind me once again that they indeed can” he whispers, making your skin shiver.

It’s clear that he wants you. And you want him, too.  And you always knew, and he always knew. And all of them, too.  Why, just now, on a place where you should be monitored, there were nobody around if not?

“Can I rest here for a minute?” he asks, as his forehead lands on your nape. “All the time you want, Vice-captain” you answer back, smiling softly.

You slowly relax, as his hand slides in the most delicate way towards your belly to hug you. Your hand, also delicate, fall on top of his, confirming how much you would love for him to touch you like this forever.

“Call me Soshiro when we are like this, ok?” he murmurs, planting the first kiss right on your shoulder.

You turn around, slowly. Even if you would love to stay the way you were, you can’t stop yourself from wanting to see his face.

“Soshiro…” you whisper, coming closer to his lips. “That’s better…” he smiles, kindly.

And one kiss, and then another came by… and thankfully, that night, there were no more Kaiju around.

[machveil]

continuing my Immune!König post because I love a good zombie apocalypse au🎀✨we get angsty, teehee

Immune!König who fears for your safety and becomes a wreck as days turn into weeks. after finding out he was immune in the first few days, the nasty bite to his forearm disinfected and wrapped, he’s been keeping you locked up. he’s constantly paranoid, skeptical about leaving you alone, stressed over not providing enough for you. while he hasn’t turned he still carries the virus. he fears accidentally hurting you, god forbid, turning you, refusing to let you touch his skin. devastated by his own precautions, eyebrows knit as he watches you from an arm’s length away

Immune!König who curses the virus, who blames himself for being attacked in the first place - he should have seen it coming, should have prevented anything from coming near— if he hadn’t been bitten he could still kiss you, he could still share from the same cup as you, could kiss your scrapes like they’d magically heal. his saliva undoubtedly carries the virus, it eats at him that he can’t feel your lips against his. it eats away at his heart, makes his lungs feel restricted as he sobs. he won’t let you wipe away his tears, fear clawing up his throat that one salty drop will have you thrashing and mindless. he won’t let you hug him, too worried somehow, irrational and angry, you’ll be taken away from him and it’ll be his fault

Immune!König who stresses over kissing through his balaclava and mask a month into the outbreak. nauseous after it happens, sick with regret that, even through two layers of fabric, he’s somehow endangered you because he was selfish. for the first time in months he feels your hands on him, rubbing his back as he curls in on himself. “König, I’m okay— it’s okay.”, hushed words whispered to him as he sniffles and weeps, mourning someone who’s still alive. it was okay, but it still plays on his mind - a different world where it wasn’t, where he infected you and couldn’t do anything. for the first time since his childhood, he truly feels helpless

Immune!König who looks in the mirror and sees a monster. a gurgling, brutish creature hiding beneath his skin, coursing through his veins. what if he isn’t immune? what if he does turn? some days he locks you up in a bedroom, all the food and water he’s collected pushed into a corner, your soft pleading for him to let you out falling on deaf ears. you’re better off confined, trapped with warm blankets and books he’s scavenged. sleepless nights tallying as he stands watching the front door. he could leave. chest tight, he turns to join you in the bedroom because he can’t. for every reason he can make up, his heart can’t handle the pain of leaving you alone. he doesn’t join you in bed, refuses to let you sleep on the floor with him. a beast shouldn’t lay with an engel, his darling little Schatzi

Immune!König who stands next to your sleeping form during the dead of night, tired blue eyes gazing down at you. he’d give anything to cradle you against him, unable to bring himself to even sit down on the edge of the mattress. König stares. he misses holding your hands, his face flush and red with frustration. angry at the world, devastated at his situation, but never upset with you. the thought of being displeased with you has his stomach churn alone, none of this is your fault. no matter how many times he replays the memory in his head, he’d shove you out of danger every time, even if it meant getting bit in the process

[lunajay33]

Migraine🕷️

Summary: You get frequent migraines but they’ve been mia since the apocalypse but even since you got to the farm they’ve returned but you didn’t wanna bother anyone until Daryl finds you balled up on the floor in pain

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x f!reader

Request by @avrmee

•Masterlist•

Soul crushing migranes were always a struggle to deal with before the world ended, but there was ways to try and relieve them, medicine, piercings, acupuncture but now that it’s been about a year and there was no more medicine or anything really the migraines came back and almost stronger than before

They’d come on when the heat was high and the sun was near blinding, triggering what ever it was in your head to cause crippling pain that no matter how much pressure you applied to your eyes or the amount of water you drank it didn’t matter, but in this world you couldn’t afford to take a day off especially with all the work the others were putting into the prison it was only fair you pull your weight even through the pain

Walking out of prison, opening the door to the blinding white light that was the Georgia sun stung just hoping it didn’t flair up another episode, walking out to the court yard where Daryl was tinkering on his bike you sat next to him

“I missed you this morning” you said leaning your head against his shoulder as he used a wrench against…..well you have no clue but you loved watching him work

“Sorry ya know I’m an early riser plus ya’ve been sleeping lot longer now, ya okay?”

You didn’t wanna worry him and tell him that after these long days of over exerting yourself in the heat that the pain in your head kept you awake late into the night causing you to wake up later than everyone else

“Oh yeah I’m fine, just tired is all, plus I got a beautiful sight next to me at night it’s hard to fall asleep” you laughed poking his side making him gruff out a laugh

“Well I have to go work on the crowd of walkers around the fence, if you need me I’ll be there” I said leaving his side walking down to the entrance gate, using a pole to take down as many walkers as you could working your way down the fence, working for hours when you felt an aura around your head, the groans and snaps of jaws became louder and overwhelming, your knees became weak, you became nauseous as your vision became blurred and specked with black dots, all topped off by the painful pressure in your head

Losing control you dropped to the gravel clutching your head in your hands, knees tucked up to your chest, whining from the pain, this is one of the worst it’s ever been, in the distance you could hear your name being yelled but everything was so overwhelming you couldn’t even process it until the screams got closer

“Y/n baby what’s wrong” Daryl asked holding your body close to his, your head in his lap as he rubbed your back

“It…….it hurts so much” you whined as you clutched your head more wishing for this pain to fade

He just held you for what felt like half an hour trying to comfort me, the walkers noises started to dwindle someone must have came down with Daryl to take them out, you huffed out a breath as the pain subsided a bit giving you enough strength to sit up, seeing his worried expression

“What happened?” He asked brushing my disheveled hair back

“I get this awful migraines, I didn’t wanna say anything and use it as an excuse but they keep me up at night but sometimes they get so bad, like this and I don’t know how to stop them”

“Darlin ya should have said something, we’d understand, I could’ve tried to help ya at night”

“I know how hard you work all day you need your sleep”

“But if yer feeling sick yer more important, promise me you’ll let me help ya”

You bit your lip hesitant not wanting to be a burden

“Y/n” he said sternly

“Okay I promise”

“Good, ya know yer damn stubborn”

“You love me” you said smiling

“Yer lucky I do”

[reiding-writing]

SICK DAY — SPENCER REID!

Stubbornness is both your greatest strength and your greatest weakness, but there’s always going to be one person with enough leeway to force you into what’s best.

spencer reid x cold!reader | h/c? | 2.3k | cold!reader masterlist.

cw— fem!reader, mentions of reader being nauseous, readers a little harsh to spencer at some points but she gives in eventually as always

a/n— so it’s been a month— sorry 😭

main masterlist.

Pain medication was always a last resort.

It was another apparent quirk of your character, a mindset that said to ‘tough it out’ unless you literally felt like you were on your deathbed and couldn’t continue without some chemical help.

Although, when you’re in the middle of flu season, backed up to no end, and feel like your throat is literally going to collapse into your oesophagus, you find yourself considering the torment of the disgusting powdery texture just to give you some short-term relief.

The chills were the worst part, feeling so hot yet so cold and literally shivering to the point where you felt like you couldn’t even stand upright without falling over.

But yet, there was still work to be done, and whilst you did spend an extra few minutes staring at your medicine cabinet, you decided to leave your house unmedicated, praying desperately that you’d feel alright by lunch.

By the time you’d parked your car and ridden up the elevator, you were still feeling like absolute shit, and the way you practically collapsed into your office chair was enough to warn the rest of the team that you were not in the mood for any of their usual shenanigans today.

If you had a short patience on a good day, someone so much as breathing too close to you would get you to snap this morning.

It was like someone had stuffed cotton inside your ears and covered your eyes in a misty film, and once the first half-hour had passed you were genuinely considering falling asleep at your desk.

Of course, even in your grumbled state, there was always going to be someone who didn’t take the hint you wanted to be left alone.

“Are you okay?”

It was Spencer, of course. You lifted your head just enough to glare at him, but the effect was somewhat ruined by the way your eyes struggled to focus. “Do I look okay to you?” you muttered, your voice raspy and weak.

“Well, no,” he admitted, his brow furrowing in concern and a little bit of apprehension. “I have some Tylenol in my bag if you want.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Why not?” Spencer frowns. “The acetaminophen can reduce fevers and lower the discomfort, especially if you get that pounding headache behind your eyes, and the phenylephrine hydrochloride can clear up some of the nasal congestion. Besides, the cough suppressant will make it so that you don’t feel like you have to cough every two minutes.”

You drag your palms over the skin of your cheeks with a groan. “I don’t want any painkillers, I’ll be fine.”

"But you look horrible," he tells you softly and moves to rest against your desk, sighing as he does. "You can barely even sit up straight. You're going to end up more tired if you try to push yourself when you're already not feeling well.”

It’s these very small, very specific instances that make a lingering trace of regret surface in the back of your mind for allowing Spencer so much leeway with your patience. The fact that he could continue to push and prod at you when you were clearly not in the mood to deal with it. “Just leave me alone, Reid, I’m fine,”

"But–"

Spencer is cut off by a particularly heavy cough that racks your body, and his gaze darkens. As much as he wants to respect your decision, he can see you're not okay. He can see how tired you are, how much pain you're in, and it's not something he can brush off.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs, and the concern in his voice taking over his usual hesitance. "You're not fine."

As if to punctuate his statement, you cough again, and this time Spencer can’t help but flinch and grimace at the sound. It’s raw and harsh, like your throat has been scraped and set on fire, and he knows it must be hurting badly.

"I'm getting the Tylenol," Spencer mutters, not giving you time to protest as he turns towards the kitchenette with a determined set to his jaw.

