#especially when I run out of meds like in the past few days

[sternenmeerkind]

Me: My focus sucks so bad atm but the subject isn't too hard for me to understand, just have to be careful not to mix certain things up especially in the microbiological part.

My mum: You have to write everything down to remember it, that's how I passed my final exam which was really hard! I can't focus well either, And I had small kids who wouldn't let me sleep and no medication and I did it anyway!

Me: 🫥 yeah...

[milkzoro]

need to redecorate

summary: y/n and trafalgar law are in a new relationship, but haven’t met irl yet.

cw: MDNI, smut, law being a creep, spit, slight dom!law, p in v fucking, edging

☆彡

~

he wonders how he was able to bag a girl like you. your supple skin, thick ass and thighs. he was obsessed with the way that you’re always wearing mini skirts that are just a tad too small. he love the pudge of your stomach that puffs so softly out of the hem line.

he’s here again, back at this overpriced indie coffee shop. he knows your exact order and the approximate time frame of your arrival. he is waiting for you. not to pick you up or grab a coffee with you. but to get more images for his collection.

she was so perfect ‘n bubbly he thought, needed to capture her in every moment. when you’re grocery shopping, picking up meds, soaking up some sun while you’re in your backyard. he even has some tasteful shots of you undressing.

he finally notices you leaving the coffee shop with your cup in hand and hips swaying softly.

he has a drone. he would never bring his camera out like this, not where people could see him being a freak. his best shots always came from his camera though. the harder to get the sweeter the treat he thought. but with you just running errands, this would have to do. he’s lucky to have found one small enough to just slip past your mind and not notice it.

he glides the flying camera in your direction, lining up the angles perfectly. “my angel, such ‘n airhead. how have you not found me out yet.” he sighs and takes multiple shots of your body. he absolutely cannot not wait for these photos to develop, you looked delicious.

~

he is now hanging up his prizes from the day onto his wall. carefully placing each one with a few command strips, he could never damage his works of art with a stupid tack. ugh the thought of that disgusts him. law thinks he is a famous photographer. his works should be hung up in a museum (his bedroom).

he was especially excited for tonight though. such a cute and sweet event. tonight he’d get to watch a movie with you and it was also your one month anniversary. getting to see your face on his monitor would make his day. you always looked so innocently beautiful in the setting of your pretty room. sitting there listening to him speak with your dolly eyes.

it never felt weird being in a relationship with you considering you’ve never met in person. it’s been mentioned, but somehow one of you is always unavailable. one month isn’t even that long, he thought. i’ll be ready soon, i just uhh need to ‘redecorate.’

~

“happy one month anniversary babiee!!!” you sang on the other line. oh how you looked so stunning for him. silk cami resting pretty on your neckline and no bra. you felt so cheeky. seeing the attractive man on the other side sent butterflies to your tummy. his dark features cascading in his dark room. truthfully, kinda eery but ohhh so sexy.

his face warmed up at the sight of you. smiling warmly. his golden eyes picking up beautifully in the screen of your small laptop. “y/a ya~. happy anniversary,,,, ~pookie~.” he giggles at that last part. he’s definitely picking up some your language even if he denies that he isn’t.

after assessing our options. law agreed to your suggestion. we were going to watch {MOVIE}. law had everything all set up and had the movie on pause. “you have your snacks baby?” his voice was getting crunchy in the speakers of your old computer. stupid internet. you hummed and cuddled up with your blankets waiting for him to press play.

~

“babe.”

… he didn’t hear you.

“baby.”

“hmm?” his confused little face popped into frame. “yn ya~ what’s wrong?”

you sighed whilst sitting up, meticulously propping up on your tits so he could see you better. “the movies’ so blurry. can’t i just come over~”

law could hear you loud and clear. ‘come over?’ he thought. fuck what was he going to do. he’d love nothing more than for you to come lay with him and ‘watch’ movies. there’s just a small problem, his shrines. it’s about time you two get together, he just needed to be careful.

quick calculations and possible solutions are racing through his mind. uhhh she lives about twenty ish minutes from my place,,, i think i can do something.

he hesitated before speaking, “uhhm y- yea let me send you my address.” him actually agreeing made you so happy! you finally got to see you cute boyfriend! and on our anniversary too, what a treat! cartoony hearts were practically spinning around your head.

“oh okay!! i’m just gonna grab my things ‘n i’ll come over” you blew law a quick kissy through your camera and shut off your monitor. you were so excited.

“shit- twenty minutes to ‘redecorate’, i can do this.” law is panicking.

~

your bag’s keychains jingled against your body as you made your way up to his door, wrist immediately knocking agains the wood. a few moments pass as you anticipate his presence.

when you saw him standing there in front of you you were in awe. his skin glowing under the moonlight, he looked so perfect. was he sweating?

“y/a ya~” his voice is dripping with honey. it made you feel numb. he leaned down to kiss your lips. slender fingers coming to hold you cheek. your lips met his, his taste making you feel intoxicated.

“happy anniversary pretty~ let’s get inside” he reaches for you hand and you can’t help but notice how clammy they are. awe was he nervous? teehehe such a cutie.

~

movie long forgotten, law had you pinned beneath him. eyes assaulting every inch in your body. his thin fingers moving themselves to push on the plush of your inner thighs. “you’re so soft baby~” his fingers were toying with the seams of your panties. “‘nd soo wet already huh?” his eyes flicker to your own.

“shhhiiit ahh~ mhm yes laww” you whine out, dying for a taste. seeing pictures is nowhere near comparable to the real thing. you can already see his dick in his jeans and can’t help but arch your back at your imagination.

“want to feel me baby? let me take good care of you.” he sees your eager nodding and slips you out of your your soaking panties. his fingers are fumbling as he is trying to lower his boxers and unzip his jeans. “god yes law pleaSE.” two of his fingers slip past your fold with ease. noticing your arousal he swirls his digits around, collecting your juices. fuck your so slick, he wraps his fist around his thick cock to spread your liquid. he hisses at the relief.

“gonna fuck you good doll, just say my name for me, okay?” he whines as he gets to push just a little bit past his tip “shhhiiiitttt.”

“law please baby .. haahh~ more hmm.”

you can’t help but moan at his painfully slow movements. you can see it in his face too, the way his eyes are squeezed shut, it’s easy to tell that he wants to move too, but fucking you slowww is driving the both of you insane. his rhythm is picking up causing you to drool and mutter nonsense.

he puts a finger on your mouth pressing down firm against the pad of your tounge then moves to get in between your teeth. he’s adding one more digit to your mouth before using them to try and spread your mouth.

“open your mouth yn ya~” his eyes are lust filled as you see him start to collect spit in his own. he is fucking you faster now and with each thrust and shake, you’re eager to open your mouth for him. wanting to accept any liquid he has to offer.

“such a filthy girl y/a.” he missed, just a little. his fingers come up to rub some of the saliva away. you swallowed the remaining liquid and beg for him to go deeper. “fuck y/n you want it that bad huh, haaah~ tell me,, who’s pussy ‘s this?” his hand come to lay on your neck, squeezing tightly on both sides of your windpipe. he is struggling to hear you and pulls his dick out. “speak baby~”

feeling his length suddenly go missing from your cunt has you in tears. you were so close and full, now nothing. “law fuckk baby i was gonna cu-” he cuts you off and squeezes on your neck harder. “i said whos fuckin pussy ‘s this?”

white spots are forming in the corners of your vision, too close to your orgasm to black out now so you fight to speak back to him. “ahh, it’s ‘s yours law!! fuck- only yourss~” his grip on you looses ever so slightly but still keeps his hand there.

his lips curl into a smirk as he lines you up again. his heat filling you just right, and hearing his breathy whimpers were just enough to get you there. “such a good girl for me fuckk taking me so well baby i feel you suckin me in haahh-”

his dick so perfect for your hole, leaking soo much for him. cleanching down hard, you are ready for release. “law~ fuck s-so close, please uSE ME!” he lifts your knees to hit your most sensitive spot harder. his hips working against your aching body recklessly. you could tell he was close.

“shiit just just like tha baby,, right- ahh right fuckING THERE AHHH KEEP- keep goiNG♡” you walls are contracting hard on his cock almost milking him. your legs are shaking violently as you feel your orgasm start to take control of your whole body. hearing his moans has you squirting around him.

“fuck baby where do you want me to cum?”

comeing down from your high you manage to respond to him. “come on my tits.” you pull your shirt up slightly so he could decorate your pretty breasts with his semen.

he thinks your such a dirty girl and he’s obsessed with it. he pulled his thick, dripping cock from your hole and tightly squeezed around his creamy base. fuck he looked soo good like this, you could practically see his eyes rolling back as he fucking his fist above you. glimmers of sweat beaded on his forehead has him looking so angelic, it’s making your tummy do flips again. a gasp leaves his lips as he shoots his hot load across your breasts and swollen nipples. his breaths sending shockwaves to your aching cunt. he falls down close to you and kisses your forehead.

