#but ill give myself small breaks every now

[al13n-fr34k]

blog #1

Working hard for something for my moots today!

Bin's part is done :)

Next is Goober :D

[shmaptainwrites]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐀 [𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐒𝐎𝐍]

PAIRINGS — James Wilson x ex-wife!Reader

SUMMARY — James and Reader have not been on great terms since their divorce, but an emerging situation with their son forces them to put aside their differences and work together and hope that past feelings don't resurface

WARNINGS — hospitalization, chronic illness, swearing, complicated feelings (idk y'all they're divorced what more can I say)

NOTE — Okay so I have so many things to say about this fic, but if I say them all this post will be way too long it already is like this came up as 33 pages in my docs but this is a day late birthday present for @shots-of-wilson-and-whiskey who also provided the James pic I hope you had such a fun day and a great year of simping ahead!

Pronounciation — Mahlet = Ma-h-let | Hennock = Hey-knock

Ever since you had become a mother, birthday parties were the bane of your existence. The sugar overload, the loud noises, the cleanup afterwards, all amounted to your own personal hell. Yet, you would move hell or high water for your son to have the most enjoyable party every single year. 

Today was no different, eight years later you were still breaking your back to ensure every small detail was perfect, from the pin the spikes on the stegosaurus to the cake you’d spent at least a month painstakingly training to make. 

A friend of yours, another parent from the school your son Julian went to, came over in the kitchen to give you a hand with some of the snacks. 

“How are you managing here?” she asked and you took a deep breath. 

“Managing is the operative word,” you chuckled. “Kids having fun out there?” 

“Yeah, loads, you’ve outdone yourself again,” she assured you. “Will James be making an appearance?” 

“I stopped asking myself that question after we got divorced,” you said while fixing the plate of vegetables and dip. “He’s supposed to, he promised Julian, but we all know how that ends.” 

There seemed to be a bit of commotion out in the backyard and you tried to assess what was happening from the window, but your suspicions that something was off was confirmed when Julian’s best friend, Hennock, came rushing inside.

“Mrs. Wilson, something’s going on with Julian,” he said and you frowned while your friend followed you outside to see the kids circling around Julian who seemed to be gripping onto his chest. 

“Jay, what’s going on? Are you okay?” you bent down to be closer to his eye-level, trying to understand what was happening to your son. 

“Can’t…” he pointed to his mouth. “Can’t…breathe,” he wheezed. 

Your eyes went wide, but before you could grab him and run for the car he began to cough and you hoped and prayed there was just something caught in his throat that would make its way out, but with the coughing came spatters of red all over your white shirt.

“Mahi,” you looked over at your friend quickly while picking Julian up. You didn’t have to say a word, she already knew what she needed to do. 

Living close to the hospital, it was worth it to drive yourself, that way you didn’t have to wait for an ambulance to get to you. You had made the mental calculations many times before, just in case there was an emergency and now it was finally coming in handy. 

When you got Julian in the car, you checked in on his breathing, it was still laboured, but at least at this point he was getting in the air, even if he was coughing up blood. 

You turned on the car and began driving while calling your ex-husband with one hand. The line rang until you reached voicemail so you called again, expecting at least this time for him to pick up, only to hear the tone once more. 

“Dammit James!” you threw your phone down on the seat next to you knowing you’d deal with him later, now you needed to focus on getting to the hospital without killing either of you. 

Barely paying attention to how your car was parked, you grabbed Julian out of the back seat and ran into the ER with him. 

“Ma’am, what’s going on?” a nurse came and asked you as you put Julian down. 

“My son, he-he’s having trouble breathing and he’s coughing up blood I-I-I don’t know what’s happening.” 

Before you could say a word they had whisked Julian away and another nurse came to ask you some questions about his medical history and any information that may be important to the doctors treating him. 

“Where’s my son?” you asked, “I want to see my son.” 

“Ma’am I’m sorry, but the doctors are working on getting his airway cleared, you can’t be with him right now.” 

You pressed your lips into a thin line and bit back your tongue. There were a million and one things you wanted to say to the nurse, but none of them would help your situation. On the other hand, finding your ex might. 

So instead of finding the waiting room you went over to the elevator and made your way up to the oncology department, briskly walking through the halls until you reached his office. At this point, you didn’t bother knocking, opening the door to see him sitting down over a file and talking with House. 

“Hey Greg,” you said in a fake cheery voice. “Mind giving us the room?” 

“Oh, this is the wife with the kid, did you forget to pay child support?” House asked James. 

“Get out, Greg,” you said warningly and he listened, instead opting to steal the rest of James’ sandwich and slipping past you, while wishing James good luck and letting you slam the door shut behind you. 

“What’s going on?” James asked, clearly confused by your demeanour and appearance. “If this is about the party I didn’t forget I was-wait is that blood,” he stood up from his chair and came over to you. 

“What’s going on is you didn’t pick up your fucking phone,” you said angrily. 

“Hey,” James looked at you sternly. “What is going on?” he repeated his question, this time more pointedly. 

You could feel your lips begin to tremble and your vision became blurred while you shook your head. 

“Who’s blood is on your shirt?” 

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, “It’s Julian’s.” 

“Julian-I-what happened?” his demeanour changed from frustrated with your attitude towards him to worrying for his son. 

“I-I don’t know he said he couldn’t breathe and then he started coughing up blood and I just picked him up and drove him here a-and now they won’t let me see him.” 

“You drove him?” he asked incredulously. “You didn’t think to maybe call an ambulance?” 

“That’s what you’re hung up on? That I decided to drive because it was faster than getting him an ambulance?” 

“That’s not what I-,” 

“Yes it is,” you stepped back. “I wouldn’t have needed an ambulance if you were there.” 

James sighed and chose to ignore your comment, 

“Where is he?” he asked. 

“Emergency room,” you muttered. “They won’t let me see him, you need to talk to them, say something, anything.” 

James nodded his head, at least you could agree on that. He walked with you out of the office and to the elevator so you could go to the ER together and figure out what the hell was happening to your son. 

When you got down there and James began speaking to the nurses, they informed him that Julian had been moved to the ICU and his respiration was being closely monitored while they ran a few tests to see what had caused the arrest. 

You had to fight to hold yourself upright when they pulled back the curtain and you could see Julian hooked up to all the machines and with a ventilator tube stuck down his throat. You covered your mouth with your hand and shook your head again. This couldn’t be happening, now you were supposed to be cutting into cake and opening presents, not sitting in the ICU. 

You stepped inside with James and he closed the curtain to give you a bit of privacy and decided to look over his chart and see if they had given any relevant information there. Seeing none, he turned his attention over to you, seeing your eyes filled with tears, unable to tear your gaze away from your son. 

James walked over to you and cautiously put a hand on your shoulder, eventually encouraging you to turn around so he could pull you into his arms. You allowed your tears to soak his white coat, gripping onto him so tightly because there was nowhere else to hold. 

You could hear his breathing change, accompanied by the small sniffles and you knew he was doing just as bad as you were right now, wiping the tears from his own eyes as he finally allowed himself to see his son as he was, sick, helpless, vulnerable, and only moments ago, without his dad’s help when he needed him most. 

Your moment was interrupted when you heard the curtain being pulled back and you saw two doctors standing there. You pulled away from James and wiped whatever remaining tears were in your eyes so you could properly address them.

It seemed as though one of the doctors recognized James and when he looked down at the file and saw the name he made the connection internally. 

“Can we talk to you guys out in the waiting room for a moment?” he asked. 

“I don’t want to leave my son,” you shook your head. 

“Ma’am, this is the ICU and the visiting hours are very strictly adhered to, I think your husband maybe got lucky and pulled a few strings so you could see your son, but we need to leave now.” 

“He’s not my husband,” you muttered and reluctantly followed them out of the makeshift room and towards the waiting area. 

“Did you find out what was wrong?” James asked, crossing his arms over his chest. “I looked at his chart. You took him for an emergency CT and bloodwork.” 

“We also ran a few other tests,” the doctor began explaining. “From the medical history your, um, ex wife gave I had a suspicion of something so we ran a sweat test to check for elevated chloride levels and it just came back positive.” 

“Chloride levels?” you looked up at James. “What does that mean?” 

James sighed and ran a hand through his hair, “It means Julian has cystic fibrosis.” 

“I-I’ve heard of that, is it curable?” you asked. 

“I’ll leave you guys with Dr. Liu, he deals with the pediatric cystic fibrosis cases and will be able to answer your questions better than I can,” he wished you a good day and left you alone with the other doctor. 

“Cystic fibrosis is manageable-,” 

“So you can’t cure it,” you reiterated. 

The doctor shook his head, “Unfortunately there is no cure for CF yet, but many people have been able to live longer and happy lives with the medical technology now available.” 

James was silent, taking in all the information that was being presented. 

“How did he get it? Is it contagious or-or was it just always there?” you asked. 

“It’s a genetic condition, so he’s always had it, the symptoms have just gotten to the point where they’re now visible,” the doctor explained.

“I-It’s genetic so one of us is a carrier?” you pointed to you and James. 

“We both are,” James said. “Both parents have to be carriers to pass it down to their child, right?” 

Dr. Liu nodded and you pressed your lips together. 

“C-Can you just tell us what this means for right now?” you asked. “I just think-I think I need a minute.” 

Dr. Liu nodded his head and explained they were giving Julian medication to help with the infection and airway damage that caused him to cough up blood, then they would get him on some bronchodilators to help with his breathing for the time being while they assessed what other issues the cystic fibrosis had potentially caused in his body. He’d have to stay at the hospital for a while, but hopefully could be moved to the pediatric ward within the next day or so.

“We can talk more about what Julian’s medical journey will look like later, I’ll give you guys some time together and if you have any questions, Wilson’s got my pager and knows where my office is.” 

You nodded your head and thanked him quietly as he left the waiting area. You finally sat down on one of the chairs. 

James took the seat next to you and you covered your face with your hands. 

“We couldn’t give him a functional family and a happy home and now we’ve given him a chronic medical condition to top it off.” 

“Blaming ourselves isn’t going to do anything for Julian,” James said. 

“And sitting around here is?” you asked and James sighed. 

“No, no it’s not.” 

You sat there in silence for a little while longer before you noticed James stand up and motion for you to follow him. As much as you didn’t want to listen to him and just sit and wait until they would let you be with Julian again, you got up and followed him to one of the OR supply closets. He used a key to unlock the door and sifted through some materials until he found what he was looking for, pulling out a scrub shirt in your size and handing it over to you. 

You looked down at your own shirt, seeing the red specks of Julian’s blood and closed the door behind your both, pulling your shirt off over your head and handing it to James. You were about to put the other shirt on when you noticed the flecks of dried blood against your chest. 

While you eyes were transfixed on that, James had grabbed an alcohol wipe package from the shelves and tore it open with his teeth, removing the wipe and reaching over to help you clean the blood off yourself. 

“James, I can do it myself,” you reached for the wipe, but he pulled it away. 

“You’ve got some on your neck too, just let me take care of it,” he insisted. 

You knew better than to cause a fight over something trivial like this right now so you put your hands down, watching as James tossed your shirt over his shoulder and carefully began wiping away the specks of your son’s blood off your chest, collarbone, and neck. 

“Have you eaten today?” he asked you while holding your face to tilt it to the side so he could get a spot he’d missed earlier. 

“No, why?” 

“Because it’s his birthday, you’d always forget to eat until dinner and even then it would be scraps from the party until I forced you to eat something better,” he recounted. “Let’s just go grab something from the cafeteria before we go back to the ICU, okay?” 

“Will it make a difference if I say I’m not hungry?” you asked. 

“You can’t take care of Julian if you’re not taking care of yourself.” 

You scoffed and pulled the shirt over your head, “And you’ve suddenly become an expert on taking care of your family?” 

“Believe it or not, we were once happy and there was a reason we got married and decided to have a child together.” 

“And there’s a reason we got divorced too,” you added and opened the door behind you.

You didn’t go to the cafeteria, instead heading back to the ICU waiting room knowing either visiting hours would have to start eventually or they’d move Julian to his own room and you could finally sit with him. 

James clearly hadn’t followed you so you ended up alone again, wringing your hands and waiting for some sort of news. 

Eventually, you felt a bag drop on your lap and you looked up and saw James standing overtop of you. You looked inside and saw a package of a sandwich, a small bag of chips, and a water bottle. 

You knew he was right, that if you didn’t take care of yourself you wouldn’t be able to take care of Julian, so you forced yourself to eat, even if you didn’t want to. 

A little while later, Dr. Liu had returned and informed you that they were moving Julian to the pediatric ward and you could stay with him there in his room. When you joined him there, James had taken off his white coat and tossed it on one of the chairs, rolling up the sleeves of his shirt and sitting down next to Julian’ taking one of his hands in his own. 

“Don’t you have patients you need to see?” you asked, sitting on the opposite side of the hospital bed. 

“I told Cuddy I needed the day, someone else is taking care of it for me,” he said, not removing his gaze from Julian. 

With the two of them sitting next to each other like that, you could clearly see the similarities Julian had with his father. They shared the same eyes and nose, and when they smiled they had the same little creases around their eyes. 

You wished that’s what you could have been looking at, them smiling together, instead of the frown etched onto James’ face and Julian still fast asleep while an oxygen mask now delivered the air he needed to help him breathe. 

“Do you know much about cystic fibrosis?” you asked James, brushing your thumb against Julian’s other hand. 

“Only that it mainly affects the digestive system and the respiratory tract,” he explained. “I’m not too familiar with how it's managed, just that there’s regular doctor’s visits and probably some medication and therapies involved.” 

You could feel a small stirring and you looked down and saw Julian’s hand begin to move underneath yours. 

You smiled when you saw his eyes blink open and James was quick to stand up and come closer to him so he had a familiar face to look at while he took in his surroundings. 

“Hey buddy,” James smiled and you could see Julian light up at the sight of his dad. He lifted his hand to try to remove the oxygen mask, but James gently encouraged him not to. “This is giving your lungs an extra hand right now, let’s just keep it on until the doctor tells us it's okay to take it off.” 

“But you’re a doctor,” Julian countered and James chuckled. 

“I am, but I'm not your doctor. I am, however, your dad so you have to listen to me anyways,” he teased and bent down to kiss his son’s cheek and tickle him a little bit in the process. 

“Hey, go easy on him,” you placed a gentle hand on James' arm and he laid off. 

“You know,” James said. “It’s still your birthday.” 

“It is?” Julian asked and you both nodded and James reached down to grab something he’d brought with him. 

“All the presents your friends got you are at home waiting for you to get better so you can open them, but this is what I got for you,” he said. “I was gonna come and bring it to the party, but I think you brought the party to me.” 

Julian laughed a little at that and you rolled your eyes, of course James could make himself look good by not showing up. 

He sat up with the help of his dad and pulled out the tissue paper from the bag to see the present that was hiding underneath. With a big grin on his face, he took out a dinosaur stuffed animal along with a book all about the different species of the Cretaceous period. 

“This is awesome,” Julian grinned. “Thanks dad, I love it.” 

James gave Julian another kiss and you joined them, taking a seat on the bed and glancing over at the book on Julian’s lap. 

“How are you feeling sweetheart?” you asked, fixing the twisted band of the oxygen mask on his face. 

“My throat hurts a little bit,” he admitted. “And I’m kinda hungry.” 

“Let me call a nurse and we’ll see what you can eat,” you said and pressed the button to send someone over from the nurses’ station. 

Meanwhile, James poured Julian a glass of water and helped him take a few sips of it. His throat was probably irritated from being on the ventilator, but his lungs had become stabilized from the use of the bronchodilators. 

The nurse came and you spoke to her about getting Julian something to eat and she said she’d double check with Dr. Liu and then grab him some food. 

“Hey, Jay,” you walked over to the bed and took your son’s hand in yours. “Are you okay to hang out here with dad while I go grab some stuff from home? The doctors said we might hang around here for a few days so I think I need to pack a bag.” 

“Yeah, that’s okay,” Julian nodded. “Are you okay mom?” he reached up and touched your cheek and you realized you'd let a few more tears slip.

“Yeah, I’m just really happy you’re okay,” you wiped the tears away and pressed a big kiss to his cheek. “Right, Jamie? We’re both happy he’s okay.” 

James looked over at you with softness reflecting in his eyes at the sound of the nickname he hadn’t heard in a long time and nodded his head. 

“Bring some cake back with you,” Julian whispered. “Even if dad and the doctor say no we can sneak some.” 

You laughed at his plan and gave him another kiss, assuring him you’d pack some in a container to bring for him when you came back.

When you arrived at your home, you thought you might cry at the sight in front of you. The kitchen and living room were completely clean, presents piled neatly on the coffee table along with a new card you didn’t recognize. Coming closer, you noticed the bright marker, signature of eight-year-olds across the country, with the message Get Well Soon Julian! written on it and signed by all his friends who had attended the party. 

You packed the card in your bag along with a few other things and made a mental note to grab a nice thank you gift for Mahlet to thank her for what she had done. 

As promised, you cut a big chunk of cake, enough for the three of you to share, and packed it in a tupperware to bring back to the hospital. 

You grabbed a few changes of clothes for both you and Julian and changed out of the temporary shirt you had on and into something more comfortable for the rest of the evening, making sure everything you needed was in place before heading out and going back to the hospital. 

When you got back to Julian’s room you saw James squished in next to him on the bed, the book he had bought him opened on his lap as he read its contents to Julian. Julian was resting his head against James’ arm and James was doing those big exaggerations he always would whenever he’d read bedtime stories to Julian, emphasizing all the insane details and changing the inflections of his voice in just the right way to make him laugh. 

“I brought cake,” you grinned, holding up the container as you entered the room, holding three plastic forks. “If Dr. Dad says it's okay, we can eat it.” 

“Dr. Dad desperately needs some sugar,” James nodded his head and closed the book for the time being while you took a seat by Julian’s legs and opened the container, handing each of the boys a fork. 

You helped Julian take off his oxygen mask for the time being and placed it off to the side, acutely aware of how his breathing sounded more laboured without it. 

James only snuck in a couple bites of the cake before taking the mask from your side and holding it ready in case Julian needed a bit of an extra hand. 

Just as he had predicted, after a few bites of cake Julian was noticing a bit of a difficulty to get air into his lungs and James held up the mask to his face, allowing him to take a couple deep breaths. 

“What do you think of the cake, Jay?” you asked. 

“Really good, just like everytime you make it,” he grinned. 

“I’m sorry you didn’t have a great birthday, buddy,” James apologized. “I mean with all your friends and classmates.” 

“What do you mean?” Julian asked. “I think I had a good birthday.” 

“You do?” you frowned curiously, wondering what kind of light he’d seen in the day that you and James as worried parents had somehow missed. “What made it good?”

“We’re sitting eating cake. Together. Just like when I was little,” he said simply and you chewed on the inside of your cheek, looking over at James whose gaze hadn’t left Julian. He almost looked disappointed, at what, you couldn’t place, but at least for the moment Julian was happy and that was all either of you really wanted. 

—

You grabbed your purse from the ground and thanked Dr. Liu for all of the information he had given you and assured you’d be there with Julian at the allocated follow-up time you had arranged. You were just about to leave when James came rushing into the room, apologies spewing out of his mouth for being late. 

“Late? You missed the whole appointment.”

“I-I did?” he said, looking down at his watch and cursing when he saw the time. 