“I don’t want it—”

Spencer ignores your continued dismissal and returns a couple of minutes later, brandishing a small, white bottle of acetaminophen. He pops off the cap, tapping three small tablets into the palm of his hand and offering them to you.

"Please," he murmurs, his face pleading. "Just take these. I don't want to sit back and watch you suffer."

“They taste like shit,” You push Spencer’s hand away with a shake of your head, “I’d rather die,”

The idea of you dying, even if you’re clearly exaggerating, makes Spencer’s heart twist painfully. It isn’t just a professional or a friendly concern anymore - it’s a personal one. He cares about you, too much for his own good.

“Please take them,” Spencer pleads again, his voice soft and his expression desperate. “I don’t care if they taste like… like dirt, or… I don’t know. They’ll help."

“The texture makes me want to puke,” You give another determined shake of your head. “There’s no way.” The end of your sentence is more of a groan, words drawling on uncomfortably as you speak through the need to clear your throat.

Spencer’s frown deepens, and his gaze drops at the groan of pain.

“You’re in so much pain,” he murmurs, his voice laced with guilt, “What was it you said to me when my migraines got so bad that I collapsed in the briefing room? ‘Something is always better than nothing’?”

“Don’t guilt trip me right now,”

“It’s hardly a guilt trip if you need to hear it,” Spencer responds, his tone almost biting with how much he’s struggling to keep in the turmoil swirling inside him.

His need to help you is overwhelming, but the knowledge that he can’t do anything just keeps feeding the guilt and frustration. It makes him feel worthless. “Why don’t you… crush them into your tea? Then you can sip it slowly and you won’t even taste it,”

“Spencer, I’m being serious,” There’s an air of finality in your tone, joined by you pressing the heels of your hands into your closed eyes with sigh. “Just leave me be, will you?”

“No.” The word is short, firm and spoken with a cold conviction. Nothing about him has changed in the space of a moment - he's still the same gentle, kind, awkward genius that you know. But the expression on his face is one that you've never seen before. An almost possessive determination in the lines of his features, a flicker of an emotion he usually hides away under the polite, genial exterior.

His gaze is locked firmly on you as he mutters. “Not when you’re being a hypocrite,”

“Spencer.”

Spencer falls silent as he stares at you, his jaw clenched and a flicker of stubbornness passing across his features. But his expression is still gentle, softer than his tone.

“You’re in pain,” he murmurs. “So please let me put some Tylenol in your tea, even if it’s just one.”

“Will it make you leave me alone?”

Spencer nods a little too quickly at the small break in your dismissal.

“Fine,”

Spencer lets out a silent sigh of relief, some of the tension seeping from his frame. He nods, his gaze softening as he murmurs one last time. “Thank you.”

After crushing three of the small tablets into some plain tea, Spencer places the mug on the coaster left on your desk, before quietly returning to his own work. He keeps his gaze trained on you for a few moments at a time, but is careful to give the impression of staying focused on his own files.

He watches as you periodically take slow sips from your drink over the next half an hour, trying to bypass the taste to placate Spencer’s ‘paranoia’ and let the steam clear out the congestion in your sinuses.

Then, within an hour of your initial conversation, Spencer takes another momentary glance across his desk towards you, only to be met with the top of your head.

You’d fallen asleep against your desk.

It’s almost surreal, to see you in such a tranquil state. It always felt like he was seeing something he shouldn’t when you were like that. Like this.

But it wasn’t unwelcome by any means.

He doesn’t realise how long he’s actually been watching you until JJ appears, her hands on her hips and an amused sparkle in her gaze.

“You’re not being very sneaky are you?” she says with a quiet chuckle, the sound making Spencer tear his gaze from you, his cheeks heating up as embarrassment. “You’re lucky she’s not awake, she’s rip you to shreds,“

“I-I’m just concerned.” He tries weakly to defend himself, looking anywhere but at JJ. His embarrassment only intensifies as she chuckles again and pats him gently on the shoulder.

“What, no denial that you’re staring?” she teases, a knowing smirk on her lips. Spencer simply huffs, ducking his head, but JJ can’t help but laugh again. “It’s sweet, Spence. You’re sweet,”

Spencer finally looks up at JJ’s words, his embarrassment replaced by surprise at the sincerity in her tone. He ducks his head again, his cheeks flushing even brighter. “Thanks,” he mutters, his tone soft and bashful. They fall into a comfortable silence, watching your sleeping form for a few moments before Spencer looks back up at JJ. “Is it that obvious?”

“About as obvious as a neon sign,” JJ replies with a light chuckle, the fondness in her tone clear as she glances over at your desk. “You’re smitten,”

“That’s…” Spencer trails off, his cheeks flushing again. He doesn’t know how to respond—JJ is right, but it doesn’t make it any less mortifying to hear. “That’s a very unsubtle way of putting it,” he mutters eventually, hiding his embarrassment under a layer of feigned offense.

“What can I say? You’re very unsubtle,” JJ grins, clearly not taking Spencer’s feigned offense seriously. But she lets it slide, her expression softening as she looks back to your sleeping form.

“You’ve got it bad, Spence. I hope you realise that,”

Spencer lets out a soft groan and buries his burning cheeks in his hands, his embarrassment only intensifying. JJ’s words are a truth that he already knows. He knows he’s infatuated, hopelessly so, but it doesn’t make it any less mortifying to hear it. “Please just shut up,” he groans, lifting his head to glance pleadingly at JJ.

JJ chuckles lightly again but relents, her teasing giving way to a gentle fondness. She looks back to your form, then glances over to Spencer, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Why don’t you take her home?” she suggests, “she clearly needs the rest, and she’ll probably appreciate the ride more than you hovering over her desk.”

Spencer blinks, his features softening. He didn’t even consider that option. Maybe it wasn’t so presumptuous to offer you a ride home.

Although he didn’t drive into work, and you did. So he’d somehow have to work your car keys from you.

“How would I do that?” Spencer asks, his tone a mix of confusion and amusement. He’s still not quite over the mortification of realising how badly he’s been pining over you, but now his focus is shifting to how best to take care of you.

JJ sighs, rolling her eyes. “Don’t be dense. Wake her up and offer her a ride home. Ask for her keys. It’s not that complicated, genius,”

“There’s no way she’ll agree to that,” Spencer shakes his head, his gaze shifting back to your sleeping form nervously.

“When has she ever really said no to you?” There’s a glint of knowing in JJ’s gaze as she tilts her head at him, and he almost implodes at the implication.

“That’s—” Spencer sighs, turning his attention back to you.

He knows he should wake you, but he wants to let you rest as much as possible—what if the pain wakes you up again, and you can’t fall back asleep? Or maybe he’s just making excuses to watch you sleep for a little longer, which feels a little bit stalker-ish.

“Alright just—” Spencer holds up his hand in what’s basically a show of surrender as he looks back at JJ over his shoulder. “I’ll— just give me a minute,”

JJ does nothing but give a short laugh with a nod, surrendering her hands in front of her before walking off towards the kitchenette, amusement written all over her face.

God, he probably sounds like an idiot. He probably looks like an idiot.

Spencer presses his hands to his cheeks to try and quell the burning sensation lingering underneath his skin, but it does nothing other than make his inner turmoil more obvious.

The way his heart rate accelerates as you shift your forehead against your forearm doesn’t help.

He really should wake you up and take you home.

But watching you sleep for a few more minutes wouldn’t hurt anyone, right?

[20doozers]

Heeeyyy:)

I've been following your block for a while and got this nice fic idea

Like, this one interview where they talk about piercings and Tom's like "I've got a new one down their" and I was thinking like a m!reader fic where reader helps tom with the pain of his prince albert piercing or frenum piercing. but it turns into smut, with reader teasing the hell out of Tom with his piercing.

I hope you like my idea🙃

TW: handjob, frenum piercing, cum tasting?, light teasing, unlabeled relationship, hints of a praise kink

A/N: I know what clip ur talking about. And no fancy banner this time :(

Tom grunted as he sat on the bathroom counter, slightly embarrassed at the prospect of asking his friend for help with his new piercing. He needed to change the jewelry but couldn’t bring himself to do it because of the pain and how nauseous it made him. So here he was, his lower half bare as he sat on the cold bathroom counter and waited for you to come help him.

When you finally did you smirked, the sight of a flushed and embarrassed Tom being a pleasant one as you walked between his legs and began to help him change the jewelry. Your touch was gentle on his cock, not wanting to hurt him on accident. Yet when Tom let out a moan after a particularly gentle touch on the underside of his cock as you slid the new curved barbel in made you pause.

You glanced up at Tom and raised an eyebrow, only for him to mumble a weak “shut up” which really held no harsh tones.

“You sure Tom? Sounds like you enjoyed that.” You hummed, brushing your finger over the same spot just below the head of his cock, making him let out a muffled whine that sounded almost pleading. You just chuckled and screwed the small ball onto the end of the jewelry, the small, curved, silver barbel now replacing the gold one he’d had before. It was a pleasant sight, the small silver accents right below the pinkish head of his cock that was slowly hardening in your hand as his face flushed even more.

“Feels nice doesn’t it? Someone being gentle with you?” You gently yet slowly gave his cock a stroke, pumping it in your hand and earning a small moan. Tom’s head lulled back, his Adam’s apple bobbing slightly as you have him slow, teasing pumps.

“Scheiße.. d-don’t tease..” he whined, attempting to lift his head to look at you, only to let out a loud moan as you gave his frenum piercing a gentle tug.

“Sensitive, yeah?” You questioned, giving Tom gentle yet firm pumps with one hand, the other slowly rubbing his bare thigh. Goosebumps prickled at Tom’s skin as you teased him, too engrossed in his arousal to remember his embarrassment.

The rest of the handjob was fueled with soft praises, the pumps were firm and slow, occasionally speeding up and giving his cock a small squeeze. Yet you didn’t let him cum just yet, drawing out his pleasure for as long as you pleased. Eventually you watched as a bead of precum leaked from his tip, bringing your other hand away from his thigh to collect the precum on your fingertip, before bringing it up to your lips and tasting it with a small hum as you heard Tom moan.

And with that you finally let him cum, your hand going back down to his thigh to sooth him as his cum leaked from the tip and down onto your hand. But you didn’t mind, just licking you hand clean and helping clean him up with a warm washcloth and a few gentle kisses pressed to his lips as he slowly came down from his high. He grimaced slightly at the taste of his own cum on your lips but it wasn’t the worst thing ever so he decided he’d deal with it for now.

