#and i had a good ER experience to be clear!

[dungeonsanddragonsfifthedition]

i keep thinking i'm overreacting to what's happened to me lately but nah. i had a dangerous medical emergency and it took serious effort on my part to get treated properly for it. i'm allowed to feel insane. know your own body and know that it is not regular to feel like your body is shutting down on you.

medical self-advocacy needs to be taught in schools. so many disabled people myself included are forced to learn it on our own! is my argument i want to make. the only reason i am not seriously sick anymore is because i emailed all of my specialists with URGENT in the subject line instead of just accepting the emergency room telling me i had a migraine.

[sunspill]

I took my last pain pill 6 hrs ago and I've been feeling it get worse over the last 2 hrs so if it gets bad again i have to go back to the ER and the ER suuuucks it's just nurses who want you to go away and doctors convinced you're on meth :( and it costs to park there!! They charge VALET parking prices!! That's almost as bad as the meth shit. Valet!! At the emergency room !! Last time we had to pay thirty five dollars just for parking.

[fgumi]

i need more loser!heeseung after reading that oh my gosh . yes yes yes yes. #needhim #needthat

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ LO$ER = LO♡ER

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 { PAIRING; non-idol!heeseung x reader, GENRE; fluff, headcanon, WC; 2.7k, WARNING(S); mildly suggestive (what’s heeseung supposed to do when you’re so hot?), A/N; your wish is my command. i absolutely love loser!heeseung. it's a need. TAGS; @en-dream @heeheesang @httpenhoon @r1kification @seungheartyou, @starfallia @sugarikiz @hoondolls @bamguetismee @jnysaln @cixrosie @wensurr @heartheejake @m1kkso @hollyoongs @hoonieyun }

loser!heeseung was excited. so excited. why you may ask? because you agreed to go to anime con with him. you even suggested that the two of you cosplay. you asked to go as lucy and david from cyberpunk edgerunners, something that fit the aesthetic you two had built. so, heeseung checked himself out in the mirror, fumbling with the yellow jacket you sewed for him and fixing the pieces of his hair that fell out.

“baby, i think we’re gonna be late if we don’t head out n—”

you came out in your outfit as you adjusted the belt resting on your hip. heeseung didn’t have any words. you looked… gosh, how could he describe you without being weird? you were beautiful, even on the days you didn’t feel it. but… right now? heeseung felt ashamed to say that he understood all those nasty guys thirsting over cosplayers. holy crap, he hit the lotto. you were a vision.

“hee? do i look weird? i wasn’t sure about the wig either,” you pouted as you touched the long white strand.

“no!” heeseung shouted, then cleared his throat. “you look really good.”

you smiled and walked up to him, checking out the two of you in the mirror. “you also look very handsome. we make a good lucy and david, huh?”

your eyes glanced at heeseung through the mirror and noticed he was still looking at you with his mouth agape. you turned to him and waved your hand in front of his face. “hee?”

as he kept staring at you, you shifted. you couldn’t help but blush under his gaze. heeseung gulped. how was he going to keep all those creepy guys away from you? he can’t even fight! he’d have to cover you up! but then he wouldn’t get to look at you in this… this outfit.

you softly planted a kiss on his cheek and that brought him out of his daze. his ears were bright red when he stepped away from you.

“i— uh. um. we— you—” he stuttered, unable to form a coherent thought.

a giggle escaped you at his lack of words. you did a little spin for him. man, heeseung couldn’t help his eyes drifting down at the cutouts on your hips and how short your—no! stop objectifying her. bad heeseung. that is your lovely girlfriend, who you love very much and who, for some odd reasons, loves you too.

“hee,” you interrupted, your lashes lowering—wow, you looked ready to eat him. “i thought we were gonna be late?”

you crept up to him, your hand ghosting over his arm. you pressed into him. “i mean, we don’t have to go. i just thought you wanted—”

you didn’t end up going, by the way. your couple’s cosplay never saw the light of day. instead, they were scattered on your bedroom floor.

loser!heeseung didn’t know how to feel when you asked to play d&d with him. while he said yes (because he’d never say no to you), he was admittedly nervous. what if you thought he was a big nerd and wanted to leave him? what if you hated how he dm’d (dungeon master)? well, it was too late now. you guys were on your way to jeongin’s apartment.

contray to heeseung’s overthinking, you were excited. you finally got to experience one of heeseung’s favorite pastimes. you didn’t really understand the whole thing, but you were open to it! you did some late-night research and built your own little character. she was an eladrin sage druid at level 6. heeseung made sure to let you know that you’d be thrown right into the middle of this campaign and that all the other characters were at level 6.

when you guys arrived at the door, jeongin threw it open and you were taken aback. he was in full costume, armor and all. apparently, jeongin was also taken aback. he didn’t think you were actually coming.

“oh! uh, welcome to my apartment, y/n!” he stepped aside to let you and heeseung in. inside, you saw unfamiliar faces who were also in costume. jeongin pulled heeseung aside and whispered. “i didn’t think you were serious when you said that y/n was coming! and where’s your costume?”

heeseung gave him an apologetic look. “dude, i’m sorry. you know i can’t say no to her. and i didn’t want to overwhelm her before we even left the apartment.”

jeongin sighed. “you better still dm the same with the voices and everything. and no preferential treatment!”

heeseung nodded and went to sit by you. you leaned into him and whispered. “i feel incredibly underdressed. did you know they were going to dress up?”

he rubbed the back of his neck. “we usually do for every session.”

you pouted and looked him up and down. “i would’ve tried dressing up too if i knew! where’s your costume?”

oh, how heeseung loved you. you didn’t even bat an eye that they were all losers that liked to play dress up on a weekly basis. you were just put out that you weren’t told.

“i didn’t wanna pressure you when it’s your first time,” heeseung said, patting your knee. usually, heeseung would kiss your pout away, but he was in a room full of friends who were very blatantly staring at you.

a throat cleared, drawing heeseung’s attention towards jeongin. in a (poor) scottish accent, jeongin said. “dungeon master, the fellowship awaits ye!”

heeseung nodded and pulled out his notes for the campaign. when you tried to peek, he immediately leaned away, keeping the notebook shut. “the people in the campaign can’t see this,” he said.

understanding, you stopped trying to look. you just pulled out your phone with your character sheet on it. jeongin paused in his seat. “oh, y/n, did you need to build your character first? we can wait for you,” jeongin said in his normal voice.

you shook your head and waved your phone. “i built one in d&d beyond! i came prepared, sort of?”

now, jeongin didn’t have much opinion on you other than that you were heeseung’s really hot girlfriend. but, after seeing how you tried to prepare, he could say that he liked you.

once everyone settled down, heeseung resumed the campaign. it amazed you how he was able to switch between all those voices, acting out the npcs of the quest. the way you were staring at him intently made heeseung unusually nervous.

whenever his eyes shifted over to you, his dialogue faltered for a sec before he continued. he interacted with the others of the campaign before coming to a point in the story where you could hop in. you put on a proper english accent, trying to sound as much like arwen from lord of the rings (you watched it countless times with heeseung). if no one else was in the room right now, heeseung would’ve died from your cuteness. a part of him was geeking out right now. his girlfriend, the love of his life, was playing d&d with him. what did he do in his past life to deserve this?

then came the fights. as he narrated, his friends rolled on their turns, fighting against the monsters that heeseung created. when it came to your turn, you looked a bit out of your depth. you were scrolling through moves in the d&d index to see which ones you could do. everyone was thankfully patient with you.

“i use a 3rd level spell slot and call upon lightning to strike the monster closest to jeongin?” you commanded unsurely.

heeseung leaned over, careful to not expose any notes. “baby, you’re gonna hit jeongin with that spell and you gotta reference his character, not him. that spell has a damage radius of 5 feet. the monster is only 3 feet away from him.”

you deflated as you scrolled through your list of spells. you turned your phone to heeseung, showing him the spell you wanted to use instead. “can i use flame arrows instead?”

heeseung could just die from how cute you were. he shook his head and scrolled through your list and clicked on wind wall. “you can use this one and surround the monster. it’ll take bludgeoning damage once the wall forms, regardless of his strength saving throw.”

you nodded and got back into character. you acted as if you were really putting a wind wall up and commanded more confidently. “i erect a wind wall around the monster and separate him from thralladin.”

heeseung got back to dm’ing and rolled his dice, falling short for a saving throw. he took note of the damage and continued everyone else’s turn. the night was fun! heeseung couldn’t believe how quickly you picked it up or how into it you were. at the end of the night, when everyone was leaving, jeongin pulled him aside again. “dude, y/n’s actually cool.”

pride swelled in heeseung’s chest. you managed to get the okay from his friend, not that it really affected how he felt for you. you two said your goodbyes to jeongin and walked home. you were filled with excitement for the next session. “what kind of clothes should i get for illanaria? i’m thinking white robes with some sheer drapes to add a bit of flair. i really need to study up on my spells so i don’t keep wasting time scrolling through the index. should i also get a notebook?”

just when heeseung didn’t think he could fall for you any harder, you proved him wrong.

loser!heeseung has met your parents, but in passing. however, today was a dinner meant to force—he means give a chance (don’t tell y/n he said that)—him to talk to your parents in length.

“don’t be nervous! my mom’s loved you since high school!”

ya, it’s not your mom he’s worried about. your dad on the other hand? what was he even going to talk about with him? football? heeseung could barely understand the sport. home improvement? he always needed your help to build ikea furniture. there wasn’t much he could do to gain some points with your dad. he just prayed that he wouldn’t hate him too much.

after 4 years (you recently celebrated your anniversary!) of being together, heeseung was finally going to talk to your dad. no more small talk while he waits for you to come down. he was actually going to have to make conversation with your father. if his phone didn’t tell him how cold it was, he’d think it was summer with how he was sweating.

the door swung open to reveal your mom, who looked as jovial and vibrant as ever. “kids! come in, come in. it’s freezing out there. that stupid global warming is really messing with the temperature.”

heeseung greeted her warmly, awkwardly accepting her bear hug while balancing the mac n’ cheese in his right hand. she pulled away and gasped. “you brought your famous mac n’ cheese! y/n’s been raving about this ever since she had it. i can’t wait to try it!”

when she rushed off to set it on the dinner table, your dad appeared with a dish towel thrown over his shoulder. he peered up at heeseung, since heeseung was slightly taller, and stared at him for a moment.

“so… you brought mac n’ cheese,” your dad said plainly.

heeseung laughed nervously. “i hope that’s okay?”

when your dad didn’t say anything for a second, you slapped his chest. “dad, stop intimidating him!”

your dad cracked a smile before ruffling your hair. “alright, sweetheart.” he clapped heeseung on the back and grinned. “i love mac n’ cheese! dinner’s almost ready, so make yourself feel at home!”

wow, he was a lot less intimidating than heeseung remembered. he thought back to all those moments in high school and wondered if your dad was just pretending to be stoic. your dad guided him to the dinner table before entering the kitchen again. as he moved around, your mom leaned forward. “so, heeseung, when are you going to ask my daughter to marry you?”

you choked on your water, water spraying out of the side of your mouth. heeseung quickly offered you a napkin and patted you on the back. you wiped your mouth and glared at your mom. “mom, that is not one of the preapproved questions. actually, i explicitly said you and dad can’t bring up anything about marriage.”

your mom tsked and pouted. “honey, you’ve been dating for so long. it’s a natural question.”

before you could protest, your dad brought over the rack of lamb, fresh from the oven. he placed it in the center and took off his gloves, kissing the top of your head afterwards. “your mother is just excited to have a son-in-law that can cook. you talk about him all the time. sue her for being curious.”

you talked about him with your parents? you glared up at your dad. “we haven’t even talked about that yet. i wonder why? oh ya, because we’re still in college!”

your dad raised his arms in surrender. “hey, i asked your mom to marry me when we were 16.”

“to which i said no,” your mom playfully jabbed. “we were far too young.”

“we’re also too young,” you grumbled, leaning into heeseung’s side. he wrapped his arms around your shoulder. he hoped your parents didn’t look at him too closely. his blush was probably covering his whole face. he didn’t realize your parents were also high school sweethearts.

“you also rejected dad until you were in college, anyway,” you added, clasping your hand with heeseung’s. ah, so not high school sweethearts.

when your dad settled beside your mom, she patted him on the chest. “he wasn’t always the hunk you see now.”

“okay, that was gross. can we eat now?” you groaned. your dad started making a plate and handed it to your mom. heeseung should also probably do this for you. he pulled away from you and started making your plate, avoiding the deviled eggs and piling on the mac n’ cheese. when he placed it down in front of you, your dad raised his eyebrow. “you still avoiding deviled eggs?”

you brought your plate closer to you, waiting to eat until heeseung had his plate. you stuck your tongue out at your dad. “i don’t when hee makes them.”

your dad looked at heeseung with a surprised look. “you made her eat deviled eggs?”

“i just added miso and switched the regular mayo out for the japanese one,” heeseung sheepishly laughed. “she seemed to enjoy them.”

a boisterous laugh escaped your dad as he leaned his head back. when he caught his breath, he gave heeseung an approving nod. “good on you, man.”

the rest of the dinner went smoothly, and heeseung felt himself relaxing. your dad wasn’t nearly as intimidating as he thought. they easily bonded over cooking and how the women in their life shouldn’t have to lift their pretty little fingers if they didn’t want to. heeseung felt relieved. your dad seemed to like him, especially after you telling him how much heeseung takes care of you.

by the end of it, your dad was inviting him back over—without you. “you should come over and we can workshop a course menu for the girls.”

heeseung grinned, promising to come back soon. you said your goodbyes and drove home. on the drive, you kissed your intertwined hands. “thanks for doing that.”

heeseung shook his head. “it’s no problem. i’m glad i got to talk to your parents.”

“nothing to worry about, right? they really like you,” you teased. “they even want you to marry me so they can trap you forever.”

heeseung hummed. he’d gladly be “trapped” by your parents if it meant calling you his wife. should he go ring shopping? he didn’t have money for that right now. maybe once he gets his return offer. he could at least scroll on through websites.

“good thing i already do wanna marry you.”

disclaimer: this, in no way, reflects the idol. this is purely fiction. ✧ comments and reblogs are appreciated! ✧ give my other works a read too! you can now leave requests!

[favefandomimagines]

Everything Has Changed (r.c)

Summary: what started out as an arranged marriage, blossoms into something more after a tourist runs a stop sign.

AN: arranged marriage!au because I’m a sucker for angst, fluff and a male character who realizes what he has.

Warning: brief mentions of sexual activity

The sun hung high over the Outer Banks, its rays sparkling off the ocean waves. Rafe Cameron stood on the golf course, his mind far from the game. All he was thinking about was his “wife” who was at home.

Rafe had spent his childhood being the odd one out in his family, and now he was trapped in a whole new world.

When Ward told him that he was going to be marrying Y/N Y/L/N, the first thing he said was “who?” It was Sarah who told him that she had been friends with her for years.

Their families had grown close over the years, their paths intertwined since childhood. Rafe and Y/N had shared some moments as kids—playing on the beach, the occasional birthday party—but they were never close friends. As they grew older, the divide between them widened, especially as Rafe embraced his party boy side.

“Dude, focus!” Topper shouted, snapping Rafe back to the present. He shook off the irritation and concentrated on his swing, trying to push the thoughts of Y/N from his mind.

“Sorry, man,” Rafe muttered, forcing a smile. “Just got a lot on my mind.”

“Can’t believe you’re actually married,” Kelce chimed in, laughing. “You? Tied down? It’s like watching a lion in a cage.”

“Yeah, well, not much choice in the matter, is there?” Rafe snapped, the bitterness in his tone clear. “My parents thought it was what’s best for the family name.”