“Jay, sweetheart, why don’t you sit down here,” you moved out of Dr. Liu’s office and set him up on a chair in one of the general waiting areas and handed him his dinosaur book from your purse. “I just need to go have a chat with your dad real quick.” 

Julian nodded and opened up the book, flipping through the pages while you grabbed James’ arm and pulled him into a dead-end hallway so you could speak in private. 

“What the hell took you so long?” you asked firmly. “We waited for twenty minutes before even starting the appointment!” 

“I’m sorry,” James apologized, “I was in the OR with a patient and something went haywire and it took longer than expected to fix it.” 

“Still, you couldn’t have told someone to at least pass on a message?” 

“I was in the middle of saving a patient’s life! What did you want me to do?” 

“I wanted you to be there for your son,” you whispered harshly. “You make promises you can’t keep and I have to watch him get disappointed over and over again. He does not deserve that, especially now.” 

James placed his hands on his hips and said, 

“I am trying to be there, it’s not for lack of effort-,” 

“Well try harder!” you threw your hands up in the air. “You’re an ex-husband James, not an ex-father. You don’t have to show up for me anymore, but you damn well better show up for him.” 

When he said nothing you continued. 

“Believe it or not, you don’t have to work as much as you do James. You chose to do that and right now that’s coming at your son’s expense and he is scared and vulnerable and neither of us know half of what Dr. Liu is talking to us about. Do you know what he said to me when I was confused about the management plan? He said Dad would know what this means. Dad can help us. And he’s right, you would have known and you can help so stop acting like your fucking schedule controls you and get your schedule under control.” 

James was quiet for a moment before he nodded his head, 

“Okay,” he said simply. 

You knew better than to get your hopes up with him and you didn’t have any more energy to argue, so you told him you could talk more later, but right now you were going to take Julian home so he could rest in his own bed and finally open his birthday presents. 

“Is dad coming with us?” Julian asked when you picked him up and began walking away to leave the hospital. 

“No, not this time,” you shook your head. 

“Did you fight with him again?” Julian asked and you pressed your lips together. 

“We just had a disagreement,” you settled on. “You can call him later when he’s done work if you want to talk to him, sounds good?” 

Julian was content with your answer and left it at that. 

Over the next few days, aside from Julian’s call, you didn’t hear much for James and you assumed things were right on track to going back to the way they had always been. You loved your son to pieces, but this was one time you wished his dad would be here to support, working and caring for Julian on top of trying to figure out how to be his at home doctor was already taking its toll and you didn’t know how you’d be able to keep it up. 

One night, you were sitting in the living room reading a book Dr. Liu had recommended. It was detailing strategies for parents with children who had cystic fibrosis. In the middle of your chapter you were interrupted by a knock to your door and you put in your bookmark, wondering who was stopping by this far into the evening. 

Unlocking the door and opening it, you found it hard to hide the surprise in your face when you saw James on the other end. 

“James?” you tilted your head. “I haven’t heard from you at all this week, what’s going on?” 

“I reduced my patient load,” he said, “and I talked to Cuddy about reducing my clinic hours. I still have to do some administrative stuff for the department, but it can be done from home for the most part.” 

“Oh,” you were surprised to say the least. You didn’t realize your outburst the other day had worked. 

“You were right,” he said. “I need to be here for Julian and I can’t do that if my work always comes first.” 

You nodded your head, following along with what he was saying. 

“C-Can I come in and see him?” James asked. “I know our custody agreement has always been all over the place-,” 

You didn’t say anything, simply opening the door wider for him to come inside. 

“He’s asleep in his room,” you said. “When you’re done we can talk some more.” 

James nodded and stepped inside, slipping off his shoes and taking off his jacket, making his way to Julian’s room to sit with him for a moment before joining you in the kitchen. 

“Want something to drink?” you asked and he said some water would be nice. You poured him a glass while waiting for the water to boil for your tea. 

“I saw the book you were reading over there,” he pointed to the couch. “Dr. Liu recommended it to me too, I just finished it the other night.” 

“Show off,” you rolled your eyes and handed him the glass. 

“What I was trying to say is I think something that stood out to me is having consistency and a routine is good, especially when things are new,” James explained. “I don’t think it makes sense for him to be moving back and forth from here to my place.” 

“So you think we should have a home base here?” you confirmed and he nodded. 

“I can come by more often, if there’s days where you need to be at work I can be doing the administrative stuff here after school and take care of Julian until you get back.” 

You pursed your lips and as you heard the kettle click, moved to pour your hot water into the mug you were holding. 

“These are all good ideas,” you started. 

“I’m assuming there’s a but coming?” 

“But I don’t want to give Julian the wrong impression is all.” 

James shook his head. 

“You really need to pick whatever it is you want,” James crossed his arms over his chest. “First I’m not here enough, I don’t put my family first. Now I’m putting my family first and you’re worried Julian’s going to think this means we’re getting back together.” 

“He doesn’t need to get his hopes up for something that’s never going to happen,” you said flatly. 

“Have you ever considered having a conversation with him instead of shielding him from every little thing that might hurt him?” James asked and you rolled your eyes. 

“Clearly every little thing can hurt him!” you pointed over to his room. “He can’t even breathe without help, James. Maybe he needs to be protected.” 

“Stop, just stop,” James ran a hand over his face. “I can’t get into a fight with you every single time we see each other. Julian is just as much my son as he is yours, if this is going to work we need to be able to have a conversation with each other.” 

You took a sip of your tea and said,

“Okay, I’m worried Julian might take the fact that you’re around more the wrong way.” 

James nodded his head, “I hear you, so maybe we should talk to him about it and say I’m coming around more to lend a hand around the house and help take care of him.” 

“Dad? What are you doing here?” as if on cue, Julian had walked into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes awake and adjusting to the light. 

“Julian, where’s your oxygen mask?” 

“I don’t wanna wear it mom,” he whined. “I don’t like the way it feels on my face.” 

You sighed, having had this conversation at least five times before, you didn’t know what else you could say to convince him. 

“Hey buddy, maybe we should listen to mom on this one,” James suggested. “You know that feeling you’ve got right here,” he pointed to his chest. “That’s only gonna get worse if you don’t wear it and we don’t want to have to go to the hospital again, right?” 

Julian shook his head and sighed, stomping back over to his room to grab the portable machine and place the tube under his nose and around his ears, allowing him to get the right amount of oxygen. 

You looked over at James gratefully and he reached his hand out to yours and gave it a squeeze. It was nice being on the same team even if you had just been arguing. 

When Julian came back he repeated his question to his dad who explained that he was here to talk to you about a few things that would be changing soon and that he’d be around more to help look after him. 

“If you’re going to be here to help look after me can you stay tonight?” Julian asked. “Mom still has some of your clothes in those boxes in her closet.” 

“She does, does she,” James looked over at you. 

“It was the stuff you wanted to give away and I never got around to it,” you said. “There’s probably a hoodie and some pyjama pants in there if you want to stay.” 

James pressed his lips together and sighed, 

“You know buddy as much as I would love to have a sleepover with you I don’t think it’s a good idea if I spend the night here,” James said. “But I can tuck you in again and wait until you fall asleep to go back home.” 

“Mom, can you come too?” Julian asked and you nodded your head. 

James stood up and helped Julian carry his portable oxygen machine back to his bedroom and you trailed behind them, watching as James carefully tucked Julian back under the covers while peppering his face with small kisses, like he would do when Julian was younger and just learning to sleep in his own room. 

“Dad that tickles,” Julian giggled and James simply smiled and continued littering his face with kisses. 

“Too bad. I love you too much; I just can’t get enough of you.” 

“Alright, move it,” you nudged James from the opposite side of the bed and took your turn. “It must tickle having two parents who love you so damn much.” 

“It does,” Julian’s laughter died out as you both finally left him alone, sitting on either side of his mattress. 

You both wished him a good night and waited as he slowly fell back asleep. When his breathing was steady and his grip loosened on yours and James’ hands you took it as your cue to leave the room. 

James placed a hand on your shoulder as you stepped out of the room, prompting you to turn around and face him. 

“I’ll come by tomorrow and we can work out a schedule or something, does that sound good?”

You nodded your head, 

“Yeah, I have a work thing tomorrow in the evening, I was gonna ask Mahlet, Hennock’s mom, if she could come look after Julian, but if you’re around…” 

“I’ll come for dinner and then do the bedtime routine,” he said and you smiled. 

“James I’m begging you-,” 

“I won’t be late,” he assured. “No surgeries planned and I’m ending my shift with clinic duty.” 

You pressed your lips into a thin line and nodded your head. 

“I’ll see you then,” you patted his arm and he showed himself out. 

You walked back to the kitchen grabbing your now lukewarm cup of tea and sitting back on the couch picking up your book and opening it, reading until you couldn’t keep your eyes open any longer, falling asleep right there on the couch. 

—

Over the next few months, you, James, and Julian had developed some sort of routine around school, work, and doctor’s appointments. A part of you thought you were spending more time together as a family than when you were married. 

Today you had to go in for work, also having reduced your hours, but in a way that you were working in tandem with James. When you arrived back home the house smelled like warm spices and big plates of home-cooked food. 

You dropped your keys on the entryway table, next to James’ keys and wallet and took off your jacket, hanging it up before coming to the kitchen and seeing Julian and Hennock doing their homework at the island. 

“Mr. Wilson, what is the difference between these two words?” Hennock asked, holding up his paper so James could see while cutting some vegetables for a salad. 

“I think the first one is the kind of principal in your school that looks after all the students and the other one is… man, that’s hard to describe. Hey, how do you describe what principle is to an eight-year-old?” James asked you. 

“I think that kind of principle is something that guides the way people behave or act,” you sat next to Julian and Hennock. “Like a principle is the foundation for something that people believe in.” 

Hennock and Julian still looked a little confused by your explanation so you tried to give an example. 

“So a principle could be to be kind to everyone we meet and so people who believe in that principle will try to follow it.” 

That put it in better terms for them to understand and there was a chorus of oh’s before they looked back down at their papers and scribbled down a few things to answer the questions they were asked. 

“They learning about homonyms?” you asked James and he nodded.

“I talked to Mahlet,” James said, changing the topic. “Hennock’s gonna stay for dinner and she’ll come pick him up around seven.” 

“Sounds good, it’s always nice to have you, Henny,” you smiled and ruffled your hand through his coarse curly hair in an endearing way. 

“Thanks, Mrs. Wilson,” Hennock smiled. 

James was now over the stove, stirring what looked like a soup before giving it a taste and figuring something might be missing.

“Can you taste this?” James asked. “I don’t know why, but every time I make it there’s something off.” 

You took a spoon and tried a little bit of the broth, looking down to see that he was making matzah ball soup and immediately when you tasted it you knew what was missing. 

“I know what it is,” you said. “But you can’t tell your mom I told you. She swore me to secrecy.” 

“My mother told you this?” James asked and you nodded. 

“When we were getting married she wanted me to know how to make it the way she would for you when you were sick.” 

“And she didn’t think to tell her own son how to do this?” he seemed thoroughly offended, but all you could do was laugh. 

“It’s tarragon. I don’t think it’s something everyone adds, it was just something special she’d put in hers to make it a little different. Here,” you reached into the spice cupboard and took out a jar of dried tarragon and took a bit of the herb out of the container and crushed it in your hands before sprinkling it into the soup. James mixed it in and gave the broth a minute to soak in the flavour before trying it again and shaking his head. 

“I can’t believe she didn’t tell me!” 

“I’ll let you finish having your little meltdown,” you patted his back. “I’m gonna hop in the shower quickly and we can eat when I get out.” 

“Did Dad forget the tarragon?” Julian asked and you nodded your head. 

“Wow, so everyone knew, but me?” James asked and you nodded your head with a shrug. 

“Sorry, I guess your mom has favourites, or something.” 

“Figures,” James teasingly rolled his eyes and you chuckled, waving him off and going to take a shower and change into something a little more comfortable. 

When you came back outside they had migrated to the dining room table, each with a bowl of soup in front of them and a plate of salad. You sat on the same side as James since Julian and Hennock were already sitting next to each other and the boys happily recounted the details of their school day and playdate with you while everyone ate their soup and salad. 

“What did you do at work, Dad?” James asked. 

“Oh, nothing interesting,” he shook his head. “I think your mom was doing bigger things than me.” 

“Bigger than treating people with cancer? You flatter me,” you drank some of your soup’s broth. “I had a meeting with a big company about a building they’re making.” 

“Did you go do a site visit?” James asked and you nodded. 

“Engineers are being a pain in the butt, keep making me adjust the design, but we’ll see who gets the last laugh.” 

“Mom always does,” Julian told Hennock and they chuckled along with James. 

After dinner James helped you clear up some of the dishes before heading out and leaving you with the boys. When Mahlet came by to pick Hennock up you invited her in for tea and a little visit. 

“Thanks for coming to stay with Julian the other night,” you said after handing her a mug. “For once, I was the late one and James had an emergency come up so it was a huge help.” 

“And how are things now, with the co-parenting?” 

You took a sip of your tea, “Weirdly good,” you admitted. “We don’t argue as much which is nice and Julian gets to see his dad more.” 

“Do you think maybe you’re not fighting because he’s changing?” she asked. 

“I don’t wanna go down that path,” you shook your head. “If Jay hadn’t been diagnosed things would still be the same as they always were.” 

“But they’re not. More often than not people show their true colours during times of difficulty.” 

You took a deep breath and sighed, “If that was the case I would have seen something worth keeping when my marriage was falling apart.” 

Mahlet nodded, seeing as you had a point and your conversation was halted as they boys came out of Julian’s room. 

Mahlet and Hennock left shortly afterwards and you quickly got Julian ready for bed, tucking him in and then going to get settled yourself. You looked through a few client papers for work before calling it a night and turning off your bedside lamp, curling into bed and falling asleep. 

Your sleep was interrupted in the middle of the night by a tapping on your shoulder and when you blinked your eyes open you saw Julian standing next to your bed. 

“Jay, sweetheart, is something wrong?” you asked. 

“My stomach really hurts,” he told you and you sat up, motioning for him to come sit with you on the bed. 

“Where?” you asked, turning on the light and he pointed to the upper right corner of his abdomen. If you remembered correctly that wasn’t exactly where his stomach was and your suspicions were confirmed when you saw the yellowing whites of his eyes. “Oh, sweetheart, I think we have to go to the hospital.” 

“The hospital? What happened?” Julian looked worried and you assured him everything would be alright. 

“We’re just being safe,” you told him. “I’m gonna call your dad, maybe he can tell us a little bit more of what’s going on. Do you feel good enough to get your jacket and shoes and your hospital bag?” 

Julian nodded his head and you gave him a kiss and he went off to grab his things while you did the same, but also taking your cell phone and calling James. 

It took a few rings, but he eventually picked up. 

“Hey, did something happen?” he asked and you could still hear the sleep thick in his voice. 

“I think something’s wrong with Julian. I’m gonna take him to the hospital, can you meet us there?” 

“Yeah, of course, I’m on my way.” 

“James…the whites of his eyes were yellow. Does he have jaundice?” you asked.

“It’s possible, was there anything else?” 

“Yeah, he mentioned stomach pain, but he pointed to like his upper right abdomen, I think,” you explained while grabbing your bag and putting on some socks. 

“Makes sense as a liver issue,” you could hear his car starting in the background. “If he’s presenting symptoms now I would call an ambulance.” 

“James-,” 

“Just trust me,” he said. “Call 911.” 

“Okay,” you nodded your head and hung up, calling the emergency services and explaining the situation to them and then to Julian while you waited for them to arrive. 

James made the right call, seeing as while you were in the ambulance Julian began to throw up and the paramedics obviously handled it better than you could have if you had driven him. 

When you arrived at the ER they wheeled Julian away and you began getting flashbacks to when you first brought him in. 

“Where are you taking him?” you called after them, but no one answered you. “What the hell kind of hospital is this?! Where are you taking my son?!” 

“Ma’am they're taking your son to do a liver biopsy,” one of the nurses came back and informed you. “We need you to sign this consent form.” 

You nodded your head and took the pen from her hand, signing it, but just as you were about to ask her a question she ran off to give them the okay. 

You could feel your anger and worry bubbling inside your throat and you wanted to let it out in a scream and you were about to go running after her, but before you could you felt someone grab your wrist and pull you back. 

“James let me go,” you said warningly, looking back at your ex-husband. 

“No,” he stated just as firmly. 

“James-,” 

“I am not going to let you do something you’re going to regret,” he said and pulled you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you, even when you pushed to get away. 

“James, let me go.”

“No,” he repeated and simply held onto you tighter. 

“Let me-,” your voice broke and you stopped pushing away. “Please, Jamie, please I just want to see him,” you cried into his shirt and he squeezed you so tight you thought you might get bruises in your arm from the way he was holding you. 

“I know, I know,” he whispered. “You brought him here and he’s going to be fine.” 

“I can’t do this anymore, James. I can't be his mom and his doctor and they can’t expect me to wait out here while they drag him away and ask me to consent to God knows what.” 

James didn’t know what to tell you, instead he just continued to hold you close, rubbing his hands up and down your back, and pressed a soft kiss against your temple. 

You wrapped your arms around him and finally let yourself fully sink into his embrace, hating yourself for how much you liked it and how good it made you feel while your son was in some back corner of the ER getting a piece of his liver biopsied.

Eventually James pulled away from you, helping you dry your tears on the sleeve of his sweater and walking with his arm wrapped around you to the waiting area. You didn’t know how long you were sitting there, but it was possible that you had dozed off once or twice against James’ arm, waiting to hear some sort of news from the ER doctor. 

“Mr. and Mrs. Wilson?” 

Your eyes blinked open when James gently shook you awake. 

“That’s us,” he said. “Is Julian okay?” 

“Your son has a mild case of cirrhosis,” the doctor explained. “Due to his cystic fibrosis diagnosis we believe this is due to clogging and inflammation in his bile ducts.” 

“What does that mean for him? Does he need surgery to fix it?” you asked, fighting back a tired yawn. 

“Unfortunately, yes,” the doctor nodded. “It’s good you caught it early, there’s minimal damage to his liver so far and he’s still growing which means his liver is too. We can get him into an OR tomorrow if you consent to the surgery.” 

You looked over at James and he nodded his head. You trusted him and told the doctor you would sign the papers as soon as you could see Julian. 

“He’s been moved to the pediatric ward for now and Dr. Liu has been informed of the development. He should be in touch with you tomorrow.” 

“Thank you,” James said and when the doctor left, he helped you up and you began the walk up to the pediatric ward. 

When you arrived a nurse pointed you in the direction of his room and after each pressing a kiss to Julain’s forehead you sat on the seat bench together. 

“We should sleep,” James said, but you had a hard time imagining how that would be possible. 

“I’m having a hard time working out the logistics,” you admitted. 

“Come on, it’ll be just like on the way back from our honeymoon,” he insisted, recalling your extremely delayed flight on the way back from France, causing you to sleep with your head on James’ lap, stretched out along the airport chairs. 

You were too tired to argue or try and find another way, so you leaned down and rested your head against his legs, closing your eyes and sighing when you felt his hand rub up and down in long motions along the side of your body. Sleep could not have come quicker.

—

“Mom…Mom, Dad?” 

Julian rolled his eyes when he received no answer and grabbed the stuffed animal you had placed next to him when he’d come into the room and threw it at his sleeping parents, nailing his dad in the face. 

“Oh, God, mhm, wake up,” James shook you while he raised his hands to rub his face.