“Good job.. so kind for letting me help.. now let’s head to bed, yeah? I’m sure that was tiring to you.”

YIPPEE!!! I’m sorry it’s a bit short but I didn’t have any other ideas so why not do the request? I’ve been super busy and just not in the mood to write smut so sorry if it sucks but I tried my best. Anyway, luv you guys❤︎︎

Tags: @itsmealaiahh @itsmealaiah @itsangelll @cherry-rawr @d0wn-in-the-morgue @billskeis and @divinelolita again cuz why not?

[100frogsinatrenchcoat]

FUCK IT. DRAWTECTIVES FANFIC.

I haven’t seen any of these yet, and as they say, write the fanfic you wish to see in the world, so:

Eugene has a breakdown which leads to his Zesty Blonde Era <3

Eugene stared at himself in the mirror feeling nauseous. Feeling like a monster.

It wasn’t his fault. Everyone said so, they all agreed. It wasn’t him — it was Leland. Eugene had meant well. He had just wanted to help.

God he had just wanted to help.

Still. Eugene didn’t like himself very much right now.

People had been hurt. Because of him. Their afterlives had been taken from them. Eugene had worked so hard and this was what he had achieved — pain, confusion, and even more problems he couldn’t solve.

Eugene should be asleep right now. Trying to clean up the mess that the Celestial Spear had caused was taking up almost all his free time. He should be sleeping while he had the chance.

But free time led to thinking and thinking led to grief, and so instead of sleeping Eugene stood in the bathroom, staring at his reflection, and trying not to cry or throw up his meager dinner.

“Eugene?” came a voice from outside the door.

Eugene jumped, startled out of his thoughts, “Oh! Hi Felix” Eugene wiped the tears that had started forming in the corners of his eyes, “You can come in. Did you need something?”

Felix pushed open the door, shuffling his feet awkwardly, “Um, no but, uh… do you? It’s late, and you’ve been just sort of…standing there?Looking in the mirror I guess? Are you okay?”

Eugene forced a smile and nodded. “I’m okay Felix. I’m just… thinking I guess.”

“Oh! Well that makes sense! You’re pretty smart so you think a lot! You just don’t usually do it while staring in a mirror at one in the morning.”

Eugene sighed, exhausted, but pat Felix’s head affectionately. “Yeah, I just- I’m thinking about myself, sort of. I don’t know. Maybe I could be better.”

“Better how?” Felix asked with concern, “I like you like this!”

Eugene smiled. That made one of them at least. What had he ever done to deserve such a sweet friend?

“Thanks Felix. And I don’t know really. It’s just- things are kinda hard right now. I messed everything up. I feel like-“ Eugene’s voice broke, the emotions he tried to control pushing through as he talked, “I feel so useless. How could I have messed up so badly? I need to fix it but I can’t I messed it all up and now I’m not even good enough to fix it, I-“

Felix pulled him into a hug. It was awkward and clunky with Felix’s animatronic body, but the show of comfort and affection broke the walls he had built up and made Eugene start crying in earnest.

“I just- I need to change.” Eugene mumbled “I don’t think I’m good anymore”

Felix hummed thoughtfully, holding Eugene tighter. “Well… I think you’re good still! But if you wanna change, maybe just change a little bit? I don’t want you to change too much… I like you right now!”

“Thanks Felix… I just don’t know what to do. I don’t know what I can do, I just need to change. I don’t like being like this.”

They stood like that in silence for a bit, before Felix exclaimed “oh! I have an idea!”

Not too much later Eugene was looking at himself in the mirror again , this time with blonde hair, and Felix chattering excitedly behind him.

He smiled. It was small, but for the first time in a while, it wasn’t forced. Dying his hair had helped - in a way. It wasn’t the hair itself, so much as the process.

Because it meant he wasn’t standing alone in the bathroom hating himself. He was running out with Felix to buy hair dye, and listening to Felix read the instructions while the cat chose music to listen to, and he was talking about something that wasn’t death and money.

And when it was done and he went to bed, he was so tired he slept through his alarm, but he couldn’t bring himself to be upset.

Because looking in the mirror, the first thing he saw wasn’t a fuckup- it was just him. Someone who had spent the night doing something stupid with his friend.

[springfaekohaku]

Warning Shot II

Ch1 Ch2

Steve!

Hey, hey — Steve! Stay awake…nonono keep your eyes open!

Please, stay with me, don’t…

…you’re gonna be okay…

Steve felt himself come to, his body felt heavy and like his eyelids were glued together. His lips felt chapped, his throat dry and he felt so groggy, but his brain was finally catching up and the urge to open his eyes grew.

So, he opened them to be greeted with fluorescent lights, a constant ringing sound in his right ear and the strong throbbing in his head, with so much onslaught of feelings and emotions; he felt overstimulated. His face hurt all over and his left eye was squinting, not fully opened. The lights were making this sound and he could feel the drumming of his heartbeat, beeping sounds repeating over and over again, he was nauseous to it all and felt like throwing up. But, he didn’t, he wasn’t going to do that because as a child, he always had a fear of throwing up and he wasn’t going to do that wherever he was. He felt dazed, confused and wait…

Is that a hand?

Steve blinked again and turned his head to the left to find a hand grabbing his uninjured hand, then he followed it to find a huge mass of hair on the side of his bed that belonged to none other than Jonathan Byers.

The young boy couldn’t believe it, Jonathan was resting on his bedside and he felt like his head was exploding. Maybe this all was a dream, he was going to wake up and he’ll be in his bed instead, with his ugly wallpaper his mother decorated without his input and trophies that amounted to nothing. He’ll be greeted to no one and in a soulless room in an empty house.

His thoughts of inner turmoil and disbelief end with a throbbing and burning sensation of his right hand, he hisses and shuffles in discomfort, not wanting to disturb Jonathan who was resting beside him but ultimately doing it anyways. He felt a bit guilty and bad for it but his heart flutters with the younger boys presence, he felt comforted by how after everything, he had someone to wake up to for once. Whenever he was injured or sick as a child, his parents would never stay or be there when he woke up, he never had that kind of affection or love. His Nanny that his mother and father couldn’t he assed to do the same even when he’d plead to her, to stay and be there when he woke up. No bedtime stories, no doting after his injures when he’d get hurt and be reckless on purpose because all he wanted was their love and attention. Sprained ankles, busted knees, he even recalls playing basketball with Tommy in middle school and falling, resulting in his first ever concussion. No supervision, no worried parents, just his Coach telling him what to do and his parents assuring the older man in empty promises and false lies that they’ll look after him.

But here Jonathan was. In all his glory, with a matching bandage around his hand.

And he was waking up.

Steve watched as Jonathan gained consciousness and saw his hand curled around his instinctively, like with no thought to it. He felt those damned butterflies again.

Jonathan lifted his head, he looked so tired and dazed, being hunched over in the chair and resting like that surely couldn’t be comfortable at all. The older boy watches mutely, his right hand demanding for relief to the pain and his head thundering in rows of throbs, pressing into his eyeballs, but he silently observes. Jonathan doesn’t even notice until Steve squeezes his hand and just like that, Jonathan was wide awake and sobered up in record time; eyes wide and mouth agape.

“Steve! Y-You’re awake!” Jonathan states. His volume was a bit too loud for Steve, the brunettes faced pinched in distaste and Jonathan instantly catches on; internally fighting himself. “I’m sorry. I’ll whisper for now, is that okay?”

Steve gave him another squeeze, he was forgiven. He attempts somewhat of a smile that felt like he was grimacing, but Jonathan nodded, smiling back.

“I’m going to call in the nurse okay? Let them know you’re awake and ask them if they can give you some of the good stuff. I can see that you’re in pain — I’ll be right back.”

Steve didn’t have time to react as he watched Jonathan softly pat his hand and depart from his bedside, getting up and making his way to the door and outside into the hallway. That was when Steve realised only now that he was in the hospital. It dawned on him so suddenly that he was hurt, not just, scrapes or bruises or even a broken nose — no…he was…

He was shot.

Oh God, he was shot and Nancy was the one who pulled the trigger.

He felt himself spiralling as the events of that nightmare of a night came flooding back to him and the last moments before he lost consciousness what Jonathans voice begging him to stay awake and calling out his name. The other worldly inner dimensional monster, the Christmas lights and living room lights flickering and bursting, the roof sinking in as its claw reaching for Steve. Seeing his Ex-Girlfriend aiming a gun at him, finding matching bandages on her and Jonathan’s hands, a nail-bat, Jonathan being so gentle and soft with him, sending him into a Queer panic and stepping into the fray to tap the ugly bastard into a bear trap and set it on fire. Steve beheading said creature and the rest…was nothing.

He just wanted to apologise.

These thoughts, not necessarily in order where hitting Steve like a truck. He didn’t even realise he was sending himself into a panic attack as Nurses and Doctors rushed their way in, calling out orders, turning the bright harsh lights off and closing the curtain to his left to drown out the sunlight, his faintly hears his heart monitor going crazy and his bones itching, his skin too tight and body shaking; his breaths were getting harsher and less oxygen was getting into his lungs. He was frantic and the sounds where making him feel like everything was too much, it was too much, fuck.

The last thing he heard was the voices and bodies of white coats pacing around his bed and seeing Jonathan standing out in the corner of the room looking at him in concern.

Then it all went black.

The next time Steve came through was not as slow or nice. He woke up with a gasp, his eyes bugged open and wide, struggling to get up, a voice close to his left side trying to sooth him and calm is sudden awakening.

Only, this time, he was met with Jonathan and Jim Hopper. Jonathan sees Steve’s want to get up and decides to help him prop himself in a seating position, then grabbing the bed post to angle it upright so Steve can lean back in a relaxed posture. Not wanting the older boy to injure himself further or go into another panic attack. Steve struggling to talk and coming out in dry croaks, Jonathan reaches for the glass of water and angles the straw to his mouth. The older boy grateful for the cold clear liquid going down his throat, it felt like bliss.

Jim can only watch the two boys in astound amusement and fondness.