“You know the good thing about these business marriages?” Topper asked, a teasing lilt in his voice. “You can still hookup with other people.”

Rafe shook his head. “Not going to happen. I’m not unfaithful, so I expect her to act the same way.”

Little did he know, his thoughts about Y/N would soon change.

||

A week later, everything shifted. Rafe was on the golf course again, enjoying the day with Topper and Kelce, when his phone buzzed aggressively in his pocket. He glanced at the screen, frowning at the unfamiliar number. Ignoring it at first, he went back to his game.

The phone buzzed again, and with an annoyed sigh, he pulled it out. “What?” he answered, a hint of irritation in his voice.

“Mr. Cameron?” a calm voice spoke on the other end. “This is Dr. Miller at Kildare County Medical. I’m calling about your wife, Y/N Cameron. She’s been in an accident.”

Rafe felt his heart drop. “What do you mean? Is she okay?” He asked.

There was a pause on the line, and he could hear the muffled sounds of the hospital in the background. “She sustained some injuries, but she’s stable. You’ll need to come to the hospital to pick her up.”

Rafe’s irritation morphed into a visceral fear, a feeling he had never expected to experience for someone he hardly knew. He cursed under his breath, muttering something about the day being ruined. “I’ll be there.”

Dropping everything, he hurriedly made his way to the hospital, thoughts racing in his mind. How could this happen? Why did he care so much? As he drove, the weight of their marriage settled heavily on his shoulders.

||

When Rafe arrived at the hospital, he rushed through the doors and made his way to the ER. The sterile smell of antiseptic filled his nostrils, and the sound of beeping machines surrounded him. He found Y/N sitting on an examination table, her head bandaged and a doctor stitching her up.

“Rafe?” she looked up, surprise etched on her face, but it quickly turned to annoyance.

“What happened?” he demanded, his voice sharper than he intended.

“Some stupid tourist was texting and driving,” she replied, her voice strained as the doctor worked on her. “Ran a stop sign.”

“What are you doing here?” Y/N asked. “The hospital called, Y/N, I’m your husband.” Rafe answered, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

He watched her as she winced slightly at the thread being pulled.

Rafe’s eyes narrowed as he watched the doctor press the needle into her skin. “Take it easy,” he said, an unexpected protectiveness flaring within him. “You know what? Where’s the plastic surgeon?”

Y/N winced again at the pain. “Relax, Rafe. I’m fine. It’s just a stupid cut.”

“But—”

“Go back to golf, Rafe. You don’t need to be here.”

The coldness in her tone cut through him. “You’re hurt, and you want me to just leave?”

“You’d prefer that, wouldn’t you?” she shot back, a mixture of pain and frustration in her eyes. “I don’t need your pity.”

Rafe clenched his fists, angry at himself for how much her words affected him. “Did you call the police? Get the license plate number? I should sue the bastard.”

“Stop it! I’m fine! Just go back to your golf game.” she hissed, dismissing him.

He hesitated, a million thoughts racing through his mind. She wasn’t fine—not really. He could see that she was shaken up after the accident. The idea of her getting hurt scared him more than he wanted to admit. “I’ll drive you home.”

“Sarah is coming to get me,” she replied coldly, crossing her arms.

“Don’t act like you care just because we’re in public,” she added, her voice low but fierce.

Rafe stood there, the realization hitting him like a wave: he didn’t want to lose her. He didn’t just feel annoyed by their situation; he felt something deeper.

That night, Y/N returned home to find two dozen roses on the kitchen counter. She glanced at them with an unreadable expression just as Rafe walked in.

“Do you like them?” he asked, hopeful that it might be a first step.

She scoffed bitterly. “I’m allergic to roses.”

He felt his face flush. “I didn’t know…”

“You would if you’d bothered to ask,” she replied, voice laced with frustration. “You’d know a lot more if you weren’t such an ass the first year of our marriage.”

Her words cut deep, and for the first time, Rafe recognized just how much he had hurt her. She had never wanted this marriage any more than he had, yet she had done nothing but accept it with grace. He made up his mind that things were going to change.

He watched her as she tossed the flowers in the trash before walking right passed him and up the stairs.

||

Over the next few weeks, Rafe found ways to break through Y/N’s walls. Each gesture was an apology, a bid for a second chance. He learned her routines, finding out she was fond of morning coffee from a local café. Every day, he made sure her favorite caramel macchiato was waiting for her when she woke up.

He surprised her with tickets to an art exhibit she had once mentioned in passing, standing beside her as they admired the paintings. Though she was wary at first, she couldn’t help but smile at his efforts. Slowly, he began to chip away at her guardedness, showing her that he was willing to put in the work to make amends.

One night, she told him, “If you want to make things right, Rafe, it’s not about grand gestures. Get to know me. My favorite color, my favorite music, the things I love. That’s the only way I’ll believe that you care.”

And so, he did just that. He took the time to ask her about her favorite movies (she loved classics), her favorite books (she had a soft spot for poetry), and her favorite flowers (hydrangeas, not roses). Each new fact he learned about her deepened his understanding of her, transforming his initial frustration into genuine admiration.

He spent hours creating a playlist of her favorite songs, a blend of jazz, classic rock, and indie folk. When he played it for her one evening, she looked at him with an expression he hadn’t seen before—trust. She leaned against him as the music filled the room, allowing herself, just for a moment, to be vulnerable.

Eventually, Rafe’s sincerity broke through her walls. She found herself looking forward to spending time with him, enjoying his newfound attentiveness. They began to laugh together, sharing inside jokes and secrets they had once kept to themselves.

What was once just an obligation to get their parents to shut up about grandkids, sex was now enjoyable for the both of them. Before, Rafe didn’t care if Y/N enjoyed it or not but now, all he cared about was her. What she liked, what she didn’t like, the things that turned her on. He found that Y/N’s pleasure was a gateway to his own.

Y/N found herself wrapped up in the sheets of her’s and Rafe’s king sized bed, Y/N was lying on her side, drawing circles on Rafe’s back with her finger. “You know, that’s very distracting.” Rafe mumbled, his eyes still closed.

Y/N smiled at him as he opened his eyes and looked at her. “I’m sorry.” She said. “You have nothing to be sorry for.” He replied. Rafe continued to look at Y/N, taking in her natural beauty. No makeup, hair not done, it was just her.

“I love you.” He whispered. Y/N’s movements halted as she looked at Rafe. “R-Really?” She stammered. “I know I was an ass. I thought this marriage was your fault and it wasn’t. But over these past few months, getting to know each other, I think this marriage was the best thing that ever happened to me.” He continued.

“I love you too, Rafe.” Y/N spoke softly. Rafe moved to wrap his arms around Y/N’s body, pulling her into him before kissing her deeply.

||

It was now Autumn in the Outer Banks, the ari getting slightly cooler outside but never dropping below 55 degrees.

Y/N had been up for a few hours, spending most of her time in the master bathroom. She had been feeling a little under the weather the past few weeks and she thought it was just food poisoning at first. But when it didn’t stop, and her period was late, she decided to take a pregnancy test.

Y/N looked down at the three positive tests that were sitting on the bathroom counter. Her and Rafe were having a baby. The first thing she felt was fear, mainly because she had been so accustomed to walking on eggshells around Rafe.

But she had to remind herself that the Rafe she married, wasn’t who he was anymore. Then she felt relieved and happy.

Y/N snuck out of the bedroom and crept downstairs to make some coffee for when Rafe woke up. A few minutes later, she heard his footsteps come down the stairs.

Rafe saw her leaning against the kitchen counter in his t-shirt, holding out a coffee mug for him to take. He could see a look of almost mischief on her face as he took the mug.

“What’s up?” he asked, a gentle smile on his face. “There’s something I want to tell you,” She started. Rafe furrowed his eyebrows at her statement.

She took his free hand and placed it over her stomach. “We’re having a baby, Rafe.”

Rafe’s eyes widened as he stared at her in shock, then joy. A rush of emotion surged through him, and he pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly.

As they embraced, he whispered, “Thank you for giving us a chance. For giving me a chance.”

In that moment, he knew he had found something he’d never known he needed—her love. And he would do everything in his power to protect it, to protect them

[jksprincess10]

His hand so calloused from his pistol softly traces hearts on my face || Joel Miller x reader

Summary: Tommy hires a new ranch hand behind Joel's back and he's not happy about it.

CW: jackson era, rancher!joel and helper!reader, mean!joel, perv!joel, unhinged and bold!reader, lots of banter, mentions of parent death, alcohol, masturbation, smut, dry humping, unprotected p in v, fingering, daddy kink, degradation kink, lots of pet names (baby, etc.), big cock joel miller, lots of dirty talk, some fluff and feelings, no y/n, multiple POVs. (2.8k words)

A/N: Special thanks to @fhatbhabiee for proofreading, @notjustjavierpena for the beautiful banner, @saradika-graphics for the dividers.

“The hell is this?!” Joel’s fists are closed against his hips, his head cocked to the side as he looks at what Tommy has brought into his home, another lost sheep.

“This is your new helper.” His younger brother gestures towards you and you look at the older man, an eyebrow raised in defiance. It wasn’t the warm welcome you had expected. “Maria’s about to pop out any day now, so I hired someone to take my place in the ranch.”

“You think a lil’ girl can help me?” Joel looks down at you, his steel gaze analyzing your reaction. But Tommy cuts you off before you can say anything.

“Don’t be a sexist ol’ prick. She has experience and took care of animals in her previous community.”

“And I’m not a little girl.” You add, detaching every syllable. “Shall we try that again? You must be Joel.” You tell him your name, and he takes your extended hand in his calloused palm, squeezing it stronger than necessary.

“Nice to meet you.” He grumbles.

“So, where’s my room?”

“Your… room?” Joel asks, his murderous gaze pinning Tommy down.

“Listen, she just got here. It’s temporary. Give ‘er a room, feed her and she’ll work for you for free.”

“I sure fuckin’ hope so.” Joel mutters.

How dare he bring this pretty young woman into his home without asking him before? The worst part is, you’re hard working. Every day, you get up at the crack of dawn to feed the cows and the sheep. You’re stronger than you look. And sometimes, you cook for him too, and he hates admitting that you’re good. You’re too fucking young, too fucking good looking and he shouldn’t be looking at you like that. He shouldn’t be fucking his fist every night since you arrived with your name dying on his chapped lips.

Joel joins you in the barn to see if you’re working well. You are, of course, milking one of the cows; your knees in the mud, pulling on the cow’s udders.

“When you’re done, put the milk into glass bottles and bring ‘em inside… We can trade ‘em.” Joel orders, then clears his throat. “D’ya… need anythin’?”

When Joel doesn’t bark out orders, he’s silent. It’s the first time in a week he’s shown any care for your well-being.

“Hm… clothes for the cold months coming would be nice.” You finish milking the cow and get up. You look at your ruined pants and sigh. “Yeah… clothes would be nice.”

“Sure thing, kiddo.”

You cringe at the nickname. “Thanks, Joel. But stop calling me that.” You can’t look at him, and you simply pet the giant, but soft beast who moos in response. You chuckle and turn to Joel. You pretend for his sake that you don’t hear him on the other side of the wall every night, wet noises mixed with heavy pants. You pretend you don’t do the same. “I’m closer to 30 than to 20.” You watch as he swallows heavily.

Still, 26 years is a big age gap, and Joel curses in his head as he hears you confirm your age.

“Right, but I’m 56. You’re jus’ a kid to me. I could be your dad.”

“I’m a woman. Treat me like one.” You respond firmly. He sees how worked up that gets you, how your body is facing him with your fists tight like you’re keeping yourself from hitting him.

Joel sighs and stays silent for too long, leaving with a last glance at you and another order. “Be ready in 10. We’re goin’ downtown to get you clothes. Be late, and I’ll go without ya.”

You’re fuming, and you want to curse the man’s ancestors, but you stay silent, obedient. You pack the milk harvest of the day: 3 good bottles, that would only need to be filtered before consumption. You go into your room to put on your only clean pair of jeans, and join Joel at the front, where he’s stoically waiting, big, stupid strong arms crossed against his chest, the sleeves of his flannel pulling against his muscles. You stomp to him with a box of milk in hands, and he chuckles, the asshole chuckles –

“Listen, asshole – ” You push the box into his arms, and he takes it effortlessly, an amused grin on his face. “I don’t know if you’re just sexually constipated or what, if so, please for the love of God, get fucking laid, but you don’t have to be mean to me all the time. Just because I’m young or because you don’t want me here or…. You know what? I had a dad, he’s fucking dead. You’re not my father, move on. Treat me like a fucking person.”

One of his eyebrows lift, and he looks at you for a few seconds, before asking: “You done?”

“No. Tell me you’ll stop being an ass or I’ll go find someone more annoying than me to replace me.”

“Fine. I’ll treat you like a woman and a person.”

“Thank you for the bare fucking minimum. Let’s go, cowboy.” You say between your teeth.

Your walk from the ranch to downtown Jackson calms you down. Everyone else is too nice for you to stay mad.

“S’here.” He points at the storefront with a sign that reads clothing and repair services. You go in with him, a soft bell announcing new guests. There are a few racks with seasonal clothing, a few different sections clearly identified: for children, women and men. Joel brings the milk up to the counter and the owner gives him five coupons in exchange.

“You can get five things.” Joel tells you as he hands you the coupons.

“But…. Don’t you need anything?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“Okay…”

You look around while Joel waits at the counter. You find two sweaters your size, two pairs of pants and some underwear (that were on “sale” for 3 for 1 coupon). You give your coupons to the owner, she counts your items and tells you that you’re good to go.

Weeks pass, where Joel really tries to be nicer to you after your little meltdown. He doesn’t call you kiddo anymore – thank God – but you sometimes feel his gaze linger. You both try to stay away from each other – why would you fuck your new boss - because truth is, you find him very attractive despite his ill manners. But seeing Joel every day in the most domestic of settings lights something inside of you – a profound want and… affection.

In some rare occurrences, you have fun together. There are a few people in your backyard – Tommy, some townies you met through Joel, Ellie, Joel’s adoptive daughter who had moved away with her girlfriend. You’re settled around a bonfire to shield your bodies from the cold. Joel has a guitar on his lap, and his face has a pleasant glow from the beers you shared. You’re sitting between him and Tommy.

“Hope the old man’s treating you well.” Tommy jokes, a dig at his older brother.

“Surprisingly well. Well, after he stop treating me like a fucking kid.” You snort.

“Yeah, he tends to do that.” Ellie concedes.

“Stop talkin’ about me like I ain’t here.” Joel grumbles.

“You just had to be nicer.” You grimace.

“Had to see if you were a good worker ‘fore.”

“Am I?”

Your shoulders brush, and you smile innocently at him.

“Guess so.”

That’s the closest thing from a compliment you’d get.  You call it a night shortly after, but everyone seems determined to spend the night outside.

You wake up in the middle of the night to a door closing, so you decide to get up for a glass of water. You pad silently on the cold wooden floor, only wearing your panties and an oversized long-sleeved shirt. You almost jump out of your skin when you see Joel sat on his favorite chair in the living room, knees spread like he owned the world. He had a half empty beer in hand.

“Didn’t mean to wake you up, sweetheart.” His voice is rough. He looks up at you, eyes tracing your curves through your shirt, focusing on your bare legs, on your nipples peaking through your shirt. You self-consciously wrapped your arms around your torso.

“S’okay…” You go into the kitchen to get a glass of water. You could still feel Joel’s gaze on you, since the house was open-floored.  “Hm, Joel?”  You suddenly felt bold, maybe it was the remaining alcohol in your system.

“Yeah?”