“happy one month y/n ya~”

~

after suddenly waking up, you notice a rough edge scratching your arm. reaching in between his mattress and the box spring, you pull on the foreign object and discover it’s a loose photo. oh it’s you. you giggle. you find him so endearing and obsessive…

unfortunately for him it was a blurry one, but you had an idea. while law was asleep, fucked out, you decided to gift him something better. his polaroid was placed on his desk so you had a mini photo shoot. you took only a few, one of your tits, still somewhat crusted with his cum. and a couple of your thighs and ass. and the final touch being a lipstick kiss stain in the corner of each one. you placed the camera back in its spot and tucked away your custom pieces of art with his other photographs. he will find them eventually. teheheh you’re welcome my love xx

*& we sleep again zzz*

an: y/n is a freak

[alwaysmicado]

Sunshine

6.7k | 18+ MDNI | fwb!Joel Miller x f!reader | pt. 7

Warnings: no outbreak AU, implied age gap, alcohol & painkillers, a little kiss, lots of sarcasm, angst, jealousy (reader would never!) Summary: A spontaneous meeting in a bar lays bare some uncomfortable truths. A/N: Why be sad when you can just turn off your feelings and not be sad anymore? It’s so easy. /s I can't tell you how much your messages about this series mean to me!! I love talking to you about it and I appreciate your enthusiasm and support soooo much!! Enjoy this part and let me know your thoughts! 🤍

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The Birds Don’t Sing, They Screech in Pain

– Werner Herzog

– – –

You don’t have feelings. You don’t have a heart. The world is a joke and nothing you do matters.

And you got a great ass. 

So fuck it.

You close the mirror cabinet and look at your reflection. The steam from your recent shower lingers in the air, creating a hazy atmosphere around you. With a determined gaze, you meet your own eyes, trying to convince yourself of what you so desperately want to believe. 

You. Don’t. Have. Feelings. 

Sighing exasperatedly, you leave the bathroom to go get dressed. You eye the empty space on the wall where the mirror used to hang in passing and can’t help but smile sardonically at the clean floor below. Who knew you had such a talent for cleaning blood? 

If your current job doesn’t work out in the long run, crime scene cleaner could be a viable alternative.

You rummage through your drawer for a fresh pair of panties, a soft bralette without any bothersome hooks, and a flowy dress you can easily pull over your head. Comfort is key today. Your morning shower proved tricky enough, but you managed somehow, maneuvering very ungracefully to keep your injured hand dry. 

Thankfully, you were smart enough to go to bed early last night and get up in time this morning, allowing you ample time to change the bandages and dress yourself with just one functional hand.

Exhaustion still lingers in every single one of your bones, but you’re determined to not let it get you down. Not again. So, you pour yourself a cup of strong coffee, sit outside on your balcony, pop the painkillers you got at the emergency clinic on Sunday, and browse the internet for a new mirror.

The sun kissing your skin feels nice, and the fresh air invigorates your senses. There’s even a flock of birds doing their choreographed dance in the sky. Just for you. You’re living in a goddamn dream, aren’t you? 

You scoff, down the rest of your coffee, cough when it goes down the wrong pipe, and go back inside once you don’t feel like you’re choking to death anymore. It’s time for work.

Your boss graciously let you work from home on Monday and Tuesday, but since there’s an important meeting scheduled this morning, she’s asked you to come to the office today. The meds should get you through the day, you’ll just have to figure out how to do your job effectively without the ability to type with your right hand.

You could try to push some of your workload onto the new intern who’s been unsuccessfully trying to flirt with you for the past month, but he strikes you as the type to show up with flowers and a teddy bear after you compliment his sneakers once — it’s probably not the best idea to entertain him.

An office romance sounds hot on paper, but your job is the only halfway stable thing in your life, so you don’t want to mess it up for some guy. Especially if said guy looks young enough to get carded in bars.

Why can’t you just not need money and not have to go to work at all? Is that really too much to ask? 

“Get your shit together,” you murmur to yourself as you grab your bag, your keys, and quickly check your appearance in the bathroom mirror. Eh, you look fine considering the messed-up past few days you had. The black wrist brace is kind of derpy—you can already see Kristen giggling at it and very much not believing any excuse you invent for it—but the smile you force onto your face looks virtually natural. 

What a little sunshine you are. 

Sandals on your feet, sunglasses sitting on your nose, wireless earbuds in your ears, your top three songs of the week on a blissful loop, you start your walk to the office. Nothing bad can touch you when the rhythm of your favorite beats courses through your veins, encapsulating you in an invincible cocoon.

For the first few minutes at least.

Your pulse quickens and your chest tightens as the gas station, where Joel could barely wait to pull out of you before gushing about his date, comes into view. And of course, Chris, the clerk, steps outside right as you pass it to inexplicably water the two withered plants next to the entrance.

You attempt to speed walk, hoping to avoid an embarrassing encounter, but where’s the fun in that, right? Sure enough, you hear him calling after you.

You roll your eyes behind your glasses and reluctantly stop, pulling out one of your earbuds as you turn to face him. His eyes fixate on the black brace around your wrist.

“What happened to your hand? Too much fun on the weekend?” he asks, a mischievous grin playing on his lips.

You sigh, not in the mood for a detailed conversation, and also very much aware of what he’s probably insinuating. “Just a little accident at home,” you reply, keeping it vague. “Don’t do yoga if you’re drunk.”

He chuckles. “I’ll keep that in mind.” When he realizes you’re not going to say anything else, he’s nice enough to not keep you any longer. “Well, I hope it heals soon. And let me know if you, uh, need anything. You know where to find me.”

You nod, offering a polite smile, and continue on your way, reinserting the earbud to drown out the world. You turn up the volume, lip-sync, and ignore Joel’s call without missing a beat.

– – –

“Please, tell me. Please, please, please. Come on…you know you’re gonna tell me eventually, so let’s just save us some time and get it over with. You know I can keep a secret.”

As expected, Kristen is very intrigued by your wrist brace. In fact, she has been switching between begging for you to tell her what happened and coming up with some outlandish theories since you sat down at your desk four hours ago. To nobody’s surprise, they all involve some sort of sex accident. 

It’s kind of funny, though, that none of the elaborate stories she imagines come close to capturing the absurdity of your reality. Oh well, you’re used to it by now. And yet, there’s no way in hell you’re going to divulge one of your most vulnerable and embarrassing moments to her. Not a chance. 

“I already told you,” you say without stopping your one-handed typing. “I got drunk watching The Bachelor and then my genius brain decided that was the perfect moment to try out some new yoga positions. It’s a miracle I only sprained my wrist and didn’t break my neck.” You put on your most convincing smile and look at her. “It’s embarrassing as shit, okay? I mean, look at this thing,” you point at your injured hand. “I look like a kid who fell off a swing on the playground.”

Kristen giggles and is about to say something, but right at that moment, she receives a phone call from a client. She sighs, narrows her eyes, and mouths, “This is not over.” You wink at her and go back to typing with your left hand, occasionally swearing under your breath when you hit the wrong keys. This is all so much fun. 

The rest of the day goes by in a blur of emails, phone calls, bad coffee, painkillers, Kristen putting a heart sticker on your wrist brace, another meeting, and your phone lighting up with new messages from Joel. 

By 5:30 p.m. your brain is about to explode, so you decide to call it a day and leave. There’s a frozen pizza waiting for you at home and you can hear your pajamas and sofa calling your name. Sweet, sweet solitude; it’s so close you can feel it. You just have to walk out fast eno–

“Drinks.”

“Did you seriously just hide behind that plant and jump out?” you chuckle, and Kristen’s grin tells you that is absolutely, one hundred percent what just happened. 

“Drinks,” she repeats. And when you open your mouth, she says it again, but this time she gives you her most adorable pout.

“Okay, okay,” you say with a playful roll of your eyes. “You can stop the puppy routine.”

“I love how easy you are,” she beams at you and plants a kiss on your cheek. “Let’s go!”

The warmth of the summer evening envelops you both as you step outside. The sun, still casting its golden hues across the city, paints the urban landscape with a vibrant palette. Kristen, with a fancy sun hat perched on her head that perfectly complements her black hair, looks for bars near you on her phone.

As you try to decide on a bar, the balmy air carries the distant sounds of the city’s summer symphony. The occasional laughter from a nearby cafe mingles with the hum of traffic, creating a lively backdrop to your anticipation.

Amidst the ambient noise, your phone buzzes with Tommy’s name flashing on the screen. You answer, bringing the phone to your ear.

“Hi Tommy.”

“Hi honey,” Tommy’s voice comes through, the background noise indicating he’s at a lively place. “Just calling to ask how you’re doing today.”

“You know you don’t need to call me every day to ask me that, right?” you chuckle, still unable to understand why he even cares. You don’t deserve him.

“Come on, it’s the highlight of my day,” he says in mock offense, and you can perfectly picture the grin on his face. 

“Well, if it’s that important to you…” you say, a smile on your lips. “I’m good. My friend and I are going for drinks. Just need to decide on a bar first.”

“What a perfect coincidence! I’m at this new place right now. They got great burgers and drinks, even non-alcoholic stuff,” he tells you excitedly. “Oh and Joel’s here, too.”

Your heart skips a beat at Tommy’s words. Joel is there, at the same place. The thought of seeing him again stirs a concoction of emotions within you — longing, uncertainty, and a subtle yearning for things to be okay. There’s an undeniable pull. You miss him.

As you take a moment to think of your answer, Kristen mouths, “Who’s that?”

“It’s my friend, and he’s inviting us to join him at a bar,” you explain to her.

Tommy’s voice perks up on the phone, “Come on, it’ll be a blast. The more, the merrier!”

You look at Kristen questioningly, and she gives you two thumbs up and a big smile. 

You sigh and look up at the sky. There’s a big bird chasing a smaller one. “Okay, we’re in,” you say to Tommy, and his excited shouts in your ear make you giggle. He sends you the location and you immediately order an Uber for you and Kristen. You don’t have to wait for long.

Sitting in the car, your initial, albeit reluctant, excitement has turned into annoyance as the hands of the clock seem to move at an agonizingly slow pace. What was supposed to be a ten-minute journey has stretched into an interminable thirty minutes, courtesy of the unrelenting rush hour traffic. 