He remembers not only long ago having the both of them in the back of his police vehicle, seeing Steve Harrington’s face busted in and Jonathan Byers without a scratch on him. Knowing that they had a fight — to his surprise, Steve denied any charges against the older Byers boy and explained how it was his fault anyways for pushing the other to snap; while his brother was missing and his mother seemingly going insane. Which he later learned and figured out for himself that was not the case at all. In fact, she was right and Jim needed to help. He needed to get his head out of his ass and be the Chief that this town needs, because as cursed as Hawkins is, it was his home and the people in it, it was his duty and moral obligation to serve and protect. Not only that, but he couldn’t bare to see another parent loose a child, especially not when there is a chance to save them and bring them back home.

He watches as Jonathan takes Steves hand in his own, rubbing circles on the back of his hand and whispering words of reassurance and trying to bring some kind of comfort. He sees Steve finally relax in what seemed in years, like he was waiting for someone to comfort him and be there for him. Something Jim hasn’t been doing. The man has had instances of reports of the Harrington boy throwing huge parties whilst his parents where absent and on work trips…and Jim would always be there to break it up and give him warnings each and every time. He stood there and watched, knowing his parents since high school. Knowing he left Steve with such people. He wished he was more attentive, more supportive and less absent throughout the boys life, the boy was practically screaming on the inside for anyone, anyone, to see through his act and show him that there are people who care about him.

Who’d love and want him.

It’s been a hell of a week and seeing Will and Steve in these hospital beds reminded him too much of Sara. His dear Sara.

Seeing these kids in these beds, even Steve being as tall as he is; he looked so small.

It reminded him that these are just kids. Steve may act big, like everything is normal and nothing could get to him. But it seems like that came to an abrupt halt when everything went upside down and witnessing in real-time Steves ‘King Steve’ persona crumble. Powell even noticed less parties at the Harrington residence, Flo even talked about no more calls being made and despite the call of the boys fight; Jim sees change.

So, the next best thing he can do is call Doctor Owens in.

Now comes the hard part.

Doctor Owens walks in with an air of authority and aloofness around him, with nurses behind him and the surgeon who worked on Steve’s hand.

Jim walks behind them and makes his way near Jonathan as the rest walks to Steve’s right-hand bedside. Jonathan, by Steve’s surprise holds his hand within their presence, firm and with no sense of letting go.

The three waited in baited breath.

“Mr.Harrington, nice to see you awake.” Dr Owens starts, holding the boys chart and smiling. Turning his head towards him and the new people in his room, Steve couldn’t help but think how goofy and weird this man is. He didn’t even care of the open show of affection of handholding they were doing.

“Just, Steve is fine. Please.” Steve replies.

Dr Owens smile broadens and nods in understanding.

“Right. Well, I got your chart here and now that you’re awake, you were quite in-and-out of it and I’m sure you don’t remember it. Now, we’d like to talk about your state of being and I’m sure you’re anxious to know about your right hand there.”

Steve blinks and — yeah, he wants to know, so he nods.

“So, let’s start with the small stuff and then we’ll work our way up to your hand?”

Steve nods again for him to continue. He won’t lie, he feels a bit anxious but he takes a deep breath anyways and exhales.

“Okay, let’s start with your superficial wounds. Some minor abrasions, like cuts and grazes. Nothing too bad. Now, your head. I was told by Jim here that you suffered a Grade 1 concussion before this all started, which I was also told why your face has minor injuries such as your split lip, nose — which isn’t broken, your eye is swollen but lemme just take a quick look now. But also, Jonathan here explained dhow after the fight with the Demogorgan, you passed out and fell to the floor, Which induced another concussion, he tried to keep you awake but you fell unconscious quickly, Grade 2. ” The doctor reads out and explains in a no nonsense manner but his tone soft. He reaches for his pockets and pulls out his torch, now closer to the bed, he leans across from Steve and does a normal eye checkup. Steve’s eyes flinch at the light glaring into his, no matter how less bright it was, he was told to close his left eye, his right eye was still swollen and he could only see blurred lines.

Dr Owens does what he could for the time being and continues where he left off, “Can you see anything at all?”

In which Steve nods and describes his vision blurry but not so bad. Next, his ears were also checked out due to the concussions; which he found the ringing in his right ear never dissipated. As he explained further and telling the truth that he actually started to notice it after the fight with Jonathan. In which Jonathan bows his head in shame but Steve turns to him and reassures him he didn’t hold it against him.

Dr Owen gained their attention again and resumes, “Okay, we’ll have to schedule a hearing test as well as an optometrist appointment later on. Now, onto the news I’m sure you’re wanting to hear most.”

Steve feels like a dowse of cold water is dumped onto him, he would’ve rather been shot in the foot. This news would tell him his fate, his future and how things will play out.

“Regarding your hand, I’ll let the surgeon take it from here. Dr Sheffur?”

Dr Owens parted and gave room for Dr Sheffur to take his place; he had Steve’s undivided attention.

“The surgery went well. As you may know, Hawkins isn’t equipped with specialists and doctors like those in the city. We are limited here and as I have handled gunshot wounds, operating on a gunshot wound in which the cartridge exploded, which I am sure you didn’t realise it’s true damage until later. Adrenaline must’ve been pumping and clouding your pain, I heard from your friend Jonathan here that despite the pain and wound; you handled a bat and gripped it tight. Which meant that your nerves must’ve been working due to pure adrenaline. Possibly, you didn’t even feel a thing.”

Dr Shaffur pauses to let the information sink in, “Do you want me to continue? Or take a break?”

Steve shakes his head and feel himself go a bit dizzy because of it but regains his composure. “Lay it down on me doc…” He tries so hard to play it off but inside, he’s internally vibrating out his skin. He even hears the heart monitor give away his poor attempt at an act. But no one calls him out for it or shows they saw through him.

Dr Shaffur coughed into his hand, clearing his throat and swallows, despite being the bearer of bad and good news; it never gets easy to tell patients the news of their conditions. Not when it’s their worst fears or nightmares come true.

In which he was the Sandman and he was going to give Steve the worst news and turn his nightmares into reality. He has been blamed so many times, on patients who he couldn’t save and despite all the hard effort and the countless lives he does save…the ones he does and ones that leave permanent damage hurt him.

“Your hand has suffered from nerve damage because of the cartridge explosion, it has left a gaping wound. Due to the blood loss of your hand, we had to cut up supply of blood to save it. Sadly, there will not be an 100% recovery for it, your muscles will need time to regrow and the bone in your palm will regrow to some extent but it will not regrow fully. We tried a surgical repair to suture the wound, but due to delayed treatment because of your situation, it has to also heal by a secondary intention. Natures Wound Filler. Your DNA will try to build a complete copy of the body if it is present with a nucleus but the skin and tissue that will regrow won’t be as tough as your original tissue. Due to the use of your hand after and I am sure your friend also tried his best to patch you up in a desperate time — a crucial time.

There are many tendons, nerves, muscles that are tightly packed into our hands…in this case, it hit a lot of them. In your case, I am saddened to say we weren’t able to make out the best outcome for your hand. There was nothing more I could do, the damage was too much and what I can say for the future of your hand won’t ever fully recover or of use. I’d also mention the Chronic Pain that’ll come with it. We can appoint you to a Physical Therapist to see if we can regain any movement and try. Any questions or should I let you and others take some time to ingest all of this?”

When Dr Shaffur finished, it was dead silent and it was like Jim’s toothpick in his mouth could drop and they’d hear it. Steve was trying his best to soak everything in and the more the Dr talked about his surgery and outcome for his hand, the more he felt like sinking into the bed — the urge to disappear was immense. He was speechless,

Steve had to use his hands, both hands, he plays basketball with them, he swims with them, he is right handed and depends on his hand for so many things.

Just like that, he felt his dream slipping away, he couldn’t even fall back on a scholarship with his basketball career, say goodbye to that and swimming championships. His parents would be furious with him, the disappointment in their eyes he could see plain as day, not because their kid got hurt but because of the hospital bills and taking them away from their business trip; not to mention that their kid couldn’t even do what he was only good at. Steve can admit, he loves sports. It was the only thing he excelled at and naturally, he took the chance to do anything to make his Dad and Mother proud. However, as time went on, he fell in love with it. Basketball offered him the adrenaline on the court, he looses himself and relishes in the sportsmanship, he enjoyed it even more because he had Tommy on the team. His best friend. Or, ex-best friend. Wow, he has a lot of past friends with history now. Swimming offered him the cold water, that parts like his body was made for the water, gliding through it seamlessly, it freed his mind and he felt at home. Like the pool in his backyard. It was the only thing that ever felt inviting and his in that damn house. His parents never even use it, only to show off.

He faintly hears Jim’s deep voice and Jonathan’s hand grasp tighter.

What use will he be now?

He looks down at his right hand and never felt so empty.

It wasn’t until he felt hands clasp his face on both sides and is turned to see Jonathan’s face. It was only the two of them in the room now and Steve didn’t even realise tears streaking down his face until the other boy’s thumb wiped them away, careful to mind Steve’s injuries that he was responsible for.

Steve’s head throbbed, the ringing in his ear building and eyes blurring due to the tears and his left eye fully shutting. He hiccuped and sobbed, finally coming to terms with the news and his future.

But for now, he had Jonathan by his side and apparently Jim Hopper in his corner now.

Which is why, when Jim walked out that room with the doctors to give the two boys space and time to feel and be and some privacy. The last he saw was Jonathan bringing Steve in for a hug.

He made his way to the waiting room and found none other than Nancy Wheeler seated in one of the chairs. Head down, elbows resting on her knees, hunched and had guilty ridden all over her; he could practically smell self-hatred in the air around her.

How on earth was he going to break the news to her?

Should he be the one to tell her?

Shit.

TBC…

Tag List:

@jackiemonroe5512 @afewproblems @sensationalsunburst @conversationswithamillennial @ledleaf @raven1234321 @obliosworld @pansexuality-activated @brainsteddielyrotted @royjamie4eva @adaed5 @how-about-nah-honey

My apologies to those I couldn’t tag. I was unable to due to some error. I hope this instalment finds you and you enjoy. Thank you for the overwhelming support. <3

[a-aexotic]

i’m so glad u do jj imagines he has my heart😻

anyways so

jj x reader where she’s like really close to all the pogues, and they’re all protective of her, maybe she could be like the youngest one or something, and rafe hits on her at a party and jj comes to the rescue and it ends w them telling their feelings to eachother

i love all your work so much btw!!

pairing. jj x fem!reader

warnings. alcohol consumption, rafe being rafe, mention of hangovers

summary. when rafe bothers reader ar a party, jj comes to the rescue.