“Why do you masturbate every night when I’m right here?” You sip on your water as you walk back calmly to where Joel sat. “Why don’t you fuck me, huh?”

Joel’s face burns with shame, and you smile when you realize you were right.

“You’re way too young and pretty for me, darlin’.” He leaves his bottle on the table next to him, and he pinches the bridge with a long sigh. “And you’re workin’ for me.”

“Let me be clear, Joel.” Your glass joins his bottle, and you lean towards him, your legs between his, your arms around his neck. “I like you. I want you. Please. Let me have you.”

Joel’s breath comes out shaky, and his rough hands grab onto your shirt. “Tried so hard to make you hate me, so this wouldn’t happen.”

“You succeeded for a while.” You smile sweetly, your fingers treading in the curls on the back of his neck.  “You’re very hot, Mr. Miller. I won’t beg again.” Your breath fans his dry lips.

“Okay. Okay.” Joel pulls you down even more, and you’re almost falling on his lap as his lips crash on yours. It’s hungry and angry, desperate. He’s angry at himself, you know it, but you don’t want his shame. The older man tastes like beer and smells like fire. Your teeth pull on his bottom lip.

“I do the same thing, Joel. I fuck my fingers every night while I imagine yours.” You whisper against his lips after a chaste kiss to his swollen bottom lip.

Joel groans and drags you down. You sit comfortably on his lap, feeling the rough tent in his jeans.

“Le’me see you.” He sounds more confident now as he pulls on your hem and lift your shirt over your head. You like his heavy gaze on your breasts, his calloused fingers pulling on your nipples to make them harder. You sigh happily and thrust your hips against his hard cock. He feels so big, but you’re confident you could take all of him.

“Y’wanna rut against my cock like a bitch in heat, huh? Go ahead, sweet girl. Make yourself wet for daddy.”

You didn’t think Joel had such a dirty mouth on him, but you obey. You rub your wet panties against the large bump in his jeans. The rough texture of the used fabric pleases you, but you need more. You clumsily remove your panties and abandon them on the floor. Joel, in a trance, admires your pussy. His fingers barely touch you, and you’re already panting.

“S’all fo’ me, huh? D’you need help?”

You nod enthusiastically.

“Words, baby.” He pressed, his free hand holding your chin up.

“Touch me, daddy. Please.”

“Suddenly so polite and sweet.”  Two of Joel’s fingers circle your clit as you keep desperately moving your heat against his jeans, your mouth falling open in a silent moan. Pleasure builds rapidly in your core, and you’re thrusting your hips even harder, until you come in a moan.

“That’s it, that’s it.” He soothes. “C’me here.” He holds you in his arms strengthened by years of manual labor and lifts you up as he gets up. You wrap your legs around him. “M’not done with you, but I want you to be comfortable.”

He brings you to his bedroom, which you had never seen fully. Only glimpses here and there. Somehow, it felt more intimate. He drops your body on his large bed.

“How are you still wearing clothes?” You complain, and he chuckles.

“So eager, aren’t ya?” Joel starts undressing, still on his feet by the bed. He only leaves his boxers on, and you try to see him in the dark. You decide to rely on your touch instead, when he takes the spot between your legs. Your fingers trace his strong back, finding scars here and there. You kiss him, softly this time.

“Need to get you ready fo’ me,”

“Yes, please.”

His calloused hands spread your legs more, before he inserts one of his thick fingers in. You tighten around him, it already feels like he’s stretching you out.

“Relax baby.”

You breathe, in and out, slowly relaxing your walls at the same time.

“That’s it, le’me in.” He thrusts it in and out a few times, before adding another finger. He uses his thumb to caress your clit, soothing the pain through another wave of pleasure.

“F-Fuck, Joel. That’s so much.”

“I know baby, you’re doin’ so well. Jus’ let go.”

He fucks you hard and fast with his fingers, pressing on your swollen clit with his thumb. You’re moaning and thrashing through your second orgasm of the night, and Joel’s looking at you intently, his free hand caressing the lump in his boxers.

“Need to fuck ya now. Can you take it?” His fingers leave you empty, and he soothes you with a kiss on your forehead.

“Yes. Give it to me, please.”

He pulls down his boxers and throws them away. You watch in awe as his girth jumps out. He holds the base and swirls the fat head against your wetness, making you jump a little, still sensitive.

“So wet fo’ me.”

He aligns the head of his cock with your hole and pushes in slowly. You let out a breath after the big tip has breached your entrance.

“That’s only the tip. More?”

You nod your head a few times. “I want everything.”  You’re so scared this will be the only time you can have him like this, bare and desperate.

He thrusts in, feeding you his cock as slow as he can bear. You hold on to him.

“You’re so big, Joel.” You whine.

“I know baby I know.” Joel kisses you lazily and sensually, stopping his movements when his hips are flush with yours. He waits until you move on your own, and he thrusts in and out with your help, still slow and careful. Your eyes roll in the back of your head, you had never felt better in your life.

“Faster.”

He listens, snapping his hips faster and harsher, but he can’t seem to be able to fuck you as hard as he wants in this angle. He suddenly leaves you empty and grabs your hips to turn you around, your ass in the air.

He thrusts in before you’re even ready, and the angle is perfect.  He fucks you hard and fast, the sound of his hips snapping against your ass and your pants fill his bedroom. The line between pleasure and pain is so thin, but you love the way he lets himself go. His big balls hit your clit a few times, and you’re crying of pleasure. You hold on to his silky sheets and to the solid, wooden headboard as he pounds into you.

“Gimme ‘nother one, c’mon.” He urges you through gritted teeth. “Come on my cock.”

He slows down to catch his breath, fucking you deep and hard, and one of his hand sneaks to the front of your body, teasing your tits with expert hands. Your pleasure builds in your tummy, before the pressure releases, and you come hard around his cock.

“Atta girl.” He praises, breath heavy. You feel him move away, and you turn around just in time to see him pumping his cock a few times, until he comes in any piece of fabric he can find – which ends up being his boxers.

You lay down on his bed, all members spread as you catch your breath with a dumb smile on your lips. You couldn’t believe you were just fucked by Joel Miller.

“I never came so much in my life, God.” You whisper in amazement, a hand against your sweaty forehead.

Joel chuckles and you hear his steps moving away from the room, but he isn’t gone for too long. He comes back with a warm, wet cloth, which he uses to soothe your swollen pussy, and clean himself up. He climbs into bed with you, and you hope he doesn’t ask you to go back to your room. Ever.

You’re both laying on your side, facing each other. Joel lifts the blanket over you and lays his palm against your warm cheek.

“M’glad Tommy hired you behind my back.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Stay. I like you.”  He adds after clearing his throat. You smile and bring his palm to your lips to kiss it.

“I like you too. I won’t leave, if you want me to stay.” You assure him.

“Good.” He says as he closes his eyes.  “Sleep, you’re workin’ early tomorrow.”

“You’re the worst.” You mumble as he chuckles weakly.

[velmalav]

The Giver - Frank Langdon

masterlist

day one - f.l.

synopsis: being the selfless person you are, you agree to travel to a 3-day conference with your biggest competition - dr. langdon. part I of I don't know how many yet :-)

warnings: cursing, oops there's only one bed, enemies to lovers

I have always been selfless. Whether it’s giving up the last slice of pizza in the breakroom or taking the most emotionally devastating cases, I have and always will be a giver. It almost feels wrong for me to put myself before anyone else, having done so my entire life. And in some ways, that’s what makes me a good doctor. I can power through a rough shift if it means someone having a shitty day can go home early, and I can string my patience along a lot further than most if it means good patient care. And that kind of altruism is why I have now found yourself joining my least favorite coworker to a three-day conference for emergency medicine.

This situation wouldn’t have been possible if Langdon hadn’t pissed off the family of a patient to the point where they threatened to sue the hospital for malpractice. The only way admin could get them to revoke the lawsuit was a decent payout and a requirement that he attends so many conferences to “improve his behavior with patients.” Not only was he livid at this contingency, but so was I, because I was the only one who agreed to use up the extra ticket. And, yeah, I could’ve said no, but I didn’t. Because I’m too nice. Watching everyone avoid the invitation made me feel awful so after my shift, I cornered Robby in the locker room and told him some bullshit about how it was a good “learning opportunity,” and just like that, it was done.

Okay, it wasn’t complete bullshit. It is a great opportunity. It’s just been hard to get past the fact I’d have to experience it all with him.

Langdon and I have butt heads since we both started our residences together four years ago. From the jump, it has been clear we are completely opposite personality wise. Langdon has always been the type to chase after success, enjoying the power and flowers that come with it. He’s an every-man-for-himself kind of guy, wanting to leap bounds ahead of everyone else. He’s competitive.

And usually I’m not competitive like that, but he’s always brought out that side of me. I remember one of our first shifts together as interns, eager to dip our feet in the water. It was the first time I really, really wanted to win something simply to take him down. We were on rounds, at the bedside of a 45-year-old named Mary that took a bad fall and ended up finding out she had stage 2 breast cancer (we didn’t know that until later). Robby was throwing out questions about the patient, her vitals, levels, tests to run on her to rule out further injury.

Every time I went to speak, Langdon would interrupt, answering the questions like he was the only other person in the room. One of the interns was like that, so at first it didn’t bother me much. But then I realized every time he answered a question, he’d glance over at me with an expression that reads – at least to me – fuck you. A tilt of his eyebrows, mouth slightly tugging upward, gleaming eyes. Just getting Robby’s validation wasn’t enough; he liked to see me falter.

It felt like time slowed in the realization, like I stood staring at him blankly for hours. But it only took the beginning of Robby’s next question for me to bounce back. I can’t recall what it was now, but I know that as soon as Robby stopped talking, I yelled the answer out at a volume unheard of in an ER unless there was a code or a safety risk. And for good measure – to guarantee I was heard – stomped on Langdon’s foot as hard as I could underneath the bed.

The uncomfortable quiet that followed was unbearable. The only sound was the beeping of the monitors, and the sharp inhale Langdon let out as my foot left his. I cleared my throat and stood up straighter, as if that or anything I could possibly do would soften the blow. With an exasperated expression, Robby crinkled his lips together and gave a curt nod, muttering, “Correct, Dr. [Y/L/N].”

I stayed silent during the rest of rounds, too embarrassed and frustrated to so much as sneak a glance at Langdon. Even so, I was so sure he had a shit-eating grin on his face. When we were funneled back to the floor, all I could do was stand at the nurse’s station, still horrified.

Robby passed me, taking only a couple of beats to murmur, “Run some more tests on Mary, and for future reference, you don’t need to yell to get your point across. The kick would’ve sufficed.”

And that was it. Robby’s words instilled confidence in me that I didn’t even know I had, and from that point on, I held my own when it came to competition with Langdon. I didn’t back down and neither did he. And maybe it was ridiculous – and maybe it wasn’t good in a teamwork aspect – but if I must give Langdon credit for anything, it’s that our rivalry has made me better at my job.

There’s a ghost of a smile on my face as I stare out the window in the hotel lobby. Somehow the memory always boosts my spirits, even just a little. I watch the cars, bumper to bumper, continue to filter through the city streets and hear the sounds of honking and distant music playing. Over three hundred miles from Pittsburgh, and somehow Philly still feels like home.

The little fire in my mood is extinguished just as fast as it was lit. Because suddenly I hear anguished muttering at the front desk, and I know it’s Langdon arguing with the front desk lady. I turn to confirm my suspicions and approach cautiously. We haven’t exchanged more than a few sentences since getting off the plane for this exact reason.

“What’s going on?” I ask, pointing the question more at the worker than Langdon. Her face – Linda, from her name tag - is bright red, sheepish.

“Uh, well…” she fumbles for words, eyes flickering quickly from me to her computer. She’s pressing the same key over and over, but her expression only continues to become more frantic. “I apologize for the inconvenience. It, uh—it seems—”

Before she can finally get the words out, Langdon interjects, “They messed up our rooms. Actually, just yours. They double booked.”

I’m quick to try and ease the bite of his words to Linda, “Can’t I just reserve another room? I’ll pay, it’s fine if I have to.”

She opens her mouth to respond, but Langdon – again – interrupts, “Can’t. Everything’s booked.”

“I’m speaking to Linda,” I snap, officially over his attitude. Langdon huffs a sarcastic laugh and turns away, running a hand through his hair. I turn back to Linda with the most genuine fake smile I can muster, “Is there anything you can do to help us?”

Linda’s expression gives away the answer to that, eyes darting to the desk below her. I can even see her audibly swallow.

I respond before she can confirm what all three of us already know, “Okay. It’s fine. We’ll just share a room, it’s fine.”

Langdon whips around, arms up over his head, “Are you serious right now?”

“What other options do we have? Waste half the day searching for another hotel that we’ll have to pay for? That probably doesn’t exist because about fifty thousand other events are happening in Philly this weekend?” I grip the front desk to try to ground myself. “We’ve been traveling all day; I’ll just sleep on the couch.”

Langdon’s stare is hard. He hesitates, realizes from the look in my eyes that I’m not backing down, and for the first time practically ever, gives in with a short nod. He grabs his bag and starts toward the elevator without so much as a glance back at Linda.

I apologize with all the sincerity I have left after the argument and half a day of traveling, take the key card, and follow Langdon up to the room.

.

Like most people do, the first thing I do when we enter the room is flop on the bed with a heavy sigh. I melt into the covers, shoving my face into the pillow to drown out the terrible thoughts I’m thinking about the man across the room. And just as I suspected, it’s not helping.

“You might’ve won down there,” Langdon starts, and it’s like I can hear the sarcasm dripping in his voice. Enough that I know what he’s going to say next is my demise. “But I think you might’ve miscalculated a big part of your precious plan.”

I lift my head from the pillow and contort my neck to I can look over at him. “What now?”

Langdon’s smirking as he leans against the TV stand, ankles and arms crossed. He gestures at the room with one hand, arms still crossed. “See a couch anywhere, Y/L/N?”

Immediately, I sit up, my hair tussled from the static of the thin comforter underneath me. I take one glance around the room to know there isn’t a single fucking other surface to sleep on other than maybe the small dining table in the corner. Those cheap motherfuckers couldn’t even pay for us to have a sofa in our room?

This is the part I’ve never been good at. The defeat. And, God, it’s so much worse when I can see his reaction to my reaction. In all honesty, I couldn’t care less to share a bed with him, but it’s the principle of the game that gets me. At the sight of the victorious glint in his eyes, all I can think about is what it would feel like to punch him in the throat.

“As much as I love watching you seethe, I need to unpack,” Langdon quips, smirk only growing as he starts pulling toiletries out of his bag. I’m trying to come up with something to ricochet back at him as he rounds the corner of the bathroom and adds, “But by all means, stay there for as long as you want. Don’t mind me.”

The only thing I can do is turn my head and scream into my pillow. And I hope – even through the muffle of it - he deciphers every word.

night one

[slimesludge-space]

All because of some stupid pants?- Part 4

《Nothin but misunderstandings》

Note: Simon's first near death experience ×~× and wounded pride °~°

°~~°~~~~~~~°~~°~~~~~°~~°~~~~°~~°

Looking around the shop and he could already tell that he was NOT saying anything about your pants being the shittiest thing he's even laid his eyes on. And there was no way he was telling soap about this place's existence either.

"Uh yeah... thanks?" Simon was at a loss for words, this shop definitely lived up to its slogan and picturing YOU of all people buying clothes from here? Now he REALLY felt like a jackass. The shop owner notices him faster before Simon can step out of the door. An older man in his late fifties in casual black slacks with a purple turtleneck and blazer to match. And gave a low whistle as he appeared from behind the clothing racks

"Well as I live and breathe! THE Simon Riley. Hmph?...a lot bigger than i thought you'd be"

Simon knew better than to leave without answers now as he shut the door and finally walked to the shopkeeper with a hard stare and rigid posture. Before grunting out "You know me?"