The air inside the car feels stifling, even with the AC humming, and the incessant chatter about football between the driver and Kristen becomes an indistinct drone. Your lack of interest in the sport combines with the whirlwind in your head, making their conversation an incomprehensible blur.

As your stomach churns, a sense of queasiness settles over you, intensifying the already uncomfortable ride.

By the time you make it to the bar, you’re tired, cranky, and wish you had just gone home after work. You could be lying on your sofa right now, stuffing your face with pizza, watching Netflix, and testing your new vibrator before falling asleep in your soft bed. But no, you just had to be social, hm?

As you enter the crowded and lively bar, the buzz of upbeat chatter, clinking glasses, and the rhythmic thump of music surrounds you. Everyone’s loud and happy, and you’re just not in the right mood for it. Slowly making your way through the sea of faces with Kristen trailing behind, you spot Tommy seated in a cozy booth.

The mere sight of him puts you at ease — for about a second, that is.

Your eyes fall onto Joel and the woman who’s casually touching his shoulder, comfortably nestled against the plush cushioned seats. You’ve never seen her before, but it doesn’t take a rocket scientist or even a sober brain to figure out who she is. What is she whispering into his ear now? He’s laughing. You can see his eye crinkles from where you’re standing.

The sight is like a punch to your gut.

For a moment, you’re frozen in place, and the urge to turn around and run away grips you. Unwelcome emotions and memories surge back, catching you off guard and leaving you breathless. Just as you contemplate an escape route, Tommy spots you from across the room, his face lighting up. 

“Sweetheart,” he shouts, rising from his seat and waving enthusiastically. His excited shout draws the attention of everyone around him, including Joel. Your eyes lock, and for a brief moment, the world around you fades. The corners of his lips instinctively turn upwards as he looks at you, but after spotting your wrist brace and the pained look on your face, he furrows his brow.

What the hell happened to you?

In the blink of an eye, you flip a switch in your brain, put on the most radiant smile you can muster, straighten your shoulders and cross the room. Joel’s concerned eyes don’t leave you for a second.

“There she is,” Tommy says, genuine warmth in his voice as he leans in to plant a kiss on your cheek, followed by a tight, comforting hug. “It’s so good to see you.” 

“You too, Tommy,” you murmur, a sense of momentary relief washing over you in the wake of his presence.

He pulls away from the hug, extending his greeting to Kristen, before introducing you both to the beautiful brunette sitting next to his brother. Draping his arm around your shoulders, he tells you with a smile that, “This is Jan, an old school friend of mine. We actually didn’t plan this whole meeting with everyone, somehow we just all ended up here. Funny coincidence,” he chuckles and you strain the muscles around your mouth so hard it hurts.  

“It’s nice to meet you, Jan,” you say, reaching out to shake her hand. She reciprocates your greeting and gives you a charming smile. 

“And I don’t need to introduce you to this guy, huh?” Tommy grins, squeezing your shoulder.

Your gaze shifts to Joel, who’s caught in the limbo of whether to remain seated or stand up, so he ends up awkwardly half-standing, caged in the narrow space between the bench and table.

“Hi, Joel,” you say, your eyes lacking their usual vivacity—a detail not lost on him.

He settles back into his seat, audibly clearing his throat. “Hi, darlin’.”

He studies your face as you settle down beside Tommy. You look as beautiful and glowing as always, but the longer he looks, the more cracks in the carefully put up facade he can see. Your smile isn’t genuine, your eyes look a bit swollen—like you’ve been crying or not sleeping well—and your body language screams unease.

The others may not notice, but he does. Because he knows you.

Kristen takes a seat beside Jan, seamlessly weaving herself into the ongoing conversation with Joel. Her ability to navigate social dynamics with such ease leaves you marveling – how is she so good at this? Her charm extends, connecting the trio in animated small talk.

Your body eases into a semblance of relaxation as Tommy pulls you closer and presses a kiss on the crown of your head. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” he whispers into your hair, a tender reassurance that brings a sense of solace.

Sitting up straight, you return his smile, gratitude evident in your eyes. “Thanks to you.”

Tommy beams at you, momentarily lost in the exchange, before redirecting his attention to the group. “Are you guys ready for a first round of drinks?” he asks, the unison response from everyone echoing with enthusiasm, a collective “yes” that adds a burst of energy to the already vibrant atmosphere. 

– – –

After three rounds of drinks (you very responsibly decided to change to coke after one mojito), burgers, nachos, sharing the epic tale of how you managed to hurt your hand doing yoga, Jan gossiping about the guy her adult daughter brought home last week, Tommy sharing hilarious stories from his and Joel’s workplace, and everyone seemingly having loads of fun, you let yourself relax a bit.

It’s nice witnessing Joel’s laughter and enjoyment. A warmth spreads through your heart at the sight, a flicker of happiness for him. Yet, the subtle discomfort lingers as Jan’s touch becomes a constant presence on his arm. Rationalizing it as a casual gesture during conversation and under the influence of drinks doesn’t fully erase the twinge of unease settling within you.

But you can handle it, you convince yourself.

Until you can’t. 

You can’t handle it when Jan’s hand finds its way to Joel’s thigh and her lips brush the shell of his ear.

You glance at Joel, searching for a reaction, a flicker of discomfort perhaps, but his response is subtle. A shift in his seat, a movement so slight it could be mistaken for a casual adjustment, yet there’s a discernible change in his demeanor. It’s a momentary pause, a beat in the rhythm of the evening.

The weight of the scene bears down on you, and you feel a pang of vulnerability, a subtle ache in your chest. In that split second, a mix of emotions surges within you – a tinge of hurt, a brush of jealousy, and a sting of betrayal.

Emotions you haven’t felt in years. Emotions you have sworn to yourself you’d never feel again.

Why does it bother you so much? Is it because it reminds you of how you touched him, how you ran your hand further and further up his thigh when he was taking you home for the first time, teasing him until he couldn’t take it anymore, pulled his car over and fucked you in the driver’s seat? Has she done that with him? Is she as addictive as you are?

This close to a full-blown panic attack, you jump up from your seat to the surprise of everyone at your table. You make brief eye contact with Kristen, who shoots you a sympathetic look. 

Excusing yourself, you navigate through the bustling crowd towards the restrooms, located downstairs and accessible via a staircase. There are three separate spacious restrooms, and you choose the first one. Inside, you immediately head to the sink, running your left hand under cold water. The sensation helps to calm you down.

Closing your eyes, you take deep breaths, reassuring yourself that it’s not a big deal, and that it’s exactly what it was always meant to be—probably even for the best.

Then, as you try to find composure, a knock on the door interrupts your thoughts.

“Occupied!” you yell in response to the knock, and then you hear Joel’s deep voice saying, “It’s me.” 

Of course it is.

You sigh exasperatedly and shuffle to the door to let him in. Joel enters, swiftly locking the door behind him.

“There’s two other restrooms, you know,” you murmur as you walk back to the sink and divert your attention to your reflection in the mirror, concentrating on fixing your hair. 

“Yeah, well, I specifically want the one with you in it,” he says with a little smirk, his eyes searching for yours in the mirror. As your gaze meets his, he’s taken aback by the lack of the usual sparkle that used to light up your eyes at the sight of him. The absence of that adoration he’s grown accustomed to leaves a void, and a tinge of concern creeps into his expression.

“Hey,” he says tentatively, his voice softer than before. “Are you okay, darlin’?”

You look at him, and the weariness in your eyes doesn’t escape his attention. There’s a distant quality to your gaze, and it sends a pang of worry through him. The connection he once felt in your eyes seems to have dimmed, and he can’t help but feel a sense of loss.

It’s the same expression you had when he last saw you. He hates it.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you respond, putting on your fake smile again, but the lack of conviction in your voice doesn’t go unnoticed.

Joel’s concern deepens as he steps closer, the teasing smirk replaced by genuine worry. “I’ve been trying to reach you, but you haven’t responded to any of my texts or calls.” He rubs the back of his neck and clears his throat, his brow furrowed. “I was worried something happened, and—he points at your injured hand—my feeling was right.” He tilts his head and studies your face. “What happened?”

You turn around and lean against the sink, holding your right arm with your left hand, your eyes revealing a complex mixture of emotions. “I told you already,” you say nonchalantly. “Getting drunk and trying to do elaborate yoga poses is a dumb idea if you’re as clumsy as me.”

Joel raises his eyebrows, not believing a word you’re saying. “That’s not all, is it?”

“What do you mean?” you say, feigning ignorance.

“You don’t seem like yourself and I’m…worried about you.” Joel’s concern etches lines on his forehead as he shifts his weight from one foot to the other. His eyes, usually warm and comforting, narrow slightly as he studies your seemingly cheerful facade.

“But this is myself.” You point at your smiley face with your left hand and tilt your head. “You don’t like it?”

He shakes his head, a subtle sigh escaping him. “That’s not what I said. I just feel like something’s off.”

“Is it because I’m happy?”

“It’s because I don’t believe you’re happy. I know you too well, baby.”

You scoff, a defensive edge creeping into your voice. “Why is it so hard for you to believe that I’m happy? Do you want me to be miserable?”

“No, sweetheart. There’s nothing I want more than for you to be happy. But you’re lying to my face right now and I don’t appreciate that.”

You turn your head to avoid his gaze, your silence speaking volumes, your hand tightly gripping the flesh of your arm as if to contain the emotional turmoil threatening to spill over.

Stop it.

“Darlin’,” Joel says gently, closing the physical gap between you two, and reaching out to place his warm palms on your shoulders. “Look at me.”