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It was all a haze. The drinking, the loud music, the dancing. It felt like a big fever dream. You don't even remember where you are. All you remember is coming in with Pogues and now, you have no idea where you are.

This might've been your 3rd drink. Or wait, was it 5? You can't remember. You were laying on the couch trying to recenter yourself when you feel the couch next to you dip. You turn your head to meet Rafe Cameron's gaze.

You never liked him. He was always mean to the Pogues, including you for a while but he hasn't bothered you since you had started dating JJ. You were the youngest one of the group, just by a few months but the youngest nonetheless so the Pogues were very protective of as well and after a few fights with Kie and John B, Rafe had finally backed off.

Rafe knew better than to mess with JJ's girlfriend and the Pogues beloved baby Pogue. Or so they thought.

"Hey Y/N." He spoke, a smile playing on his lips.

You were confused on why he was even acknowledging you, he usually just ignored your existence. "Hey."

"How are you enjoying the party, is JJ here?"

You paused for a second, why did he care if JJ was here or not? "Uh, yeah. He's somewhere."

You were to drunk to realize that Rafe was very much flirting with you. He talked your ear off about golf and you were getting overwhelmed. Rafe had gotten closer to you, the music was too loud and you were nauseous from the drinks.

"Hey!" You heard someone shout. You turned around to see JJ walking towards you, a scowl on his face. You were instantly relieved because golf wasn't that interesting to you and you were getting tired; you just wanted to go home and sleep.

"JJ." Rafe sighed, as if even seeing him was an inconvenience.

"The fuck you talking Y/N for, huh?" JJ had grabbed your arm and pulled you up, putting an arm around your waist. His touch had help your sense calm down a bit.

Rafe rolled his eyes, getting up. "Calm your tits, man. I was just having friendly-"

"Friendly, my ass. You talk to her, again, I'll kill you." JJ had let go of you to get in Rafe's face to make his point. Rafe had let out a small laugh before raising his hands up in defense, walking away.

JJ turned to you, a sigh escaping his chapped lips. "You okay?"

"Yep, I feel a bit..." You paused, feeling your stomach grumble in pain. "Nauseaus."

JJ laughed and went over to you, putting an arm over your shoulder to help you walk. "How many drinks have you had?"

"I don't know like, five?"

"Five? You're a lightweight."

"Shut up." You grumbled unhappily. "Or I'll throw up all over you."

"Okay, okay. But Kie isn't going to be happy with you drinking that much because she had to take care of you last time."

You groaned at the mention of that night. And then you remembered that tomorrow, your hangover was probably going to be worse. JJ softened his gaze as he looked over at you.

"Don't worry, I'll take care of you this time."

"Thanks, J." You smiled painfully before JJ bent his head towards you so he could plant a kiss on your lips. You melted into the kiss, your stomach pain gradually going away the more passionate the kiss became.

[farfromstrange]

Chaos Theory | Michael Kinsella x Reader

Chapter 24: Bandaids Don’t Fix Bullet Holes

Masterlist ° Chapter List

Pairing: Michael Kinsella x Reader (she/her)

Summary: While Michael meets with his solicitor, you're stuck at his house, and you slowly start going crazy. A visit from a particular someone drives you even crazier.

Warnings: Angst, Frank (yes, that's a warning)

Word Count: 3.2k

A/n: I've finally gotten around to finishing this chapter. It might not be as exciting as you guys hoped it would be, but I have a plan for the next following chapters and I had to leave space for that, which is why this isn't as plot heavy as I intended it. (Also, I’m not sure about the title, but I’ve run out of songs to use)

You’re still tired when you wake up the next morning, but the sadness that overcame you the day before has been replaced by emptiness. You just feel numb now, but it’s better than being in pain. 

Michael has an appointment with his solicitor this morning. Your blood burns your insides when you think about being left alone for the day. His family surrounds you. Not literally, thank God, but with them living on the very street Michael does, it feels as if they’re caging you in like a zoo animal.

You tried to convince him to let you go home, but he insisted that you stay in his house until he’s back so he can make sure that you’re safe. His house has a better security system in place than your own home, and after everything that was unraveled the other day, he would rather not take any chances until he has figured out how serious the repercussions of Frank’s actions will be.

They blew up Michael’s phone all day yesterday, but ever since he blew them off, no one has been brave enough to his house in person. It has been otherwise quiet, too. Thankfully. Still, you can’t help but be wary. 

You’re sitting in bed with your legs pulled up to your chest, resting your cheek on your knees as you watch him rummage through his wardrobe to get ready. Today is an important day to him and he doesn’t want to risk making a bad impression, no matter how big the chaos around him is.

You called in sick from work. You can’t stand being around people, let alone put on a fake smile. The scent of coffee makes you nauseous. To top that off, your hand is still swollen, bandaged, and your knuckles have started getting irritated. Any doctor would have told you the same thing Michael did; your wrist is sprained and you need to rest your hand, which means that work is off the table. 

You know you’re going to use up all of your sick days if you keep going like this, but at this point, there are no worries on your mind. None but one, and that is your sister. Okay, maybe you’re overthinking about a little more than that, but you refuse to acknowledge that or you will drive yourself crazy.

At least Michael’s house smells like safety. You can’t describe it, but the comfort his scent engulfs you in makes this a little easier, even with the separation anxiety eating you alive like a flesh-eating amoeba.

“Hey,” his soft voice brings you back to reality. It has a bit of a scruff to it, but that’s what makes him so attractive.

The bed dips before you, and you look at him with red eyes. “Are you gonna be alright?” Michael asks, his hand reaching out to cup your cheek. “I could call the solicitor and tell her I’ve changed my mind, that I can’t do it today, I…”

You shake your head. The last thing you want is for him to put you over getting his daughter back. The truth about your past, then Jamie’s death, and now the revelation with Frank and Amanda messed with both of your lives, and God knows what else happened in the time you were at work. 

The things Michael threw in Frank’s sounded so serious, you can’t imagine that he has fully forgotten them just because of this one appointment. There seems to be more to it, even, and that scares you. It scares you that he’s going through hell and now he’s going through yours too. And you’re forced to go through his, thanks to his family and your inability to stay away.

You have an inkling, but you don’t like what it is telling you, not one bit. You know Michael, and you know how easily he could be pushed to a point where he would do just about anything for the people he cares about. It’s a terrifying prospect that you could lose him.

You shake it off. You’ve already done enough stupid things for the time being. You can’t do this alone anymore, and you don’t have to.

“Go,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll manage. Don’t put your future with Anna at risk just because of me. It’s not worth it.”

Michael’s eyes soften. “Yer always worth it, that’s not–”

“No. Not this time.”

He sighs. “We’ll talk about how to keep your sister safe once I’m back, alright?” It sounds like a compromise. “Just don’t do anythin’ rash ‘til I’m back,” he says.

“I know,” you answer.

“Promise me.”

You open your mouth. An exasperated sigh slips your lips, and he gives you an incredulous look. “Okay, fine,” you cave. “I promise. I won’t do anything rash until you’re back.”

You’re not sure how you’re going to keep it, but he’s right. You can’t do anything rash or you will risk a lot more than your sister’s safety. She’s the most important thing in your life, above all else, and if you put her at risk just because you’re impatient and drowning in your concern… You wouldn’t be able to forgive yourself.

“I’ll be back in a few hours.” Michael leans forward and presses a kiss on your forehead.

You close your eyes and lean into his touch. “I love you,” you whisper. 

He smiles right back at you. “You too.”

Michael checks his appearance a few more times in the mirror, and you can tell he’s nervous. He rechecks every document twice, and he repeats every question he prepared himself for in his head. 

You want to lift him up, but you’re too low to say anything supportive other than what you feel for him. You hope it’s enough, but you feel useless and numb, and the state you’re in is a horrible middle space between being an exhausted mess and being on high alert. But most of all, the fear never leaves your bones. It has manifested and it’s eating away at your soul. 

“After our fight,” you speak up, “I, uh, called the inspector on the case of my sister’s death six years ago.”

He deserves to know.

Michael stops in his tracks and turns to you. “And?” he asks. 

You shrug. “I was redirected to Scotland Yard’s official hotline, and the front desk lady told me she would pass my message along, but…” With a defeated sigh, you lower your head and shake it. “He didn’t call me back.”

Michael purses his lips. He’s not mad, you can tell. He probably would have done the same in your position. You took the only road you thought could help you, but it ended up being a dead end, after all. Or maybe you missed something crucial.

“Maybe he’ll call today,” he says almost hopefully. “If he’s anythin’ like ya said, he’ll call eventually. Maybe he’s just… swamped.”

“Or maybe he can’t help me.”

“I’m not going to lie to you.”

You want to kiss him just for that.

“So,” he says, “him not wanting to help or be associated with this case again is somethin’ we need to consider.”

You nod along. He’s right. It’s possible. The truth hurts, but at least it’s true.

Wiping your dry cheeks to prevent yourself from actually crying, you clear the lump in your throat. “Well, regardless, I need to pick up the file,” you add, your voice stronger this time. 

He shakes his head. “We can do that once I’m back, alright? Yer not goin’ anywhere without me.”

You don’t have the strength to protest. Michael kisses you again. “Good girl,” he says. 

When he turns to leave, you hug him for a little longer than necessary. He rubs your back, knowing it’s hard for you to let him go, but he has to leave. You understand now why he was so clingy the other day, and it hurts to watch him walk out the door and down the street, disappearing out of your sight, and you lock the door the way he told you to. 

Against what your brain tells you, you don’t go back to bed. You make yourself a nice cup of coffee and find some toast in the cupboard to make yourself some breakfast, and you force yourself to swallow a few bites for your upset stomach. Maybe that will give you a clear mind. 

You spend a few minutes sitting in the backyard, staring out into nature. Every once in a while, you peek over at Jimmy and Amanda’s house. It seems so deserted. You wonder if they fought after you punched her. 

Michael and Jimmy don’t seem all too close, but they’re still brothers, and Michael seems to see something in him that you don��t. You don’t need to understand it. 

You busy yourself with cleaning for a while. Just as you’re scrubbing the stove, you catch something from the corner of your eye. Your peripheral vision picks up on a silhouette close to the bushes that adorn the sides of Michael’s driveway. 