“Huh?” you opened your eyes and pushed yourself off of James’ lap. “Oh crap, my back. Remind me not to listen to you when you talk about doing something I did ten years ago.” 

“Julian, did you throw Steggy at my face?” James asked, picking up the stuffed animal from where it had fallen on you. 

“You weren’t getting up,” Julian shrugged his shoulders. 

“Julian,” you chastised and took the dinosaur from James’ hand. “You could have hurt your dad’s important doctor-face,” you joked and rubbed your hand all over James’ face making Julian laugh. 

“Okay, okay,” James moved your hand away and gave you a look. 

“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” you yawned and moved from the bench to the side of his bed. 

“A little better,” he said. “Did the doctors fix what was wrong?” 

“Not yet,” James shook his head and came to sit next to you and placed a hand on Julian’s. “You’re gonna have to go in for surgery today.” 

“A surgery?” Julian looked a little nervous. “Like cut me open?” 

“It’ll be just a line right here,” James drew it with his finger along Julian’s abdomen. “They’re going to fix a part of you called your bile duct and then sew you right back up and you’ll be good as new.” 

“Is it dangerous?” he asked. 

You looked over at James, a small note telling him to lie to make him feel better. He didn’t need to know all the details. 

“No,” James shook his head. “You’re gonna be fine and your mom and I will be here the whole time.” 

“Promise?” Julian whispered. 

“Swear on it,” James leaned in towards his son and snuck a kiss to his cheek. “We love you, buddy.” 

“I love you guys too.” 

Dr. Liu came by a little while later to inform you what time the surgery was scheduled for and he helped make Julian feel a lot better about the procedure. When it was finally time for him to go, you were a nervous wreck, but tried not to let it show for Julian’s sake, instead just pressing a big kiss to his forehead and telling him you’d be waiting for him once he got out. 

It only took about fifteen minutes of your pacing to get James to grab onto your arm and make you stop. 

“You’re gonna burn a hole in the ground,” he said. 

“I don’t know what to do with myself,” you admitted. “If I sit I’m gonna fidget, if I stand I’m going to pace.” 

“Then come on, let’s go to my office for a second, grab a coffee and a snack and then we can come back out and wait,” he suggested. 

You agreed to his idea so he stood up and you walked side by side to his office, passing House who had some comment about your dishevelled appearance together. 

“You’re an interesting man, Greg,” you shook your head at him. “You can’t think of any other reason we might be here?” 

House was silent so James explained, 

“Julian’s in surgery right now. He’s got cirrhosis.” 

“Ah so not a late night ex-wife rendez-vous. Can’t get ‘em right all the time,” he shrugged and you chuckled. “I hope the kid’s alright.” 

“Thanks, that means a lot coming from you,” you admitted. 

He raised his brows and lifted his cane to say goodbye, letting you and James continue your walk to his office. 

“House mind that you’re not spending as much time here?” you asked. 

“No, he just bothers me more when I am around,” James said while opening the door and letting you inside. 

He went towards his desk and pulled out a few packages of snacks tossing you one and you shook your head when you saw the label. 

“You still eat these? I thought the FDA recalled them?” you asked sarcastically. 

“I’m sorry I have better taste in food than you do,” he said right back. 

“Right, this is food,” you chuckled. “And if you have such good taste why didn’t your mom tell you about her secret ingredient?” 

“That’s cold,” he pointed to you with a bag of chips in his hand. 

“No, it’s true. Just like your dad telling me I was his favourite wife of yours,” you opened the bag James had tossed you. 

“Just shut up and eat your snack,” James chuckled and you listened to him, beginning to eat a little something, not realizing how hungry you were until the food made its way to your stomach. 

“You got another one of these?” you asked and he nodded, passing it to you when you were finished with the first one. 

“Feeling a little better?” James asked and you nodded your head. 

“Hey James?” you said, unsure of how you’d gotten to this point, but you were too exhausted to stop yourself from saying it. “I want you to move back in.” 

“You want me to do what?” he raised his brows and looked at you stunned. 

“I want you to move back in with me and Julian,” you said. “It’s becoming pretty clear to me that it’s safer to have two people around when possible than not and you’re already around all the time now.” 

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” he asked. “I mean you didn’t want to give Julian the wrong idea about us.” 

“Our lives changed the second we got that diagnosis. I think we need to change along with everything else.” 

You couldn’t believe that just barely twelve hours ago you were telling your friend there was no chance James had changed, but here you were saying things that had proved you had changed. Things you wouldn’t have dreamt of saying a year ago. 

“Okay,” James nodded. “I’ll move back in.” 

You just silently hoped you wouldn’t regret asking. 

Waiting for Julian to get out of surgery was a little easier now that you had some food in your stomach and you decided to wait on coffee until you got the note from the surgeon that everything had gone well. 

As James had continued to assure you almost a hundred times, the surgery went fine and before you knew it you were back in Julian’s room watching him sleep off the anaesthetic. 

“You know he looks like you when he sleeps,” James said from the bench while you sat on the bed next to Julian. 

“He does?” 

“Yeah, his nose does that same scrunchy thing when he sniffles and when he snores-,” 

“Hey, I only snore when I’m congested,” you said defensively. 

“I never minded,” James smiled. “I thought it was cute when you sounded like an old man.” 

“Yeah, but you’re not fond of all my old man characteristics,” you turned around to face him, still holding Julian’s hand in yours. 

“All your old man characteristics?” James furrowed his brows in confusion. 

“You told me I argued like an old man. Stubborn and could only see my own way. And I fought dirty.” 

“You sure did,” James nodded. “If you brandishing my mother’s clear favouritism shows anything, it’s definitely that you fight dirty, but I never said I disliked that about you.” 

“Really? Near the end I thought there was a lot you disliked about me.” 

James shook his head, “No, I was just upset and you were passionate. It wasn’t like my other marriages where things just…fizzled.” 

“We did go out with a bang,” you inhaled deeply. 

“If it weren’t for Julian… do you think we’d…” 

You shook your head. 

“No, we probably never would have seen each other again. Another old man trait, I hold a pretty mean grudge.” 

James pressed his lips together and looked over at his sleeping son. 

“I’m happy we had him,” he said quietly. “Even if we didn’t work out.” 

“Me too,” you agreed, looking over at Julian quietly snoring, just like his dad had said. “Best thing that’s ever happened to me.” 

You leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to Julian’s nose watching him scrunch it up, making you smile. It was a miracle that two such flawed individuals could make a child so perfect. 

—

“Alright, he is asleep, but I do warn you it took some bribery so you’ll have to buy him another dinosaur book to read to him at night,” you walked out of Julian’s room, dusting your hands off like you’d just finished a heavy labour job. 

“I’ll run to the bookstore tomorrow,” James nodded and you fell onto the couch next to him and sighing as you sunk into the plush fabric before noticing what he was doing. 

“Where did you pull these out of?” you asked with a soft chuckle. 

“I was just clearing up the closet in the guest bedroom and I found a box of these,” he picked up the albums. “Look at this one.” 

He placed the book of photos on your lap and you smiled seeing as it was Julian’s baby album, filled with small mementos and little notes you and James had made in the margins. 

“Oh my God, Mom’s first day home, she looks like an angel,” you read from the side. “And my response: I look like I just got hit by a bus, cut it out.” 

“You can still read my chicken scratch writing?” James asked. 

“My most useless talent as I like to call it,” you nodded. “You wrote a lot in here.” 

“I used to bring it with me to work cause I missed you guys so much,” he admitted. “Made me feel closer to you.” 

You read through some of the notes in the book, chuckling a little at some of the written back and forth you had. Eventually you got to the family portraits you’d had taken a few months after Julian was born, smiling softly to yourself. 

You remembered the day well, you felt like you hadn’t slept in weeks, James was just getting off of a twelve-hour shift and you were almost late to your appointment with the photographer. You were worried everything was going to look terrible and you’d barely had enough time to do your hair or makeup, but James had silenced your worries with a kiss and assured you the pictures would be fine. 

In the end most of them were terrible, but the photographer managed to get two shots, one of you and James smiling down at Julian in your arms and another immediately after where you were looking up and smiling at each other. 

“That session was a shitshow,” you recalled and James agreed. “We did get a few nice things out of it though.” 

You looked back down at the pile of albums in front of you and noticed a large white one, tucked under a few things and even though nothing good could come of it, you pulled it out from the bottom of the pile, carefully blowing off the dust and turning the first page. 

Centerfold, just like you remembered it, was a picture of you and James on your wedding day. You leaned further back into the couch and James scooched in closer to get a look. 

You both looked younger in the picture, with that spark of je ne sais quoi in your eyes. 

“I told you there was a reason we got married,” he said quietly, his hand brushing the corner of the photo. 

“Yeah, we loved each other,” you said. “That was the reason.” 

“Same reason we decided to have Julian,” he added. 

You could feel your breathing become a little more shallow and a tightness in your chest as James spoke about Julian. You remembered the conversations so clearly, like you’d had them yesterday, caught between happy and passionate kisses while James made some dirty jokes about getting you pregnant. 

That was back when he still couldn’t get enough of you. Before things changed and he slowly distanced himself until it felt like it was just you and Julian against the rest of the world, and not the three of you like he had promised all those nights throughout your pregnancy. 

You wondered quietly to yourself what had changed? What had become so unbearable that there was distance in the first place? There was never a lack of love on your end which is why this was dangerous. 

At least when there was distance you could be angry with him, you could go to bed at night and not remember all the little things that made you love him in the first place. He wasn’t there as a constant  reminder that you loved his cooking, or even just your banter together. More importantly, it was giving you new reasons to feel that fluttering feeling in your stomach. 

You’d always loved how he’d interact with Julian, but now that you got to see it day in and day out, it made it harder to weigh that against the cons of everything. Most notably, this was the beginning of the end. If you let yourself fall you would both crash and Julian would be caught in the middle once again. 

You tried to distract yourself by flipping through the album photos to find some funny old picture of a relative or maybe even an embarrassing moment to tone down whatever it was that looking at that picture was making you feel. 

All you could focus on was how in every picture, almost without fail, James was looking over at you. Rarely into the camera along with everyone else. He was enamoured, that was the only word to describe it, and oh how much you missed that look. 

You made the mistake of tearing away your gaze from the pictures, looking up at James instead, and for a moment you thought just maybe you saw that same look in his eyes. But no. It couldn’t have been. The dim light of the lamp must have been playing tricks on you. 

Finally you closed the album and put it back down, unsure of what feelings might resurface if you opened another one. Your honeymoon, family dinners and pictures were all just reminders of the happy times, not what came after.

James did what you didn’t want to, grabbing another album and sifting through the pages until he found what he was looking for, taking a picture out of its protective sleeve and showing it to you. 

“Can I keep this one?” he asked. 

You took it from his hands, examining it while your fingers precariously held the edges of the photograph. 

It was a silly picture, something you had taken while you were travelling. James got someone to take the camera, but along with snapping a few shots while you were posed with smiles they caught a few candids, most notably, James kissing your cheek while you laughed and tried to squirm out of his grasp. 

Your finger gently brushed over the spot on the photo where James’ lips were against your cheek before nodding your head. 

“Sure, you can have it,” you handed him back the picture and patted your hands against your legs, preparing to stand up. “I should get to bed.”

“I’ll be out here for a while longer if you need anything.”

You gave him a tight lipped smile and stood up, walking towards your bedroom. When you closed the door behind you, you let out a breath you had been holding and ran a hand across your face. 

Maybe Julian was never the one at risk of getting the wrong idea.

—

Waking up in the middle of the night always made you feel uneasy. Especially if Julian was the one waking you up. The chance that you’d have to drive to the hospital or call an ambulance was high and you hated the fear and worry that came along with any possible complications. 

Tonight, you woke up on your own accord. Your heart was beating inside your throat and your stomach felt like it was housing a group of persistent butterflies. 

You glanced over at the clock and saw the time, flashing in red. 

3:07

You took a deep breath trying to steady your heart rate and breathing before peeling away your blanket and kicking your feet over the side of the bed. You grabbed a different pair of pyjamas from your dresser and walked into the washroom, tossing them on the far end of the floor while you stripped down and turned on the water for the shower. 

When you stepped inside you hissed initially at the cold, but forced yourself to become fully submerged under the water, closing the curtain behind you. Your muscles clenched as your body adjusted to the temperature, and when the time finally came you let your thoughts and dreams become washed away by the water coming out of the shower head. 

You were simply standing there, letting the water fall on your face when you heard the click of the door opening. 

“Julian, sweetie,” you sighed, turning around so you could speak. “Maybe you should go to your dad if something’s wrong, I’ll come out in a sec.” 

“No need,” you heard a voice that did not belong to your son. 

“James? I’m in the shower. What are you doing?” you asked incredulously, feeling the need to cover yourself up even though there was a curtain blocking his view. You felt exposed nonetheless. 

“It’s three in the morning, I thought something was wrong, I came to check on you,” he explained. 

“And what were you doing up?” you asked. 

“Got in late. There was an emergency at the hospital after you guys went to sleep, I dealt with it and just came back.”

You stepped under the running water again, washing the water over your face with your hands. 

“So, is everything okay?” 

“Peachy,” you said sarcastically, leaning against the wall of the shower. 

“Nobody ever says peachy when things are okay,” James pushed further and you sighed, moving to sit down on the floor of the shower, still positioned under the water. 

“I just had a dream, that’s all,” you said, watching as the water hit your toes and the ground around you. 

“A bad dream?” he asked. 

“No, it was more like… déjà vu.”

James sighed, and rubbed his hands on his legs. 

“Was it about us?” 

He took your silence as a yes. 

James didn’t really know what to say, his hands were clasped together as he leaned  forward sitting on the bathroom counter. 

“You’re not gonna ask what it’s about?” you hugged your knees close to your chest. 

“Would you tell me?” 

“Maybe…I don’t know,” you mumbled. 

There was another moment of silence before James spoke up again, 

“What was it about?” 

You turned to face the water with your eyes closed again, gathering the courage to speak. 

“It started when I told you I was pregnant,” you said softly. “Like the memory replayed in my head, exactly how it happened.” 

“I remember that day,” you heard the soft smile in his voice as he spoke. “You took the test at work and when it came back positive you came straight to the hospital to tell me.” 

“I was barely two steps inside your office when I blurted it out, you were eating lunch and had that stupid look on your face with a mouth full of sandwich,” you chuckled to yourself.

“I almost choked on that,” James shook his head. “And I just remember running up to you and freaking out.”

“And then when you were done freaking out and everything sunk in you kissed me, and you told me you loved me, and we cried because we made a child. Our love did that.” 

You reached forward and turned the shower off, pushing yourself up on your feet and taking a deep breath before pulling back the curtain. You had told him what you were thinking. You couldn’t get any more exposed than that.

James looked stunned for a moment and it didn’t go unnoticed how his eyes raked up and down your figure. 

“Get me the robe, would you?” you motioned to the back of the door and he jumped down grabbing the robe and holding it out for you so you could place your arms into the sleeves and wrap the towelled fabric around you, trying it off with the belt. 

When you turned your head to look back at James, you could tell at least you’d succeeded in raising his heart rate, much like he was doing for you recently. 

You moved to go sit on the closed toilet while James retook his spot on the counter. 

“Do you remember when Julian was born?” he whispered. 

“I like it was yesterday. I can’t believe it’s been eight years,” you nodded your head. 

He was having trouble holding your gaze and you wondered what he was about to say. 

“I-I screwed up,” his voice was soft, almost hurt, like it pained him to think about what he had done. “When you were resting afterwards the nurse asked me if we were going to do a newborn screening. We hadn’t talked about it, but you were so tired and it was such a hard labour…” he swallowed thickly, his voice wavering slightly, remembering the birth. It wasn’t easy by any means and James had often thought that the hardest thing he’d ever had to watch was you in that much pain. “I told her we weren’t going to do it. I just didn’t want Julian to leave and h-he looked so perfect I never thought anything could have been wrong with him.” 

James took a deep breath and looked up at the ceiling, “I am a doctor and I didn’t get a newborn screening for my son, what the hell kind of father does that make me?” 

“Oddly enough, I think it makes you a good one,” you admitted. 

“Even though we could have known about this years before? We could have gotten him treatment, medication, therapies, all sooner?” he looked back at you confused. 

“You said it yourself, Jamie. He was perfect for us. Still is.” 

James nodded his head and looked forward at the opposite wall. You stood up and walked over towards him, reaching out a hand to gently hold his face, your thumb brushing against his cheek while he looked at you. 

“I don’t blame you for this,” you whispered. “I don’t blame you and I don’t think you’re a bad father.” 

“I know,” he murmured, “but I do.”

You leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek, not knowing what other comfort you could offer. 

James leaned in a little to your touch, sitting up straighter when it was gone, trying to play it off like he hadn’t been missing it and craving it as much as you. 

You were about to say something when you heard a knock on the washroom door, and this time it had to be Julian. 

“Mom? Dad, are you in here too?” you could hear his small sounding voice, a little strained and worried so you quickly assured him you were both inside and opened the door. 

“Sweetheart, what happened?” you asked, noticing his tear-stained face. 

“I just had a bad dream,” he sniffed and wiped his eyes. 

You kissed away his tears first before assuring him everything would be fine, you and James were there to take care of him. 

“Why don’t you go and lay down on my bed with your Dad?” you suggested. “I’ll get dressed and come join you.” 

Julian nodded and made his way over to your bed while you went to quickly speak to James. 

“It’ll be good for you. Both of you,” you told him. 

“You don’t mind?” 

“Just this once.” 

James thanked you with a kiss to your cheek and left the adjoining washroom, closing the door behind him and giving you a minute to get changed and deal with anything you needed to before going back to bed. 

When you opened the door and came back into your room, you saw James under the covers with Julian pressed close to him, their foreheads resting together while James told him everything was going to be alright and he could go back to sleep. 

You slipped in under the covers, sandwiching Julian between you both, letting his back rest against your chest while you pressed a kiss to his hair. 

One hand was tucked under your pillow and another was draped over Julian, and your fingers carefully placed over top of James’. 

“Will you be here when I wake up?” Julian asked his dad. 

“Right next to you,” he kissed his nose. “Now try to get some sleep, okay?” 

Julian nodded his head and yawned and you whispered a quiet goodnight to bed him and his dad before letting your eyes close, silently smiling when you could feel James’ hand finally hold your own. 

—

“You guys, relax, he’s going to be fine,” Mahlet placed a hand on both yours and James’ shoulders while you spewed out your worries. “It’s one night, I have the whole list of things he needs and I’ve taken care of him before, right? It’s just at my house this time so the boys can have a sleepover and you two can have a bit of a break.” 

“She’s right,” James sighed. “I’m still worried out of my mind, but she’s right.” 

“Mahi, are you sure you don’t want us to come even for a little bit?” you asked. 

“Absolutely, if something happens I’ll call an ambulance and then you, but Julian’s been good for months now, he can survive one night away from home,” she assured you. 

“Thank you, Mahlet. I’m sure Julian and Hennock will have a great time tonight. Just call us when he’s ready to be picked up tomorrow morning,” James said. 

James wrapped his arm around you, giving you a squeeze knowing you were still uneasy about this, but deep down you knew Mahlet was right. The chances of something going wrong at this point were small and you’d had enough time since your last hospital visit to even consider doing something like this. 

“You boys ready?” James called and Julian came rushing out of the room with his bag in hand, Hennock following close behind him. 