A shiver runs down your spine and tiny goosebumps instantly form on your skin. You’ve missed his touch more than you care to admit — to yourself or to him. His touch is tender, a plea for connection, but you hesitate. Reluctantly, you meet his gaze, revealing the deep sadness you tried to conceal.

What happened to you? Whatever it was, it breaks his heart that he wasn’t there to protect you.

“Why didn’t you call me?” he asks softly.

“Not everything’s about you, Joel.”

“I know that. I just…wish you would let me know what’s going on.” His touch becomes a subconscious reassurance as he absentmindedly rubs your arms, as if trying to make sure you’re really there in front of him.

“Why do I owe you that? Why do I owe you every shitty detail of my life while I know virtually nothing about you?” you say a little sharper than intended. 

Joel takes a deep breath. “You don’t owe me anything. I just thought–” he pauses, searching your eyes. “I miss seeing that spark in your eyes when you look at me,” he admits, his thumb gently brushing against your cheek. “I never fully realized how much it meant to me until now.”

You take a moment to process his words and his touch as frustration bubbles up inside you. Your heart aches.

“Why are you doing this?” 

“Doing what? Caring about you?”

“Ruining the mood.” You shake your head, swallowing what you actually want to say, any traces of happiness erased from your face. “If you’re trying to make me feel bad, it’s starting to work.”

“I’m not trying to make you feel bad. I’m trying to understand what’s happened since the last time I saw you.” He tilts his head and studies your face, genuine concern in his eyes. 

All you can see, though, is disappointment. He’s disappointed in you, you can sense it. And how could he not be? You’re a liability, a mess. Looks like he’s finally seeing you for who you are, and that’s why he replaced you.

“And now’s the best time to do that?” you scoff, averting your gaze and looking around. 

“What am I supposed to do when you don’t respond to me for days on end and this is my only chance of talking to you?”

You look back into his eyes. “How about leaving it alone?”

“I can’t do that. Not when it comes to you,” he says, shaking his head and moving closer, his cologne filling your senses like a familiar embrace. His hands trace the contours of your neck, a gentle and deliberate touch that ignites a cascade of sensations. His thumbs brush your cheekbones with a tenderness that speaks of longing, his gaze dropping to your lips before finding your eyes again.

In that charged moment, the air between you thickens with unspoken desires before you both succumb to the magnetic pull drawing you together. Your heartbeat quickens, matching the rhythm of anticipation. Without breaking eye contact, he closes the remaining distance, his lips meeting yours in a soft yet passionate kiss. The familiar sensation of his lips on yours is both electric and comforting, and you allow yourself to get lost in it for a bit.

As he eases away, his fingers trail lightly down your neck and arms, leaving a tingling sensation in their wake. There’s a soft smile on his lips as he breaks the silence. 

“I mean it when I say I care about you and want the best for you, darlin’,” he murmurs. “And you don’t have to tell me any details about what happened if you’re not ready yet, but I need to know what made you not want to call me. We’ve been there for each other in difficult situations before, so I just really don’t get it.”

You raise a skeptical eyebrow, frustration and anger intertwining with the lingering memory of his lips on yours.

“Why in the world would I ever call you while you’re on a date?” you say quietly, a steely edge in your voice, no trace of a smile to be found on your lips.

Oh. So it did bother you. 

Joel’s expression shifts from concern to a momentary realization, the lines on his forehead deepening. “I would always drop everything to be there for you. No matter where I am or what I’m doing.”

You laugh wryly. “Joel. Seriously. Are you really trying to tell me you were oh so worried about me while you were fucking someone else? And that you’re worried now even though she’s currently upstairs, desperately waiting for you to take her home? Come on, don’t insult my intelligence.”

He stares at you in utter disbelief and takes a step back, as if physically recoiling from the weight of your words. “That’s not what–”

“Look, Joel,” you push yourself off the sink, straighten up, and walk past him towards the door. “It doesn’t matter. You can fuck or date whoever you like. Jan seems nice and like a good match, so I’m very happy for you.”

“Sweetheart, I’m not doing any of that. You misunders–”

You turn around sharply to look at him. “I misunderstood the woman who’s had her hands all over you the whole evening?” 

“It’s not like that,” he insists, trying to get through to you. “She’s drunk as hell and probably doesn’t even realize what she’s doing. And I’m not interested anyway.”

“Sure. That’s why she’s here right now.”

“I had nothing to do with that. Tommy invited her without telling me,” he says, running his fingers through his hair as his stress is mounting. “Darlin’, please. This isn’t even about her; it’s about you and me. And maybe it’s time to stop pretending everything’s okay when it’s clearly not.”

You turn your head, deliberately avoiding the intensity of his gaze as the weight of his words settles in. His plea sends palpable waves of discomfort through your already wounded emotions, causing your chest to tighten further. Why is he doing this? Is this fun for him? 

“So you’d rather keep pretending everything’s fine?” he presses, his tone a mix of concern and urgency, the edges of his patience beginning to fray. 

Okay, now you’ve had it.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Joel. What do you want from me?” you hiss at him, frustration dripping from your words.

Joel is momentarily taken aback, but his own agitation prevents him from fully grasping your distress. A deep sigh escapes him as he props one hand on his hip, rubbing his eyes wearily with the other.

“Since when does it matter what I want?” he murmurs.

Ouch.

That hurt.

Your face falls, and you feel like he just slapped you across the face. The sting of his words cuts deep, causing tears to well up in your eyes.

Joel’s eyes widen in shock when he sees the look on your face. “Shit, no, I didn’t mean it like that,” he stammers, realizing the impact of his words a moment too late. “I’m sorry, baby, I–” his voice trembles with regret, desperate to undo the damage he’s done.

“Is that how you really feel? That I don’t care about what you want?” you ask, your voice shaky.

“No, I shouldn’t have said that, I’m so–”

“But that’s how you feel? Deep down?”

Why are you acting so surprised? Were you really naive enough to believe him when he said he was happy with you? God, you’re dumb.

“Oh, sweetheart…” he reaches out to wipe away the tears that are making their way down your cheeks, but you push his hand away.

“I came here for you, Joel,” you blurt out, your raised voice startling him. “And I–I spent the last three hours making conversation with everyone, including the woman you’re fucking, because I care about you and want you to be happy, even though my hand is killing me and I’m so drained I have to force my eyes to stay open.”

You express yourself with animated hand gestures as you talk through your tears, your voice breaking. 

“I had a horrible weekend and needed some time to recover, but I was so fucking happy to see you tonight because I’ve missed you and I’ve–I’ve never hidden how much I like spending time with you. Why is that not enough? What more do you want from me?”

Your big, watery eyes pierce Joel’s, and the fact that he’s the reason for your tears pierces his heart.

“Darlin’, I’m so sorry. It wasn’t right what I said.”

He takes a step closer to you, the desperation in his eyes matching the pain in yours, intending to pull you into a comforting hug to calm you—and himself—down. However, you immediately take a step back, creating a physical distance between you two.

“Do you want me to cry ‘cause seeing you with another woman breaks my heart? Is that it?” 

Joel stares at you incredulously, your accusing tone making him wince. “No, of course no–”

Your heart is racing, and you can feel the tightness in your chest growing with every second you’re looking into Joel’s eyes. Eyes that—until now—have always made you feel so calm, so safe, so…loved. Your hands tremble slightly, and a lump forms in your throat, making it difficult to speak.

“Do you want me to make a scene in front of everyone ‘cause it physically pains me to think you’re touching her the same way you touch me?”

Joel opens his mouth to say something, a fleeting impulse to express himself and try to console you, but he catches himself, realizing that uttering those words might inflict more damage than repair right now. 

“Do you want me to beg you not to leave me ‘cause I can’t even imagine my life without you anymore? Is that what you want?”

“Sweetheart...” He takes a step towards you, his eyes pleading, but you cut him off.

“No, I’m fucking sick of this,” your words spill out between sobs as tears stream down your face. “It’s always the same. I’m good enough only as long as I act the way you want it, and the minute you get bored or realize I’m not as perfect as you imagined, you replace me with someone better. Everyone always fucking leaves and I’m so sick of it.”

“Darlin’, I swear that’s not what’s happening,” Joel implores, his whole body so tense and hot he’s sweating through his shirt. “I’m not leaving and I really didn’t mean to hurt you.” 

You sigh deeply, grab a paper towel from the dispenser on the wall, blow your nose, and dry your tears.

“I knew this was gonna happen and I still let myself believe I could be enough for once,” you murmur more to yourself than him, your head pounding painfully.

Serves you right for having feelings.

Joel says your name gently, trying his best not to spook you. His words hang in the air like a lifeline, a desperate attempt to mend what is broken.

“You are enough. You’ve always been enough. I’m so sorry for making you feel otherwise.”

Your head is spinning, emotions tumultuous and unyielding. In dire need of fresh air and distance from Joel, you stagger towards the door. His voice follows you, pleading.

“Sweetheart, I promise I’m not going to leave you. And I’m so incredibly sorry for upsetting you, I just–” he exhales deeply and clears his throat. “I wanted you to be honest with me about your feelings, but this wasn’t the way to go about it. I’m sorry.”

The door swings open, and you turn around, the forced smile from before back on your lips. 

“Well, congratulations, Joel,” you say, your tone laced with a mix of bitterness and anguish. “You got what you wanted. I hope you’re fucking happy.”

The door slams shut behind you, leaving Joel stunned, alone with the haunting echoes of shattered trust and unspoken pain, the distant thump of music mirroring the beating of his remorseful heart.

As you make your way back upstairs, the residual heat of the argument lingers on your skin. Taking a deep breath, you enter the lively space once more. Tommy, who’s standing at the bar, notices you, concern etched across his face.