He gave the man a full once over as the shop keeper gave him a charming smile behind his dark shades. "The Missus comes by here with her friends, they've been teasing your little lady when they heard you managed to snatch the poor girl's heart. Haven't seen her in a while, was hoping she'd drag you here herself" the shopkeeper shook Simon's as he introduced himself as William.

A slap to the face is what this felt like. Simon never felt shorter than the 5ft man that was in front of him right now. He felt like a kid being fondover as if he didn't finish just breaking a girl's heart. Looks like you never told him. And to hear someone call you his Missus? the only thing missing now was putting his last name after it. That was just rubbing salt on a festering wound at this point. Simon had to clear his throat and shake off the thoughts that only felt like a dream at this point.

"She hasn't been around?" Shifting his boots as the weird ass clothes were starting to look particularly interesting right now, his gaze falling on a familiar shitty looking goose. Fuck, at this point he'd rather be deployed than be in this damn shop.

"Haven't seen much of her lately but she's probably been busy with you" William nudged Simon's arm and it only made his skin crawl. His mouth clamped shut as the shopkeeper dragged him further into the hell of shitty fashion "since your here now! I'm suuuure the Missus wouldn't mind you buying a few sets for her. Just got a new shipment I've been dying to show her. You can even get a matching pair, on the house for taking care of the little lady. She's a good one, soft and shy that one is. Not like her friends, rowdy bunch of hyenas if you ask me."

Yup, this was starting to be the second worst decision Simon Riley has ever made. Heart twisting hard enough that he might need to call his captain to drive him to the ER. Hearing this old man gush about his girl....well, what once was his girl. Like a father fussing over a daughter being the best in the world. All Simon could do was stand there in his hulking form as the shop keeper showed him a variety of who ever the fuck was Tim Burton.

William chuckled as he handed him a pair that weren't as much of an eyesore than the others "you look like a guy who doesn't use color. This one's got your name on it."

Simon just stared at the pants in his hands, didn't have the heart to reject the offer of a size too big to wear. William gave the biggest grin as Simon just held a Neon green pajama pants with Jack Skellington and Oogie Boogie faces littered around with tiny pumpkins and worms?? The fuck was Simon looking at?

William picks out 3 other pairs for you in the size you love the most. All Simon could do was watch as he was dragged to the cashier while he was fishing out his wallet. A dark green pair with different types of cute pancakes and eggs. Another one of a character named Sally in a light blue and the last ones were of bones and skulls over black. They were advertised for glowing in the dark and if Simon was a little jealous of those, he didn't show it.

Simon quickly paid in cash and headed home, not wanting to start another conversation about his now Ex little bird. The bag of pants making him feel like he was in a never ending loop of suffering. Once home and being able to toss the bag on the counter as if it burned his skin. Simon just paced his apartment, cracking open a beer and eyeing the God forsaken bag like it was a bomb ready to go off. 3 beers in before he decided to open the pack and try them on and everything he thought before was proven right as he stared at himself in the mirror.

The pants made feel as stupid as he looked. Pissed and humiliated in the fact that he ACTUALLY tried them on and having to hold them up by his hand. grunting out a curse as he had to tie the dumb string because he knew he wasn't a 3XL. The stupid pants were a death trap in the making, nearly tripping out of the bathroom when his foot accidentally snagged the cuff at the bottom like a kid tripping on his shoelaces.

Snapping another beer open as he simmered in his anger and plopping himself on his couch with a grunt while muttering to himself

"The fuck is the point of these shits? Why cant she just be a normal adult and just use fuckin sweats, theres no point in these loose shitty built fuckin..." each curse came out with a growl. A few hours later he was still wearing them and a bit surprised he wasn't over heating like he usually does in his other choice of sweats. Fiddling with the strings as his anger finally calmed down. Maybe they were nice but he wasn't gonna admit it. He certainly wasn't gonna tell you that they were a lot more breathable than sweats or how they became his go to pants when he got home. It was nearly the end of the second week when he finally got the courage rip out a note and scrawl out 'Sorry for being an ass -simon’

He let out a deep breath as he stared at the note for what felt like hours, pocketing his keys as he headed to your place. Lord only knows why someone hadn't call the cops on Simon at this point. Here he was in the middle of the night in black sweats and a hoodie with a mask over his mouth. Standing outside your door for who knows how long with a black bag hooked loosely around his fingers.

At that point, Simon had made up his mind and just hooked the bag onto your door and left without another word. Going back home and changing into the stupid pants that finally started to grow on him. Finally coming to the realization that he lost the one good thing he had in this shitty life.

°~~°~~~~~~~°~~°~~~~~°~~°~~~~°~~°

○~○ *idk how many I'm doin* °~°

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Price has a sweet tooth. Give him Nutella over marmite or even cheese any day. Does he indulge? Sadly, only rarely. Dad used to say it was for twats and toddlers only

Oh, Anon...

Price had all the sweetness beaten out of him, or so he thinks. Nikolai proves him wrong.

cw: slightly erotic act of feeding fruit, mention of disordered relationship with food.

Price denied his sweet tooth out of habit. Indulgence was weakness according to his upbringing, which meant that Price was taught abstinence when it came to treats. Coffee: black. Whiskey: neat. Crisps, not chocolate, if you really had to. No cake, no biscuits, no ice cream, nothing sweeter than a Braeburn apple. Price's diet was devoid of anything that might be considered superfluous.

It helped that the army was a place where a man's diet was heavily controlled, even if the quality of the food wasn't necessarily awe-inspiring. It was easy to ignore temptation when there were a million others things to focus on at any given moment.

Then, while Nik and the 141 were running an op in Warsaw, Nik turned up at the safehouse with a paper bag stuffed with rogaliki. The filling? Nutella. Price caught a whiff of them the moment Nik stepped across the threshold; they were still bakery-warm.

Soap leaned across to snag one out of the bag, feeding it beneath Simon's mask at his request so that he could remain prone, one eye down his scope. Gaz plucked two from the edge of the wrapper and then Nik offered it to Price. "Captain?"

It had been one hell of a week. Two close shaves, four false leads, bad intel, almost decapitated by the falling debris of an exploding Chinook. Price's self discipline was at a low point. "Nah, thanks. Too sweet for me."

"Och, cap. Yer missin' out," Soap called back, chomping one pastry as he watched through the scope in his hand.

Gaz hummed his agreement. "Yeah, sir. You gotta try these, they're peng."

Simon stayed silent.

Nik had glanced at each operator as they spoke but now he looked back at Price, shaking the wrapper once. "They are best when fresh."

Price's mouth watered. One couldn't hurt. He hadn't had Nutella in years, since his Da had scolded him for eating it with a dessert spoon from the jar and then it had never entered the house again... two and a half decades ago. "Olright, yeah, give it 'ere."

The pastry was warm still, white sugar clinging to the flakes as they fell to the floor on the way to his mouth. He didn't expect the whole outer body experience as he put it in his mouth, and he slumped down onto the upturned crate currently holding his M4 as he chomped the lot in two bites. "Bloody hell, what did ya call them, Nik?"

"Rogaliki," Nik replied, wiping his thumb over his lower lip to remove the white dusting. "Not quite as good as babooshka used to make, but close. They are good, no?"

Price grunted, running his tongue over his teeth in search of the last few morsels of sweet. Nik was watching him closely as he bit into another, his head tilted to the side. Price tried not to look at the paper bag on his lap.

When Nik finished, he changed seats to sit on the same crate as Price, their shoulders bumping together. "Another?"

Price shouldn't. He knew he shouldn't. But, ya know... Chinook, bad intel, close shaves. "Yeah, g'won then."

Nik made the fatal error of sliding the bag into Price's lap. The last three disappeared in a handful of minutes and Nik watched with interest. "If I had known you had such a sweet tooth, I would have bought more."

Price hummed, wiping the sugar and pastry from his beard on the back of his glove. "Bit of a weakness of mine."

Before Nik could answer, Ghost broke his silence. "Three hostiles spotted exiting the building at the southern exit."

Soap shifted down onto his elbows. "Aye, confirmed."

"Clear shot on the target?" Price left the crate as Nik and Gaz gathered their weapons.

"Aye."

"Take it."

Ghost pulled the trigger.

The rest of the operation went smoothly and Nik was soon flying them home. Price hit the shower after providing his initial report to the Major, and was settling down to his paperwork just as Nik stepped into his quarters.

"Knockin' not a custom where you come from?"

"Not between lovers, no."

Price's ears flushed a deep scarlet as Nik so easily named the slowly blooming relationship between them, and he slumped onto the edge of his cot to towel off his hair some more to try and hide it.

"You enjoy sweet things," Nik stated, and Price heard the rustle of a supermarket carrier bag, followed by a dull thud as its contents were placed on his desk. The room was narrow and Nik had to draw close to get past; shower fresh and warm, the faint scent of cologne... Nik smelled as good as the rogaliki had.

"Yeah. Bit of a vice."

"Smoking and drinking are vices. Food is good." Nik sat down on the edge of Price's cot at his side and lifted the edge of the towel to peer under it. "Food is to be enjoyed."

Price frowned, batting Nik's hand away so he could pull the towel off his head to chuck it over the back of his desk chair nearby. He didn't miss the affectionate flush in Nik's face at the sight of him; Nik liked it when Price was warm and ruffled. Complete softie, really. Not that the KorTac operator he had stabbed through the throat in Warsaw would agree...

There was a tupperware of strawberries in Nik's lap. They were cut up and washed, which meant Nik had prepared them before arriving. Price smiled. "They fer me?"

"Da," Nik looked at the desk too, "and so are those."

Price followed his eye to the stack of chocolate bars Nik had removed from the carrier bag.

"Nik, I'm already spreadin' in the middle," Price murmured as he patted his belly.

"Pssh." Nik didn't even humour him, scooting further onto the cot until his back was against the wall. He grabbed Price's pillow and placed it over his lap. "Lay here."

"I've got work to do."

The look Nik gave Price informed him that the work would be waiting until later.

"Using that look on me, terrifying bastard..." Price mumbled, slumping down petulantly on his side so that his head hit the pillow but he remained stubbornly inaccessible.

"On your back."

Price rolled over, hands resting on his chest, and side eyed the tupperware as Nik placed it on the bed. "You gonna feed me, Nik?" He asked, eyes crinkling in amusement.

"As Hadrian did his lovers," Nik replied, unclipping the plastic lid and selecting his first strawberry. Price could smell the fruit, but also the familiar nutty sweetness of Nutella.

"Does that make me Antinous?"

"Da."

"Didn't he drown under mysterious circumstance?"

"Jonathan, you are trying to distract me and it will not work," Nik said, smoothing his other big hand over Price's damp hair.

"Blimey, Jonathan..."

"Close your eyes."

Price did as he was told and took a deep breath through his nose. He'd be lying if he said this wasn't nice; a headache had been developing in his temples and Nik's palm was warm against his scalp. The first strawberry touched his lower lip and Price opened his mouth obediently. The sweet flesh of the fruit broke over his tongue, accented perfectly by the dab of Nutella Nik had scooped up with the edge, and Price's toes damn curled in pleasure.

"Good?" Nik asked, thumb brushing over the stubble on Price's chin as he chewed.

Price swallowed. "Mm, maybe."

"You are a bad liar."

"'m a brilliant liar to everyone else. Only seem t' have a problem with you." Price shuffled his shoulders to get comfortable. "I think I need a few more t' confirm."

Nik grinned. "That, I can do."

The next was just as good as the first, and the third was as good as that. Nik ate a few himself and then leaned down, his hand scooping beneath Price's head to lift him up for a kiss. A tongue that tasted sometimes of whiskey, often sugar free mint chewing gum, now filled Price's mouth with the sweetness of strawberries.

The sex that followed was good. The slow, deep kind where neither were particularly worried about reaching the end; more interested in touching, checking. Nik had been airborne when that Chinook had exploded, but he had been close enough to watch one of its blades spin over the heads of the 141.

Nik's body was heavy and warm between Price's legs, the low rumble of his voice vibrating in Price's chest and curling around his heart, softer and warmer even than the blankets Nik pulled over them in the aftermath. He buried his face in Price's hair, pulling him back so that their bodies touched from head to toe. "A sweet boy who loves sweet things," Nik murmured.

"Ain't nothin' sweet about me, Nikolai," Price said, voice rough in the afterglow.

"We will agree to disagree," Nik said, curling his arm up around Price's chest. "Whoever said you could not have these things, they were wrong. I will ensure you have as much of it as your heart desires."

It was difficult to argue when your entire body was humming with contentment, so Price closed his eyes and bedded down for a nap, basking in Nik's arms. The paperwork could wait until the morning.

[lazyneonrabbitt]

Beef

Daryl Dixon x Reader

Requested : "Could you do a Daryl x reader where at first he doesn’t like her, and she tries to get to know why hes so mean to her? Maybe he yells at her and then some comfort after?" EDIT: I saw this same request being written by another writer and I want to say, don't send multiple writers the same exact request. I find this super disrespectful.

This one took some turns of its own while writing, I hope it's to your liking!!

When his group first came to the community you were excited. Finally you'd have a real huntsman around to share experiences with, you had missed it so bad.

Before the fall your family owned a shop, your father a butcher and your mother a taxidermist. You and your siblings learned every skill from hunting to skinning, prepping and using each part of the animal so none would go to waste. You hadn't hunted in so long, you weren't sure if you still could hunt succesfully. Even now you'd donate large, strong antlers and bones to the blacksmith in Hilltop to use in weaponmaking. You donated the furs you didn't fashion into items yourself to the seamstresses and prepped each type of meat for meals.

But somehow the new hunter didn't take the shared interests as something positive.

He brought you animals, yes. But never without throwing a judgy look around your workplace. Even when he came in with someone else who'd compliment your clean work he'd only scoff, dump his kills and head back out.

"Sheesh, what crawled up his ass?" The large moustached man laughed. You only shrugged as you lugged the deer behind your counter. "Hell if I know. Ain't digging it out tho. He seems to be doing okay with everyone except for me.." You returned the laugh while the man who's name slipped your mind helped you put the deer on your workbench, only to quickly drop the fake smile and leaning against your workbench.

You thanked him with a sigh and he gave you that look that told you to spill your thoughts.

"Fine. It sucks he's so weird. It'd be awesome to have a partner to do all of this with and to go hunt with." You busied yourself sharpening yuour knives, clearly still annoyed by the whole ordeal. "And..?" The long winded drawl made you roll your eyes at the man's persistance.

"And he's drop dead gorgeous, okay? There. I said it. I have a crush on the man. Happy no-- Ah fuck!" Your knife hit the floor with a clatter as you grabbed at your bleeding hand.

"Alright, up and out withya. To the doc we go." You were led to the infirmary and passed the source of your annoyance on the way.

Not that you were listening, but you still caught his voice in passing. "Damn folk 'ere don't know how ta do shit." You caught his glance in your direction and if you weren't busy keeping yourself from bleeding out you'd confront him.

It was a clear message that you weren't allowed to use the injured hand for your work and risk pulling the stitches, and honestly it just hurt too much to do anything with it. It sucked even more than having to leave your old home behind. There were people counting on your work so they'd have food.

It didn't stop you from going to work and doing as much as you could one-handed. You got there extra early to make up for the extra rime everything would take now, and by the time you'd normally open you found Deanna on your steps, greeting you with her usual smile. "I knew you'd be here stil working, but I brought someone to help until your hand is better. You shouldn't be overworking yourself."