She’s concealed halfway by your car, but you catch a glimpse of the girl’s face that is staring directly into the house, and when she meets your eyes, she gasps and bolts.

Anna. 

You know Michael has secretly been watching her just to get a chance to see her, even if it’s from afar. You never expected Anna to come to the house herself.

She was still little when he went to prison and she must be more than curious, but also a little angry because she probably doesn’t know or understand the full truth behind her mother’s death yet. She’s a child, but she’s not stupid.

You open the front door and storm out of the house. You call out, “Anna?” But upon hearing her name, the girl runs faster, and soon enough she has disappeared around the corner in her school uniform.

You sigh. Whether or not you will tell Michael about this depends on how his meeting goes. Now that she saw you, what must she think? Knowing her father whom she hasn’t seen for eight years has a strange woman standing in his kitchen and cleaning it like a mad woman. 

By opening the blinds to let in some light, you might have just screwed up in the eyes of a teenage girl and Michael’s daughter, and that fills you with dread because you don’t know if he’s going to process the truth in the way you want him to. 

Locking the door behind you again, you draw the blinds closed and return to angrily scrubbing the stove, making the pain in your injured hand worse without even using it, but at least it makes you feel something other than the gaping emptiness deep within your soul. It keeps you from going crazy. 

Suddenly, there’s a knock on the very door that you just closed. Startled, you turn around. Goosebumps form on your skin. For a second, you consider what to do. Should you go upstairs and hide? Should you call Michael? Should you grab a knife or the gun behind the fridge? 

You move toward the front door, your steps careful and calculated. The knocking intensifies. You can feel yourself quivering in the fuzzy socks you’re wearing.

Then, you hear a faint voice call out your name, and you can see Frank peeking in through the kitchen window. He waves at you as if he can see you through the slits in the blinds. You hold your breath. 

“I know you’re in there!” he calls out for you. “I just wanna talk.” There is a pause, and you stand there completely paralyzed until he adds, “It’s about yer sister.”

Your feet carry you the rest of the way to the door and you open it enough to look outside. 

“What do you want, Frank?” you snap. “Do you get off on harassing innocent people? Or are you just that stupid?”

He looks at you, and… is that guilt in his eyes? You don’t want to believe it. The audacity he has to show up here and look like that. He’s cruel, he’s vile, he is an asshole and he doesn’t deserve your attention. But he mentioned your sister. After what happened the day before, he knows that you would jump at the mere mention, and that is how he gets you. 

“I just wanna talk,” he repeats. “Please.”

“Michael’s not here,” you say. You have to stand your ground. He’s doing this on purpose. He has to be. This man is capable of unspeakable things. 

If Michael knew, heads would roll. 

“I’m not here to talk to Michael, I told ya. I’m here because o’ you.”

You let out an exasperated sigh. You shouldn’t, you know that you shouldn’t, but your body acts without listening to your common sense. You open the door just enough to let him inside. 

This is about Maya, you tell yourself. Whatever he has to say could be important. And you can’t say no to the man who threatened her once before. He is the reason she might be in grave danger. So, whatever he knows, as small as it might seem could help prevent any further damage. And if he’s lying, you can still grab the gun behind the fridge and put an end to this disgusting excuse of a human being. 

“Thanks,” Frank throws your way as he steps in, almost as if you’re friends, and you hate that he carries himself with that godawful, confidence-secreting attitude. 

Does he not realize what he did? Michael threatened him with a gun and this is how he walks around, with his hair styled and an almost sly smile on his face—it’s just a hint, but it counts, and it makes you feral. 

He stands in the kitchen, turning to you. You stand across from him, arms crossed and waiting for him to make a move. You won’t offer him a drink, that’s for sure. 

He lets out a long breath eventually, pulling something from his backpocket. You flinch at the sudden movement of his hand, and he lifts them almost as if to reassure you that he isn’t a threat. But to you, he is everything bad and more. You hate him in a way you ever only thought you could hate one person, even though it’s a different kind of hatred nonetheless. 

Frank pulls out a small envelope, looking down at it for a moment before slowly extending it to you. You frown at him. He insists you take it, but you’re not sure if you want to see the contents. 

“Open it,” he encourages you. 

You roll your eyes, reaching for the envelope. The paper feels thin under your fingers, almost rough and worn. It’s barely closed. You only have to pull a little to open it, and when you look inside, you can tell there is a series of pictures waiting for you. You shoot Frank a glare. 

“What’s this?” you ask as you take the photographs out of the envelope. 

“It’s the pictures my men took of your sister,” he answers. 

You stop. “What?!” Your voice echoes. The house isn’t even that big, but you are loud enough for the sound to carry. 

“Relax–” 

“Relax? You had my sister followed and now you come here after deliberately putting her in danger, telling me to relax? How sick can you possibly be?!”

“They’re the pictures I was plannin’ to have sent to ya so you’d leave Michael alone. I told my men to back off. I promised tha. I don’t like being threatened,” he says. “They’re the only photographs left of her. Swear to God. It’s done. It’s over. Nothin’ more to worry about, alright? So… relax.”

His voice holds a certain edge as if your anger is somehow annoying to him and not at all justified, and only for that you want to use your healthy fist to hit him.

No, you won’t fall for it. You see a glimpse of humanity, but you refuse to let it blind you. People like him know how to fool someone in a crisis like you, and they use that vulnerability to their advantage. 

You take out the photographs he gave you. He’s right, it is Maya. Your little sister, all alone and vulnerable. It’s so different to see her walking the streets of London after school, hanging out with the few friends she has, and–

You stop. The last picture has your father in it. The look in his eyes resembles death. He smiles at your weak mother, but there is nothing but evil in his eyes. You can see that he has no soul, he never had one. It makes your stomach churn. 

“You’re lying,” you say, but your voice is barely above a whisper. “This was never supposed to happen.”

“Believe me or not, but it’s done,” Frank repeats. “They won’t hurt her, and for the record, I was never plannin’ on havin’ her hurt anyway, but after what you said about your father… You know, we can help–”

“Don’t even start,” you cut him off. “You had men follow my sister and put her in danger because you didn’t think. You were dissatisfied with Michael choosing himself over your twisted family for once in his godforsaken life, and you were ready to let it out on an innocent child you didn’t know instead of taking it up with me. That makes you as much of an asshole as my bastard of a father, and I’ve encountered many people in my life. You threatened me and my sister and that is not something I can just forgive. So forgive me for not trusting you, but you have done nothing to earn it.”

He nods slowly, processing your words and agreeing, “Yer right. For what it’s worth, I’m…” And he struggles to say it. “Sorry,” he says. 

You stare at the pictures, then back at Frank. Tears of frustration and pure rage form in your eyes, and they already start pricking at the corners. “Get out,” you say, trying to stay calm. 

“C’mon now, let’s not make such a big deal out of it. You know that ya have your own problems and that you’re not ready for what this family brings with it. I just wanted to protect us. I only hurt those that need t’be hurt, not innocent children.”

The urge to punch him grows with every passing second. Every word in your head makes less and less sense as you start losing sight of what’s most important. You want to give in to your anger. You want to be selfish. 

But you can’t. You can’t allow yourself to give in. This is not who you are. And Maya wouldn’t want you to lose sight of that as much as she wouldn’t want you to lose sight of her. 

“You already hurt her,” you say.

“I didn’t. She’s alive. She’s no longer being followed, and your father has no fuckin’ clue ‘cause my men aren’t that stupid. What more do ya need?”

“Frank,” you spit his name like a snake would dig her teeth into its victim. You’re inching closer to the point of disaster. “I’m going to ask you nicely,” you say, “even though you don’t deserve any bit of my kindness. Get the fuck out of this house or I swear to God, I will make use of the gun Michael keeps around here and shoot your cock off!”

Instead of cowering in fear at your tone, Frank only smirks. He looks surprised, impressed even, but not scared. At this point, you’re boiling like a tea kettle on a gas stove.

“I was wrong ‘bout you,” he says. The sound of impress is laced in every vibration of his vocal cords. 

You stretch the fingers of your uninjured hand. He needs to get out. Now. 

“If you don’t get out, I will call Michael right now and tell him you harassed me.” It’s your last straw. He doesn’t respect you, so maybe he will respect the man that already bashed his head in. 

The next time he comes face to face with him, you know he won’t be as merciful. 

You pull out your phone. “I’m sure he’d love to hear what you had to say to me, word for word.” You unlock it and select your boyfriend’s contact at the top of the list. “I have a very good memory, you must know. I can remember conversations pretty vividly.”

Of course, it works immediately. Frank’s face falls. As soon as you mention Michael and the possibility of telling him every last word that was passed between you in the past five minutes, he takes a step toward the door. 

“Take care of yourself,” Frank tells you, and you have never been so relieved to watch someone walk away from you as you are now. 

You’re quick to lock the door behind him, letting out the breath you had been holding before, and your entire body quivers as you sink to the floor with the photographs in hand. The tears start streaming down your cheeks as the helplessness of your situation settles in. 

You’re not sure where to go from here, and it is terrifying. 

How much longer can you hold on before everything around you, including the people you love, turns into ashes in front of your very eyes? 

Tagging: (let me know if you want to be tagged, too!) @bellaxgiornata @mattmurdocksscars @ms-murdockswift @your-not-invisible-to-me @shouldbestudying41 @glowstick-lesbian @acharliecoxedfan @roseallisonparker @norestfortheshelbywicked @1988-fiend @loveroftoomanyfandoms @mattkinsella @schneeflocky @harperdoodle @ravenclaw617 @lunaticgurly @mattmurdocksstarlight

[alexxkresnik]

"   look,  i dunno if i’m the kind of person you need or even want right now.  but i’m looking around and i’m the only one who’s here.  ❞

It was like pouring salt in a fresh wound. 

Of course they’d sent Maru. Alex wasn’t particularly close with anyone else and his recent actions were rather… questionable, at best. Like he was possessed. Ready to kill any and everything that was on the wrong side of his lance. He thought he’d been hiding his feelings well enough. Acting normal enough. Oh how wrong he’d been to think that.

But he’s tired. Emotionally. Mentally. It’s… a new feeling for him, and he can confidently say he hates it with every fiber of his being. Every time he picks up his lance he feels nauseous, but fighting is the only thing keeping him from ending it all. They’ve tried so hard with no end in sight. No way home. No glimmer of hope. 