“Hey, is everything okay, honey?” he asks, his voice soft with genuine worry.

You manage a tight smile. “Yeah, I’m okay. My hand’s just hurting really bad now and the meds make me dizzy, so I’ll head home.”

He furrows his brow. “Joel’s my designated driver, but I can take a cab, so he can drive you home.” He looks around, searching the bar for his brother. “Where is he anyway?”

“There’s a huge line in front of the restrooms, he’s probably still waiting. And it’s okay, Tommy, really.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, seeking solace, and bury your face in the crook of his neck. He responds by pulling you into a warm and reassuring embrace, a gesture that speaks volumes without the need for words. Luckily, he’s drunk enough not to smell his brother on you.

“I missed you,” you murmur, your eyes closed. 

Tommy strokes the back of your head and chuckles. “I missed you, too, sweetheart.”

He pulls away far enough to look into your eyes, giving you the brightest smile. “Tell you what. You come over for dinner on Friday — no ifs, ands, or buts. Maria’s been wanting to see you, and we just finished our patio, so it’s perfect.”

You pinch his cheek and shake your head at him. “It’s not fair that you’re this charming, you know? How could I ever say no?”

“Don’t say no, then,” he says playfully,  a hint of worry still in his eyes.

You sigh exaggeratedly. “Okay, okay, I won’t.”

“Attagirl. And you’re sure you don’t want Joel to drive you?”

“Yes, I’m sure. I always find my way home somehow.” You plant a kiss on Tommy’s cheek, and he finally agrees to release you from his embrace after securing a pinky promise that you ‘a hundred percent won’t flake out’.

You walk over to Kristen and Jan, who are still sitting at your table, engrossed in an animated conversation. Observing them for a moment, you find yourself captivated by Jan’s effortless charisma. She’s a real sunshine — and unlike you, she doesn’t have to fake it. Had you met her under different circumstances, you might have liked her. 

Kristen’s eyes meet yours, and her brow furrows slightly, registering the expression on your face for a fleeting moment. Swiftly, you put on a polite smile and step closer, masking the momentary vulnerability with practiced ease.

“Ladies,” you say, a touch of self-deprecating humor in your tone, “I know I’m lame, but I’m actually going home already. Just wanted to say goodbye.”

Jan answers first, surprising you with a warm smile. “Oh, that’s not lame at all! You’re just smarter than us.”

You hold up your injured hand and deadpan, “Yeah, I’m a real genius, aren’t I?”

Jan and Kristen giggle, and you join in, sharing a brief moment of camaraderie. You’re so good at this. Almost believable. 

As you look for your bag on the bench, contemplating the logistics of your departure, Kristen catches your eye and winks at you.

“I’ll come with you,” she says, giving you a reassuring look. “Our boss is gonna have a fit if I fall asleep at my desk again, so…I guess this is what being a responsible adult is,” she sighs. She hands you your bag, downs the rest of her drink, and the two of you say goodbye to Jan, who’s now getting up to search for the Miller brothers.

Kristen takes you by the hand, gently leading you outside. The cool breeze brushes against your face as the sun starts its descent, offering a much-needed breath of fresh air. Settling down down on the curb together, you find a comfortable spot, trying your best not to inadvertently flash someone as you adjust your dress. 

“I’ll call us an Uber,” Kristen says, her tone comforting. You appreciate the warmth of her presence as you wait for the ride, the fading sunlight casting a soft glow on both of you.

“Done.” She wraps her arm around you, providing a supportive shoulder for you to lean on. The two of you sit in silence, the ambient noise of traffic and distant chatter from the bar filling the air, serving as a backdrop to the racing thoughts in your mind. Eventually, Kristen succumbs to her curiosity. 

“So…” she starts, her voice carefully navigating the sensitive terrain. “That’s him?”

You chuckle faintly. “Yup. That’s him.”

“Hmm, I get it now. He’s hot as fuck,” she says, happy that she can make you laugh. “Do you think he’d be up for a threesome?”

“Oh, I’m sure he’d be up for it. I’m just not so sure about his heart being able to take it. Or his back. Or his knees.”

Kristen giggles and then looks at you for a moment, fascinated by this evening’s revelations. “It’s so interesting, I had no idea you were into older guys.”

“I, uh, didn’t know either before I met him.”

“I see,” she nods, a thoughtful expression on her face. Another minute of shared silence passes before she decides to just come out and ask you the one burning question on her mind.

“Do you love him?”

You don’t need a second to think about your answer.

– – –

Thank you for reading!! 🤍

→ part 6 || part 8 || series masterlist

tagging: @koshkaj-blog @paleidiot @pattwtf @tuquoquebrute @witchofthedeepwoods let me know if you want to be added!

[chicago-pd-is-weird]

Jay Halstead x Reader Oneshot

Synopsis: Jay and reader are together, and reader works at Med in ED with Will. Reader has a lot of anxiety because Jay is a cop, thinking every cop that is brought in may be Jay.

TW: anxiety/panic attacks is a main theme in this, also some mention of blood and doctor-y stuff because reader works at Med in ED

Requested by: @sorry-i-spaced

Thank you so much! This was fun to write!

Any other oneshot requests, please DM me! :)

“We got a Stevenson!” A paramedic called out as they rolled into the ED. You and several other doctors sprung into action, running toward where the paramedics were coming in. ‘Stevenson’ was the code name for a cop, to let Med know who it was, no matter if they were in uniform, plainclothes, or undercover.

“(Y/N)! Rhodes! Trauma three!” Maggie’s voice called from the desk. Working in the ED was no walk in the park, especially in the middle of Chicago. You made your way quickly to where Maggie pointed you, picking up the pace as they wheeled in a man who was surrounded by cops. You pushed through the crowd and into the room, seeing the man on the gurney with three bullet holes in him. You helped get him moved over, then assessed the damage, Dr. Rhodes right behind you to help.

“Three bullet wounds, center mass. I’m assuming this is the perpetrator, not our Stevenson?” You spoke out loud. Some of the officers outside the room confirmed your thoughts.

Your heart was already pumping from the adrenaline as you worked on the man, but you couldn’t help it as it beat faster, hoping the officer shot wasn’t Jay Halstead. It made you especially nervous when the officers outside the room talked amongst one another, saying the man shot was a detective. Bile started to rise in your throat, but you were pulled back by the monitors beeping rapidly. You took immediate action as you snapped out of your anxiety for just a few moments.

You finally stabilized the man enough to take him to surgery, letting the nurses and techs take him with Dr. Rhodes. You backed away, looking around the room at the mess that had been made. For a moment, you stood in silence, looking around at the blood and various instruments that were around the room, as well as the blood on your gloves and scrubs.

Blood. You saw it every day, and yet, you couldn’t help but get a nauseous at the sight. You thought maybe that detective, who was fighting for his life, was bleeding out. That maybe it was the man you loved. Maybe he was in the other room, clinging to life, and here you were, trying to save the man who shot him. The notion made you sick to your stomach. You ripped off your bloody gloves and left them in the room, quickly moving to the nearest bathroom to empty your stomach of your breakfast. You panted in between heaves, gripping the toilet for dear life as you trembled at the thought of Jay dying and you saving the man who killed him.

You and Jay had met through Will, one of your coworkers and closest friends at Chicago Med. Will and Jay were brothers, and both had taken a liking to you at first, but you ultimately decided that romance with a doctor at the same hospital as you would be too complicated. You never expected the anxiety that came with beings cop’s girlfriend, though. You’d been prone to anxiety in the past, but it ramped up when you started getting serious with Jay. You had episodes like this a lot, no matter what cop came in. It had never been Jay in the past, but it only took one bullet in the wrong spot for him to die.

When the nausea passed, you slowly pushed yourself to your feet, though still unsteady as your head spin. You flushed, washed your hands and face, then made your way to the locker rooms to change out of your scrubs and into a fresh pair. When you re-emerged, you were met with Will, who gently pulled you aside before anyone else could see you. “Hey, (Y/N), you okay?” Will already knew the answer to that. He was the only one who knew the full story about these episodes you had at work. Although Jay knew some of it, especially about your anxiety, he didn’t know the full picture, and you’d sworn Will into secrecy over it.

“Will, it wasn’t him, was it?”

“No, (Y/N), Jay is fine. I talked to him just a little bit ago. He is investigating this with Intelligence. He might still be here. He was looking for you.”

You let out a shaky breath, but nodded. You were relieved, but needed to see for yourself. You walked with Will back to where he’d last seen Jay, your stomach settling down as you saw him standing with Detective Lindsay, talking to Maggie. You walked over, leaning on the counter with a hum beside him, hand reaching out to rest atop his on the counter.

Jay smiled when he saw you, leaning over and kissing your cheek. “Hey, was looking for you earlier. That perp going to make it?”

Instantly, your anxiety faded away, as if it was never there in the first place. Jay had that effect on you, especially when he was upright and acting like himself. “It’s touch and go, I think,” you said with a soft sigh. “We did what we could. Rhodes took him to surgery prolly about a half hour ago. If he does make it, it’ll be a hard and long road.”

Jay hummed and looked up at Will, who had taken a place behind the counter with Maggie. “And what about the detective?”

“He’ll make it,” Will replied. “Barring complications, he should be back on the job within a few weeks.”

“That’s good,” Jay replied, shifting his gaze back to you, unable to help the smile that pulled on his lips. “Hey, don’t look so down. We’ve got this.”

Your eyes met his, not realizing you’d looked upset. You smiled at him, nodding. “I know,” you replied. “It just must be hard that it’s one of your own, yaknow?”