As quick as she had entered she had left again as well, leaving you with your new work companion.

The hunter.

"Good morning." You gave him the kindest smile you could, but were only given a grunt in return as he tossed a bundle of tied up small game on your desk, rounded the corner and fished for a knife to start taking them apart.

Besides you explaining where to put all the different parts of the animal you two barely spoke, until the snap of bone pulled you away from your focused work of skinning yesterday's deer. "The hell?" You turned around to go see what he was up to.

"What are you breaking bones for?" His station was a mess, he pointed at the difficult point he was cuting along. "Easier ta reach without the bone in the way." Without even looking he continued. "Ya should know tha'. Damn city girl doin' mah work."

Again with his snarky comments. You shrugged it off and went back to your own station. Yiur bkood bloiled but you weren't gonna let him get to you, you had work to get done. "Try not to do that, we can still use the bones if you keep them whole."

You tried so hard to focus on your work, skinning the deer with only one functional hand was so difficult and even though you were having extremely conflicted feelings about it you still had to ask him for help.

"Can I borrow your hands for a minute? Can't do this on my own."

You held the large deer up and moved it as Daryl cut away the skin in the most choppy manner, creating a clear line where you stopped and he started. "Can you please work a bit mote delicate? That's gonna take me ages to clean up." You huffed from keeping the deer in place, but also annoyance. Why didn't he work like a hunter? He must know the code, right?

"Why're ya so on mah ass 'bout how I work? Gon' toss it out anyways. Just need the meat, tha's it." He got snappy at the end and you just stared at him, anger clear in your eyes. "Seriously?"

You let go of the deer and stepped away from the counter. "You're sent to MY shop. To help me because I happen to fuck up my hand for the first time ever since I got here years ago and all you can do is talk shit about me?" The knife that laid on the desk before now in your good hand and pointed at his chest. "God I can't believe I even fell for your hunting woodsman charms. You're just an asshole who doesn't give a shit about these animals or the hunter's code." With a clatter the knife hit the floor as you tossed it to the side with shaking hands.

"Get the fuck out of my shop and go find me someone who cares." With angry steps you turned around and headed out of the room, needing a break to gather yourself first if you wanted to get anything else done.

Now alone in the workstation, Daryl snatched up his catch from this morning and headed out.

~~

"You did what? Pookie you gotta listen to the girl." Carol sat down next to him and snatched the cigarette from his fingers. "You know you disrespected her life's work by now following her rules in her own shop, right?"

"I'on get why tha's even important anymore. We gotta eat, tha's all." Daryl's annoyed grumbles did nothing good it seemed as Carol continued to scold him like he was a child. "Did you for one second maybe think this work is all she has left to hold onto her old world self?"

"Cept this ain't the old world no more. She's waistin' time doin' all tha extra shit."

Carol was up and at the front door by now, putting out the cigarette in one of many ashtrays there. "Alright, up with you. You're apologizing with me right now."

The two took off to your shop but found no one there. Daryl's half finished rabbit still out in the open on the table while the deer was gone. "Ain't here. I'll head back tomorro--"

"No we're not. I know where she lives, come on." Carol practically pulled him along on the way to your place despite Daryl's protests.

You were working in your basement area when you heard a knock on the front door. "Come in!" Everyone who came to your place knew the door was unlocked and was free to come and find you, seeing you were either cooking, working on lounging when you kept the front door open.

"Hey, it's Carol! Heard about your hand, need some help around the house?" She needed an excuse to get an answer and find out where you were, so when you called back she knew to head downstairs.

Meanwhile Daryl just stared around to keep his mind busy. He found rabbit skins from prey he brought in wrapped around a pair of boots. He recognized the fur seeing it was a rare color. Further into your livingroom there was a deer pelt draped over the back of your couch. Also caught by him. The white spots over the back had one small flaw from where his bolt had struck right on a white dot. He remembered being proud of his aim for a minute that day.

"Daryl, come on." Carol's whisper-yell had him roll his eyes and as he passed your coatrack he noticed the hooks were all antler parts and the knives laying in the basket on the hallway table had bone handles.

So that's why you were so angry when he snapped the rabbit's leg and skinned the deer so carelessly. You did really use everything.

The two walked down the stairs to your workshop, Carol up front with Daryl following.

"Oh wow," Carol's exclaimation had you laugh. "Yeah, I get that a lot." You stood with your back turned, struggling to hang a piece of skin.

"Here, lemme help ya." Daryl's gruff voice was suddenly right behind you and you spooked, letting go of the pelt but Daryl caught it just in time, draping it over the wire. "Like tha?" His hands stayed up there and adjusted it to your liking, having stepped back to watch him and give Carol a questioning look. She just shrugged and gestured at the man who was again staring around the room. "What brings you here?"

Daryl looked at everything except you, he knew he'd lose all ability to speak if he did. Hell, he already had a difficulty getting his words out now seeing how wrong he was for not listening to you. "Came ta say sorry." He stared at the basket of furs labeled 'Donate'. "Shoulda known better than ta get angry. 'N I get why ya work thr way ya do now." Next to the basket sat a crate filled with thick, sturdy bones labeled 'blacksmith'.

You nodded and gave him an option. "Come back to the shop tomorrow. I'll have tou clean up that deer skin you almost ruined and you're following my teachings. I'll forgive you for wasting the rabbit."

Daryl chewed at his thumb, the other hand stuffed in his pocket and fidgeting with the fabric inside. "Yeah, alright." He nodded and looked over at Carol who had the brightest smile on her face. One that screamed victory.

"We'll get out of your hair, I'll bring by some lunch tomorrow at your shop." Carol waved on her way up, and just as Daryl was about to follow her you quickly spun around to grab something. "Oh, here." You held out a thin knife wrapped in leather, a small engraving of Hilltop's blacksmith on the handle. "I saw you took the rabbits, so if you haven't prepped them yet you can try this one. They're great for smaller animals."

He stumbled over his thanks as he accepted the knife and quickly headed out after Carol.

~~

You were back at work early the next morning, painkillers and a small breakfast in your system already and hoping to finish that damn deer. It still proved a challenge to get it from the cooler onto the workbench but you managed eventually, just before Daryl came in.

"Mornin'." Hid gruff voice sounded through the workplace as he rounded the corner and placed the knife from yesterday on the table. "Thanks fer lettin' me borrow it. Worked like a charm."

You picked up the knife and held it out to him again, only to recieve a questioning grunt in return. "It was a gift. To keep."

Daryl never got gifts. Everything he had was scavenged and well taken care of for longer use these days. It felt weird to keep it but he thanked you again and pocketed it.

Meanwhile you had grabbed the deer skin and laid it out where he'd be working. "Look here, I'll show you how to clean this up and you'll go fix the rest, okay? It'll take a while but it'll be worth it." Daryl stepped up to you and observed the way you took the knife to the uneven spots of skin and carefully smoothed it all out. The precision in your work was impressive to say the least. "How long've ya been doin' this?"

You dropped a cut off piece of meat into a plastic container and thought back to the old world. "I guess ever since my parents thought I was old enough to handle knives." You held the tool out to the hunter and watched him take it from you. "Your turn. I'll be hopefully finishing that deer so just ask whatever, whenever."

You were lucky a lot of the cutting could be done onehanded, and holding back pieces was okay enough to do with your wrist or hold something down with your elbow. But now that you had all the easy access meats off and seperated you ran into a problem.

"Fuck.." You needed help. The same kind of help that had you kick him out yesterday.

"Sup? Need hands?" He was at your side in a second, waiting for your instructions.

"I need to take off the ribs but I can't." You leaned aside to point around the carcass. "If you can press down here, and there." Daryl followed your instructions and put pressure on the spots you pointed out. "Then I can take this here apart." Your movements were followed and suddenly it was way too hot in your always cold workplace. Yesterday you'd be happy if he decided thr Kingdom was a better home for him but now that he apologized and proved to better himself after your misunderstanding you were back to being the lovesick puppy Abraham had made you out to be when he brought you home after the infirmary visit.

With how Daryl held the spot clear and open you had to get close to chop through the bone and separate it all in workable bits.

"Can I take one a'those later? Michonne asked ta cook fer her kids cuz she's out 'n Carol's off ta Kingdom--" "Throw the kids an old world barbeque! I'll come help. I'm sure you're skilled in roasting over an open fire with how much you traveled." The excitement was clear in your voice, and the sudden compliments and offers of gifts and assistance had him nervously fidgeting. But thinking about having a fun experience with the kids instead of just cooking and having dinner sounded way better than his original plan, so he agreed.

"Ya got supplies ta fix tha' in half a day?"

~~

The two of you cleaned up after finishing thr needed work and while you carried the prepped meats, Daryl had the bowl firepit on a kart together with the metal rack to hang over it. Yeah, he lived in a community now but he never guessed he'd be carrying around a whole barbeque setup like he was getting ready to throw a party in the old world. "Gotta drop by tha' house fer a sec, get Jude 'n RJ."

After he got the kids and you had everything set up Daryl got the fire started while you made a quick pantry run and dug through Daryl's kitchen for anything to add to the meals.

You brought whatever you found and set it on the side of the porch steps, keeping a path to the house cleared and sat yourself down in the front lawn as you watched uncle Daryl in action, letting the kids toss wood onto the fire and poke at it with a stick but making sure they kept their distance and wouldn't touch the hot metal.

It was heartwarming to see him laugh and have fun with them and watched him speak quetly to the kids with a finger pointed your way before the two came running towards you.

"Daryl says the fire's good for food! Can we put some on the thing?" Two pairs of big, begging eyes stared at you and saying no would be the worst so of course you allowed them, under surveillance and with an assisting hand. "Alright, pick something you wanna eat first and put it on a plate, Daryl will take it to the fire and I'l helf you put it on the rack, okay?"

A chime of "Okay!" baely left them before they were at the collection of prepared meats where you and Daryl joined them in picking.

While Daryl roasted the food over the fire you were tasked go keep the kids busy, but wirh hoe much they loved chatting about everything and anything it was an easy task.

The whole evening was fun and food and family and it reminded you of everything you missed in this new world.

Everything was good in this moment, especially when you heard a little exchange between uncle and niece.

"Uncle Daryl? Can we have more dinners with her? But also mom and aunt Carol next time." You watched Daryl look towards you for a moment before turning back to Judith. "'Course, she's teachin' me ta prepare food so we can do this with e'ryone if ya want. But!" He raised his hand and pointed at RJ, who came over to him too now. "Yer gonna be the ones askin' folk ta bring food too, so e'ryone has somethin' ta eat, 'kay?"

The two happily nodding kids proved that your time in the community just got a lot more fun.

Now, after the kids were long brought to bed you and Daryl stayed around the fire. Having taken the meat rack off and set asidr you were just relaxing and picking away at the leftovers.

"So," you started, watching the flames in front of you. "That community barbeque plan of yours, it sounded amazing especially how you brought it over to the kids. But, aren't you afraid it'll drain recources too quick?"

Daryl shrugged it off. "Maybe. But those kids'll make folks keep stuff aside fer it." The idea of those two running around the place collecting people brought a smile to his face. "'Sides, I ain't wastin' meat no more with yer lessons tha' I hope ya will keep givin' me."

Oh. He wanted to stay? At the shop? With you? You were pleasantly shocked with that news. "What? Ofcourse I'll teach you. But only of you promise to take me out hunting when my hand's okay again."

He let out a breathy laugh and nodded. "Yeah, I'd love ta have ya around."

You stretched and laid down in the grass, looking up at the night sky.

"S'gonna be fun."

[fairestbeard]

Something in the way she watches

TW: A VERY ANTI CLAIRE BEAR POST

There's the part of Claire that makes me go ugh... And there's the part that makes me go huh? Wtf?

Except for the niche six people who would fight to the death in her honor, it's hard to watch Claire without questioning her motives and the writers' motives, even. She's written in such a strange way (rewritten, actually) that it has been talked to death in the fandom. I watched some TikTok takes on Claire recently and almost everyone was like "wtf is a Claire?".

Is it just bad writing?

The fact that she seems a lot more normal in previous versions of the script was brought to my attention in my previous meta about her. I doubt very much that she would have blown me away, especially since I was literally born a sydcarmy, but maybe she wouldn't raise the hair on my neck?

She was purposefully written to be weird. Bad weird.

But it's also done so subtly that the other 6 Claire stans think we're absolutely batshit crazy and just irrational haters when we bring it up.

The beginning

Carmy runs into Claire while shopping for veal stock and fennel which he needed to continue cooking up whatever he and Syd were work shopping earlier. Their conversation quickly turns to her career and why she chose to become an ER doctor so she recounts her first encounter with someone needing medical attention at a young age. While other children responded with fear, which is very natural, she does not. And you would expect that her seeming courage was due to empathy. Wanting to be there for this distressed and scared child who probably just had their most traumatic experience yet. But the only thing that keeps her there is curiosity. Fascination with a bone breaking. She doesn't try to comfort this child -who was probably a friend, she just stares at her arm. Carmy asks if she wanted to fix it, make it better, because empathy! No, she wanted to understand it. As a concept on it's own, separate from the whole of someone experiencing suffering.

And yes, the absence of empathy doesn't inherently take away from her being great at her job as a doctor. The most important aspect of a job like that is understanding what the problem is so you can know how to fix it. A lot of times, practical detachment is necessary to do your job well- not just in medicine- but a total switch off from empathy is how monsters are made, no matter how well intentioned. I've seen a lot of crazies defend Chef Fields because he was gunning for excellence, saying it doesn't matter that he emotionally and psychologically destroyed the people who worked for him because he achieved what he wanted- to have the most excellent restaurant in the entire United States of America (as Syd put it). But at what cost?

It's the pursuit of excellence without empathy that is responsible for a lot of cruelty based growth in medicine (see the history of gynaecology, nutrition science, etc). It's what is responsible for things like slavery, imperialism, capitalism etc. Is it impossible to have real growth while being empathetic and holistic?

Crazy segues, stops and solutions

Starting off with the infamous call. This one even the diehard clairecarmys know that this was a little bit off, even though they make excuses for it. One thing I noticed is how she tends to stop or interrupt his natural flow or thought process. At their initial meeting you can sense a discomfort from him and the resistance to take it further (it's not clear why because he naturally is averse to good things happening to him). He tries to come up with the least personal contact option (Venmo) but Claire successfully steers the convo to getting his actual contact info. Then when he gives her the wrong number, she chases down the actual number and calls him anyway.

In that conversation you can see him get backed into a corner. She grew up with him and knows him so has probably observed how he is with confrontation. It's the same reason he was unable to say no to her face about getting his number and instead gave her a fake one (I've done this numerous times). When he is stuttering, trying to find the words to excuse himself from her request to see her, she hits him with the "don't make this weird" speech, that she just needed a favor and this gets him to agree.

Another instance of interrupting his flow of thought is at the frat party when Kyle asks what he was doing. She doesn't let him answer but interrupts him, stating her "purpose" for bringing him. Maybe what he was going to say wasn't going to be all that interesting or great even but maybe he should at least attempt it? Maybe it would have given him clarity about why he agreed to come in the first place even though he had a mountain of work to do.

We also see this repeating in "Bolognese" where he was trying to express his concerns for the relationship. She also interrupts him while he's trying to find the words to express his concerns and she seemingly uses the exactly perfect words "the other shoe" which he had expressed earlier in almost an eerie manner to me, because how does she use the exact words he said in the AA meeting? The exact same expression? He agrees but with a little noticeable hesitation. Because maybe that's not... exactly what he wanted to say? Who knows? She didn't let him say it.