“You have fun tonight, okay?” you bent down and gave Julian a kiss. “And if anything happens or you feel sick, or are having trouble breathing, tell Mahlet, okay?” 

“I know, Mom. Dad already told me this like fifteen times,” Julian chuckled. 

You looked up at James and he shrugged. 

“Alright, well you guys better go before I change my mind,” you crossed your arms over your chest and that was all the permission the boys needed to run off, leaving Mahlet to say goodbye before stepping out and closing the door behind her. 

You sighed and turned around, looking at James who had his hands shoved into his pockets. 

“You hungry?” he asked. 

“I could eat,” you nodded your head. 

“Why don’t we make something for dinner together?” he suggested. 

You looked at the clock and smiled, “I think we’ve got enough time for pizza, what do you think?” 

“I think that’s a great plan,” James agreed. “I can start on the dough and you get the sauce and toppings?” 

You gave him a thumbs up before putting your hand out to high-five him, noticing how your fingers so easily intertwined before you walked apart and let go. 

James rolled up his sleeves and took off his watch, placing it on the small jewelry tray you kept by the sink for when you were washing dishes, while you went to the fridge and began pulling out all the things that could make good pizza toppings. 

Moving to the sink to wash some vegetables, you noticed James’ watch resting there. You didn’t pay much attention when he was wearing it, but now you realized why it looked extra familiar. It was one you had gotten him as an anniversary present after your first year married. 

“You still wear that?” you pointed with your eyes to the watch. 

“It’s my favourite watch, of course I wear it,” he nodded while portioning the flour into a large bowl.

“Even with that engraving?” you raised a questioning brow. 

“Dearest Jamie, Here’s to the first of many happy anniversaries. Love forever, Your Wife,” he recited the engraving back to you. 

“I don’t know why you do that to yourself,” you chuckled a little, looking down into the sink. 

“Yeah, well why do you still go by Mrs. Wilson?” 

“Easier to keep the name than change it again,” you partially lied, it wasn’t the full truth, but it was what you had been telling yourself ever since the divorce was finalized. 

James could sense you were lying, but he knew the only way to get you to open up would be to let himself be open with you. 

“The watch is my favourite because you gave it to me. Functionally it sucks and it's uncomfortable, but you went out of your way to get me something that looked nice and that’s why I love it.” 

You smiled a little to yourself, but kept your head facing the sink and continued to wash the vegetables. 

“You’re not going to say anything?” he inquired. 

“Do I have to?” you asked. 

“That’s normally how a conversation works,” he remarked and you chuckled. 

“What do you want me to say?” you asked. 

“Honestly, the real reason why you kept your married name,” he said plainly. 

You sighed, “It wasn’t a full lie. If I went back to my maiden name Julian and I wouldn’t have the same last name it just makes things complicated and confusing and I didn’t want to deal with it, but,” you added, “I always kind of liked the sound of Mrs. Wilson and even though I was pissed at you all the time I still liked that there was one thing aside from Julian connecting us. I don’t know, maybe I didn’t want to end up like Sam or Bonnie just…detached, like there was barely a trace that you were even there.” 

“It’s a fingerprint,” James said. “Mine.” 

“Yeah, even though it's small for who we were to each other, it's the fingerprint you left on my life.” 

James pressed his lips together and opened his mouth to say something before shutting it and evaluated how he was going to speak, 

“Can I ask you something?” he settled on. 

“Sure,” you nodded, moving over to the cutting board and placing yourself on the opposite side of the kitchen island. 

“Did…Did you ever stop loving me?” 

Your smile faltered and James noticed the change in your demeanor, quickly retracting his question. 

“You know what, forget I asked,” he shook his head and continued to knead the dough. 

There was a moment of silence before you spoke again. 

“I didn’t, but I got tired of not being loved back.” 

James stopped what he was doing and looked up at you with concern. 

“You thought I stopped loving you?” he asked.

“James, I was wife number three. Didn’t take much to connect the dots and see you got tired of me,” you said bluntly. “I wanted to know if I could count on you, and it was starting to feel like maybe I couldn’t. Then the divorce happened and everything after that just made me feel like I was right.” 

James chewed on the inside of his cheek and remained silent. 

“You didn’t fight for me,” you said quietly. “You fought for joint custody, but you didn’t fight for me. You just…accepted it.” 

“I…I didn’t know you wanted me to fight for you.” 

“Are you saying you would have?” you asked, unsure of whether or not you wanted to hear his answer. 

“I’m saying I thought I didn’t even have a chance,” he admitted. 

“So you wouldn’t have,” you clarified for him, beginning to chop the toppings into pieces and separate them into bowls. 

He chuckled humourlessly, “I have dated one person since the divorce. I hated it.” 

“Why do you have to talk in puzzles, James? Why can’t you just come out and say what you really mean?” 

“And then what?” he asked. “We go back to living in the same house. Sleep in separate rooms. Move on now that we know the truth?”

“Say it,” you put the knife down and looked him right in the eyes. 

“What are you going to do about it?” he asked, cleaning the dough off his hand. “I’m going to say it and you’re just going to stand there and I have to live with that?” 

You walked around the counter and came right up in front of him. 

“If you were listening to anything I was saying, you would stop making excuses and say it.” 

“Fine!” he threw his hands up in the air. “I still love you. I never stopped loving you. These past few months, even though stressful, have been the happiest I’ve been in so long because I feel like myself again when I’m with you and Julian. Because I feel like your husband, and I feel like a father and I keep kicking myself wondering how I could have been so stupid to lose that.” 

“Say it one more time,” you whispered, lifting your hands to hold onto his face. “Please.” 

“I love you,” his voice was softer, relieved like after being underwater he could finally breathe again. 

You finally pulled him into you, your lips hesitantly resting on his at first, before you found your rhythm again after so long. It was muscle memory, his hands finding the spot they always rested against on your hips, his lips moving in synch with yours, eventually trailing off and finding their favourite spot against your jaw and behind your ear. 

“James,” you breathed. 

“Jamie,” he mumbled against your skin. “Call me Jamie.” 

“Jamie, Jamie, Jamie,” you repeated the nickname until he silenced you with another kiss, muffling your voice. 

“God, I missed you,” he whispered when you pulled apart, breathing heavily due to your fast beating heart. 

You closed your eyes while your forehead rested against his, feeling his nose touch yours, his hands still firmly planted on your hips when your thumbs brushed against his cheeks. 

“Jamie?” 

James snuck another small kiss at the sound of the nickname. 

“Yes, my love.” 

“Can I count on you?” 

You could feel him nod his head and confirm with a verbal ‘yes’. And even if it turned out to be a lie, at that moment you didn’t care. He had proved to you that it was possible, you could work with that. 

“I love you,” you said and kissed his nose and then you said it and kissed him again for good measure. “You told me twice; I tell you twice.” 

James moved his hands up from your hips and brushed the back of his fingers against your cheek, a warm smile coming to his face. 

And there was that look, the one you thought had vanished over time. His eyes fully transfixed on you with nothing but love and admiration. It didn’t take much to convince yourself you could get used to seeing that look for a long, long time. 

TAGLIST —

@cuntyvicodin @paola-carter

[falafelluva]

I love your work so much!

I don’t know if you take requests but if you do can you write something with Kenan who has to do his 2 year old daughter’s curly hair? 🫶🏾

; 𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐋𝐒 - 𝘬.𝘺𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘪𝘻 ✮

summary: when a nasty cold hits you, kenan is left in charge of the parenting duties— that includes taking care of your little girls wild curls.

warnings: idk, illness ig? help? tangled curly hair (very triggering)

author’s note: i do in fact take requests for now I can still write them quickly but after this week i have to focus on school bc #examyear, i love this one cs i have curly hair myself but excuse the way this is written- i myself have a mixture that ranges between 3a-3c and kind of went with what i know about my hair even tho i don’t know shizzle about curly hair care💔 also i just named her Ayla bc I don’t know how to write with those y/d/n things [sad]

The afternoon sun streamed through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. You lay in bed, bundled under a soft blanket, battling a nasty cold.

Your head throbbed, and your throat felt like sandpaper, leaving you utterly drained. You could hear the soft sounds of your two-year-old daughter, Ayla, playing in the living room, her laughter breaking through your fog of illness, but you knew you wouldn’t be able to join her anytime soon.

Kenan stepped into the room, his expression a mix of concern and determination. “Hey, love,” he said softly, checking in on you. “How are you feeling?”

You managed a weak smile. “Not great, but I’ll be okay. Just tired.”

He nodded, glancing toward the living room where Ayla was happily babbling to herself. “I have to take her out for a bit, but I don’t know what to do with her hair.”

You chuckled softly, even though it hurt. “She’ll be fine, just leave it for now.”

But Kenan shook his head, his brows furrowing. “Nein, I can’t let her go out like that.” He paused, then added, “Besides, she needs to look..not this uh… wild? people will think I don’t know what I’m doing.”

You watched him, a mix of admiration and amusement. Kenan had always been determined to be an involved dad, but when it came to Ayla’s hair, he was a bit out of his element.

“Okay, just give it a try. You can do this.”

Taking a deep breath, Kenan nodded and headed to the bathroom to gather supplies. He emerged with a small basket filled with the essentials:

an edge brush, edge control, gel, water, curling cream products, and a random wide tooth comb/denman brush. You couldn’t help but smile at how determined he looked.

“Alright, Ayla, come here, Kleine” he called out, trying to keep his voice light and playful. Ayla wandered over, her beautiful but wild curls bouncing with every step. (little one)

Kenan knelt in front of her, brushing his fingers through her hair to assess the situation.

“Alright, let’s see what we’re working with here,” he said, his tone serious as he misted her hair with water from the spray bottle.

Ayla giggled as the droplets landed on her forehead, but then she wrinkled her nose, unsure of what was happening.

“Easy, it’s just water..damn,” Kenan said softly, his tone soothing as he muttered the last word.

“We’re just going to make you look pretty.” He squirted some curly hair product into his hands, rubbing them together before working it through Ayla’s curls.

“This will help keep your hair nice and bouncy, just like how mommy does it for you” he explained, trying to channel the routine he’d always seen you do.

Next, he picked up the Denman brush, the brush glinting in the light. But as he began to gently brush through her curls, Ayla’s mood shifted.

“No, Baba! No!” she whined, shaking her head and pulling away from him.

Kenan paused, glancing at you with wide eyes. “Was mache ich falsch?” he muttered in confusion, clearly at a loss. (what am I doing wrong?)

“It’s okay, just take it slow. Maybe try using your fingers instead,” you suggested, wanting to help him navigate the moment without adding to his frustration.

“Okay, okay,” he replied, his voice still calm but edged with uncertainty. He set down the Denman brush and began to use his fingers to separate her curls gently.

With each careful tug, he began to see the way her curls twisted and spiraled, their natural shape coming to life.

“See, we can do this,” he encouraged, but Ayla still squirmed in his grip, her little face pouting.

“it’s just a little bit of..hair care,” he said, trying to keep his voice cheerful. “You’ll look even more like a princess when we’re done.”

“Baba, no!” Ayla whined again, crossing her arms defiantly.

“Ach, digga,” he murmured, trying to keep the mood light. “We can go get ice cream after this, I promise.” (oh, bro)

Her little face lit up at the mention of ice cream, but she still squirmed, trying to pull away.

Kenan watched her, biting his lip, and then he grabbed the edge brush, hoping it might give him better control over the styling process.

“Okay, let’s try something else,” he said, taking a deep breath. He gently brushed back the front curls to smooth them down and began working on her edges.

He carefully applied a small amount of edge control with his fingers, rubbing it into the baby hairs around her hairline.

“There we go,” he said, concentrating hard. He picked up the edge brush, using it to create little swoops and curves that framed her face—Ayla giggled, her curiosity piqued by the new sensation, and for a moment, the tension eased.

“Pretty, Baba?” she asked, tilting her head to the side, and Kenan felt a surge of pride.

“Very pretty,” he confirmed, a smile spreading across his face. “You’re going to be the cutest girl at the park.”

Encouraged, he continued to work on her edges, and as he styled, he found his rhythm. “See? Isn’t this fun?” he said, still maintaining the cheerful tone he knew she loved.

“Fun!” she echoed, her little hands now playing with the edge brush while he worked.

“Just a little more,” he said, carefully applying some gel to set the style in place. He lightly spritzed her hair with water again, letting the curls bounce back into their shape—with his fingers, he fluffed the curls, giving them definition and volume.

“Baba, I want to help!” Ayla exclaimed, reaching for the brush again.

“Okay, okay,” Kenan said, chuckling at her enthusiasm.

He let her take the brush, guiding her little hands to help. “Just like this, we go from the bottom to the top. Can you do that?”

Ayla nodded, her focus entirely on the task. As she brushed through her curls, Kenan felt a wave of warmth wash over him.

It wasn’t just about getting her hair done; it was about sharing this moment together.

As they both worked on Ayla’s hair, Kenan quietly reminded himself that he was doing this for her. “Wir schaffen das zusammen,” he whispered under his breath, his determination shining through. (We can do it together)

After a few more minutes of playful styling, Kenan finally finished. He leaned back, taking in the sight of his daughter’s beautifully styled curls. “There you go, all done!” he exclaimed.

Ayla turned to look in the mirror, her eyes wide with excitement. “Pretty!” she exclaimed, running her fingers through her curls.

Kenan grinned, relief flooding through him. “You look like a little princess, just like I promised.”

“Baba, I want to go!” she said, tugging at his hand, eager to head out.

“Alright, ice cream it is!” he laughed, ruffling her hair one last time before they headed toward the door.

As they stepped into the bright sunlight, you settled back into your pillows, content in the knowledge that your little family was navigating life together— Kenan pointing at you through the window, the two of them waving at you as you blow a kiss at them.

Watching Kenan hold Ayla’s hand outside, you couldn’t help but smile.

Even though you were feeling under the weather, knowing that Kenan was trying to up his game as a dad made your heart swell with pride.

The way he approached parenting, with such tenderness and determination, filled you with gratitude.

You closed your eyes for a moment, thankful for the life you were building together, one day at a time.

[strangerstilinski]

𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙚 𝙘𝙖𝙧𝙚

𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary; steve takes care of his sick gf

warnings; no use of y/n, (steve refers to reader as ‘girl’ but no mentions of specific anatomy i don't think), multiple descriptions of vomiting, steve being stupidly sweet, casual/non-sexual nudity, sickfic, fluff

word count; ~4k

a/n; i wrote 99% of this while i was sick and exhausted myself, so i'm not insanely happy with it??? but, uh.. fuck it? right? also this is my first time posting something on here that isn't DOB so pls, pls be nice — i beg you.

You had thought it would get better.

You'd thought that sleep would be enough to get rid of the overpowering warmth that had begun to prickle uncomfortably under your skin, the congestion that left your head feeling like it was just a little bit too big, too heavy, for your body. The better part of the last twelve hours have been spent curled up in bed, hoping to sleep it off.

You're not entirely sure what illness is to blame for your current state, but you're cursing each and every possible one as you stumble into the bathroom and fall to your knees in front of the toilet. An immediate ache from the collision against the floor goes ignored, as does the cold that bites at your shins through the glossy tiles.

Now, as your body rolls and tenses with heaves and coughs that have you spilling the remains of your dinner from the night before into clean porcelain, you can't quite believe that you'd dared to be so naively optimistic.

Time passes in that horrible way it always does when you feel poorly, too slow at times and a total blur at others. Your head has been pillowed on your arm at the edge of the toilet for one of those blurred stretches, time fuzzy while you catch your breath. You hear the loud trill of the phone ringing out from down the hallway and your head shoots up at the sudden noise. You intend on hobbling out of the bathroom to answer it, but the too-quick motion of your head snapping to attention has your stomach turning all over again.

The ringing continues as you upend the final contents of your stomach, and the grating noise of the telephone finally dies off only to pick back up again just as your puking turns into nothing more than dry-heaves, body still protesting despite there being nothing left inside of you to give.

When the roiling of your stomach settles slightly, it takes all of your strength to pull yourself to your feet, flushing the toilet and grabbing the bottle of perfumed bathroom spray to mask the lingering smell that's doing absolutely nothing to ease your nausea.

You fumble for a moment as you locate your thermometer, placing the end of the small glass tube under your tongue as you lean onto your elbows over the sink, head dropping weakly as you wait. When you pull the device from your lips a few minutes later, the little red line reads somewhere around a hundred, and you drop it to the back of the counter with a huff.

Your weight continues rest heavily on the edges of the sink as you flick on the tap and proceed to take a few long sips straight from the stream of cold water, rushing to take in grateful gulps. It clears some of the bitterness from your tongue, washing away the rancid taste of bile and stomach acid while settling cooly in your feverish body.

You push back up, weight resting on your palms until you can regard your unusually pallor complexion in the mirror. Your eyes are bleary, a little wet still with tears from your battle with your own body a few minutes before. The sight of just how truly unwell you look has your stomach turning all over again, the cold water in your stomach suddenly feeling as if it's moving in heavy, churning waves inside of you, as if it's fighting to break free.

You barely make it back to the toilet before you're retching and dumping back out all of the water that you'd forced into your body perhaps a bit too quickly.

You're so exhausted by the time your stomach settles once more, you don't manage more than flushing the toilet and misting the air with another quick spritz of freshener before you've slumped against the wall and begun to doze.

When your boyfriend eventually comes knocking at your front door, the sound isn't enough to rouse you, not even when the noise grows a little more frantic from anxiety, palms slamming against the surface paired with muffled shouts of concern through the thick wood.

You remain entirely unaware as an increasingly worried Steve Harrington begins searching for your spare key with muffled curses. He nearly upends the potted plant you have outside your door, kicking your doormat across the hallway in his haste to unlock your door and shove his way into your apartment. Steve stumbles through several rooms before he finds you in the bathroom and his steps falter at the sight that awaits him.

You look so pathetic it's startling; curled in on yourself in a way that makes you appear smaller, weak and innocent, younger even. Your head is tipped against the wall, lolled to the side until your nose and chin are nearly touching your shoulder. He knows it has to be wreaking havoc on the muscles in your neck, and he nearly winces at the thought, pushing further into the room and squatting down in front of you. Steve's hand finds your cheek, supporting some of the weight of your head to straighten your spine just a touch as he assesses the sickly pallor your skin has taken.

“Oh, honey.” Steve says softly, thumb stroking from your jaw to the apple of your cheek and back down again.

The soft touch is enough to finally wake you and he watches your eyes blink heavily, feverish confusion pulling your brows together as you struggle to focus on the face in front of you. You pout at him and the sight of your lip jutting out is so cute that Steve fails to notice your arm rising weakly from where it was blocked by the toilet. Not until it's too late.

A honeysuckle scented mist sprays in his direction, forcing him to flinch back in surprise as the perfume invades his nostrils.

“Jesus!” Steve exclaims in surprise, hacking slightly at the taste of it on his tongue, “Baby, what the hell?”

Your nose scrunches up as both your arm and the spray bottle fall heavily into your lap. You blink at him slow, “Smells like vom in here.” You explain meekly.

“It smells fine.” He tries to reassure you, pulling the de-odorizer from your weak grip and setting it on the countertop behind himself and effectively out of your reach.

“Wha're you doing 'ere?” You question in a rasp, shaky hand grabbing ahold of his wrist as if trying to prove to yourself that he's real and not some fever-induced hallucination.