“The risks we take,” he said with a small shrug. His statement was so nonchalant, which you didn’t like. You had to force yourself to focus on anything else to keep your rising anxiety at bay. Jay and Erin left soon after, and you shuddered, but moved back to work, checking on some other patients.

— —

“Stevenson incoming!” Maggie’s voice called out. You froze, looking up from the computer you had been typing at, swallowing hard. Your mouth ran dry, as stats were called by the paramedics. “Male, mid-thirties, stabbed multiple times.” You stood quickly, but Maggie didn’t assign you to it. You probably wouldn’t have been much help anyways, seeing as you were on the verge of an attack.

A firm hand was placed on your shoulder, pulling you back to reality as you gasped, looking behind you to see Will. “Come on,” he said softly, nodding to you. “It’s okay, come on.”

You let out a shaky breath, walking with Will out to the small break room. He got you coffee, which you took whether you liked it or not. It was something to pull you back into reality. “I-I’m sorry, I just…”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me,” Will said, shaking his head. “I get the same feeling every time, but Jay just texted me that we are meeting for lunch, so it can’t be him.”

“I shouldn’t feel so much relief from this,” you said, putting your hands to your face, wiping away some tears that had started to escape. “Someone is hurt, yaknow? But I… I’m so terrified of something happening.”

“Have you talked to anyone about this? Maybe Dr. Charles can help.”

“No, no,” you said, sighing heavily, sniffling and wiping your face. “I talked to therapists all throughout middle and high school. None of them even understood me. As far as I know, I’m just messed up mentally.”

“(Y/N),” Will sighed. “We’re all messed up mentally. We’re doctors.” He shook his head again, reaching over to put a hand on your arm. “Look, maybe you just need to find the right person. Besides, we know more about mental health and the brain now than we did then. There may be new tactics to help you cope, even if we can’t cure it.”

You were thankful for Will, nodding at his suggestions. “Maybe,” you muttered, leaning back in your chair and rubbing your face with your hands again, then coming back to down the coffee. “Thanks.”

“Any time,” he replied, nodding. “You’re not alone, alright?”

“Thanks,” you repeated. Just then, Will’s pager rang and he had to go, but he planted a soft kiss on the top of your head as he pulled you into a gentle embrace. As quick as he was beside you, he was gone, and you sank back down to the chair, looking at your empty coffee mug with despair. Maybe you’d never get better.

— —

The past few weeks had been filled with more and more scares. There was a serial killer on the loose who was targeting cops. Your body was racked with constant anxiety every time a Stevenson was brought into the ED. The only time you weren’t was when you were assisting with a surgery, so you stayed with Dr. Rhodes most of the time to ensure you were in surgery. It was better that way for the patients and for you.

The surgery you’d just assisted in finishing was a tough one. It was a kid who had fallen on a pair of scissors the wrong way. However, Dr. Rhodes was like magic, and your own hands remained calm and steady as you fell into a zen-like trance. You weren’t thinking of anything else but the surgery at hand. The anatomy and biology of the body lying below you. It was the only time and place you’d felt at peace, despite the circumstances surrounding the incident.

As you scrubbed out, washing your hands and arms, someone came into the room. “(Y/N)…” Will’s voice rang, a hand coming to your shoulder.

“Hey,” you said softly as you turned off the water and dried your hands. “What’s up?” Your mind was still calm, but when you looked up to Will, you could tell something was off.

“Don’t freak out on me, alright?”

“Will…?” You searched his face for the answer as he squeezed your shoulders with his hands.

“Just, promise.”

“Uh… I… okay…?”

“Okay,” he said with a sigh, knowing that was good enough. “Look, Jay was brought in, but-“

“What?!” You didn’t let him finish before trying to push past him to find Jay.

Will kept you in place. “No, no, (Y/N), stop, it’s okay.”

“This is NOT okay, Will! How are you so calm?!” The bile had begun to rise in your throat as you feared the worst. Tears jumped to your eyes and you had to see him. You had to know Jay was alright, even if he wasn’t.

“Hey, hey, look at me. It’s Will. Look at me!” You looked back up to Will, his hands squeezing your shoulders again to pull you back, shaking you a little. “Look, see, I’m right here. Let me finish before you break down, at least.”

You scoffed, a small scoff to hide the soft laugh of that last remark. Although you were on the verge of an attack, that pulled you back from the edge a bit, making you shake your head. “Just tell me then!”

“Jay just had a gash on his arm from a piece of metal he ran across. He just ran into a piece of metal. His sergeant sent him, just to make sure it was good. He is not shot. He is not hurt badly. He is coherent and walking around. He needed a few stitches, but that’s all.”

You searched Will’s face for any sign of him playing down the injury, but you knew Will wouldn’t lie to you. You let out a breath, wiping your face. “No, I still have to see him though because… if I don’t, I’ll never recover from this feeling.”

“I know,” Will replied. “Come on, he’s in five. But you know if you go in there like this, you’re going to have to come clean?”

“I need to see him,” you affirmed as Will walked you downstairs to where Jay was.

When you got there, you walked in and pushed the curtain back over the door to ensure you had privacy. You nearly broke down as you saw Jay, his shirt off, a bandage on his upper arm. Whether from anxiety or relief, you had no idea. The emotions pulling you in different directions was crippling, and you just stood there, trembling as tears streaked down your cheeks.

Jay looked over you as you stood, frozen in time, hot tears racing down and dripping off your chin. He got up quickly, his soft voice finally hitting your ears. “Hey, hey, (Y/N), what’s the matter?”

As he caught you between his arms, you started to sob, nearly collapsing into his chest. “Fuck, Jay!”

Jay was surprised, but caught you with ease, holding you close to his bare chest. “What did I do this time?” He teased, trying to make you feel better.

You were barely in the mood as you took a fist to his chest, hitting him softly. “Don’t even joke, it’s not fair!”

Jay turned more serious, pulling back to look at you as you sobbed. “Hey… hey, just tell me what’s going on.” You couldn’t muster any more words, wiping your face with your hands. Jay pulled you over, sitting on the bed and pulling you to sit beside him. “(Y/N)?”

“I have… I have this… this intense fear,” you finally spoke, soft words only coming out with your breaths. “This intense… burning fear… all the time… that…” You swallowed hard, leaning into his shoulder on his uninjured arm.

“That what?” Jay prompted after a moment of silence.

“That you’re going to come in here and die!” You sobbed out, moving to cling to him again, arms around his torso. “Jay, every time a cop comes in here, I can’t take it! Anxiety and panic takes me over! I-I can’t! I love you so much, and I can’t lose you!”

“Hey, hey baby, you won’t lose me. You won’t.” Jay held you tightly against his chest once again, kissing your head. “Hey, come here, look at me.” He pulled back, letting you sit up and then gently taking your chin in his fingers. He tenderly pulled your chin up, then leaned down to meet you, planting a soft kiss to your lips. When he pulled back, he let out a breath. “Nothing will ever take me away from you… Nothing. Ever.”

With that, your emotions finally leveled out. You swallowed hard and reached up to cup his face, looking over his freckles. You smiled a little as your eyes met his. “Promise?”

“I promise,” he replied, matching your smile and leaning down to kiss you again.

[jmdbjk]

All things Walmart, poo, ticks and inspiration...

Spoiler alert but to hell with it, I know y'all have watched it all already.

Things I cannot relate to and will never happen to me:

• Pushing my cart down the snack aisle at Walmart and running into Jungkook searching for Tostitos and a sponge.

• Going out to the mailbox to gather the day's junk mail and two guys on a Harley drive by and wave at me and me not know it was Jimin and Jungkook.

• Hiking through the forest and not realizing that guy way up ahead swatting at mosquitoes is Jimin.

• Enjoying my lobster mac & cheese at a restaurant and not know Jungkook is discreetly (not so discreetly) staring at my food trying to decide if he wants to order what I'm having.

I didn't have time today to spend on this like I wanted to and I feel like everyone has already talked about the finer points they're most interested in so I'm going to just drop a few things that made ME laugh, smile and cherish the fact they even started this thing, this show. Episode 3 will be here tomorrow night (for me) so I don't want to delay this anymore so I'll be brief for Ep. 2.

Saturday, July 15:

They left the campsite and Jungkook got to ride the motorcycle. Jimin said he looked like a proper American.

They stopped at a park and hiked a trail. Jimin fought mosquitoes. It was brutal. I've seen people worried about ticks. And snakes. Jimin pointed out a spider on a tree. Jungkook fantasized about alligators. Tick inspections occurred all around later on I hope.

We didn't see the transition from woods to marina. Maybe they had to make a bathroom stop for Jimin. Or urgent care to get him some meds. Who knows. Poor thing was suffering.

On the yacht, Jimin was still feeling puny but he tried. He ate though he knew he was risking it all.

He horsed around with Jungkook with the beast still rolling around in his guts.

I really wasn't expecting so much poop talk during Are You Sure but here we are.

I think this summed up the yacht trip. Especially after how it all started with the excursion being leaked by the boat captain himself. Perhaps the editors did this on purpose.

FYI those concentric ripples in the images are my camera trying to capture the screen in a different frequency than the monitor refreshes or some tech mumbo jumbo. Apologies and please ignore. It's Disney's fault for not letting us screen cap using an app.

I think Jungkook was looking for ticks. He would take something like that seriously, don't you think?

But Jimin mostly slept on the yacht. He had a rough night before. They still salvaged what they could and they still seemed to enjoy the experience.

A trip to Walmart. On the way they have one of those rambling conversations where Jungkook, who is not the most talkative type, decides to talk Jimin's ear off. They talked about making music and what drives them personally in their choices about their work.

We'll visit that thought again in a minute....