Then she offers a very compelling solution to this conundrum. Nobody's keeping track of shoes. I saw a lot of reactors awwing and ooohing in response to this and I'm thinking, am I crazy or did she just dismiss his very real feelings? His very real fear? This was a very real opportunity to emotionally bond in a very real way. She's currently his romantic partner after all. She could have interrogated where those fears came from, assured him of her intentions at least on a surface level (without spooking him) and also find out his intentions. Instead her response is, nobody thinks about this shit except you, weirdo, now let's talk science, baby! And even on the subject of science (the fire suppression), she's quickly bored because his explanation is obviously too dumbed down to keep her interested (I do love the subversion of mansplaining happening here, though). She speeds up his explanation to get to the conclusion, then lies about it being so interesting when he notices.

The craziest of all, and one that was immediately noticed and talked about a lot in the fandom, was her insane segue to inviting him to the frat party.

"speaking of dead brothers, do you want to go to a party?"

It's impossible to miss that one no matter how enamored you are with Claire. Did Carmy notice? Most definitely. He noticed Cicero's segue from talking about Carmy's dad in Dogs and commented on it, with Cicero calling himself "the segue king", so it's obvious that he notices those things. He doesn't comment this time though, all he does is make a face. But that line was straight up revolting. Unsettling. Disturbing.

We've never heard Carmy bring Mike up in personal conversations like this before. The only time he really talked about Mickey with real vulnerability was in Braciole at the Al-Anon meeting. This was a chance to really get him to open up especially with him saying he loved thinking about him. Now, she obviously doesn't owe him any emotional labor but she did invite him into this. She says they never really talked but then makes sure they never really do, keeping things surface level (Mickey was cool) and bringing up a crazy party when the conversation starts getting deep.

I also want to bring up their conversation about running around like kids. A lot of people assume they were talking about a past memory but I don't think so. This running around and shoplifting is happening recently and it's how they've hung out the last few weeks. Nat's conversation with Syd about Carmy at least hanging out with Claire suggests that. He must have done that quite enough times for her to conclude that if he disappears he must be with Claire. Also, his not even being aware that she sat behind him in freshman year doesn't suggest that they were hanging out a lot then, in my opinion. And we do see them acting out in juvenile ways so it shouldn't be a surprise that they chose very juvenile dating options like roaming shops or malls, running around like kids/ shoplifting. We do see in Beef that probably likes going to the store with his bills lying around. It's also significant that he runs into Claire in a store.

My point is, and just out of curiosity, so what did they really do when they hung out previously that this was considered really talking? Did they just keep mute the whole time and walk around or maybe just talk about the products they were checking out/buying? Maybe Claire was too distracted trying to shoplift obviously so much gum that she couldn't care less if there even was a conversation. Carmy of course, the antisocial king, wouldn't mind silence at all and just enjoy being in company.

Anyway, moving on...

Empathic queen

Of course you know this heading is sarcastic. Through out her outing, Claire displays a subtle but surprising and disturbing lack of empathy. It shows in the many ways she puts her immediate needs over Carmy's feelings. Obviously, as I will continue to state, no one owes anyone any emotional labor. But there's something in the way she moves like she's there because of the trauma not in spite of it. It feels like she's there because she likes looking at broken things.

Her story about her first experience with a broken bone already sets the tone for her behavior. She stares at her friends broken arm as an isolated curiosity not as something that happened to someone. She diverts from the subject of Mickey into a party of all things like it was nothing.

Even her visit to her friend Kelly who got majorly broken up with seemed like just an avenue to get Carmy where she wanted him to be. Because she absolutely could have gone alone and saved the Carmy date for later to be there for her friend and comfort her in a vulnerable moment. Sure she hugs her and says all the right key words but immediately turns her focus away to Carmy, so that Kelly who is still in a vulnerable state does the one thing that's the worst idea- immediately tries to get with another guy. Claire is obviously fine with it and doesn't question it or dissuade her from it because she's waiting on the next move from Carmy.

We can see a contrast from when she gets her own heart "broken". Kelly stays the night with her, cuddling and comforting her even though she had a hook up prospect that night (Ted Fak). This is one reason why she immediately irked me so bad. I've had a best friend like her that I don't speak to anymore. I completely had to cut her of cold because she was such a raging narcissist. She was nice but left me always feeling drained and like a nothing. In spite of her charm and welcoming energy, you slowly realized you were nothing but a tool to her- something to be used.

There's a very strong indication that she is turned on, as it were, by adrenaline. She loves the rush. And her avenue to get that is through risky behavior and observing trauma. She consumes trauma for the sake of it. She enjoys the risk of bad driving as a chaser to resetting broken bones. Notice how in all her dealings, there's no account of the overall outcome, you'd just have to infer it. Did the friend with the broken arm get adequately better? Does she have a wonky arm now? Oh well...🤷 Is Kelly actually doing better from the breakup? Has she had a hundred other boyfriends trying to plug that hole? Who cares?

You must have really... grabbed it!

When she discovers Carmy's scar, a very deep scar that must have been very traumatic to experience, the scene looks very sweet from the outside but has very disturbing undertones. She traces it gently, seemingly lovingly and inquires about it.

Then she laughs!!!!!

This man just described how he got got a very painful injury and she understands what would cause an injury of that magnitude because she is LITERALLY A MEDICAL PROFESSIONAL!!! Not only that, she let's us know she actually gets the mechanics of what happened here because "you must have really... grabbed it!". However, what fails to compute in her brain is the WHY.

There are 3 ways that come to mind as to how an injury like this could have happened:

1) Someone forced his hand on that hot pot and held it there to torture him or made him do it. We know he was psychologically tortured by Chef Fields but do we know if he also added physical torture as a way of punishment?

2) He was so out of his mind for some reason that he didn't realize he was holding on to a scorching pot. With the theory that he got his hand burned the day Mickey died, this seems very plausible.

3) He deliberately held on to a scorching pot in an act of self harm.

All of these opinions are very highly alarming but it doesn't ring any alarm bells with Claire. He must have really grabbed it! But why? How come? What happened?

Instead she goes straight to making him describe the pain. Or better still she describes it for him to agree (once again stifling his own self expression). And how does she know about this kind of pain? Did she experience this sometime too? Nope! It's another trauma porn story about a girl she almost killed. She tells him this story distract him also because she could clearly see he was uncomfortable. The way he politely snatched his hand and put it as far away from her as possible was very telling. For contrast the way he described the scar from Mickey's birthday with fondness shows you that this scar was a very sore memory.

It doesn't fail to floor me how she made this story of the girl about herself. It was all feel sorry for me, I almost killed a girl, pity me. Yeah, how about a pity make out session? Oh, Carmy!! 🤦🏾‍♀️🤢

She fixates very oddly on the patient's beauty which is kind of a crazy thing to focus on when someone is basically probably dying. And of course for all her fixation and her being directly responsible for her almost dying, there seems to be no follow up beyond the point that interested her- being numb from the pain. Did she have any more complications? Did she manage to get better physically, emotionally? Doesn't matter.

Trauma seems to be something she weirdly enjoys to spectate on. It fires her up. She enjoys looking at broken things. Which brings me to the topic of the fridge.

What even really happened here?

We know the general story is she overheard him raging because he thought he was talking to Tina. But why did he think he was talking to Tina? Because somehow Claire got to that fridge and was quiet enough to overhear without alerting him to her presence. Every other person called out to Carmy and checked in on how he was doing. She didn't. She most probably heard him rambling, of course she wouldn't be able to make out what he was saying unless she went real close to the walk in door. Quietly.

Now considering how she walked into that kitchen

you would expect a lot more ruckus, a lot more momentum. She looked like she was about to go break down the door to save her man, perform CPR, a small surgery, talk him through it etc etc etc (is this obvious that I hate Claire?😆). But she bursts into the kitchen, finds it empty, then skulls to the fridge without a sound to listen to Carmy? Now with her history of seeming to enjoy others' trauma, is it possible that when she found the kitchen empty with no one to have to perform concern to she decided to just... spectate... a little? That's what it looks like to me. She wanted to hear Carmy in freak out mode but it goes wrong and she hears things she didn't expect, especially if she thought he'd already listened to her perfectly timed love confession.

Even the whole act with Richie seemed fake to me. The whole shaken look she gave him felt added on, giving him a kiss and enough motivation to go fight for her without actually giving him any real information about what happened. Just gave him enough ammunition to provoke Carmy. Then she embellishes the story to others as if he was directly mean to her.

It's left for us to see how she plays out eventually but my money is on she might be a benign psychopath or sociopath or have some kind of personality disorder. Or at least she's hiding something or putting on an act. Even the way everyone harps on the point that she's nice seems a little suspicious. Like an oversell that is a set up for a coming twist. That scene where she takes of her makeup in Tomorrow made me wonder if it's symbolic as well.

We're gonna see.

[ichorai]

chiropterology — drawing them in.

drabble synopsis ; damian wayne takes on his toughest challenge yet: making friends. warnings ; mentions of cancer.

series masterlist.

Shhk! Shhk! Ksshhk!

Damian’s grip on the sword never faltered as he struck the dummy, relishing the feeling of its synthetic skin splitting open, sand spilling out of its open wounds, trickling to form small piles onto the ground of the training arena.

“Damian? Are you okay?” Bruce asked, watching his son slash at the dummy with fast, furious strokes. 

“My teacher said I should try to make friends at school. Apparently, the other students are intimidated by me.” Three more quick slashes, and Damian spared his father a glance over his shoulder. “As if I need friends!”

Damian sliced the dummy’s faceless head clean off. It landed onto the floor with a resounding thud, spilling sand everywhere. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to make friends?” Bruce said. “It’ll certainly help maintain your civilian identity.”

At this, Damian paused. He reluctantly jabbed at the dummy’s torn torso. “I am… not sure how.”

Bruce’s expression softened. He drew closer to his son, placing a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “What about Superboy? You’re friends with him.”

“Tch. He does not count.”

“And why not?” 

Damian frowned. “He has superpowers, for one. And he is very similar to a leech. Once he latches, he refuses to let go.”

“I think loyal is a nicer word to use than leech,” Bruce said, wincing. 

“Whatever.”

Bruce nodded, trying to think it through. “Making friends… right. Hm.”

In all honesty, he had very little experience himself in the matter. All his friends seemed to just… fall out of the sky and into his life. Sometimes quite literally.

“I’ll call a family meeting.”

Damian tore his gaze away from the dummy he shredded and up at his father, feeling bile rise up his throat. “No, that is not necessary—”

“Too late,” Bruce said, smirking down at him, already having texted the family group chat: Family meeting, library, five minutes. Helping Damian make friends!

Despite Damian’s initially angry countenance, he was glad his father recruited the help of the others. It was clear his father was very inexperienced in the art of making friends. 

Dick was in Bludhaven helping out a few of his friends, and Tim and Cass were out patrolling with Babs monitoring them. That left just you, Bruce, Duke, Jason, and Steph sitting around the library’s seats. 

“Okay!” Steph exclaimed, placing the tips of her fingers to her lips in thought as she scrutinized Damian. “First step to making friends is trying to find common interests with them! What kind of stuff are you into?”

Damian thought back to his training not ten minutes ago. “Swords,” he said. 

He appreciated you nodding in agreement, but you pretended you hadn’t been vehemently bobbing your head when Duke said, “How about something less, er… stabby?”

“I have always been intrigued by world domination.”

To his left, Jason snorted into his fist. Damian scowled at him.

“World domination is a fair topic to discuss with friends you already have,” you admitted. “But maybe not the best to gain them.”

“What about animals?” Bruce offered. “You’re very good with them.”

Damian thought about Murder King for a moment, smiling down at his lap. “Oh, yes. Animals are nice.”

“Great! You can try bonding with them over that?” It was funny how Bruce sounded so unsure about his own suggestion, but Damian didn’t seem to notice.

Duke snapped a finger. “What about clubs? Or sports teams?”

“Tennis!” Damian exclaimed. 

“I didn’t know you liked tennis,” said Bruce, brows raised.

“I do not. A boy on the tennis team once insulted Father’s honor by saying Batman is the weakest superhero in the Justice League. I have been training to destroy him on the court!” Damian said, entirely serious. This time, you and Jason exchanged a look before simultaneously snorting into your fists.

“Not against the idea, but still not the best for friend-making, Damian,” you reminded. 

Bruce nodded. “Your mother’s right—I do appreciate the sentiment, though. Jason? Do you have any suggestions? You’ve been quiet this whole meeting.” 

Jason lolled his head back on the seat, emitting a long hmmm. Similar to Bruce, most of his friends just seemed to… stumble into him along the way. “I mean—I broke my best friend out of prison once.”

“Not helpful,” Bruce snapped. Jason rolled his eyes. 

“Ooh! I could potentially make a ray that forges new neural pathways enough to convince them you are friend, not foe. I would just need a ton of strong radioactive material to break down the existing neural pathways… could potentially result in terrible brain damage, but we can work around that…”

The kids and Bruce stared at you with blank eyes. 

“So… mind control with a side of brain cancer?” Duke asked, scratching the back of his neck.

You crossed your arms, grumbling. “Well, if you put it that way…”

“Yeah, no,” Steph said. “As cool as that sounds in theory, I don’t think Damian should be trusted with something like that.”

“I resent that,” Damian said. Though, admittedly, even he didn’t dislike his classmates enough to want to give them brain cancer so they would be his friends. “I give up. This has been singularly unhelpful!” 

Frowning, Bruce told him, “You’ll be fine, Damian. Just trust your instincts!”

He could do this. Of course he could. He had defeated men five times larger than him. He had climbed mountains taller than the naked eye could see. He had helped put more criminals behind bars than the stars in the light-polluted Gotham sky. How hard could it possibly be to make new friends?

He had an unhelpful phone call with Brown before class started, where she had told him he was nervous from his described symptoms of sweaty palms and racing heart—which he was not, thank you very much! Damian Wayne did not get nervous! Then, he texted you. He appreciated how you replied almost immediately.

Damian: Mother. Brown said I am nervous. I am not.  Damian: But in case I was… Do you have anything to remedy such an affliction? Mother: Slow n deep breaths, hon!!! I get jittery all the time too Mother: Make a mental list of the tasks you want to accomplish, that usually helps me calm down and compartmentalize Damian: Noted. Mother: Luv you bear!!! go kick some butt (metaphorically) Mother: Pls don’t actually kick butt Mother: One more detention and you might get suspended 

Damian pocketed his phone once you started spamming him with frightened emoticons. 

The first attempt at making friends… did not go so well. His classmates were chattering behind him about a video they saw online when Damian interjected that he had a pet cow. And two dogs. And a cat that shared his name with Damian’s housekeeper.

The boys exchanged awkward glances, said, “Cool!” And then they all moved on to a different subject, leaving Damian back at square one. Great.

The second attempt was less of a direct approach, and moreso just staring at a list of clubs, as Thomas had suggested. He skipped over tennis for now—avenging Father’s honor would have to wait.

School newspaper? No—they required you to always be available after school, and Damian often went out on patrol in the evenings. Chess? Tempting since he knew he was good at it, but no—he already played enough chess at home, he would find the club such a bore. Dungeons and dragons? He, initially, had thought it a perfect club since he pictured it would contain literal dungeons to escape from and literal fire-breathing dragons. Come to find that it was just a stupid board game.

As Damian pondered over other ways he could acquire friends, he began doodling onto his sketchbook. He sketched an outline of Murder King sunbathing by a window first, then a more detailed drawing of Oracle’s wheelchair, then another of a fire-breathing dragon with pointy bones protruding from its spine. Even after all his drawing, Damian’s mind still came up blank.

And so he resorted to his final option in a moment of desperation. He texted his big brother for advice.