“You weren't pickin' up my calls,” He tells you softly, thumb beginning to move across the heated skin of your cheek again, “I knew you were plannin' on staying in to get some cleaning done. When you didn't answer my mind kinda ran wild. Thought you might've slipped and fallen and cracked your head off the kitchen counter or somethin'. I dunno, I just.. I got worried, sweetheart. Came to check in for my own peace of mind,” His gaze trails the length of your body, taking in your wrinkled tshirt, your bare feet, your clammy skin, the puffiness around your eyes, “I'm glad I did.”

“‘'m sorry I didn't pick up the phone,” You apologize quietly, your gaze drifting to the toilet for a moment before slowly meeting his again, “Was busy puking my guts out.”

The way your lip pulls up at the corner from your own dry humor has Steve cracking a smile, his voice fond when it sounds again.

“I see that,” He says with a sigh, “How long you been sick?”

You try to shrug but your shoulders barely move, your body too weak to manage more than a small twitch of your muscles, “Started feeling shitty last night before bed. Slept a lot. Got sick when I woke up this afternoon.” As if suddenly realizing the lack of brightness coming in through the bathroom window, your raspy voice comes again, “Time s'it?”

“Five-ish,” Steve tells you with a frown, pretty brown eyes flicking over your face, “You haven't eaten anything?”

You give him a small shake of your head, his large hand supporting most of the weight of your skull as you do so, “M'sick.”

He sighs, “You still gotta eat, honey. Have to get something in your stomach if you're gonna get your strength back.”

You shake your head again, sad eyes meeting his, “I'll just throw it up. Don't want to get sick again.”

Steve smiles at you pityingly, a sad thing, “We'll try something real small to start, how's that?”

“How small?” You ask nervously.

“Some soup?”

You shake your head.

“Just broth and some crackers?” He bargains.

Your stomach rolls at the mere thought and it must show on your face because he sighs heavily.

“Dry toast?” He tries.

Your eyebrows pull together, but the thought doesn't immediately make you queasy, so you give him an indecisive shrug.

“Let’s try some toast, yeah, honey?” Steve says softly.

His fingers gently brush your hair back from your face and your mind whirls in realization.

“Oh god,” You bemoan weakly, “'s there puke in my hair?”

“No,” He says a little to quickly, “No, baby, there's nothing in your hair.”

You give him a look to say that you don't believe him for a single second, but he's looking at you so fondly that your expression melts away into something soft almost immediately.

“You want me to tie your hair back?” Steve asks, already turning around to peek at the bathroom countertop where there's a mess of hair ties and clips littering the surface.

“The big one.” You tell him, nodding vaguely in the direction of your favorite scrunchie.

He turns back around with the puffy material pinched between his fingers, already combing your hair back and collecting it in a bundle with gentle hands. The sensation of air meeting the clammy nape of your neck feels so good that you let out a small noise of relief, leaning forward to give him more room while he tries to smooth out the lumps in your hair with his fingers.

Once he's managed a messy ponytail, his wide palms rest on the sides of your neck, thumbs ghosting along your jawline as he frowns at the feverish sweat on your brow.

“You taken your temperature at all?” He questions in concern, his fingers meeting your forehead and somehow managing to feel blessedly cool against your overheated skin, “You feel like you're burnin' up, sweetheart.”

“Hundred or so.” You tell him, eyes falling shut as you lean into the feeling of his hand against your sweaty skin.

Steve hums, an unhappy sound, “That's not too bad. Not good by any means, but it's nothin' to be too worried about, huh?” He sounds like he's trying to reassure himself more than you, so you merely nod against his hand. He sighs after a moment, “Right. C'mon. Up we go.” He urges softly, arm curling around your back with one hand gripping at your hip as he pulls you to your feet.

You're not sure how he manages it so effortlessly, the only hint of his strain is the soft grunt he lets out when you collapse against his chest and knock a little bit of the wind from him. You bury your nose into the dip of his clavicle, the strip of skin and scarce chest hair poking out from beneath the collar of his stretched shirt is soft to the touch and masculine smelling and overall a little dizzying — although, the way you sway against him has you wondering if maybe that's just the fever.

“Toast.” Steve reminds you softly, hand slipping beneath your baggy sleep shirt — one that had been his shirt, once upon a time — to run his thumb over the soft, overheated skin at your hip.

You grumble something that's not quite disapproval or approval, a weak sounding thing to protest the thought of moving from your current position, but with an endeared sigh and a soft press of his lips to your sweaty temple, Steve's manhandling you into a better position. Your feet end up over the tops of his, your arms curled up underneath his own to grip weakly onto the backs of his shoulders. He holds you steady with one hand at the center of your spine and the other spread over your backside in likely the least sexual touch he's ever graced to that area of your body.

You manage a weak murmur about him copping a feel and he laughs. It falls over your ear in a breathy little chuckle as Steve carefully waddles the two of you down the hall. His arms continue to hold you tight to his chest while walks you back around the corner leading into your small kitchen, flicking the overhead light on as he goes.

“Hows'it you're mouthy even when you're on your deathbed?” He asks, a small grin on his face as he gently gets you settled up onto one of the kitchen stools where you can rest while he makes you food.

You collapse onto your elbows against the countertop as soon as he releases you, cheek resting heavy in your palm as you peer up at him.

“Dunno..” You tell him quietly, eyes flicking over Steve's face slow in a way that you didn't quite manage in the dim light of the bathroom.

His hair looks a little fluffier than normal, soft and messy in a way that makes you want to run your hands through it, tug soft on the strand that dips down over his forehead and curls toward his eye in that effortlessly beautiful kind of way. Caramel swirls prettily with the darker shades of brown and gold in his eyes, pink lips pulled into a barely-there grin when he turns back toward you after grabbing a half eaten loaf of bread from the cupboard.

You're watching him with a dazed sort of admiration, “How s'it you look so pretty even when I'm on my deathbed?” You counter dreamily, arms crossing against the cool countertop so that you can rest your temple over the tops of them when your head suddenly starts to feel a little too heavy, vision swaying.

Steve laughs softly as he gets two slices of bread into the toaster, “I'm not sure there's a correlation between my good-looks and your health,” The sound of his amusement fades out when he looks back at you and finds your new position, “Oh, Honey..” He says simply, the words pitying.

“'m dizzy.” You tell him with closed eyes. The darkness behind your eyelids doing nothing to slow the spinning in your brain.

“Well I'm sure that not eating all day is at least partially to blame for that,” Steve says softly, “Your body can't fight the virus if you don't give it any fuel.”

You pout petulantly, knowing he's probably right, “You're annoying when you're smart.”

The swirling blackness behind your closed eyes slows, your breathing following suit as you relax against the counter.

“C'mon, sit up, sweetheart.”

The sound of his voice startles you and the quiet clink of a ceramic plate being set down on the counter beside your head has you deducing that you might have fallen asleep for a few moments. You make a small noise of surprise as your gaze moves to the food on the plate, plain dry toast. Steve has sliced it into cute, neat little triangles for you and your heart melts a little at the gesture.

Hands on your arms guide you gently into an upright position as Steve crowds up against your side, letting you rest your weight into the wall of his chest when your head swims a little from the movement. You grab a slice of lightly toasted bread from the plate in front of you and bring it to your lips, nibbling slow at the corner with your eyes closed, trying to focus on the way you rise and fall with Steve's breaths where you're resting against him — the expansion of his lungs beneath his ribs rocking you in a slow, steady movement while you attempt to force down comically tiny bites.

Steve drags his palm along the length of your spine, drawing a smooth path up and down as you eat.

“Doin' good, babe,” He praises softly, his free hand falling to rest lightly on your stomach where he begins to trace tiny circles over your shirt, “You don't have to eat it all. Just need to get a little something in your stomach.”

You hum around your sliver of toast, crumbs raining down on both of your chests and clinging to the fabric of your shirts as you chew. It takes a stupidly long time, but you manage to finish a single triangle of bread, and Steve continues with his soothing touches all the while.

He feels you grip the hem of his shirt in your fist, your sweaty face turning into his chest with an unintelligible murmur, and he brings his hand on your back up to rest between your shoulder blades.

“You done for now?” Steve asks gently, fingers rubbing softly into the tense muscles beneath your neck as you nod, “Probably haven't had anything to drink either, huh?”

You shake your head and a frown pulls at your lips when he takes a small step away from you, “Wha'-?”

“Gonna grab you a glass of water, alright? Then we can take a bath. Get you all clean and relaxed.”

He's already stepping away before you can protest, though the phantom sensation of the water that had re-emerged from your mouth an hour or so earlier has you frowning anxiously.

Unaware of your silent distress, Steve grabs a glass and turns on the tap, the loud rush of the water hitting the sink basin filling the room while he sticks his hand under the flow. He stands like that for a few moments, fiddling with the temperature a couple of times before he fills the cup. He returns to you only moments later, settling the glass into your palms with more gentleness than you think you've ever experienced.

As both of your trembling hands lift the water to your lips, you take a small sip, frowning and lowering the glass only a moment later.

“It's warm.” You complain weakly, face scrunching up in disgust as you meet his eyes.

Steve nods and his hand urges your own to bring the glass back to your lips, “Cold water will shock your stomach,” He tells you softly, “Gotta be warm if you don't wanna get sick. My strong girl just ate half a piece of toast, you don't want to immediately throw it back up, do ya?”

“No.” You murmur around the lip of the glass, taking another careful sip.

“No,” Steve agrees, wide palm coming up to brush a few loose wisps of hair back from your forehead, “Doing good, honey, real good. Just a few more sips and we'll get you in the bath.”

You frown at the reminder, clutching your cup to your chest with both hands, “Oh god,” You whisper in horror, “I smell.. I smell really bad, don't I?”

“You don't smell,” Steve promises with a soft smile, though it's not entirely convincing, “A bath'll help your head, though. You said you were dizzy, yeah?”

“Yeah,” You agree quietly, “Feels, like, swollen. Like my head's gonna explode.. But also 's spinny.”

“The steam will help,” He promises, “And you'll feel better when you're fresh and clean, y'know?”

You sigh around another sip of the warm water, a reluctant nod against the hand resting over your forehead. He urges you to drink a little more before he's dragging you back toward your bathroom.

You're forced to sit on the closed lid of the toilet, watching with tired eyes as Steve flits in and out of the room — adjusting the flow of the water in the bathtub and digging through your basket of bath salts and filling a bowl from the sink tap for reasons you can't imagine but don't bother to question aloud.

Instead, you wait. The loud rush of water filling the tub lulls you into a sort of trance until your eyes are slipping shut, head swaying heavily on your shoulders. The steam filling the room smells nice, lavender salts and oils having been added to the bath at some point, and the smell has you beginning to relax.

“Not fallin' asleep on me already, are you?”

You blink slow, heavy eyelids fluttering as you open your eyes to find Steve standing in front of you, already stripped down to his boxers. He steps between your legs to pull your shirt up over your head and you're down to only your underwear with just that one quick move. When he pulls you up, gentle hands cupping your elbows in case you sway on your feet, you lean into his bare chest with a contented sigh.

“This is nice.” You murmur, rubbing your cheek against the soft hairs littering his chest.

“This isn't even the relaxing part, honey,” Steve chuckles softly, his hands falling to your hips to rid you of your final article of clothing, “Come on. In you go.”

He helps you step over the lip of the tub, one hand in yours and the other on your waist to steady you. The water is hot and silky against your skin, a gasp on your lips when it first licks at your calves. It sends blissful shivers down your spine as you settle down into it, your eyes falling shut with a contented groan as you curl your arms around your knees and bow your head to rest over them.

You're only alone for a moment before Steve is settling in behind you, his long legs caging you in as they stretch the length of the tub. The water flowing from the tap cuts off and the room is thrust into startling silence, the thundering sound of the bathtub filling being replaced with the quiet sloshing of the water as Steve adjusts himself beside you.

You gasp in surprise when a warm stream of water falls over your shoulder and you crack your eyes open to watch as Steve cups his hands again, bringing the water to the back of your neck and releasing it in a warm rush down your spine. You hum in approval and he repeats the action a few times, dropping handfuls of water over your back as the steam works to lessen the pressure in your head.

A few minutes pass before Steve's maneuvering you around with big hands at your ribs, your thighs splaying wide over either side of his knees as he settles back against the end of the tub. Water sloshes around you with all the movement, licking high on your skin until you rest chest to chest, your face tucking into the damp curve of his neck.

“You alright like this?” Steve checks, his voice unbearably soft as the words fan out over cheek, “You comfortable?”

You hum happily, eyes closed, “So comfy, Stevie.”

He brings a big, bath-warmed palm up to rest on your shoulder, wet fingers trailing along your skin and leaving tiny oil-sheened drops of water behind that bead down the length of your arm and back as they fall.

Just as your mind starts to slip into that space between wakefulness and sleep, a startlingly cold cloth is pressed to your forehead. The chill has you reeling back slightly, a betrayed sort of frown on your face as you peer at your boyfriend who's holding a damp washcloth in his hand.

“To help bring down your fever,” Steve supplies in response to your silent question, “Sorry. I should've warned you.”

You settle back against his chest with a small huff, hand curling around his wrist as a way of telling him it was okay to try again. The cold doesn't shock you nearly as much the second time around, taking only a moment to warm into a comfortable coolness against your skin.

A deep breath fills your lungs with the sweet smell of lavender combined with the lingering musk of Steve's cologne. Your fingers trail over damp skin until you can settle your palm against his pec, blunt nails tracing slow patterns on his skin through the short damp hairs.

“Thank you,” You whisper over his chest, your breath causing his nipple to pebble up against the steam-thickened air, “So good to me, Steve. 'm so glad I have you.”

The wet cloth against your forehead disappears only to return a moment later, cool again from having been dipped back into the bowl of cold water Steve had placed beside the tub. Your breath stutters a bit at the chill, body tensing and relaxing back against him only a second later.

“How many times have you been the one taking care of me, huh?” Steve asks, fingers dragging up and down along the skin at the outside of your thigh in a soothing touch, “And I'd say you're in much better condition now than I was at least a few of those times.”

“'s different,” You argue quietly, “You were hurt. You're always getting hurt.”

“And you're always there to take care of me,” Steve agrees, “So I'm gonna take care of you. 'cause we got each other's backs, don't we, honey?”

His voice is smooth like silk to your ears, his big hand still trailing softly along your skin. His fingers find their way to your shoulder, the gentle drag of his knuckles skating along your jaw, the apple of your cheek, the length your brow bone, tiny streaks of moisture left behind in his wake.

“Yeah,” You murmur against his skin, tipping your head to place a small kiss to the corner of your boyfriend's jaw, “We do.”

[ed-recovery-affirmations]

I just made myself a cup of a new tea, one from a set that a friend sent me. I was super curious to try it with and without milk in it, so after I take a sip without, I'm going to add milk to my tea.

That may seem like such an inane little story to post on a blog, unless you have an eating disorder. I'm sure many of you know what a big deal milk in tea can be, and what an important act of self-love it is.

It was poured into many of our ears, approaching teenhood in the mid-2000's, not to "drink our calories." For those of us whose restriction was weight-based, many of us practiced filling ourselves with water, with our coffee black and unsweetened whether that was how we liked it or not, and with tea that never contained milk.

Like many people who've struggled with binge eating and with restriction, I struggle with creating anxiety-inducing rules about when is okay to eat, especially if I'm between meals and worrying if I should allow myself a snack, or if it's okay to quench my thirst with anything other than water. This is especially true between meals. For some reason my brain has accepted the "extra" caloric intake as part of a meal, but still balks at the idea of introducing these things independently into non-meal parts of the day. I would like to note that my chronic illness and my body's reaction to food has also influenced this weird relationship between me and my favorite treats, such as a piece of candy, or a beverage that might happen to contain a greater-than-zero calorie count.

But tonight, before bed, I want to try this tea. And it sounds like one that'd be super tasty with milk, as it has cocoa powder and vanilla in the blend. So I let my tea cool in the room with me as I type this, telling myself that I can get up and go back for milk after I taste it.

Now I have gone to the kitchen.

Now I have poured in a splash of milk and tasted. It's soy milk, as regular milk sometimes hurts my stomach and I don't want my sleep to be disrupted. Due to my chronic illness, this is still something I have to think about, and I'll be honest, I hate it. Things like this make it so hard to tell myself I can let go of my food fears, because my brain knows that some of my food fears will turn out to have validity, and so what if they all do?

Now I have poured in another splash. Tasted.

Now I have poured in a third, much larger splash. Tasted.

Oh, this is it. This tea tastes like a warm dessert. But now it's too cool, so I need to microwave it back to its best heat. I used to not want to microwave my food. As a teen I heard a hippie say that microwaves destroy the nutrients in your food because the radiation breaks down their molecular structure. This is absolutely false. In fact, it's been disproven that microwaves break down nutrients any more than other methods of heating food, but for a long time I believed it. And even after I learned the truth, I still found it hard to convince myself it was okay to use microwaves for a very long time.

I have just finished my tea in my room. I took the time to identify that I wanted it. I took the time to truly taste it in several different ways, consider how I felt I wanted it and bring it to those specifications. It wasn't planned for any specific time or day, but I agreed to give myself this the way I wanted it anyway. I've been drinking my coffee with milk every morning, too. I actually like black coffee, but I like it better with milk. And I give myself things throughout the day that I enjoy, to enhance my experience of my existence. Life is hard, and it's okay to allow yourself, to the fullest extent you can, the small joys that bring you through the day.

I wanted to share this with you. I hope you don't feel the crushing weight of morality when staring at a bottle of regular soda and the sugar-free, when you wake up with your morning coffee, when your self-care regimen includes a cup of tea. I hope you practice actively giving yourself the love you need this week. And I hope you give it to yourself exactly the way you need it.

[itjazzbicch]

Beneath The Surface

Pairing: Shunsui Kyōraku x Reader

Summary: Considering that the reader has been dealing with an illness, they are not as strong as they once were, desperate to be strong again as the war against Quincy's rage. Becoming hopeless, they begin to find some hope beneath the surface when their best friend lends a small hand with their emotions...

Warnings: The reader is sad, and mentions of death & illness (it's just a hurt/comfort fic) TYBW spoilers if you haven't watched!

Word Count: 0.9k 

My heart was breaking with every step when I dragged my cane along the rubble-covered ground. These Quincy's must've gone all out. Meanwhile, I was sick and barely able to walk.

I had never been so disappointed in myself, unable to bear the horrific sights that were now the Seireitei. Dragging myself back to my grounds, I wasn't allowed to due to my illness, but I took my zanpakuto, then went out to the shriveled-up garden where I once trained daily.

Pulling my zanpakuto from its sheath, it looked dull, the memory of the first time I held it in my hands flashing in my mind. How strong I was back then and how that strength led me to be a captain, once upon a time the strongest.

The longer I stared, the more I hated being who I was now. Fragile and weak, a burden rather than a fighting force, considering everything we knew was at stake. Those thoughts made me angry, sick, and shaking as I used all my strength to wield my zanpakuto.

"Talk to me, please," I whispered, trying not to cry, the shaking growing worse, "P-Please."

Nothing.

No matter how badly my body tried to give way on me, I stayed in stance, breathing heavily as I yelled in an attempt to build some motivation:

"I refuse to be so weak! Please! I need you!"

Again, nothing.

Using up my energy, I fell to a knee, the tip of my zanpakuto in the ground and clinging to it as I cried, begging it to talk to me somehow, to make me strong again.