Physically, he’s fine. Still in top shape. Fighting helps numb the pain of not knowing what his future holds for him now. Helps him forget that who he is… or was… no longer matters. He’ll never see Valisthea again. He’s just a stranger in an unknown world trying to keep himself alive. If the monsters don’t take him out… well… 

It’s been days since he’s left his room. People were starting to notice. There would be knocks occasionally, but he ignored them. Curled up tighter under the sheets and tried to drown out the world. Nobody tries to force him to leave, so he doesn’t. 

There’s a small glimmer in this world. One that he tries so hard to grasp onto. To hold in his heart and hope for the best. But even that is starting to slip out of his fingers. How can he justify wanting someone for himself that this world needs? He can’t. Or he won’t. He hasn’t quite decided which feeling is stronger. 

As much as it hurts, he’s still infinitely grateful his presence has some meaning in the other’s life. Even if it’s just due to him being a nuisance for everyone around him. 

He’s out of bed, at least, when Maru comes in. 

The words that leave his lips cut like a knife. He is the kind of person he wants. Needs. But he can’t ask for that. Can’t admit it. He can’t drag Maru down. The man has enough on his plate. Just like a certain prince he knows. Knew. 

A sob threatens to undo the facade he’s so carefully crafted these past few weeks. 

It takes no time at all for him to move forward, arms wrapping around Maru the second he’s close enough. Face buried in the other’s shoulder. He’s quiet for a long time, trying to keep his composure. 

“Thank you.”

It’s a whisper. He knows if he tries to say it out loud, to speak as he normally would, the floodgates would open. It’s already taking everything within himself to not tremble. To not cry. To not show Maru just how much of a wreck he really is. He needs to be strong, even if he has to fake it. 

It’s silent again. At least until he feels he can speak without hinting at the darker emotions swirling within his heart. When he’s ready, he finally lets Maru go, stepping back a bit to widen the distance. He needs to put distance between them before he starts becoming too dependent. 

“Just you being here has given me all I needed to feel better. Thank you, Maru.”

[custerdthegreat]

Ok guys this is gonna be a bit of a vent so if you’re not into that you can click off now but…

A lot has been going on this month is why I haven’t been streaming as much, I’ve just been coping by playing Minecraft and smoking since my situation makes it so I don’t have a better option for help.

I’m so tired of this gastropersis shit every morning I wake up feel nauseous take my meds for it and I’m pretty sure my meds make me a little blocked up in the morning making them very hard and painful and having to eat all the time with an ED is so draining…

I’m tired of being surrounded by death this week, my uncle passed away and his wife passed a few months back now and one of my senior cats died and I was the one who laid him to rest in the backyard, my other senior has been injured and we thought he was gonna pass but after a lot of wet food (the vet had no openings) he seems to be doing better

I hate that in order togoing to my uncles funeral and seeing some of my family in Texas for probably the last time I was told I needed to dress like a girl and keep my lgbt/not conventional shit at home and the example for girl cloths and shit like sundresses.

I hate how the people in this house act, everyone feels two faced I can’t vent to anyone without it ending in the ears of people they’re not supposed to and getting in trouble for private conversation, I don’t understand how people can be actively wrong and some dumb shit then get mad at me for not being wrong? Like when my cousin bought ice cream put it in the main fridge didn’t label it got mad at us cause half of it got used for milkshakes and when we bought him a new thing of ice cream and got our self some he choose to eat our entire thing of ice cream out of spite. But I think the worst is the gaslighting telling me they didn’t fucking tell me I’d get disowned and possibly kicked out if I got the vaccine that would’ve prevented my gastropersis cause it’s caused from stuff like Covid and stuff. Or just straight up denying my medical stuff all the time.

I hate I can’t get help for things without hiding it or my family will bullying me into stopping the help it’s what happened with my therapy and mental health stuff and with some physical health stuff to.

I wish It felt realistic for me to get a job and help my partner with money but I’m always nauseous especially for the first few hours of the day and can very a lot , I feel my stomach all the time and I’m so tired all the time.

I hate that the job market is so bad and even after months and dozens of interviews my partner is still struggling to find something that will get back to him and I swear to god if someone saying that we’re just not trying hard enough stfu get off my page I have watched him spend hours almost every day applying to shit but because he doesn’t have his full license yet most places just don’t call back, I’m literally at a hiring event for him rn typing this.

I feel like such a loser rn, I can’t work, I feel like a expensive pet, nice to look at I guess but doesn’t serve much of a purpose and is like allergic to life of something other then that mostly just being a pain in the ass. I feel bad for smoking weed but I feel like it’s the only thing currently that keeps me from just ending it cause of all this shit.

I wish I had money for safe foods and none mint toothpaste so I can brush my teeth without worrying about it flaring up.

Anyways.. that’s all for now sorry for the vent just frustrated.

[islandtarochips]

Hi Bestie :3 just wondering, how do you think the WTF would react if they recieved this message?

"General Kalani? Captain Toa? First Lieutenant Toa? Can you copy? If you do, please, we require urgent permission to land in your base. This is Clover, I'm with the Specters. I-It's a medical emergency! We we're on a mission and the infantry squad was ambushed." Nicholas sounded slightly panicked while in the background someone was screaming in pain, and at the same time someone was ordering people around. "Right now our Captain is unconscious and bleeding, our Lieutenant and Sergeant are also out cold and with worrying wounds and we have Corporal García and Marcus with open wounds. Please, I beg you, if you recieve this...please let us land. I'm worried they wouldn't make it if we try to arrive to our base."

Hi Wiiiiiiiitch! And OMG! This is EXCITING to be honest! After reading this question, I have decided to make a one-shot out of this! Let's do it!

The General was having a discussion with Colonel Rangi before receiving this call. Her eyes widened as she recognized the name and the voice. “Clover? Where are you? How far?”

“O-Only a mile away, ma’am.” Nicholas’ heart started beating faster after hearing someone screaming in pain in the background. He was getting scared as his hands were shaking while gripping onto the wheel. “P-Please, we needed help!”

Alana looked at Rangi with a serious look but with worriedness in her eyes. She remained calm before ordering the Colonel. “Go and get someone to flag that plane down SAFELY! NOW!”

He nodded and wasted no time when he ran out of the room. While Alana sat on her seat and stayed on the phone with Nicholas. “Clover. I am here. You’ll be alright.”

Nicholas took a quick glance in the back to see Alicia, Luke and Jackson are still knocked out. And Noah and Marcus are screaming in pain from their open wounds. “I-Is Aelan there?”

“Don’t worry, I already texted her. I’ll be staying on the phone with you. Just BREATHE, Clover.” Alana told him to do so while speaking in her calm and soft voice. For a hard hearted woman, her voice sounded like a soft cloud hovering through Nicholas’ headphones.

He closes his eyes for a few seconds before taking a deep breath. His heart beat slowed down as he took another deep breath and listened to the General’s voice.

“Feeling okay now?” Alana asked as she was trying to contact Kanoa and Tiala.

“Y-Yeah…I’m okay.”

“Good. Now I want you to keep flying straight ahead and land where the marshallers are at. They will guide you down. Can you do that?”

The pilot saw the island of the Marine Corps Base ahead. He gripped onto the wheel and felt the determination sparking inside of him. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Alright then, land carefully. I’m getting Kanoa and Tiala on the phone. My daughter will be waiting for you and your team to take them into the medical center, alright?”

“Ok. We’re coming in a few minutes.”

Later on, Nicholas saw one of the marshallers signaling him to come down. He pushed the wheel down as he flew the aircraft to the open road. Then he safely landed before taking a quick breath as he leaned his back against his seat. He could hear footsteps and yelling in the background. He slowly glanced behind him to see the soldiers were already transferring his team onto the stretchers and moving out of the aircraft quickly.

His vision was a bit blurry from being tired when he felt so scared of losing them.

“Clover!” A woman’s voice called out to him. 

He turned his head as his vision was getting cleared to see Aelan jumping inside and running up to him. He was relieved to see a familiar face from the crowds as he tried to get up.

“Woah there buddy! Sit down!” Aelan said as she sat him back down before turning on her small flashlight. “Let me check on you.” The medic woman flashed onto his eyes and saw it looked fine. As his pupils reacted to the light. She was relieved and touched his forehead to feel any fever. “Feeling any nauseous, headaches, any amount of pain?”

Nicholas shook his head as he was tearing up. “I-I’m fine…” Then he saw the Marines had taken his team away. “A-Are they gonna be ok?”

“They will, Nik. Come on. I still need to take you to the medical center.” Aelan helped him up carefully and walked him down to the med bay.

After an hour or two, the Captain and the First Sergeant walked through the hallway of the med bay. As they were rushing, along with their two sergeants behind them. Agnes and Nigel.

The four had received bad news from their General about Alicia and her team. Which made Kanoa feel panicking once he heard her name was mentioned.

They all know how close Kanoa and Alicia were. Them from being coworkers into an ally. Then from being an ally into being friends. Friends to Best of Friends. And now, being like close siblings.

Tiala understands that. For she too feels that way with Alicia the time they have worked together. And hearing this had made her feel the opposite with Kanoa. For she could only feel anger in her heart. And once when she finds out who did this to her and her team. They will be sorry.

The two Sergeants were also feeling worried about the team. They may not know much about the Captain like how Kanoa and Tiala were. But they are friends with the other team members of the Specters Team.

Soon the four had made it to the med bay, where they saw Aelan was ordering most of the nurses to get the supplies that she needed. She was doing her best as she made sure that most of the patients were taken care of.

“I need five more of those packages for those two injured soldiers!”

“Yes, ma’am!”

“You! Make sure those Oxygen tanks are FULL since we need them to stay ALIVE!”

“Of course!”

“YOU! Why the fuck are you still standing around here for?! We have FIVE people who need our help! Get off your ass and MOVE!”

Aelan has been yelling and ordering the people around with a bit of anger in her tone. Kanoa could see that and also could see the medic was stressing out. He quickly walked over to her and touched her hand.

“Hey hey hey. Onosa’i, Aelan.” Kanoa said softly, trying to get her attention. And calming her down.

Aelan turned her head to see Kanoa as her expression started to soften tiredly. Realizing what she was doing. She took a deep breath and calmed down before touching her face as she groaned. “I-I’m sorry, Noa…I’m just trying to make sure that she and the others are okay.”