Damian: I cannot seem to make friends. Nothing I do works. Grayson: Just be yourself! That’s all that matters. Damian: Perhaps Todd was right. I should break someone out of prison. Grayson: Uh… Grayson: Please don’t do that.

“Woah!” exclaimed a voice from beside him. Damian looked away from his phone to see one of his classmates peering at his drawings with wide eyes. “That’s really good! Did you draw all that?”

“Um… yes. Thank you?” Damian wasn’t very familiar with niceties. But that was how one made friends, right? Being nice?

“Who taught you how to draw?” She sat down beside him, appearing genuinely interested to know more.

Damian blinked at her before slowly responding. “Nobody taught me. I focused my studies on other matters.”

The girl slumped forward to rest her chin on a propped up fist. “Yeah, I get that. My parents are always forcing me to practice math, but I just don’t really care for it as much as I like to draw.”

Just be yourself, Grayson had told him. Of course. Right. Easy. 

“That is fair. Math can be quite repetitive,” said Damian.

“I know right? I mean it’s always just the same old problems with the same steps over and over again. I like art because there’s no solutions to anything. It’s just—you on a page.” 

Damian glanced down at his drawings again. “I never thought about it that way.”

The girl smiled. “Hey—me and my friends go to the art room after school to work on drawings and paintings and stuff. Would you wanna join us?”

Taken aback, Damian fumbled with his words. “I… Really? Is that… okay? For me to join?”

“Sure!” she grinned. “It’s only me and two others. I’m sure they’d be happy for you to come hang out.”

Was this… how people made friends? Damian tilted his head in thought. “Alright. I will be happy to come along.”

“Great! I’m Skylar, by the way. It’s nice to meet you…?”

“Damian. My name is Damian.”

After he waved goodbye to his new friend, who had to dash off to inform the other two about his joining, Damian pulled out his phone once more to inform his family of his success. 

Damian: Mission accomplished. I think. Grayson: Good job, buddy! I knew you could do it!

His optimism was irritating, but… contagious.

Damian: Thank you for your advice earlier, Mother. It helped. Damian: Could you pick me up thirty minutes later than usual, please? I am going to the art room after school. Damian: With a new friend. Mother: AHH! I’m so happy for you hon :)  Mother: I’ll have Alfred bake some celebratory cookies!!!

Damian smiled down at the screen. He could feel his stomach coil with nervous excitement—both at the thought of making new friends, and his family celebrating him.

[colsons-baker]

Property of Benny

The inspiration for this one-off came from a photo I saw of the real Kathy. First time writing for The Bikeriders and Austin so if you would like more then let me know!

Benny never was one for jewellery stores, god knows he had never step foot in one until that day, looking for an engagement ring. He thought it would be easy, just walk in and pick the ring and leave just as quickly. He had been saving up the money for it since the day he first met Y/n, he had known right away that he couldn’t have anyone by his side but her.

Benny Crosss had never done anything the proper way in his life, but he wanted to do this right. Y/n deserved a ring and a proper proposal, she deserved the heavens and the earth and he would go through hell to give it all to her. But nobody had told him that hell would be a snobbish jewellers in the middle of town. He felt eyes on him the whole time, he was being followed as he looked at each piece. Sure, he was a Vandal and he had a reputation, but he didn’t like being treated like a criminal when he had done nothing wrong. Benny let out a sigh as he looked at one of the rings and then glanced towards the door. His jaw clenched slightly before he looked down at the ring again. Y/n deserved the best, but no ring in here would be good enough if he remembered this experience every time he looked at it. Y/n didn’t deserve his bad memory associated with something like this. So he walked back out again, what a waste of time that had been!

——————————

Benny let go of a little chuckle as he sat with Johnny and Betty at a table in the club, a beer bottle in one hand and his free arm resting over the chair. Suddenly, a detail on Betty’s jacket caught his eye. “What’s that?” He nodded towards the patch as he leaned forward, elbows on the table. Betty looked down to where Benny had nodded to, at her patch with Johnny’s name on it. “Oh that?” She asked with a laugh as she shook her head. “Just somethin silly.”

“Let’s everyone know she’s my girl.” Johnny said, wrapping an arm around her before placing a kiss on her head. “I made it myself, thought it would be somthin nice.” Betty shrugged. Benny looked at the patch for a moment, feeling like a lightbulb had just come on in his head. “Can you do me a favour?” He smiled. “Sure! What do ya need?”

——————————

“Hey…” Benny said quietly as he walked into the empty club. He had just gone round to Johnny’s to collect the surprise Betty had helped him with as the other members cleared out, knowing that the place would be empty, bar Y/n, when he got back. “Hey! Where did you disappear to?” She smiled over at him from the table she was wiping down. “Oh, just had to pick up something from Johnny’s.” He motioned to the denim jacket draped over his arm. Y/n nodded and went back to her cleaning, telling him she wouldn’t be long more.

He wanted to do it here, in the club. This place was his second home, it had been his home until he met her. The bright-eyed barmaid that Johnny had hired to make the place somewhat respectable looking. He had stared at her across the bar and he knew it was over for him, that his heart was no longer his own.

“Leave that for a minute baby girl. Come ere.” Benny was smiling but he had never been so nervous. He watched her as she walked over, her laugh like music to his ears as she asked what was wrong. His eyes scanned every bit of her face as they stood in front of one another. He was already the happiest man alive just having her in his life. He took a deep breath. “You deserve somethin proper…” He began before shaking his head, a little chuckle escaping his lips. “God knows I wanted to do this proper, but you know me baby girl, I ain’t proper.” Y/n laughed some more. “What are you on bout Benny Cross?” Benny took the jacket in his hands. “You stole my heart the moment I set eyes on you, y’know that? I’ve wanted you to be mine since that very first look.” He unfolded the denim to reveal Betty’s handy work; the Vandals logo with ‘PROPERTY OF BENNY’ sown in. “So be mine.” Benny looked at Y/n expectantly. “Be my wife.”

[pinkxpantha]

New Years Resolutions

-Lyney x GN!Reader

#: synopsis- Lyney has a massive crush on you, and decides he needs you by his side before the year ends

#: cw- 1.9k words, you/they pronouns, lyney is kinda oblivious, kiss scene (brief) Lynette and Freminet mentioned, confession, ect ect I'm so tired 😭

Lyney is confident, charismatic and so many other positive adjectives according to himself and others. Yet why does it feel as though none of that matters when it comes to you?

You weren't some important figure, realistically, you didn't stand out from most crowds.

But why do you have to be so.. you?? Lyney isn't the type to get so overwhelmed when he sees someone smile that his heart stills in his chest. So unusually that the first time it happened he thought he was on death's doorstep.

And of course, it just had to be you to cause this feeling in him.

"ney--"

You always sparked such an unfamiliar experience in him. The novelties of life always had a touch of 'you' in them.

"Lyne--"

How could he ever dare to dream of a new day without you in it?

"Lyney, wake up."

"[Name]--" He quickly cut himself off at the sight of his sister deadpanning. She looked so done with him, and that was kind of warranted.

He cleared his throat, "Er-- Lynette." Lyney rubbed the sleep off his eyes as he looked up at her.

"This is starting to get concerning." She spoke, her voice as monotonous as always. He didn't miss the edge of worry in her tone.

His hands kneaded into the plush of the couch that he somehow fell asleep on.

"Lynette, that's a stretch. I know calling you-" "And freminet." "... and freminet by the wrong name on accident is annoying but it's nothing to be concerned about." He waved his hand in a placating gesture.

"I still recognize my wonderful sister and enthusiastic brother." Lyney nodded.

"Enthusiastic?" Lynette echoed, her arms folded into each other.

"You should see him ramble about some of the things he's found on his diving trips."

Lynette nodded in thought, "I see it, but that's not what i'm talking about."

What? That's the only unusual thing he's done recently. What is she talking about?

"--your painful crush on [Name]."

Oh.

That... makes a lot more sense.

"I know i'm not the best person to give you advice on this manner-- but you need to do something about it. We can see how much it's been affecting you--"

"Lynette, I appreciate your concern but i'm fine." He assured. It wasn't like Lyney was steeped in longing. You were just--- ugh. So many things reminded him of you. Could you really blame him when your absence felt like his oxygen was being deprived?

"You say that but how much longer are you going to wait?" Lynette said, her words pointedly accusing.

"..?"

"Are you going to wait for them to make the first move or until these feelings of yours bubble over?"

Lyney hesitated. Lynette's words seemed so direct, as though she was confronting a part of himself he hid under layers and layers of facades and empty promises.

"What are you so scared of?"

He doesn't want to lose you. A world where everything reminds him of a faded memory-- one he could never hope to experience again would feel like torture.

But this anemoia of what it feels like to wrap his hand around yours could become something real if he just made a move.

Lyney didn't need to say anything for his sister to understand what he was thinking. As if each thought was paved into the muscles of his forehead, and his act of stoicism only made the words more legible for her to read off him.

"Reach out, Lyney." She advised.

Lyney was many things, a fool might be one of them. He had a golden opportunity, and he'd be an absolute moron to ignore it.

Lyney has scrolled through way to many websites in the past twelve hours. He hopes nobody finds his search history in the moments of desperation he held.

Wikihow articles be damned--- he was going into the new years with you by his side.

How many romance related searches has he looked for? Good question, anyways. He would have to put is faith in those cookie-filled sites even as desperate as he was he wouldn't put any faith into Instagram, TikTok or god forbid Reddit.

Not to mention the hour he spent just rewriting one text.

'hey [name] r you doing anything for new years?'

'wanna celebrate new years w/ us?'

'pls come over I cant do this anhmore'

'are you doing anything? I want to spend new years with you'

Shit, he didn't mean to press send. He quickly went to delete the message only to see you just happened to read it at the same time.

So the world really does hate me.

'a and with freminet and Lynette too of course!! 11!'

Lyney quickly typed out that second message. He groaned, flinging his phone onto his bed, his head now stuffed in between the pillows cushioning the head.

Even as he felt the vibration of his phone from his embarrassed position on the bed, he made no movement to check.

Fear of rejection? No, this would kill him.

Maybe he was being dramatic-- yet he typed each letter with the yearning of a thousand starving lions, and like felt you would see how down bad he was through the screen.

Though when he eventually had to check his phone (because unfortunately he can't ignore everything) his siblings heard his cry of joy.

You agreed!

A few more texts were sent coordinating where you were going to meet up.

So there he was, right at the shore of one of the nearby beaches.

The dusky night made the sand look dark, almost muddy if not for the faint illumination of the stars. His siblings were already with him. Lynette preferring to rest by the car as to not feel the grains of sand somehow slipping under her feet. Freminet moving just where the sand and water met, his ankles getting splashed occasionally.

And then he saw you, dressed a lot warmer than he was, a scarf wrapped around your neck. Even in the shroud of darkness the first thing he saw were your eyes. The starlight glimmer made them shine so beautifully.

"You look like you're going to freeze."

A voice he recognized so well, too familiar to his heart.

"Hey [Nam]--" He cut himself off, fabric swiftly wrapped around his neck. He didn't even notice how cold it was until you made him feel so much warmer.

"There, you should stop shivering soon." You were so close to him-- he realized you were right, his hands were trembling at his sides.

Thank archons it's nighttime. He would hate to have you see how flustered he was, he could feel his face grow hot, and not from the scarf.

Get a grip!

He tried not to focus on the proximity of your faces, but he couldn't help it. You backed away from him with a chuckle, your head turned towards the ocean stretched out ahead.

"Thanks," he said, his gaze completely locked onto you. "I wasn't that cold." The breeze of night brushed against your face.

You turned back to face him.

"Hah, sure. I'll agree with that for now." You grinned

He blinked.

Why were you smiling like that? Your lips stretched to the risen corners of your mouth, the corners of your eyes crinkled just the slightest.

Curse all those sources saying to "Be confident" that might work for him if it was anybody else he was talking to.

"Are you cold?" Good save, Lyney. good save.

You shrugged, "I'll be fine."

"We could start a fire or something." He offered, only partially joking.

You let out a few breathy laughs, "once a pyromaniac, always a pyromaniac."

You both kept talking, walking along the beach, right next to each other. If you bothered to pay attention, you might've seen freminet and Lynette distance themselves as the clock ticked closer to twelve.

It wasn't long before you both were secluded, the only other person was each other.

Lyney checked his phone, '11:55' it read.

"Only five more minutes before the new years." He smiled as he spoke, his steps halting in the sand. The footprints you and he made all lead up to this right?

"You excited?"

He nodded, "I guess." Lyney took a deep breath, his priorities solely focused on you. You stopped next to him, moving in front just so you could see his face.

"What's on your new years resolution?" He asked. His hands stuffed in his pocket. His fingers traces barely around the edge of the paper.

"Probably just the usual, I haven't given much thought to it." You said, your hands rubbed against one another. "You?"

He hesitated-- no, he didn't have time to hesitate.

"I want to spend more time with my family,"

Freminet and Lynette came to mind, their faces were plastered all over his life, he'd be damned if they weren't there.

"I want to experience new things."

He thought of you, the warmth you brought into his life. His instincts craved the comforting heat of safety, of home. Each new thing he could cup in his hands always had that warmth since you taught him to appreciate these minuscule things.

"And.. I want to be with you."

He confessed, as soon as the words escaped his mind and into the atmosphere around you, he couldn't stop.

"[Name], you're too good to me. Each second I'm near you, I swear you've changed something fundamental in me. Even though it feels like I can't breathe, I've never felt more alive in those moments."

He looked up to face you, your eyes wide and gaping at him. His blonde hair messily fell down the side of his face as he looked up at you-- just you.

He grabbed your hands in his, raising your knuckles up to his lips, letting his warm breath sooth the cold that nipped at your fingers.

Even with the fireworks booming off in the distant areas. you were the only thing he focused on. You consumed all of his senses.

"I want to be yours this year." He said, his voice a mere whisper in the grand scheme of things.

But you weren't the type to look at a wide picture. Those small details, each individual brush stroke mattered to you. The sincerity of those words took you off guard.

His eyes were locked onto your face, his heart thrumming in his chest. Then you moved.

Your fingers slipped from his palm, cupping the sides of his face instead. The cold still clung to the tips of your fingers, but he didn't mind. He realized what was going to happen.

You leaned in, and so did he. Your lips slotting together in a mix of warmth and chill. He wasn't prepared for this, and he thought you weren't either.

Expecting the unexpected is a part of life though.

So even as your lips parted he swore he could still feel them on his, the warmth lingering.

"Happy new years." You said, your chest heaving with each breath you took.

Lyney was still in the past, hung up on the feeling of you.

"W-wait," He covered his mouth and nose with his hands, the tips of his fingers pressed against each other.

"You look flustered." You hummed, the circles of your cheeks risen in a smile.

"A-ah.. yeah." He only said in response.

Lyney was confident, and charismatic. When it came to you, he poured his confidence into his actions, his words left behind. He was charismatic, his words, although delayed, carried such sincerity. He acts complex.

"Could I kiss you?"

But he is a simple person.

[thesleepyfable]

~ SWTD: Still Here AU Part 7: ~

The Confession:

And we're back. New story arc I'm calling 'Before the Rescue.' It's a few mini chapters focusing on various characters getting closure with themselves or each other. This one is for Caz.

Part 8:

With a cigarette hanging from his lips, Roper watched the Deck from the catwalk. It was both a relief and strange to see things back to normal, apart from the obvious. All the infected had the blood washed away and their torn uniform removed. The sky had cleared as dusk approached. Fitting.

Trots seemed to be taking it well. He was sweeping up the dust left by The Shape alongside Roy and Dobbie. Nothing seemed to be bothering him, unless staying busy was his way of coping.