"I'll do anything, just-"

"Y/N flower?"

Shunsui's voice brought me to silence despite the tears rolling down my cheeks, only listening:

"You know that you shouldn't-"

"I can't sit around and tolerate this anymore, Shunsui!"

It was becoming hard to breathe from the tears making my throat close. I knew precisely what Shunsui would tell me, and he should've known how I would react.

"I know that you're dealing with much more than your illness," He sighed, joining me on his knees, a hand on my back, "But we both know that-"

"What? That I'm weak? That I'm useless?" I couldn't look at him, clinging to my once mighty zanpakuto, "It won't even speak to me anymore."

"Stop talking like that," Shunsui was always trying to keep me optimistic, but given the times we were going through, that was impossible.

"It's the truth," I wept, drowning in those negative thoughts, "If I was strong enough, I could've done something. We lost so many, and Old Man Yama-"

The devastating memory of when I learned about Captain Yama's death made me start to sob, collapsing, but Shunsui caught me, holding me to his chest.

He knew that I needed to get this out of my system, only rubbing my back and hugging me as I cried:

"I hate this. Why did I have to get sick?"

"If I could change things, I would," He whispered as my cries settled, "But know, sick or not, you're much stronger than you think."

Finally, growing the courage to look at him and seeing his eyepatch added to that guilt as I was always protective over him. I tried my hardest to take in his words profoundly and believe I was strong like in the past, but it was challenging.

"You've had a lot to deal with since you took charge, Shunsui," I sniffled, cleaning my face, "Don't-"

"Crazy to think that after all the long years we've spent together, this is the first time I'd ever seen you cry," He realized; the thought never occurred to me, and our gazes connected, "I may be head captain now, but you're still my flower too."

His words made tears swell again, an arm wrapping around my head and holding me tight, clinging to his floral robe. Despite what little tears I had left coming down, I finally saw some light in my dark world:

"Flowers aren't just delicate, you know? They're not just beautiful, either. They weather through storms and may lose a pedal or two, but they grow back as beautiful as they were before. They have an unspoken strength."

I stared off into space as I related to his words. It may not be happening as quickly as I'd hoped, but maybe the strength I once possessed was slowly returning to me.

"How many terrifying challenges have we conquered, huh?" He whispered, kissing my cheek, "Remember that you're strong."

"I'll try," I whimpered, watching him place his hat down so he could hug me tighter, our heads together as I whispered, "I love you, Shunsui. Never forget that."

"That's good to know. Thought I'd have to wait another century or two to hear those words," He joked, and it did get a slight chuckle out of me, but seriousness settled in, thankfully the good kind, as he stroked my cheek, "I love you too my beautiful, strong flower."

"I promise from now on," I breathed in deeply, looking towards becoming better rather than drowning in sadness, "Every day till I'm gone, whether if it's this illness or by someone's hands, I'll never give up."

"Finally got some fire in your eyes," He mumbled with a smile, giving me more motivation to keep that promise as he kissed me softly, "I know you won't. You never have." 

2023 © itjazzbicch — do not repost or translate my work. Likes, reblogs, and comments are always welcome 

[vickyvicarious]

At last, however, I found one door at the top of the stairway which, though it seemed to be locked, gave a little under pressure. I tried it harder, and found that it was not really locked, but that the resistance came from the fact that the hinges had fallen somewhat, and the heavy door rested on the floor. Here was an opportunity which I might not have again, so I exerted myself, and with many efforts forced it back so that I could enter.

Jonathan is making the most of his undisturbed time to explore. This makes sense, but is also an interesting choice. Given how hard to open this door is, it's probably also going to be very difficult for him to close. He must feel that he has to put in his best effort because there could be something useful past the door. Because, after all, if Dracula sees that he has forced a door somewhere it's certainly a breach of 'appropriate guest behavior', even if it isn't explicitly breaking the rule about locked doors. By going in here, Jonathan is taking a risk that he'll be caught snooping around and get in trouble.

Perhaps he is expecting to hear the front door closing when Dracula gets back (he heard it from within his room the other day, which is a flight up from here), but even then it sounds like this door would take him a while to close. So if Dracula came straight to try and find Jonathan - and then went looking for him upon not seeing him in the usual places - this could be very tricky indeed. It's still worth breaking in here, because Jonathan has to explore every possible avenue... but it's perhaps less sensible to linger.

This really shows just how much Jonathan wanted to be away from Dracula's influence, and just how much comfort he took from placing himself in the shoes of "ladies in bygone days", even if the rooms were still kind of lonely and creepy at first. The difference between them and Dracula - and the fact that this broken door and all the dust implies Dracula himself hasn't been in here in a long time - is such a needed escape that Jonathan wants to stay longer. He writes his diary entry here, and imagines that he is like "some fair lady" writing a love letter. Perhaps he even remembers some ill-spelt love letters of his own to Mina (in imperfect shorthand). And there's a lot you could say about the Gender of this moment, to be sure, but also it highlights just how desperate Jonathan is for some escape, however small or temporary, from Dracula's presence. From feeling surrounded by him even when he isn't physically right there. And this in turn gives insight to how much Jonathan must have been feeling that way at all times up till now. He wants to cling to this hard-won "soft quietude" for a little while longer.

[nappingnai]

megumi drabble

angst with no comfort at all, hinted at itafushi, wc; 670, im sorry i love u guys, not proof read so if theres mistakes im sorrryyyy

itadori is gone, and gojo has been given a task from before his execution. to give megumi a handwritten letter. gojo wants to snoop and see what it says, but he knows its not smart.

the soft sound of knocking interrupts megumis thoughts, muttering a small "come in" as he makes himself look somewhat presentable. gojo strolls into his room, sighing as he lookd around.

"yuji wanted me to give you this." is all he says before turning around and leaving, unable to let megumi mutter a word or let a single noise escape his vocal cords. megumi looks at the paper— a small, off-white, folded up— signed by itadori. his messy, but pretty handwriting with small doodles around it. mainly just silly ones of megumi, or itadori himself.

it takes megumi a couple of moments before unfolding the paper, letting his eyes quickly scan over it to see what the main jist of it was before taking a deep breath and deciding to genuinely read through it.

"hey fushiguro! if you're getting this note, its quite obvious ive passed on. i dont wanna say i'll see you soon because i want you to live longer than i did, okay? ill see you someday, though. thats for sure. anyways, i dont really know how to go about this. all those books i borrowed, you can have them back, if you want. they should be in the drawer next to my bed, unless gojo-sensei cleared my room out already. i think he'll leave that to you, though? i did ask him too, but you cant get everything you want, yknow!

anyways, other than all that stupid stuff, i'll miss you. i would say to tell kugisaki i'll miss her too, but, i can tell her that myself now. im sorry for leaving so soon, but you still have gojo-sensei and some of the others. i know you're not a huge fan of communication or anything, but don't continue to be that person that sits in the corner at parties!! live life a bit. i get you're a sorcerer and you assume everything will always be shit, but you can still live. it wont kill you to not be a misanthropist for once in your life fushiguro.

dont drown yourself in guilt over this because there was nothing you could've done to stop it. i was going to meet my end whether you wanted it to be stopped or not. i always had a question, fushiguro. i lived a somewhat nice childhood for someone like me, but the question always ran through my head atleast once a year. was i raised without love, or was i unloveable? and i figured out the answer. i was raised with love, just not enough for me to feel like it. and im not unloveable because i know you loved me with every ounce of love your soul could provide to me.

i think this is long and sad enough already, so, moral of the note, thank you. tell gojo-sensei im sorry for having to leave so soon, but it was bound to happen. i lived an interesting life because of you. id rather die than never meet you. thank you for this, and i love you, megumi."

megumi had already balled up the piece of paper in his hand once finished with reading it, the tears lining his waterline threatening to fall. he let out a shitty attempt at a chuckle, which seemed to be the breaking point of it. instead of a chuckle, it was a choked back sob, making him cough a bit. he threw the paper, even if it didnt go very far. he sat on his bed and stared down, sobbing. he kept wiping his eyes to try and make the tears disappear, but they kept appearing as if nothing could stop them.

megumi went to bed that night with nothing but tears and a hole in his heart that he feels will never be filled until he sees itadori again.

(misanthropist - a person who dislikes humankind and avoids human society.)

[anzuhan]

april end innovade update (and possibly one of if not final update)

Statistics:

this was the first month in which i've only drawn one out of all trinities (michael only) (-)

the draw rate has raised since last month's 2.04 to 2.16/day (+)

first time ive drawn a piece including all innovades i tend to usually draw (+)

first time inclusion of 'others' (with the miku innovade designs) (+)

still only drew least drawn innovade a single time (sky) (-)

total drawn - 249

per innovade:

tieria - 59

laetitia - 15

regene - 23

revive - 19

bring - 18

divine - 17

anew - 14

sky - 6

hiling - 33

ribbons - 41

trinities

michael - 9

johann - 3

nena - 3

other - 2

—

ending note / long ramble about the whole situation

its been a long while huh 😭 exactly 4 months. minus a day ! on a year with a longer february as well, nonetheless. its been fun, but i may stop drawing them now; not to say natsume has utterly obliterated my love for innovades inside of my brain (though i thought of announcing it this way with a funny headline like BREAKING NEWS ! natsume has murdered the entire species of innovades in cold blood. we are sorry for the inconvenience), but also as of late it did sort of become a bother to draw them; mostly because of the keeping track of it as well and because i did not want the draw rate etc to drop. i did get to 1/4th of my goal.. minus one ! im not saying i will NEVER be drawing them ever again, but i doubt ill be keeping track of it anymore — alongside that, i do not think i will be drawing them almost at all anymore either (now, for a while. but they may still appear here and there from time to time.. as all my past fandoms do), so if you were only here for them and not me & my works, feel free to unfollow. i will still be up to have talks about them ! but i just wont devote such a high amount of time and effort to them anymore. it is hard to say ive been slowly falling out of love with them, and mayhaps even harder to say im falling in love again with natsume 😭 and EXACTLY a year later after i last stopped drawing him too... which is crazy .

i feel like besides this, it was also becoming apparent that drawing them has become a chore to me ; i was not feeling up to drawing highly detailed pieces with them anymore that id spend time on. i was not happy with the results on many of them either. and things like the page of every single tieria outfit, despite it used to be a thing i was once hyped about doing... back in january when i just got here, it no longer was that way. yes, i pushed through with it, but it took me a very long time and i kind of disliked going back to it, which is why it even took me that long 😭 and was moreso just done to keep up the numbers of innovades drawn ; for myself, for others.

i cannot lie about the fact it did make me happy i was giving to such a small fandom and brightening other peoples days, and this is a big flaw i have that i tend to put others above myself, but this has become much too big of a bother to me to keep on doing it. i still love them ! not as much, but i still do, especially ribbons. there is nothing wrong with them, i just do not wish to continue essentially wasting so much of my time drawing things i do not enjoy drawing, unless i am to see it finished and thats all the joy i get out of it.

as for the requests with the innovades, i am unsure if i am to do them anymore except for a singular one that ive also not received thru an ask but dm, purely because i am actually hyped about it 😭 and that may be the extent of which you will be seeing anymore 00 content from me.

im sorry if ive let anyone down & thank you for following me through this journey ; i hope to see you again :)

[sailorsenshishitposter]

Mechamaru x Reader

Warning for inappropriate/inaccurate use of drugs I guess? He steal morphine and gets high from it. Also evangelion and depression

Muta Kokichi:

You are a massive Evangelion fan, enjoy playing with puppets or just lay in bed all day.

First Date:

Your grandmother had fallen ill and had to be hospitalized a few months ago so you spent every weekend visiting her. You were so tired from studying that you failed to notice the room number. You walked in and were shocked to see a boy covered in bandages instead of your dear grandma. "Huh?"

You then noticed your mistake. "Shit. My bad, sorry. I thought this was nana's room. So... what are you in here for?" The boy looked at you but his expression screamed "dead inside". "I was born with glass bones and paper skin. It's so fragile that even moonlight burns it. Every morning, I break my upper legs, and every afternoon I break my left arm. At night, I lie awake in agony while it feels like needles are stabbing every pore in my body." 'This guy sounds like he's fun a parties'.

You sniffed the air and almost gagged. "You smell like mold. Why don't you take a bath?" He looked at you like the answer was obvious. "I was born without a right arm or anything below my knees. I have no sensation from the waist down. How can I possibly wash myself?" The boy appeared to be bathing in his own blood. "I think I'm just gonna call the nurse and tell her to give you a sponge bath." You then ran out of the room. "Well that was awkward!"

It was now a week later and you went to visit your elderly grandmother again. "I hope the old folks will enjoy the show I'm putting on!" You went through your bag and checked to see if it was there. You then held on to a small wooden puppet. "All right, everything's good. Let's go!" You walked in and noticed your dear grandmother in the audience. "I hope she likes this over playing bingo all the time..."

You then noticed a familiar face. It was that boy again. It seems that a nurse had propped him up in a wheelchair and forced him to "enjoy" something for once. He was glaring daggers at you. You gulped. This was going to be a long day.

Finally your show came to an end and you wiped the sweat from your brow. "He's creeping me out but at least he doesn't stink anymore!" You breathed a sigh of relief and went to exit when your grandmother surprised you. "Oh, hi nana. Did you like the show?" The two of you chatted and she eventually asked if the puppet could stay at the hospital. You agreed since you thought it would help their morale.

Over the next few weeks you began to notice some changes. Maybe it was just your imagination but we're things being moved out of place? Your grandmother told you stories about how the hospital staff believed that there was a ghost. It turns out items were frequently going missing and a culprit was yet to be caught.

"########, be a dear and ask if I can have some pain killers." You called a nurse but it turns out that their supply was low due to a shortage so you would just have to wait. Grandma only had a migraine so there wasn't any need to give her something insanely strong. You were just going to have to buy some Advil.

"Man, this sucks-" you were cut off as you soon fell over. "What the-?" It turns out that you had tripped on an empty syringe. You saw some scattered pills and followed them like this was some sort of insane trail and the source led to one room. "No fucking way! It can't be him!" You opened the door and were greeted by the sight of the boy getting high on morphine.

"So you're the thief!" It was then that he noticed you. "Huh?" He was smoking a fat blunt and eating Doritos. How the hell did he get all of this? It was then that you noticed your puppet in his lap. "How are you controlling it!?" He looked towards you and then the puppet. "You mean Mechamaru?" Did this guy seriously just name a doll after some sort of robot cartoon?

"Yes, that!" The boy sighed. "Okay but you have to promise not to tell anyone..." It turns out that his name was Kokichi and that he had some sort of strange ability that let him be able to control puppets? You two quickly became friends and you gave him your tablet just to show him the puppet master franchise.

"Those were awful. I'm never letting you pick again!" He then noticed a certain anime. "Hey, let's watch this next." Kokichi was now hooked on Neon Genesis Evangelion. He was a Rei stan, probably due to the fact that she's usually in the infirmary or her body is falling apart. "########, one day we'll pilot a giant eva and fly to the moon!" You laughed and ruffled his hair. "That's just the weed talking." You didn't know it but he really was working on creating a giant mech.

It was a week later and you still didn't show up. Kokichi looked around and called for a doctor. "Have you seen ########!?" The doctor was confused. "Who?" He groaned. " ########! They visit every weekend!" The doctor put his hand on his shoulder. "Mr. Muta, you need to relax. You're only going to make your injuries worse!"

"To hell with that! Where is ########!?" The doctor sighed. "No one with that name has visited the hospital. I know this must be upsetting but you just recently came out of a coma. I'm sorry. You must have dreamt it. I'll give you some time to yourself." Kokichi was now sobbing. "It all returns to nothing.. It just keeps tumbling down, TUMBLING DOWN, TUMBLING DOOOOOOOWWWWWWNNNN!!!"

The heart monitor kept skipping until there was a flatline. The boy died of a broken heart. In came a very happy Mahito. It turns out that he had blackmailed the doctor into gaslighting his patient. "I should do this more often!" He then transformed into the girl Kokichi had fallen in love with. In this form, Mahito began to sing.

"You can sail the seven seas and find love is a place you'll never see. Passing you like a summer breeze, you feel life has no other reason to be. You can wait a million years and find that heavens too far away from you. Love's just a thing others do. What is love til it comes home to you?"

[imightgetbetter]

i love dilfs

a bit less slutty than i initially envisioned but trust there will be more of that coming. this combines a bit of the tour requests and dad!matty that all you mentally ill daughters and children were asking for earlier. came up with the name with my friend after a play on literary classics, which felt just pretentious enough for this storyline. as always (and as you do) like and reblog and comment and all the things. love you loads, see you tomorrow!

“I don’t know who this is, but they’re small and quite cute and they seem to have the same cowboy boots as me,” Matty says teasingly, his phone held tightly in his hand as he records a story to be posted to the approximately one million followers on social media. His laugh sounds harmonic against yours as you turn around, your daughter escaping from your hold on her hand as she nearly head-butts her father’s thighs. “You are quite small to be wearing cowboy boots like that.” His thumb releases the button before anyone could get a real image of her face, more so of you standing there with a bright smile on your features, and he couldn’t complain. Hurriedly, Matty saves the video, smiling brightly as your daughter leans against his thighs and tilts her chin up to look at him.

“I’m big, Daddy. I’m quite like, super big. I’m nearly six.”

“Not sure who you are,” Matty teases, leaning down and scooping her into his arms, twisting her upside and tickling her belly until her laugh is the only thing you can hear around you. He’s said time and time again, that her laugh is his favorite sound in the world, because it reminds him of yours. “Tell me who you are!”

“It’s Attie!” she giggles, her tiny hands desperately trying to grapple at his much larger ones, the laughter echoing between the three of you enough to make your heart feel like it’s going to break your ribs apart. Matty is oblivious to you taking quiet pictures and videos of the two of them, pictures that you’re sure he’s going to want when he’s away. “Daddy, it’s me! It’s Attie James!”

“Oh! Oh! Okay.” Matty turning Attie around and bringing her to his hip, kissing her cheek sweetly and brushing a stray curl away from her forehead. “You okay, darling?” Attie lays her head on his shoulder, hugging him tightly. Her tiny hands clutch his shoulders, her eyes closing as you restart your walk towards the entrance to the venue, where you’ll be able to ready yourself for the evening and rest a bit before the show begins in a few hours. You’ve only just gotten to America, with Attie having to finish school and work meetings, Matty reluctantly had to leave for tour without you two a few weeks early. He’s been waiting for you to join him every minute since he left. “Tired, hm? Long flight?”

Attie rubs her eyes and shakes her head, “Mummy let me have a lolly on the plane, and I had a really big seat all to myself.”

“Did you sit in your seat, Attie?” you chime in, walking slightly ahead of the two to get your luggage towards the entrance. Matty immediately reached for Attie, which left you in charge of the suitcase, not that you minded all that much. Matty called nearly four times a day to check in with Attie, and an additional two or three to check in with you. He missed you two more than you ever thought someone could miss another person. He always said that it felt like missing his lungs, like an integral part of him was gone. Maybe, somehow, you believed that.