The whole Walmart visit is surreal to me. I go to Walmart at least once a week so to see Jimin and Jungkook browsing the aisles just blows my mind. NEVER did I EVER dream I'd see them looking for bacon at WALMART.

They look just like anyone else pushing their shopping cart going down the cereal aisle past the boxes of Cinnamon Toast Crunch and Sugar Pops.

Jimin was a tad testy when JK disappeared. He even cussed him out. HAHAHAHAHAAA. BEEN THERE DONE THAT!!!

I know Jimin-ssi, why are men like that? I swear to god...

I saw someone say this sums up their dynamic perfectly: Jimin calculating in his mind how to work the self-check out while Jungkook does the helicopter cam above him.

You gotta give it to Walmart though, they do know their customer. The self check out is pretty self-explanatory.

The content of their cart:

TWO boxes of Twinkies???? And both Prego AND Ragu...

Getting to the AirBnb accommodations. Cooking. Chilling out before bedtime and Jimin lets Jungkook hear Who.

Horsing around in bed. You know, all these years, I've wondered how they keep the toothpaste spit inside their mouths while brushing their teeth? We've seen them brushing their teeth backstage, in the bathroom, walking around the green room, outside practicing choreo... HOW DO THEY NOT DROOL ALL OVER THEIR CUSTOM MADE OUTFITS? And now wrestling on the bed...

Waking up, JK and his frosted flakes. Jokes about abandoning Jimin...more horsing around on the bed. And then they doze off again. I know they did. Hard to tell but Jungkook is glued to Jimin's back.

Jimin gets to ride on the back of the Harley with JK. It starts to rain. I guess they were bringing it back to the rental place.

Going back to the store for a sponge.

I think Jimin was feeling much better. Looked like he slept better.

We see the Army who said they met Jimin and Jungkook last year. When I first heard about it I thought how lucky and random and what kind of stars need to align for that to happen??? What a great experience!!! When will it be our turn???

And then the next idea for Run BTS (the show)... hide and seek while shopping for specific ingredients to cook with and the twist is they're in a foreign country. WORLD TOUR RUN BTS!!! BIGHIT I HAVE IDEAS!!!! LISTEN TO ME!!!!

Its raining, dancing in the rain as they exit the store. They leave in the Jeep and head back to the house to eat their pizza.

Army in Connecticut won in life.

Then they start their journey back to NYC (I'm assuming) so Jungkook can go on to London and Jimin can head back to Korea. They stop one more time for lobster rolls and lobster mac & cheese.

That's when we see Jungkook contradict himself...

In the Jeep just a little while ago you said nothing inspired you. Was it the rain or the beer that was inspiring you? Or was it the head full of new memories and ideas about the next trip that were swirling around in there?

By the end of this trip, they are back in sync.

Their closing interview: JK wants to keep doing this until they're 50, 12 more seasons! JK said "practice being better variety show entertainers so the two of us can continue doing this" as motivation to continue doing this type of thing way into the future. Jimin found humor in that. And that's where we fade to black.

And during the credits, Jimin is eating again, spicy ramen, possibly the next day. Apparently his stomach is back in order as he readies to fly back home.

What a trip.

Deeper thoughts:

Jimin and Jungkook wanted to spend time together. We knew that. It didn't seem to happen when it could have. They even said so in the Jeep. But JK concluded the discussion succinctly:

Finally.

Finally they were spending quality time together. Though their talk was brief, we have no idea if there was more to it before or after what we saw of it. The editors showed us that much enough to explain the situation and why it had not happened. The end result of it all was: finally.

Finally, after wanting this. Finally, after saying we would. Finally... doing something together that we loved doing before and we've wanted to do again. Finally.

Jimin pushed for it. He knew. He made it happen. Finally.

They are two distinct personalities and their journeys through this solo era leading up to their enlistment were different.

Jimin is a leader and doer. He is the initiator. Jimin said if he hadn't pushed for this show to happen it would not have gotten done.

There were a few moments in these first two episodes where Jimin brought up MS. Jungkook didn't seem thrilled to talk about it.

They truly didn't know what they were going to film for this show. They got in the car and started to make it up as they went. I can see how that would be awkward.

They don't understand that just them being themselves is what we want to see. They don't have to try to make something happen. Its the spontaneous moments that make the best content (see kayak dump and Walmart trip). Maybe Jimin was more in tune with this than Jungkook was but he is the one who turns on a live and sits there and watches Netflix while eating chicken. They had to get back in sync and they did.

So the first episode was a little slow, a little cautious, a little quiet. Reserved. That first day they were finding their groove, getting 're-acquainted' if you will, finding the slots and spaces in each other that fit and feel the most comfortable to them. You could see them relax as the day wore on.

But, they still had challenges. JK's head cold. Jimin's stomach bug. You want some TMI's? Watch Jimin run to the bathroom for the fifth time.

We may see a little bit of this quiet re-acquainting when BTS does its first group live next year. And yes, I am 100% confident we will see this first live shortly after Jimin and Jungkook are discharged. We will see them in a way we've never seen before.

After both episodes... my conclusion is we saw about 2 hours out of the roughly 3 or three and a half days Jimin and Jungkook were together. Thursday evening, July 13 through Sunday evening, July 16. I'm not exactly sure when JK left for London but Jimin went back to Korea on July 17.

I wonder if the plan was to create hour long episodes or if there was so much they wanted to show the episodes just ended up being that long. They could have easily hidden Jimin's stomach issues from us. They could have edited a lot of it down. But in making the episodes this long, they showed more and more of their dynamic in play.

I didn't put everything into this post that I wanted to but we've got six more episodes coming and I still haven't had time to watch Run Jin.

Hashtags arent working... I'll add them later.

[sevcasejay1chicago]

Can’t spell panic without pain- Matt, Kelly, Jay

Authors note: This has been a fic that I’ve been working on the past couple of weeks. I was gonna post last week, but I wasn’t happy with it. Hopefully you guys enjoy!

Summary: The boys make sure to take care of their girl when she is panicked and in pain.

Warnings: possible inaccurate medical jargon, anxiety attack, crying, mentions ovary cysts.

—————————

You’ve been having a rough couple of days. More like rough couple of weeks, but it seemed to be getting worse the longer the weekend progressed into the week. Now, on a Wednesday afternoon, you are sitting in your car outside of the house you share with Matt, Kelly, and Jay. Matt and Kelly have today and tomorrow off. Jay got home a bit before you, having left before you when he assumed you had already left or were close behind. Since it’s been long enough for Jay to worry, your phone starts to ring over the speakers in your car. You almost miss it with the ringing in your ears, but you connect the call just before it’s sent to voicemail.

“Hey baby. I figured you’d be home by now.” Jay says casually as Matt and Kelly are heard cooking and talking softly in the background.

“I-I am.” You force out, voice strained with more unleashed tears, you gasp in a breath as you hear Jay curse and tell the others something is wrong.

“Hang on baby.” Jay says, disconnecting the call as he practically jumps down the stairs and sprints to your car with Kelly behind him.

They see the tears as soon as you’re in view. Kelly slides into your passenger seat as Jay opens your door and crouches to your level. They quickly look at each other as they slowly peel your fingers away from the steering wheel.

“Shhhhh. We gotcha now. We gotcha baby.” Kelly whispers, wiping at your tears and testing your skin for a temperature, which he thinks you have. It’s hard to tell if your warm because you are actually running a fever or if it’s because you are upset.

Jay is checking your pulse as Kelly attempts to soothe you. He knows that Matt is getting the first aid kit out of their master bathroom, which is upstairs and in the very back of the house, so he’s not worried about being completely accurate, but he wants to gauge it before he moves you. Currently, your heart rate is pretty high, but steady.

“Come on sweet girl. Let’s get you inside.” Jay says, helping Kelly unbuckle you before he hoists you into his arms. “What’s goin on? Hmm?” Jay whispers to you, but as he suspected, he doesn’t get a verbal response as you whimper like you are in pain.

Kelly pushed the push start button to turn off your car before he grabs your phone and keys, deciding that he will grab your bags later on so that he has time to jog to the door and open it for Jay. Matt is already getting the med bag open, placing a few things on the coffee table. He’s just tossing the necessary equipment onto the coffee table to check your vitals, not knowing what the issue is, but he already has his suspicions.

You have a cyst on your right ovary that has been bothering you for a week and a half now. The boys tried to talk you into staying home, especially after a scary er visit earlier in the week, but you were stubborn and refused to rest when a big case was brought to the intelligence unit.

Jay sat down, cradling you in his arms. He made sure that one arm was accessible for Matt, but he also wanted to make sure you were as comfortable as possible. Kelly was stood not too far off, waiting for something to do and giving Matt space to check you over.

Matt checked your blood pressure and stuck a pulse ox on your finger as Jay whispered softly to you, encouraging you to breath. Jay’s sweet nothings were barely audible to your other two lovers, but they also were barely making it past the still constant ringing in your ears.

“Tachy. BP is a bit high and oxygen is low.” Matt said out loud, quickly running the thermometer over your forehead. “100.3.” Matt read off, tossing everything back in the medical bag.

Jay did his best to calm you down as Kelly retrieved a wash cloth and some fever reducers. Matt sat in your line of sight, lightly rubbing the tears from your face with the pad of his thumbs. Both men were lightly shushing you and whispering sweet nothings in an attempt to calm you down. Eventually, it seemed like you started to respond to what was happening and reached one shaking hand to lay on Jay’s chest. Jay immediately started breathing at a deeper, more even, pace that was easy for you to follow.

“Baby. You gotta tell us what hurts.” Matt whispered, locking eyes with you. “We can’t help if we don’t know whats wrong sweetheart.”