On the Deck, Douglas, Innes and Sunil were going backwards and forwards for spare bedding. The empty shipping containers were going to be makeshift beds. Apart from Trots, because he won the lottery out of the group, the infected couldn't fit in their rooms. Addair managed, because The Shape melted his bones, but as soon as he sat on his bunk, it broke, leaving him shocked and embarrassed. He tried his best not to show it and just muttered under his breath in frustration.

No one had seen Rennick since he vanished, and no one went looking for him. If he wanted to get into everyone's good books, then hiding wasn't the way to do it.

Overall, it was peaceful.

Caz approached and stood besides Roper, leaning against the handrailing. He went to accept a cigarette but refused. 'New Year resolution,' he said, causing Roper to chuckle. 'How ye holding up?'

'Better than you. We actually missed everything in Control.' It was true. Somehow The Shape never spread to Marine Control. A blessing.

'Good. This place would be fucked if it did.'

The Shape may be dead and gone, but the damage remained. Large holes in the floors and ceilings weren't hard to miss. One wrong step and you could still fall into the North Sea. The Pontoons and water tanks had flooded, though O'Connor and his team went back to fix the issue. Administration was a total loss thanks to Rennick's episode of rage and Brodie was constantly keeping an eye on the stack. The lifeboats were also a total loss.

Then there was Gregor.

His body was long gone. It was part of the sea now. Roper was pondering on what to tell his family, because they all knew 'Boss Man' Rennick didn't have the balls to do so himself. What's worse was that Gregor isn't the only one. Davros has been missing for hours. No one could find him. All they could guess was he took a lifeboat and fled. If that was the case then he wasn't alone. Out of the skeleton crew on Beria, eight, not including Gregor and Davros, were gone.

Caz twiddled his thumbs. It wasn't over for the crew, but for him, it was. The victory will be short lived. He knew as soon as he steps back onto the mainland, if they aren't arrested by military, the police will ship him off to the nearest station. How long would he be put away for? Clearly waiting for Billy to drop the charges didn't work. Bastard was always stubborn. The Shape was an interesting distraction, but he had to stop running.

'Roper, you need to know something.' And, as if by divine faith, Roy overheard. He knew what Caz was going to say and approached. Trots and Dobbie didn't notice. Roper turned, noticing Roy but not suspecting anything. 'The reason why I'm even 'ere, and why Rennick needed to see me.' No going back now. 'Well, let's just say I was and am, well and truly fucked.' Roper frowned. Roy stayed quiet. 'I beat up a bloke back in July. Came to Beria to avoid the charges. I...I dunno. Just hoped it would all blow over and I could go back in January all willy-nilly and see me girls, but someone spilt the beans and the police know I'm 'ere.'

Roper trilled his lips and had a conflicting look on his face. Out of everything he expected to hear, knowing a criminal was on board was not one of them. 'Can't say I've got experience in that field, mate. Does anyone else know?'

'N-'

'Yes, I did.' Roy stepped forward and raised his hand like he was back in school. 'I helped Caz get here. Someone back home owed me a favour and put in a good word.'

'Ah. The plot thickens then.' Roper turned away to think. He wasn't someone who could hire and fire like Rennick. Tapping the cigarette on the handrail, then putting it out between his gloved fingers, he'd quickly come to the conclusion that this didn't change how he saw the pair. Sadly he only had one answer. 'I think it's best you tell the others in your own time. If you don't want to, then that's up to you Caz.' But the truth will come out in the end. A former semi-professional boxer being arrested will get back to everyone here.

Caz didn't know if he felt better or not with that answer. He narrowed his eyes and glanced to the crew. None of them knew. Was that for the best? To live in ignorance? Would they hate him if he told them what happened back home? Would Rennick reveal his secret to get back at him? He didn't want to toss Roy into the mix either. The big man might have helped, but he had a home to go back to.

'...I'll.' He huffed. 'I'll think about it.'

Fuck.

Roper patted his shoulder to show support. Honestly, he didn't care. The entire time he's been here, Caz has been a good lad. He worked hard and he did keep this place running more than anyone knew. Just because he wasn't down in Engineering or working the drill itself didn't mean he was useless. Now he had to ask. 'Did you win?'

'Oh, aye. He got to experience a broken nose for once. Suited the bastard more.' The trio got a good laugh out of that comment.

So, who to tell first?

Could tell his little boxing fan base. That would include Innes, O'Connor, McLurg and Sunil. Finlay? She knew something was up since this morning and she's smart enough to put two and two together. Addair? No, but he already had an inkling. 'Ah. Fuck it.'

It must be becoming a little ritual for Caz, because, again, he jumped over the handrailing - nearly giving Roper and Roy a mini heart attack - and landed on the shipping container Brodie, Raffs and Finlay were sitting on. Everyone heard and gave him his full attention.

'Er...Right. Shit.' Deep breaths, Caz. Deep breaths. 'I need everyone's attention.'

'Looks like you've already got that.'

'Yes, thank you, Finlay.' A sigh. 'There's something you all need to know about me.' Caz tapped his foot, looked all the men in the eye and continued. He had no idea, but Rennick was listening from the Under Rig. He was too far away for Caz to sense him but his voice bouncing off the metal structure and equipment could be heard all the way on The Isle of Man. The manager clung to what's left of the railing and listened. 'Now, I know a lot of you know of me past, and you should know I retired from that lifestyle over a decade ago. But, it seems the past keeps coming back to me.' He paused. Caz hadn't noticed he was tapping his thigh with his left hand.

'I beat a man up back home. At first, I thought I was doing the right thing. He said some fuckin' terrible things about me wife that I just lost control. Yes, he was trying to get a raise out of me and whilst he got what he wanted, I should have just walked away. But, I came here to hide from the police. They now know that I'm here. It's why Rennick wanted me. So, when we get back to the mainland, don't be surprised that police cars will be there.' He took another long breath. 'I'm sorry I never told any of you sooner.'

Silence lingered. No one said anything. They all just stared. Caz felt tension brewing. He began to turn away in defeat, his head hanging low.

'Were we supposed to care about any of that?' He stopped. It was Brodie's voice. The diver got to his feet and like Roper, placed a hand on Caz's shoulder. 'Caz, look around you. From all the shit we've been through, do you really think this is going to change anything?' A look and feeling of relief washed over the leccy. He felt a weight being lifted from his shoulders. He turned to the crew, then to Roy and the others on the catwalk, before back to Brodie. 'Don't worry. We'll put a good word in for ya.'

Caz smiled. Then cried. Then laughed.

'Ah you pricks. You're gonna make me cry.' But he did and accepted Brodie's embrace. Then Finlay joined in. Then Raffs. Then Gibbo. Caz had no idea where he came from, but a simple hug was quickly becoming a mosh pit. 'Gah! Okay. You can all stop now.' It didn't, because Muir lifted Caz up he'd just won the Premier league trophy. 'Muir, for fucks sake!'

Rennick didn't come out of hiding. He heard the laughter from the crew. He would be lying if he didn't feel both sad and jealous. It brought back memories when he was Caz's age, maybe even younger, during the war. That feeling of a team effort. The brotherly love. How he missed those days, even if it was a dark time in human history. It brought people together. What happened to him? How did he stray so far from his younger self? Rennick couldn't absorb his head into his body like Gibbo, but how he wished he could. The old man just wanted to hide from the world. For now, he watched the calm waves and longed to return to the past.

[ask-outside-stars]

Does William still have his powers now? Or is he a normal human now?

Excellent question! Which deserves a spoiler-y drabble below 👀👇

Will adjusted the helmet on his head, tightening the straps and making sure that it didn't move too much. He then patted the pillows taped around his torso appreciatively and held his arms out at his sides.

"Okay, I'm ready. Let 'er rip," he said with great solemnity.

Across from him, armed with a bucket of water balloons, Mabel and Dipper nodded sharply. The first balloon was flung at him and he held out his hands as if to physically block it from striking him. However, there was a brief flash of light and the balloon vanished only to immediately reappear directly above Mabel's head, popping and drenching her with cold water.

"Remote teleportation: confirmed," Dipper said, making a note in his journal as Mabel wrung out her hair.

After being given the all-clear to begin more strenuous activities post-recovery, Will had immediately decided to see if he still had his powers. Ford had been understandably worried about Will pushing himself too hard and too fast, and the helmet and makeshift body armor were a sort of compromise they had made. From the porch, Ford watched the proceedings, gnawing on his pinky nail and keeping an eye on his husband for any signs of lingering fatigue or weakness. So far so good.

Mabel then reached into the bucket and flung another balloon. Instead of blocking it or teleporting it away, Will instead made himself immaterial and the balloon passed right through him as it would through thin air before bursting against the ground. Ford exhaled in relief.

Another balloon was thrown, only to be immediately popped after being shot with a laser fired from Will's fingertip. The next one was tossed and Will dodged it fully by levitating upwards. However, his grasp of flight was still somewhat shaky and he landed clumsily back on the soaked grass in a heap of awkward limbs. He quickly scrambled back to his feet before Ford could inevitably rush over to check on him and gave the other man a confident thumbs-up to reassure him.

"You know, these powers are a lot cooler when they're being used for summer fun and not, ya know, unending nightmares," Mabel remarked as she fished out a particularly large water balloon.

She flung it with both arms and it erupted into a ball of flame and steam once it was in the air.

"Pyrokinesis as strong as ever," Dipper noted. "How about size manipulation?"

Will snapped his fingers and the next balloon thrown at him shrunk to the size of a grape and burst harmlessly against his cheek.

"Still working, Pine Tree. Gimme another one," he said with no small amount of smugness.

"I think that was our last one, actually," Dipper replied, holding up the empty bucket for inspection.

Will snapped his fingers again, this time in playful disappointment. "Damn. Oh well. I think we learned a lot from this experiment, don't you?"

He leaned down a little to begin untying the pillows from his chest, unaware of the conspiratorial whispers being passed between the two teenagers watching him. Right as Will lifted his head back up he felt a blinding pain just above his eye and he staggered back with a shout, clutching his face. Something warm trickled between his fingertips and his hand came away red. He looked at Mabel and Dipper, both of them holding handfuls of rocks. At the sight of his blood, Mabel gasped and dropped her stones, but Dipper had frozen in place, arm still cocked back and ready to throw another rock. Before Will could ask just what the heck they were doing, he was suddenly pulled away by Ford, who immediately began fussing.

"Oh my God, Will! Your face!" he gasped, dabbing at the blood there with his sleeve.

The rock had struck Will right in the eyebrow, splitting the skin there and raising an angry welt around it. Will hissed in pain, but allowed Ford to continue his fretting.

"We're so sorry, Grunkle Will!" Mabel babbled.

"We wanted to know if your automatic self-defense magic or whatever was still working!" Dipper tried to explain, but clapped his mouth shut when Ford shot him an exasperated glare.

"And you two thought the best way of trying that would be to ambush William with rocks?" he demanded.

Dipper and Mabel shrunk back, thoroughly cowed, and even Will felt reluctant to defend their actions.

"It's okay, kids," he sighed, wincing in pain. "How about you don't do that again - and maybe go get the first aid kit - and I'll consider us squared away."

"Y-yeah, we can do that," Dipper said before taking his sister's hand and bolting for the shack before Ford could ground them.

Ford gently steered Will into sitting down on the couch on the porch before joining him.

"Are you alright? Any headache or feeling of dizziness? Nausea?" Ford asked.

"I don't have a concussion, if that's what you're worried about. It's just a cut, Fordsy. No big deal."

"No big deal?! They could have blinded you! That's your good eye! What if they had hit it?"

Will held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Alright, alright, I'm sorry for not taking this seriously."

Ford huffed, "As well you should be. Although, I can't really be too upset, seeing as you're the victim in this whole debacle. No more experiments on your powers until I can come up with a safer way of doing so, one that doesn't involve sharp stones."

Will wanted to protest, but his brow was stinging and he was beginning to feel a bit of fatigue creeping in from exerting himself so soon after his recovery. He leaned against Ford and smiled when he felt an arm come up around his shoulder to hold him close. Inwardly, he was glad, despite currently bleeding from a facial wound. His automatic defenses may no longer exist, but if the tradeoff was that he got greater everyday control, then it was well worth it. He'd just have to be a little more careful around the kids, that's all.

[kats-kradle]

ahhh hello! i'm the one who commented on your er fanfic (absolutely loved it, by the way.) and it's so relieving to see more people join the fandom,.,

who's your favorite so far?

boy oh boy you’ve won a rant about ER! Buckle in it’s gonna be a ride. I’ve seen 8 full episodes but my thoughts are Many.

First off thank you so much for your kind words about my fic! I really wasn’t expecting anyone to read it and definitely not the same day I posted it lol since the show is like 30 years old. So it was a nice surprise thank you!

To make a short answer very long, I had heard about the show when my mom told me about the episode where Carter and Lucy get stabbed. It was related to the conversation in some way but I remembered that because. Well. Whump. Fast forward many years I’m now watching the Librarians tv show. It’s funny. It’s good. I love Noah Wyle. He’s a great actor. I wonder if he’s been in anything else so I search him on tumblr and lo and behold the stabbing episode!! I am elated and it is a strange full circle moment. I then search on YouTube for all the Carter whump clips I can find. Then I’m watching all the Carter clips I can find. Then I’m watching other clips and I want to write for this show but I figure I should have some basic information so I find the first season and I get sucked in and—

Carter. It’s Carter. He’s such a puppy of a man. I love how the hospital staff have collectively adopted him. Noah Wyle is an amazing actor my favorite thing about him is how fast he can go from a comedic beat to a serious one. He’s got RANGE man.

Anyways now you get to hear my thoughts on the other characters too!

I like Greene a lot. He set the tone well in the first episode (see what I did there ahaha) and he gives fatherly vibes. He’s just a nice guy. I love his friendship with Ross too it’s really believable that they are friends. I don’t like Greene’s wife she acts like she’s trying to seduce him is every scene instead of actually dealing with their problems?? Ma’am that’s your husband stop batting your eyelashes and biting your lip your making me uncomfortable. Honestly I skip through most of their scenes because I am Uncomfortable.

I liked Ross at first. I found his immaturity endearing up until when he went to Carol’s house to try and win her back. I was cheering when she chased him down to chew him out. Now I just think he’s a bit of a jerk because he won’t leave Carol alone.

Carol is my girl. She needs to decide what she wants but she’s my girl. It was really a bold move for the show to start off with such a heavy topic such as a suicide attempt of a close friend, but they handled it really well. I love her and wish the best for her, but girl make up your mind about which guy you want to be smooching.

Benton isn’t as bad as I thought he was from the clips I saw. He’s a bit brusk but he really does seem to care about Carter and his experience as a student. He seems like a good teacher and he does give out praise and comfort when required. He’s also a good student too. He seems to take his own critiques gracefully, even if it’s clear they get to him. I loved the part where Sarah was like “you’re just mad because you want to sleep with me” and he was like “not only do I NOT want to sleep with you, the thought has NEVER crossed my mind” what a mic drop moment.

I feel bad for Lewis and the situation with her sister but more importantly girl get away from that psychologist can you not see how pompous he is??? I don’t like that man. Bad man. Go away man.

I like how the show feels so real. Ofc I know there’s a ton of medical inaccuracies, but the interactions between the cast members feel real and it really elevates the show to another level. I think so far they’re doing a good job of handling sensitive issues too like suicide attempts, rape, racism, etc. I’m probably not gonna watch the whole thing but for now I’m hooked and scheming other fics to write.

ANYWAY who’s your favorite character? What are your thoughts on the show? I already know all the major spoilers so don’t worry about trying to keep it unspoiled for me