“I think you snuck into Mummy’s seat and cuddled with her,” Matty teases, kissing her forehead repeatedly, breathing in the scent of her strawberry shampoo. He’s not even been away for that much time, but everything feels different now that she’s older. He doesn’t ever want to be apart from her. “I don’t blame you; Mummy gives the best cuddles.” Matty holds her tighter as they walk through hallways, security nodding to them every so often and the excitement bubbling inside of you as you take in the infamous venue that you’d been to so many times before. Matty nods towards his dressing room, excusing himself past security and walking with you, breathing out a sigh of relief at the sight of your suitcase and your daughter on his hip and you in the room. “Can I put you down for a minute to hug Mummy? I missed you like crazy, but I also missed Mummy, darling.”

Attie yawns, “Okay, Daddy.”

“Hi, baby,” you say, a smile spread across your lips as you meet him in the middle of the room. Matty sets Attie on the floor gently, taking two strides towards you and wrapping his arms around your waist, tucking his face into your neck, and breathing you in, your arms immediately wrapping around his shoulders and squeezing tightly. Having him in your arms, it makes you realize how much you’ve missed him, how deeply you’ve missed having his presence around the house and in your room and in the car. Having him here, it reminds you how you’ve missed the different voices singing during bath time and the character voices at bedtime. All the things you take for granted when he’s home, when he’s physically present, it makes you appreciate it a million times more when he’s here, with you. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“Missed you,” he whispers against your neck, kissing you gently across your skin until his mouth reaches yours, a hot breath fanning over your lips as he says, “I’ve been dreaming about this. About you.”

“I’d hope you are,” you tease, tilting your face ever so slightly to connect your lips, kissing him deeply. Kissing him now, it’s hard to believe that at one point in time you were barely eighteen trying to hide your feelings for him, drunkenly kissing him here and there at parties. Many things have changed since then, many wonderful things. Kissing him once more, you turn your head slightly, looking to your daughter who has taken up residence on the vanity chair and is playing with the collection of styling tools and gels on the counter. “Attie, do you want to get ready?”

Attie nods excitedly, “Yeah! Daddy, Mummy brought me a pretty shirt just like yours!”

Matty looks at you curiously and then turns to your daughter, “Have to see what you’re wearing so I can match you, love. Think I should wear my cowboy boots on stage, too?”

Attie taps her finger against her chin, thinking carefully. “Maybe, I don’t know. Have to see.”

Matty laughs and kisses her head, walking around the room and beginning to get himself ready as you get your daughter dressed in her white button down and a tiny pair of trousers. Looking at her, you can see Matty in every inch, from the hair to the eyes to the smile, and it makes you grin, thinking about what another child might look like. You’ve thought about it before. Matty’s brought it up. Having another was never really a far-fetched idea.

“Daddy,” Attie calls, waiting until she has Matty’s full attention before continuing with her question, “are you going to sing Mummy’s song, tonight?”

“Always, baby,” Matty says, walking towards her and leaning onto his knees to adjust her collar, kissing her nose sweetly before standing upright. “Mummy won’t sleep with me if I don’t.” He laughs loudly when you smack his arm, shaking your head and walking towards your suitcase to find the shirt you packed specifically for the evening.

“Daddy, you and Mummy sleep in the same bed. That’s silly.”

“Right, right,” Matty chuckles, trying to hide the smirk on his face as you shrug off your clothes and begin getting dressed in the trousers and tee shirt you held tightly in your hands. Matty’s heart races at the sight of you, his mouth going dry taking you in. He always thinks you’re beautiful. He’s thought you were the most beautiful woman from the moment he laid eyes on you. How you look tonight, though, he isn’t quite sure how he’s going to make it without getting his hands on you. “You look absolutely incredible, darling. I like the shirt.”

His intense stare makes you smile, tilting your head down to meet his eyes as they stare at your chest openly, the words, I <3 DILFS, written in bold lettering. “Felt fitting considering what I’m about to tell you.”

“Tell me what?” he says, only waiting a beat before everything makes sense, and the question is lost in the air and Matty’s arms are circling around your waist and lifting you into the air, a laugh leaving his lips with excitement and joy, and you can feel the smile on his face as he hides his face in your neck, the wetness on your skin a sure sign of his genuine happiness. He pulls away only slightly, lowering his voice so only you can hear him, “You sure?”

His eyes are wide and filled with excitement, and you genuinely believe he’s about to burst at the seams, “Very sure.” Matty grabs your face in his hands and kisses you deeply, unable to stop smiling long enough to keep your kiss connected. “I haven’t told anyone, and you can’t tell anyone. It’s between you and me for now.”

“And Attie!” your daughter chimes in from the corner, completely oblivious to the news being shared between you two and the way you can feel your heart growing with excitement and love.

“And Attie, yeah,” Matty says breathlessly, his hands running over his face in disbelief. “You, and Attie, and me.”

[moonsandmobilityaids]

The Letters Part 2

Pairings: Poly!marauders x disabled!reader Summary: You and Remus decide to write home and tell your families about your relationship Warnings: N/A Series Masterlist | Part 1

A letter arrives for you, the owl swooping low in your room before dropping the parchment into your waiting hands. It's from your mother, her looping script familiar and comforting. Her words are a balm to your soul, offering understanding and love where you feared there might be judgement.

"Dearest," she begins, "I hope this finds you well, or as well as can be expected."

There it is—the unspoken acknowledgement of your fragile health, the concern that hovers in every line. She knows how much energy each day requires, even without the added complexities of navigating not one but three relationships.

"But I must admit," she continues, "when we received your last letter...well, we were surprised, to say the least." You imagine your father’s brows knitting together as he read your confession, your mother’s hand rising to cover her mouth. But you know them both—there would have been no shouts of outrage, only quiet contemplation, questions asked softly under the glow of the kitchen light.

"Now, don't get me wrong, my darling. Your father and I want nothing more than your happiness, and if these boys bring you joy, then who are we to stand in the way? But we worry about what this might mean for your health. You've always had to carry burdens beyond your years; will this not add another?"

You pause, folding the letter gently across your lap. Of course they'd ask about that—they understand, perhaps better than anyone, the toll your condition takes on you. They remember the hospital visits, the countless tests and scans, the nights spent holding you while pain wracked your small body. They’ve seen you at your weakest, watched helplessly as illness stole away bits of your childhood. So yes, they would wonder how Remus, James, Sirius factor into all this. Do they ease your suffering or compound it?

"I hope they're looking out for you, love," her letter goes on, "especially on those hard days when getting out of bed feels like climbing a mountain. Are they patient? Kind? Do they give you space when you need it most? Or does having three partners simply mean triple the worry, the arguments, the heartache?"

It's a fair question, one you've asked yourself during sleepless nights, your mind spinning with thoughts of what lies ahead. Will they grow weary of your limitations? Will they come to resent the time and energy your care demands? But then you remember Remus’ soothing voice reading to you, James’ gentle touch as he adjusts your pillows, Sirius’ easy humour lifting your spirits—and you know those fears, while valid, may not reflect reality.

"Maybe,” your mother’s words continue, “this isn’t what we envisioned for you, but life has a habit of surprising us, which you have done since the day you were born so why would you stop now?”

The corners of your mouth twitch upwards, a faint smile breaking through your clouded thoughts. That’s just like her, finding the silver lining, the shared joke amidst the confusion and uncertainty. And despite everything, you feel grateful—for her openness, her willingness to step outside tradition and consider a different path for you. For her unwavering love.

“We’ll discuss this more when you’re home,” she concludes. “And I’ll need to speak to these boys myself—just to make sure they know how special you are. I’m sure Remus knows, but I’ve never met James and Sirius so they need telling.”

Another owl swoops through the open window, wings barely rustling against the thick drapes. This time it's a small barn owl with speckled feathers that glint in the dim light of the bedroom. It lands gracefully on the back of Remus's chair, extending its leg to reveal a second parchment.

"Looks like this one's for you, Moony," James says, untangling the letter and handing it over. Your gaze flickers from the owl now preening itself to Remus, who takes the parchment with a mixture of curiosity and trepidation. You remember your own hesitations just moments before—the fluttering pulse, the dryness at the back of your throat—and reach out to squeeze his hand reassuringly.

"Dear Remus," his mother's response begins, "I received your letter and have given it much thought. You know I've always been one for details, so forgive me if this runs long."

Remus chuckles, a soft sound that ripples through the silence of the room like a pebble dropped into still water. He knows all too well her propensity for thoroughness—countless times he's sat at their small kitchen table, listening to her dissect every nuance of an article or analyse a book down to its last metaphor. It's part of what makes her such a good listener, why he's always felt understood in ways others often missed.

"I find myself surprised," she continues, "but not because you're dating a third person—I suppose stranger things have happened. No, my dear son, what truly astounds me is that it took you this long to admit your feelings for Y/N." There’s a playfulness to her words, a gentle teasing familiar and warm.

His cheeks flush slightly as he glances at you, wondering if the same thought had crossed your mind. Have there been moments, lost now in the haze of memory, when either of you could have reached across the divide sooner? Had fear kept you both silent, each waiting for the other to make the first move?

"And don't think I haven't noticed the way you light up whenever she's mentioned," she adds, as if reading his thoughts from miles away. Her handwriting is neat, each stroke precise—a stark contrast to the chaos usually surrounding his life at school.

"But let us focus on the present," she writes, shifting gears. "It seems we have much to discuss and unpack here, but rest assured, your father and I will support you in whatever way we can."

He lets out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. Those words—simple yet filled with meaning—ease a tension within him that's been coiling tighter since the moment he decided to write his parents. Support. That's what he needs right now, more than anything. And though questions still loom large, knowing he's not alone in facing them is a comfort he clings to.

"As for Y/N…" His eyes skim over the next few lines, heart skipping a beat. "I spoke with her mother earlier today, after reading your letter. We had a rather… enlightening chat about everything."

You look up at that, catching Remus's eye. Both your expressions mirror a mixture of relief and mild horror. The idea of your mothers discussing your love lives—an intimate tapestry woven of secrets and shared looks—is enough to make anyone squirm.

"Enlightening?" Sirius repeats, raising an eyebrow. "That sounds ominous."

"We expected as much," you admit, running a hand through your hair. "Still, it's mortifying to think about."

The parchment rustles as Remus turns it over, his mother's words continuing in a more serious tone. "I know the fears that gnaw at you," she writes. "It's no accident I've noticed how you flinch when happiness finds you, how quickly you look for shadows where there should be only light."

His hand tightens around the letter, creasing its edges. It was true. Every joy seemed fleeting when set against the permanence of his condition, every moment of peace merely the quiet before another storm. But here she was, acknowledging those fears and meeting them with understanding rather than judgment.

"You wonder if you're deserving of love given your circumstances—of their love," her script meanders down the page, each word imbued with a tenderness that makes his breath hitch. "But remember, my dear boy, love isn't something to be earned or measured by what we believe we owe. You have every right to it, especially from those who see past the complexities that life has bestowed upon you."

He swallows hard, feeling the weight of those words settle deep within him. They seep into the cracks of self-doubt that have long since formed, like rain nourishing parched earth. And though he knows one letter can't erase years of fear and loathing, it's a start—a glimmer of hope amidst the dark.

"Take care of yourself, Remus," the note goes on, a gentle nudge wrapped in ink and paper. "And take care of them too." A pause lingers between sentences, almost palpable despite the distance. "They may not bear physical scars, but they carry burdens just as heavy."

His gaze lifts from the page, finding yours across the room. There's an unspoken agreement in that brief exchange—you both understand what it means to shoulder invisible weights, to smile through pain others can't fathom. And in that shared knowledge, there's a kind of solace, a silent promise to hold each other up even when the ground beneath threatens to give way.

"I imagine it wasn't easy, opening up about this part of your world—the part we've kept hidden so long out of necessity and fear." The handwriting becomes slightly shaky here, betraying an emotion she rarely allows to surface. "Yet you did it, and for that, I am incredibly proud."

Remus blinks, surprised by the sudden sting behind his eyes. Proud. It's been ages since he last heard that word directed at him without irony or pity. To hear it now, applied to the very thing he's spent most of his life fearing, feels like a balm on old wounds.

"And don't worry about Y/N's parents," the next line reads. "From our conversation, it seems they are trying their best to navigate these waters just as we are."

At this, he exhales slowly, relief washing over him like a warm tide. That's one less concern weighing on his already burdened shoulders. He scans the remaining lines, each sentence weaving a thread of reassurance through the fabric of his uncertainty.

The tone of the letters from both families is, perhaps predictably, a mix of concern and relief. But there's also a note of something else—something akin to gratitude—that hums beneath each carefully chosen word.

In the ensuing silence, the magnitude of what you've done begins to sink in. The letters are out, the responses tucked safely inside your robes, and reality is settling back around you like a familiar cloak. It isn't perfect—the edges still fray with uncertainty, and the fabric is heavy with implications—but it's tangible, undeniable proof that you're no longer alone in this fight.

You exchange a glance with Remus across the room, his eyes reflecting the same quiet resolve. There is no going back now, no erasing the words that have etched new paths before you. But whatever lies ahead, you realise, you'll face it with the strength of family at your backs and love as your compass.

[thatuselesshuman]

How I get shit done in a way that works

For reference: I have many illnesses (some that now force me to use a cane in the short term) and autism

So I was cleaning my room today and I realized that I have a process of getting things done that may help some people, so here I am sharing it on ye ol Tumblr. Feel free to comment on it, disagree, add advice, and generally just yap cause I am in no way a professional

Anyways...

Step One: The most important step

As the title says, this is the most important step. This step starts with putting on a banger playlist or an audio book or anything that'll get you in the zone. This is important cause if it's not a vibe I'm not gonna do it.

The second part of this step is knocking out the easiest thing that'll make the most difference. Using me cleaning my room as an example, I packed up the large pile of clothes I have to donate that was covering a lot of my floor. It only took like five minutes and it made my room look a lot less messy. This is important because I typically have a hard time starting a project because I think of all of the things I have to do, the time it'll take, and I'll get overwhelmed and just not do it. Knocking something out that makes the task seem way less daunting and therefore allows me to start.

Step Two: Break it up

The next step is to break up the rest of your tasks into small but not menial tasks. Using the same example, I broke up my room into: pick up shoes, pick up dirty clothes, pick up trash, put shoes into the shoe cubby, put away any other miscellaneous items, hang up clothing, and vacuum. These tasks are doable but still make a difference in the cleanliness of my room, which motivates me to get to the next task. If the task is too small, it seems daunting to the rest because you can't see them making a difference. If the task takes too long, you'll quickly get discouraged because the amount of time it could take to do the rest seems like forever.

Step Three: Give yourself grace

I lied, this may be the most important step. After every task, you have to allow yourself to quit if you want to. Even if you only get the first step done, you must allow yourself to quit if you feel the need. If you force yourself to keep chugging on despite being overstimulated, tired, etc, then the task may get done in the short term but you'll be way less likely to ever even start next time. If you get overwhelmed after the first step, then that's fine. You can try again tomorrow or in an hour or two. Forcing yourself isn't the answer.

Plus, I find that after I get into the swing of things, I don't want to quit. Very rarely do I find myself quitting after the first, second, or even third step. Sure, occasionally I'll have a rough day and I'll quit early on, but then I'll just try again. Living in your body isn't a 100 meter dash, it's a marathon, which means you can't go 100% the entire race or else you'll never finish.

Step Four: Reward yourself

Once you accomplish your goal, reward yourself. It doesn't have to be anything big. For example, after I finished cleaning I rewarded myself by making my favorite dish for dinner. When you reward yourself, it allows yourself to feel accomplished and happy with the outcome. You'll remember that feeling next time, which will make it all the more easier to start.

TL;DR: You got this! You've gotten this far. You've lived too damn long to be bested by something like this. Tackle that task, I believe in you!

[blackjackkent]

Pressing onward through the illithid colony...

Rakha shoves her shoulder through another of the terrible flesh-sphincter doors and finds herself in some kind of barracks area, just as slimy as the rest.

Small alcoves branch off of a central room. Amid the slime and flesh are beds, desks, chests of belongings.

"Some who worked here were not thralls or undead," Minthara points out grimly. "They were loyal to Ketheric - and his grim cause."

And indeed, some of those people are still here. A group of some five Absolutists are standing at the far end of the barracks. One of them, a tall woman with heavy facial tattoos and dramatic headgear, seems to be leading them in some sort of rousing speech.

"Bring death! Embrace death! Become death!" she cries. "You are the sacred hand that reaches from the grave. You are the lasher of skulls, the carver of crypts, the dancer of bones. Walk in dusk and shadow; walk the path of bones in our Lord's name! This is his blessing, his consecration, and you are his scythe. Go forth and reap! Gather yourselves! Soon we march to victory!"

Rakha grabs Wyll's arm, shoves him before her towards one of the room's alcoves, trying to push out of sight - but it's too late. The group is moving into the main atrium, and the woman spots her at once.

"Ugh," she groans, irritated. "Lashers, Balthazar let one of his walking carcasses lapse from his control. Let's ferry them back--"

She breaks off abruptly and does a visible double-take. Her eyes widen and her jaw drops.

"Wait," she says softly. "By the Bone Lord... it's you!"

Rakha goes very still. Her heart begins to thump painfully in her chest, in her temple, behind her eye. She realizes, suddenly, that she knows that voice - that it resonates with a memory just beyond reach, a memory saturated with visceral terror. Every muscle in her body seems to lock up and she stands there, dumb and staring, unable to move, unable to speak.

The woman moves closer, peering at her; astonishingly, incongruously, her expression is one of... joyful recognition. Her lips struggle for a smile that seems ill-suited to the tight-drawn muscles of her face.

"I thought I'd never see you again," she says eagerly. "I wanted to keep you for myself, but they shipped you away!"

Rakha is dimly aware of Wyll moving up next to her. His rapier is out in one hand - he is waiting for her cue to strike. But she is frozen, her fists clenched at her side. For the first time, rather than fight, she wants to flee this place, and she does not know why.

This is the second person who has recognized her with pleasure. The first was that presence, the Absolute itself. And now this woman...

I wanted to keep you for myself.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she manages to rasp out. "But you're going to tell me *everything.*"

The woman's head snaps back and her eyes widen even further. "You talk? How is this possible? Something must have gone wrong..."

Then her gaze softens and the smile takes over again, spreading from ear to ear, giving her face a sharply skeletal look. "But oh... what an arresting voice you have."

She lifts a hand and dusts it with a tender gentleness along Rakha's cheekbone, over the scar on her eye. Rakha's breath quickens - not with pleasure but with panic. Often she is not even comfortable with Wyll touching her, much as she loves him; this woman's fingers make her feel like a rat caught in a trap. She wants to lash out, to jerk away... but she can't move. (*)

"You're not supposed to be here, special one," the woman croons. She sounds as if she's talking to a lost child, or a disobedient pet. "That's not right. But I don't want to damage you." She laughs softly. "You were my very first, after all. I learnt everything about the parasites from you."

She tips her head to the side with an air of reverent nostalgia, her smile softening and her eyes drifting a little out of focus. "I remember finding you close to death," she murmurs. "Beaten black and blue on the floor of this sanctum. It must have been a few hours after the tadpole was placed in your skull. How you got here was a total mystery, but I stitched you up just enough to keep you alive, then placed you within your crib..."

Her hand shifts, now cupping Rakha's cheek. She looks up into Rakha's eyes with great affection; Rakha has nearly six inches on her and yet she seems utterly unafraid, merely fascinated that she has returned.

That her pet has returned.

"I kept you as mine until you were needed by our superiors," she says gently. "We had such a close bond... I opened you up endlessly with my scalpels and got lost in your insides..."