“I know. You’ve been pressured. But I’m sure that Jackson doesn’t want you to feel this way, you know.”

Aelan smiled a bit at the Captain’s words. Of course, she could have imagined Jackson scolding her for not resting or taking it easy. So she nodded at Kanoa before Tiala interrupted.

“So what’s the status, doc? Are they gonna be ok?” The First Sergeant wanted to know about their conditions. Hoping and praying that it’s a good one.

Agnes stepped in as well. “W-What about Garcia and Marcus? Are they gonna make it?”

Nigel gently touched Agnes’ shoulder seeing her worried expression and her tone as well. Before looking up at the doctor. “Are they?”

The medic was in deep silence before she sighs. “Let me take you to see them.” She slowly turned around and walked ahead with Kanoa by her side.

The other three followed behind before they came into the first room. Where Garcia and Marcus were on the hospital bed. So much bandages on their waist, torso and on their legs.

It really hurts for Agnes and Nigel to see them like this. As their friends lay there in pain.

Nigel looked at his Captain with sadness in his eyes. “Captain…? Can we…?”

Kanoa knows what Nigel was going to ask. And he also knows how close those two are with them. So he smiled softly and gently patted the Sergeant’s shoulder. “Go on. Tia and I will check the other three.”

Nigel nodded before walking with Agnes inside to see the two.

Tiala took a peek inside to see Agnes was tearing up when she saw Noah. The Corporal was slowly opening his eyes and gave a weak smile to see his friend. The Sergeant gently touched his hand and tried her best to smile. Before seeing him closing his eyes tiredly.

While Nigel was smiling down at Marcus, who was tearing up as well to see a familiar face. He gave him a gentle hug as he gave his comforting words to him. Saying that he’ll be alright. It really touched Marcus’ heart as he hugged Nigel tightly.

Tiala could feel her heart soften to see the two sergeants comforting those two soldiers. Before walking with Kanoa and Aelan to meet the others. And as soon as they walked to the second room. Aelan paused at her tracks to see Nicholas sitting on his chair next to Alicia’s bed.

“Nicholas! You were SUPPOSED to be resting!” The medic started to scold this man as she walked up to him.

Causing the poor soldier to stand up in surprise as he tried to explain to her. “I-I’m sorry! But I couldn’t sit still! Not when…the Captain…is like this…”

His words had stopped Aelan. As she saw him gazing towards the unconscious Alicia.

Kanoa turned his gaze towards Alicia as well, lying there. As he started to feel like his soul had been drained out. He slowly walked over to her and stood next to the bed. And gently touched her hand as he held it tightly. “What happened?” The Captain’s voice suddenly sounded deep when he asked that question.

Nicholas took notice of his tone as he knew that Kanoa was being angry. Actually MORE than angry. So he decided to tell him everything that just happened.

“W-We were ambushed, sir. On a mission to stop one of the cartel leaders that was near the pacific. Getting close to here.” Nicholas started to tighten his grip as he tried to explain further. “We were supposed to take them down but…they caught us by surprise and we failed to succeed. Which causes the injuries for Noah and Marcus when they were about to take charge. And Luke and Jackson? Got hit against the wall. They…got hit pretty bad. That’s why they’re knocked out.”

“And Alicia?” Tiala asked as she saw Nicholas had frozen in place. Seeing his lips was quivering a bit as he was too nervous to speak.

But Aelan had stood beside him and gently touched his arm. “It’s ok Nicholas. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

Nicholas looked at Aelan and then at Kanoa and Tiala. His tears started to show as he held onto the medic’s hand. To show that he wanted to tell them. Of what happened to her.

“Sh-She got stabbed…by the cartel leader…I-I was trying to get up but they pulled me back. Making me watch the Captain fall down.” Nicholas' voice had started to tremble as he remembered that scene that kept playing inside his head. His friends were getting injured and Alicia was bleeding to death. “I-I could’ve done SOMETHING! I could’ve fought BACK!”

“But even if you did. They will kill you right there and then. And you won’t be able to bring them HERE.” Aelan had tried to reassure this poor man’s thoughts of him not doing anything. Hearing this from him had really aching their hearts.

Nicholai looked at her with despair in his eyes as his tears slowly ran down on his cheeks like a river that will never stop running. He quickly hugged her, begging for comfort. Which she gladly gave him.

Kanoa had gone through that before. After remembering the loss of his older brother. It had given him determination to stop this cartel leader and his men. He looked back at Alicia who was still unconscious. Gripping onto her hand. He started to speak. “Tia, go and get the two sergeants.”

Tiala perked up to look at her brother and nodded. “Sure.”

Aelan, who was still hugging Nicholas, looked at the Captain. KNOWING of what he was planning to do. “Noa, please. You will get hurt.”

The Captain had let go of Alicia’s hand before turning to face her. “We won't. We'll finish the Specters’ team job. Before those cartels could do any more damage here in the Pacific.”

Nicholas quickly leaned back as he looked at Kanoa with surprise. He shook his head. “S-Sir! Don’t! They are VERY dangerous! They might kill you and the team as well!”

Despite what this airman was trying to say. Kanoa just gave him a smile.

“We’ll be fine. Besides, there is ONE thing that those people should know about us.”

Nicholas raised an eyebrow in questioning as Kanoa walked out of the room with Tiala. Before turning his head back at him. “Is that they have fucked up the WRONG people to mess with. And they are in OUR ocean.”

Aelan smiled a bit as she touched Nicholas’ shoulder before looking at both Kanoa and Tiala. “You guys better come back in ONE piece.”

Kanoa winked with a grin as he always does. “No promises there, doc. And Nik, helped Aelan here to take care of your uce. Alright?” The Captain gave him a soft smile to see Nicholas respond with a nod. He looked at Tiala. “Tatou o.”

Soon the two left the room as they went to get their team together. And they promised that they’ll give those criminals HELL. For Alicia and her team.

THE END

Whoo! That took a while to finish! I hope you're ok with this one, Witch! And I LOVE it of how you bring me these kind of ask in my inbox! Makes me want to write of how close these two teams can be! Thank you so much, pele! Love ya!

Characters:

Kanoa Toa -> Me

Tiala "Shark" Toa -> Me

Agnes "Blast" Falagi -> Me

Nigel "Squirrel" Harrison -> Me

Aelan Kalani -> Me

Alana Kalani -> Me

Alicia "Origin" Marchant -> @deeptrashwitch

Luke "Harlem" Michaelis -> @deeptrashwitch

Jackson "Doc" Blackwell -> @deeptrashwitch

Nicholas "Clover" Fowlett -> @deeptrashwitch

Marcus "Poison" Lombardi -> @deeptrashwitch

Noah "Cobalto" García -> @deeptrashwitch

[flowerb00yz]

WARNING. VENT.

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I hate being the way I am. I hate being unable to move as much as I used to, I miss dancing. I miss being able to garden without limitations, I hate being like this. I hate being bedbound. I hate being in constant agonizing pain all the time, I wouldn’t want anybody I knew to ever deal with this kind of stuff. Because it hurts. It hurts too much.

I can just ride my night out through this, I still have yet to have access to the things I need. I want someone to hold me, yet touch burns. It stings. I want to feel clean again. Nothing was done, yet. I said it wouldn’t work. I just wanted out of the house, it’s not a game, it’s not funny, I wanna be normal. I wanna be fixed I don’t want to be broken for the rest of my life. I want someone to hold me. I don’t want to be alone. I just want someone to be here, I don’t care who it is, I’m just tired of being by myself, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I can’t do as many great things as I used to. I miss dancing. I miss being normal. Am I not fun anymore? Are they going to become tired of me? I’m scared. I’m tired of feeling aches so strong I feel it shaking my bones underneath my skin. I hate every second of it, it makes me feel nauseous but nothing will come up. It just hurts. Hurts, a lot. Too much, even. I wish I could be free of this.

…do I burden my friends by making them deal with me when I’m like this.?.. I can’t do anything. I can never get any of this right. I want to do something right. Why can’t I do anything right?? Will she even think it’s worth it trying to dance with me anymore.? Am I worth struggling for.? Am I just— a drowning mess.?

[109moons]

Lots of kitties today. Spent the whole day walking around the zoo and I didn’t get tired once — just slightly nauseous from my pulse being high. I’m almost home with my fur kids. I get to see my friends from the salon tomorrow and fix my hair so I don’t feel so not like myself physically. I ate really well. I helped a young man at Quest today, I could see he was a transplant patient and likely pre transplant and he looked upset. I wanted to talk to him, to see if I could help him, so I did. He started crying on the spot. He was afraid of bloodwork, he said he had a low pain tolerance, he hated needles, he was terrified of getting a transplant and didn’t have family in the area. I couldn’t lie to him, but I could reassure him. I told him the pain would not be so bad eventually, which is true. The needles are nothing. And the really bad pain, the post operative pain, is all worth it. That he had a wonderful life on the other side of surgery. That all of the pain that he’s already living with having liver disease will be gone. That as long as he remembers that he wants to be alive and see that other side, the pain will be manageable. It’s all true. I gave him my phone number and told him I would visit him in the hospital whenever he wanted, to just call me. My friend Joel who just had his transplant in April, who I was supposed to visit with today but that’s okay — I’ll see him when he’s feeling better, said that young man probably needed to meet me. I let him go in with me for my lab work so he could see that it isn’t that bad.

I hope I helped him today.

I went by Southern and saw some of my friends, it made me smile — to go to my old stomping ground on my 100th day of sobriety and not crave alcohol at all. Not even for a second. I’m still testing what I am comfortable with, and I surprise myself everyday. 100 days sober. 44 of them in the hospital. Driving back to my brother’s house, a police officer turned his lights on behind me and my heart didn’t stop. My anxiety is manageable now. I pulled over, knowing the worst thing that could happen to me is a speeding ticket. He kept driving. I smiled. I live authentically now. I’m not hiding anything. I like myself, I stand up for myself, I think I am someone pretty cool and loving and generous and loyal and funny. And I am happy with being me, someone who goes out of their way to help other people. I mean, UNOS is featuring me in the national news, for the love of god. Me? I never thought I could do something this remarkable, that I was capable of it — mostly because I had so many hateful things spewed at me. But now I see what other people see in me, good people. I am a miracle. I am a fighter. I have a bursting heart that has been dying to help others. I truly am a warrior in my honesty and vulnerability. I am proud of who I am.