Flashes of sudden memory, brutal as lightning strikes. A horrible parallel of the noblestalk memories, and of Malus Thorm's profane experiments in Reithwin, but this time it is Rakha on the table. This woman stands over her and lifts a knife and stabs downward and cuts--

Pain. Blood. Rakha looks down and sees her own liver, glistening, pulsing, and she screams and thrashes against the bonds holding her down--

She staggers, swallows a noise of panic that she has never made before. Focus. She has to focus, to think-- these are the answers she has looked for all this time. She can't let them slip out of her grasp.

"This is... where I was left?" she asks. Her voice sounds foreign to her own ears, strained. "After someone infected me?"

The woman shrugs. "I was not behind it. I do not know." She shakes away the moment of uncertainty and smiles beatifically. "But whoever did it, I'm so glad they left you here for me."

She draws her fingers slowly down Rakha's cheek, over her neck. "Truthfully," she says, "I'm not surprised to see you found your way back here all by yourself. I always knew you were clever." She drops her hand, spreads her arms wide with a woebegone sort of expression. "It has never been the same with another! All the other victims who come here just meekly obey. You thrashed! You fought! You were indomitable!"

Yes. She remembers fighting. She remembers terror, wanting to run, wanting to hide, find safety, strike back, kill. Nothing of her, only the beast, furious and in pain. Did she still remember anything then? Or were her memories already gone?

She lets out a long, reverential sigh, then clicks her tongue, suddenly all business. "But... as special as you are, you shouldn't be swanning around here, acting as if free will is yours again," she says brightly. "We're going to kill you, sweet one. But I promise... I will stay with you afterwards."

Her voice lifts in a sudden, commanding shout. "Lashers! Bring this one back to my table!" Her eyes narrow and her affectionate smile takes on a brittle sharpness. "And prepare my knives for a long night of experiments!"

-----

It is not Rakha but Wyll who strikes first. Almost before the Absolutist is finished speaking, his fist - heavy with the hilt of his rapier - crashes into her jaw, knocking her almost off her feet.

"Like hells you will!" he snarls.

Rakha doesn't remember the battle that follows. She's dimly aware that Wyll's attack galvanizes all of them into action, herself included - that she manages to break free of the strange rigor-mortis panic that seems to have overtaken her.

But her first clear perception is of sitting on the floor next to the woman's body, watching the blood slowly drip out of a hole in her gut, left by Lae'zel's greatsword amidst flesh charred by Rakha's spells.

Narrator: She is but the hack doctor who half-pieced you together, after whatever caused your head to get in this mess. Someone else must have attacked you, in the midst of whatever you were doing down here. This necromancer was a grunt in the scheme of the horrors enacted against you. That attacker is the source.

Try to remember the attack.

Narrator: In the heart of all these membranes, there was a dagger awaiting you all along. But from who?

The panic is fading, her conscious thought reasserting itself. This is still not answers, not really... but more images, small puzzle-piece fragments that fit into a distant sense of understanding.

Yes - she was here, once. Ketheric did not like her - but she had power nevertheless. She walked the halls freely, both above and here in this flesh-pit. And she was betrayed. Someone attacked her. Tadpoled her. Left her here to die. Except she did not die; instead she was taken by this worm of a woman, cut apart and put back together over and over and over and over--

Calm. She swallows the rising bile in her throat.

She can see Wyll watching her. He looks as ill and frightened as she feels. Lae'zel is vibrating with rage that has no outlet now that all around them are dead. Even Minthara, usually unflappable, seems disquieted, her eyebrows knitted together firmly as she looks over Rakha and the dead body next to her.

"They treat us like animals," the Nightwarden says coldly. "Beasts of burden. Pets. Laboratory rats. Our vengeance will be swift and we shall leave none standing."

Rakha doesn't answer. Yes. Vengeance. It is all she has sought - but before, her only target was Ketheric. Now there are others. The one who attacked her, who betrayed her.

Did that person put the beast in her head? Or - this thought gnaws at the back of her skull, inescapable - was it there before, and were they right to try to put her down like a dog?

-----

(*) Artistic license. Kressa doesn't touch her in-game but it seemed apropos for the way she was talking about Rakha.

[nyankootaku]

A Desperate Plea as Winter Approaches

Hi Everyone. Again my family is facing a crisis more severe than ever before. The brutal summer sun has worn down the flimsy tent that once served as our only shelter, and now, as winter approaches, we are left exposed to the elements. There is no place for us to turn. With no means to afford proper housing, we have no choice but to share a car garage with two other families. It’s not a home, but it’s the only roof we can find to protect us from the bitter cold that is closing in on us.

My husband’s condition has taken a grave turn. After a long, painful hospital stay, he was released, but his chest wound, caused by a piece of shrapnel that pierced him when a bomb struck our home while we slept, has become dangerously inflamed. His blood pressure has dropped to 90/60, and he’s been rushed back to the hospital. The sight of him weak and struggling for every breath breaks my heart, but the pain doesn't end there.

With my husband back in the hospital, I face an unbearable choice. The hospital does not allow children, so I am torn between staying by his side, or leaving my three children alone in this unsafe city. Every night, I fear for their safety and for the life of my husband. I cannot be with both, and it is tearing me apart.

To make matters worse, hospitals in Gaza have run out of many essential medicines due to the blockade. We are forced to buy medication from external pharmacies at prices we can barely afford. The war has stripped us of everything, and now, the siege makes survival an even greater struggle.

We are also in dire need of food. My children’s immune systems are weak from malnutrition, and they fall sick often, leaving me helpless. We lack even the simplest comforts—medicine to heal their illnesses, warm clothes to shield them from the winter chill, and basic nutrition to keep them alive.

Winter is not just a season here; it’s a looming threat that may take what little we have left. I am begging for your help. Please, any donation, no matter how small, will go directly to giving us warmth, food, and the chance to survive this nightmare. My family is on the edge of survival, and we need you now more than ever.

Although I myself cannot donate, I will spread the message to those who can.

[bluegalaxygirl]

Old Friends (Zosan X Reader) P5

Plot: Reader is the 9th doctors old assistant but soon moved on to other things, joining the straw hat pirates and falling in love but now their paths cross again (only he has a new face, 10th Doctor) when they go to see an old friend in a strange hospital. Unfortunately there's some one else there that wants to start trouble.

One piece and Doctor who cross over (10th doctor), its based off the new earth episode. i thought since David tenant as the doctor is coming back in November it would be good to get this idea out.

Reader is Female (Sorry), Zoro X Sanji X reader, Poly relationship, established relationship.

Warning: Illness, Death, Bad language, Violence and Making out.

P1 - P2 - P3 - P4 - P6 - P7 - P8 - P9 - P10 - P11 - P12 - P13 - P14 - P15

A pounding headache wakes you up leaving you groggy but you remember what happened, that guy sprayed you in the face with something knocking you out. Your sitting up and leaning against something so you push off it to get a better look around "Finally your awake" A familiar female voice calls out sounding almost annoyed with a slight hint of amusement, gasping you look up to see someone you thought was dead "Cassandra?" you ask looking at the thin sheet of skin with eyes and red lips attached to a stand, bellow the stand is a jar with a brain in it with leads going up and into the stand. "Now now, calm down" The man from before walks over to the glass cylinder your in with a small smile, he seemed genuine in his words trying to clam you down but it doesn't work, standing you kick the glass but it doesn't break "Oh please will you knock it off" The skin woman sighs rolling her eyes before looking at the man "Servant now" her voice calls out making the man jump and run over to her getting out a can and spraying Casandra's skin "How are you hear? How are you alive? what is going on?" you yell out fear and anger building up in you.

The last time you saw this woman, if you can even call her that, she killed a lot of people but ended up exploding due to the doctor not letting her get sprayed with the can. It some kind of moisturizer that stops her skin form crinkling up, tightening until there's nothing left "Yes i'm alive no thanks to you or the Doctor, i'm lucky they still had my old body in storage and managed to get enough skin off it to bring my body back, luckily my brain wasn't destroyed" Casandra smiles at you her plush red lips parting a little as she does so letting you see the wall behind her. "Casandra i never-" you try and speak only for her to yell at you to shut up the servant stroking her skin to calm her down "Mistress, please" The mans voice was very soft and caring "I need a body, i'm sick of being stuck here, this one was supposed to be my new body but as you can see he didn't turn out so well" The skin lady gives her servant and discussed look but you shake your head "They don't know your here? Why not? they can help you" You step back a bit at seeing Casandra's angry eyes now on you "Oh please, i'm wanted on every planet even this one for who i've killed, there's no way they would help me and let me leave so i did it all myself and when i was told about you i knew this would be the perfect opportunity" Her smile widens again making you feel sick to your stomach, you know being nice in this situation isn't going to get you anywhere but being mean isn't a good idea around her.

Your trapped and it hurts your chest knowing there's no way out "Please Casandra, I'm only here to see a friend thats dying, let me help you" The servant steps away from Casandra as the woman ignores your pleas, you kick the glass again trying to break it only for her servant to pull a lever, electricity runs through your body and inside the glass cylinder, you start feeling dizzy as pain rushes through your body but you can't scream or call out. It felt a lot longer than it actually was but the energy build up causes the glass to shatter out while your vision goes black. Gasping awake your body sits up only your not the one in control anymore "Mistress" the servant walks over being careful of the glass on the floor helping your body out and walk away. "Did it work?" Casandra asks moving your hands as a smile forms, looking up she sees the skin she used to be, gone and the brain down bellow it dead, she was free, she finally had a body "Mirror, where's the mirror" Casandra pushes her servant away and runs over to the mirror seeing your reflection but it's her "Oh god, look at me" She laughs turning around in the mirror getting a good look all over "Mistress is beautiful" Her servant claps jumping up and down but Casandra shakes her head "Kinda, she's no where near how i want to look, i don't even think plastic surgery will do the trick but I'll have to do for now until i can make myself a much.... prettier one"

Casandra takes your jacket off and warps the arms around your waist pulling it as tight as it can go to show off your waist, opening the three buttons of your top she pulls the shirt down to expose more of your cleavage before putting on some red lip stick "That's a lot better, now if she'll stop fighting me i can look into her memories" Casandra runs a hand through your hair pushing it up and posing in the mirror before gasping "I knew the doctor would be here if she was but.... Wow! he is handsome now" Cassandra's eyes wonder down your body in the mirror trying to make you look more to her liking, sexy and flirtatious "Oh, you little... how dare you" Her servant runs over to you upset over your tone "Mistress what's wrong?" His meek voice pisses Casandra off and pushes him away "She joined a pirate crew and has two boyfriends, oh that sneaky... oh no, it's a poly relationship too bad i though she might actually have some balls but those two really?" She asks sighing to herself finishing off your memories and walking over to one of the tables in the room "Great, i'm going to have a muscle-bound idiot and a flirtatious creep all over me but at least their cute, i can put up with it for a while" Casandra grabs a small bottle and places it your cleavage making sure it can't be seen.

The servant watches her and bows when Casandra walks over to him "I'm going to get the doctor to help us with our little plan, it might be hard to get those guys away from me but I'll figure something out until then don't be seen, I'll need a key card to get into intensive care, i'm sure there has to be something in there that can help" Casandra places your hand on your hip thinking for a minute "I can get one for you mistress, i know where they keep them and i can get in without anyone seeing me" she smiles at him and starts to walk away your hips saying from side to side as you walk "Good do that and have someone leave it in locker 16 along with a knife, i'm gonna need it" Casandra giggles walking down the hall ways and to one of the elevators pressing the button for it to open.

Zoro's leg bounces as he sits in the chair next to Sanji, you've been gone for a while, yes the nurse said you went off to help fill in some blanks about Boa but should it really be taking this long "Zo, Zo... Zoro" Sanji shakes the swordsman by the shoulder finally getting his attention "What?" Zoro looks behind him wondering if the cook was trying to tell him you were coming back but, you weren't there "Your legs been shaking, i'm sure she's fine" Sanji rubs the mans shoulder who sighs turning to face the cook "She's been gone too long, i know i shouldn't but its hard not to worry" The swordsman leans back in the chair as Chopper jumps off his own seat "I'll go look for her, i wanted to check this place out too so at least now i have an excuse to explore" The reindeer smiles up at them, about to answer a nurse walks in clearing her throat to get the group's attention "I'm sorry to disturb you all but visiting hours will be over in a few minutes, you'll be able to see him again in 2 hours though" The doctor turns from where he's standing by the window and nods at the nurse walking over to Chopper. He waits for the nurse to leave before looking down at Chopper "I'll come with, you two should head down and get food or something" The doctor crosses his arms over his chest still not happy about this place and wants to check it out, but he can't tell them that since they'll tell you about it, and he will 100% get an ear full.

"Yea, we need to check on the others too" Sanji answers before Zoro can, who was about to say no since he wanted to look for you but with the way the cook was now holding the swordsman's arm he knew there was no way thats happening. "Thanks, we'll being Y/n down when we find her" Chopper pats Zoro's leg once the swordsman and Sanji stand heading out the room to head down to the first floor. The Doctor and Chopper walk around looking into wards and asking nurses but the Doctor was mainly focused on the sick people, he couldn't believe what he was seeing, most of these diseases or life long illnesses are cured in a matter of hours or days. It's not possible for it to work that fast and why are they hiding how their doing it. "I'll head down to the records room while you stay on this floor in case she comes back ok?" The doctor smiles down at the reindeer who nods and walks off another way, they wanted to check this floor encase you got lost but after a while of looking the doctor was starting to get worried.

Stepping out of the elevator onto the 26th floor Casandra looks around trying to figure out which way to go "There you are" The doctor voice calls out rushing over to you and grabbing your arm "I was worried about you, are you ok?" Casandra smiles up at him and nods "I'm fine, i'm sorry it took so long, where are the other?" You ask looking behind the man before he starts pulling you away and down a clear hallway "Listen i know you told me not to investigate but something is wrong with this place. There are diseases that will kill you in days but these nurses are curing them in hours some even minutes, thats not possible. i- i know where here for bo-" Casandra cuts him off by pulling him in close, it's a relief that its easier than she thought to convince him to look into things "I know i said not to but... when i was down there i found something" Your voice whispers to him looking around to make sure the coast is clear "Really? What is it?" The doctor whispers back once your eyes meet his, Casandra considers telling him out right but, with him being so close and very attractive she can't help herself "I'll tell you but, i want something in return" The doctor looks at you a little confused but you are a pirate now, and he knows to pirate things aren't always free, but he needs to know so nods his head letting you go on " In the left building on the first floor there's an intensive care until that isn't marked on any maps. I saw a piece of paper with ward number 000 and when i looked at the maps later there was nothing at all." Casandra whispers to him getting very close to his ear.

The doctor takes note of it all and nods pulling away form you only for your hands to grab onto his tie "I told you now i get something in return" Casandra bats your eyelashes at him before cupping his face and crashing your lips onto his, The doctor takes a stop back in shock but Casandra pulls him closer pressing your body against his and forcing your tongue into the mans mouth. The brown haired man doesn't do anything just stands there are you kiss him. Casandra notices something in the corner of her eye and spots Chopper trying to hide but doing it backwards, she pulls away and walks over making the reindeer jump but stay put as you squat down to him and run your hand over his furry face. Chopper relaxes a little wondering if your going to tell him your sorry or it was a mistake but instead your hand tightly grips his cheek making it hurt bad, so he tires to pull away only for your other hand to go over his mouth "If you tell anyone, especially Zoro and Sanji, I'll skin you and make you into a fur hat and gloves, got it?" Casandra threatens gripping tighter until the reindeer nods, she stands up and drops him to the floor the little deer landing on his butt while rubbing his sore cheek "Good little pet, now keep your mouth shut ok" Your voice was sweet when you talked wiping away the red smudged lipstick on your lips.

The doctor fixes his tie and wipes his lips with a bright red blush on his face still trying to comprehend what happened, you've never shown an interest in him before and you have two boyfriends so why would you kiss him "I need a drink, lets go" Your voice calls out walking back to the elevators quickly followed by the doctor, who gives Chopper a sad look. The brown haired man tries to muster up some words but can't as the reindeer follows the two his head down while still rubbing his cheek. The three of you enter the elevator your voice calling out floor one but its only after the disinfection process ends that she notices Chopper joined them. She mentally growls hoping it would just be her and the doctor, her servant would have gotten the key card by now along with a knife and had someone put it in locker 16 by now. She hoped this would be simple but now she has to act the part, luckily she grew up acting and is very good at it. The elevators open and before she can stop them Chopper and the Doctor both walk off to the canteen. Casandra sighs and follows them, well at least those two aren't around, she thinks with a smile only to see the two she didn't want to see sitting on a sofa in the canteen. She puts on a smile and walks over following the doctor and Chopper "Baby there you are" Zoro stands pulling you into a hug, a relaxed sigh leaves your lips as Casandra wraps your arms around his neck "I'm sorry if i worried you but there was a lot more than i expected." She pulls away looking up at his concerned face, he was handsome, so she didn't mind leaning in to place a soft kiss on his lips.

Sanji walks over and rubs your back placing a kiss on your cheek "You did worry us but were glad your ok" The cook smiles when you hug him your arms around his neck and a hand running through his hair. He was very cute in Casandra's eyes but both of them would only ever be a play toy to her, there to sweet and easy to manipulate. "Thank you both" Casandra pulls way placing a hand on the cooks cheek "It means a lot that you two are here with me" a sweet smile forms on your face both boys looking at you with love and kindness "Come and sit down, we already ordered" Sanji leans in placing a light kiss on your lips and walking you over to the sofa where you sit in between the two boys. She recognizes some of the others around her Robin was still sitting on the sofa reading a book while Luffy and Usopp where sitting on the large windowsill talking about something. Chopper sat next to Robin keeping quite and looking down at his hands while the doctor perched on the arm of the sofa "Where are the others?" Casandra asks concerned but is actually hoping more won't join them "Franky, Brook and Nami went back to the ship, i think Nami felt a little overwhelmed" Robin looks up from her book with a sad smile "It's a lot to take it, I'll check on her later" Casandra sighs knowing the relationship you have with the navigator "I gonna kill that Skeleton later" Zoro grumbles making you look at him in confusion, the swordsman notices and raises an eyebrow at you "He has by sword's babe"

A gasp leaves your lip mainly because Casandra completely forgot about it since it was such a small detail "Oh thats right, sorry i though you handed them to Robin for some reason" your hand pats Zoro's leg but now it was Sanji's turn to look at you with a raised eyebrow "No i handed Robin my lighter, you ok love?" Sanji places a hand on your forehead, all these things are something you would know since you know who each member of the crew trust with different things but for Casandra all those were small details that she didn't think she needed "Yea sorry Hun, i think i'm just tired" Taking the cooks hand off your head Casandra pulls his arm around you letting her lean into the cook and place your head on his shoulder. Sanji happily holds you rubbing your arm until the food comes, Luffy jumps up when the food comes starting to shovel it into his mouth. Casandra find it absolutely disgusting, but she doesn't show it in fact she lets a smile show as she eats with the crew "You ok chopper? You're not eating" Robin places a hand on the reindeer's shoulder who jumps slightly "Yea i'm ok, i'm just not hungry" Chopper lets out a nervous laugh rubbing the back of his head. "You should eat, do you want some of mine?" Your voice calls out to him along with a kind smile as Casandra pushes the plate of food across the coffee table to Chopper. Your face is kind but your eyes are something else but it seems only the reindeer notices taking something from your plate and eating it.