You sucked in a deep breath, curing further into yourself and Jay’s lap. “I-I’m hurting and I c-can’t stop crying.” You whimpered. “It f-feels like a p-panic attack.”

Kelly came back in and immediately knew the problem. “The cyst must be rupturing.” Kelly stated, laying the wash cloth over your neck and offering you a Gatorade with your medicine. “This should help the pain baby girl.”

Matt sighed, laying a gentle hand on your knee. “Okay. Well, we know the drill. Your gonna feel really crappy and emotional for a couple days. However, we will do everything we can to help you feel better, okay baby?” Matt said, taking the hand you offered.

You nodded, leaning back into Jay. “It’s okay to cry sweet girl, but you gotta breath. Okay? Just follow me.” Jay encouraged, kissing the crown of your head as you tried to focus. “You are definitely having a panic attack, but we gotcha now. Your not alone baby.” Jay encourages, kissing your temple.

You started humming, not liking the feeling of your stomach shaking and your lips buzzing. You had gotten yourself worked up so much that the anxiety made you feel like a live wire. You knew that your boys were attempting to ground you, but it was like it was impossible to turn it all off.

“What can we do?” Kelly asked, sitting on the coffee table to get in your line of sight without standing over you. He knows that you get anxious when people stand over you on a good day, so it probably wasn’t advisable today.

“Think you wanna try a popsicle?” Jay asked, nudging your cheek with his nose. “I can feel you shaking, but you aren’t cold, are you baby?”

You shook your head no, not offering a verbal response.

“I need a verbal response sweet girl.” Kelly said, leaning forward expectantly. He knew the more he got you talking, the more likely you were starting to come back down to earth.

“Not cold. Popsicle please.” You whispered, not wanting to use full sentences, but knowing that would get your point across.

Kelly nodded before getting up and jogging into the kitchen for your popsicle. He was back in no time, having cut the plastic open and wrapped the popsicle in a paper towel. “Here princess. It’s a pedialyte popsicle. It should help hydrate you to flush all those toxins out.” Kelly explained, watching as you quickly calmed down as the cold from the popsicle helped focus your brain on the taste and sensation.

“Good girl. We gotcha. It’ll be over before you know it.” Matt praised, laying your favorite blanket in your lap to help calm you further. He knew it would be a long couple of days, but once you calmed down, they could start working on taking the proper steps to ensure a quick recovery.

Tag list:

@treehouse-mouse

@shadowmeadowsworld

@sorry-i-spaced

@zephyrmonkey

@allisonargent144

@amie134

@lane-rodgers-barnes

@pensfan5871

@dumb-fawkin-bitch

@marvel-and-chicago-fan

@daggersquadphantom

@stellakiddsblog

@100yroldteenagers

@senjoritanana

@celtic-shadow-wolf

@starset21

@mrspeacem1nusone

[mozzeralla-stix]

Worried

Hi! So, I haven't written any sort of fan fiction in like 4+ years. Recently, I've gotten back into The Walking Dead and decided I wanted to try to write a Carl x Reader short! So here it is.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Fluff, No Y/N, No gendered pronouns, No TW

The smell of the forest is welcoming considering the usual odors that violate my pallet. I pay close attention to the crunch of the leaves as I pace myself on my trip- I need to ensure no walkers are around, at least any that could tear into my flesh. I feel the weight of my bag begin to sprout an ache in my right shoulder: Carl was right, I should have packed lighter for this run.  

Rick requested that I make the trek to the convenience store a few miles away for some medical supplies: bandages, pain killers, pre-natal meds, etc. I am not too keen on going on trips alone as I certainly don’t have the best aim out of everyone in Alexandria- yet Rick insisted it would be a good learning opportunity for survival and getting used to the surrounding area. Carl honestly had more protests than I did, worrying about me getting bit or running into trouble. 

My mind begins to wander towards Carl, thinking about the past few years of our kinship. We met at the prison, my mother and I had been searching desperately for aid or shelter and we took notice of the slight changes to the courtyard. Thankfully, Rick noticed us and welcomed us with open arms. Considering Carl was the only other kid my age we began to become close friends. We would talk for hours about our lives before the walkers appeared, our favorite comics, our distaste for certain canned goods that we had to eat. Him and I became inseparable. We especially bonded when the prison collapsed. In all of the chaos, my mother got bitten and didn't make it. It felt like no one could ever understand the pain I felt, until Carl stood by my side and shared his own experience. We began to be strong support systems for each other, always going to the other when we were upset. He was- and still is- the only person in the world that I could call my best friend. I’ve seen him grow into the amazing and caring person he is now. He isn't too bad looking either- I'm surprised he hasn't hit it off with Enid after all this time. 

I slowly refocus my thoughts and realize the sun is beginning to set. The sky is slowly turning into blissful purple and pink hues, dancing off of the few clouds in the sky. Looking at my map, I realize that I won't reach Alexandria before it gets dark. Of course, the one thing I didn't pack was a flashlight. I glance back at the map and see a little house icon drawn in red that isn't too far from here. I decide it’s best to settle there for the night and stray from my path. As the night only gets darker the lump in my throat becomes more difficult to swallow. Each of my footsteps feel louder than the last as the silence of the forest fills my ears. Just as the moon begins to peak from behind the tall trees, I find myself standing in front of a small, wooden cabin. I raise my pistol and open the door, preparing for the worst. Thankfully, I am not met with any groaning or oozing, blood ridden rotting flesh. I continue into the cabin and light a nearby candle with a match, bringing a soft warmth to the main room. I search the rest of the cabin, ultimately finding nothing but an old bed and some canned food. I finally release the bag from my shoulder and rub the aching area with my palm, attempting to soothe the dull sting. Now that I'm in a safe area, I feel my body begin to slip into exhaustion and allow the day to seep into my muscles. I find myself plopping onto the mattress, slowly drifting off into the cold surroundings of sleep. 

...knock knock knock 

I am pulled from sleep by a light knocking on the window, slowly turning my sleepiness into downright panic. The moment my eyes are fully opened, I jump from the bed in fear and grab my pistol. While it is uncommon for a single walker to break any sort of window or door- you can never be too sure. I slowly place one foot in front of the other as I make my way to the window, slightly covered by a tethered curtain. I fill my lungs with air and grab hold of the curtain, swiftly pulling it to the side to reveal what grueling monster could possibly be bothering me in the middle of the night. To my surprise, I am met with shaggy brown hair and an infamous cowboy hat rather than a walker begging to take my life away. I grab ahold of the small handle attached to the window and pull, allowing Carl to climb himself into the room. 

“Carl! What are you doing here? How did you even find me?”  

Carl gave a small sigh and rolled his eyes in playful annoyance. “I've been your best friend for years by now, you really think I don't know what you do when you're panicked? Plus, I got worried; you were supposed to be back by sunset.” Carl says, furrowing his brows at the last part with a mix of concern and curiosity. I stare at him with a tired gaze and feel a bit of shame creep up my neck- I probably worried quite a few people. 

“Well, the trip took a lot longer than I thought it would, and there was no way I would be caught alone with a walker at night.” Carl gives a small nod of understanding as I stare into his eyes. I find his care for me adorable; he is always worried if I am okay. Even better, I can see it clear as day in his iris's anytime he is worried. I suddenly feel a pair of arms wrap around my torso, engulfing me in warmth and comfort. I let out a breath of relief and put my arms around his neck, squishing my face on his chest. I allow myself to stand there for a moment- taking everything about him in. The warmth his body generates, his rhythmic heartbeat, his hands drawing small circles on my back, and how good he somehow smells in an apocalypse. I feel his arms begin to move away, and his hands trail their way up to my shoulders- holding me gently in place. He lifts my chin to ensure I'm looking him in his beautiful eyes. 

“Y’know, I was seriously worried about you. I'm so happy you're safe. I could never live without you. Honestly, I-” Carl cuts himself off before he can finish his sentence, clearly nervous about what was going to come out of his mouth. I cock one eyebrow up to show my confusion, and Carl lets out a soft sigh.  

“I- well- I love you. I have for so long and I just never knew how to tell you. I wouldn't go outside the walls this late at night for anyone else.” As the words leave his lips, I feel my heart sputter and my soul fill with joy. I look at him with awe and I can't stop myself from grinning like an idiot. Once he notices my expression, Carl rolls his eyes at me and grabs the back of my head, gently putting me towards him. Our lips connect softly, and I can feel my pulse speed up. I wrap my arms around his neck to deepen the kiss, and I feel him smile at the action. We continue with the sweet, innocent kisses and pecks until I whimper at the feeling of his tongue swiping at my bottom lip. I'm hesitant at first, but the burning in my chest soon overwhelms my nerves and I slightly open my mouth, allowing him to deepen our kiss even further. I feel his tongue gently enter my mouth, creating electric shocks that run throughout my body. I moan even more, and he lightly giggles at how noisy I'm being. We begin to become more in tune with each other, slowly developing a steady rhythm and dance between us. He moves his hands down to my hips and pulls me closer to him, wanting to be as close to me in this moment as physically possible. I happily accept the physical contact and begin to setting my fingers in his curly hair. He makes a soft noise as a reaction to my small pulls and scratches on his scalp. We both begin to get quite heated and start panting. Our kisses become rougher with each second that passes by and there is an undeniable tightness sealing itself in the low depths of my abdomen. Deciding to be a little testy, I grab a sizable portion of his hair and pull with much more force than before- causing him to moan into my mouth. I feel my cheeks begin to radiate a glowing heat at the noise, and Carl pulls away from my lips, eliciting a small whine from me. He grabs my chin lightly and forces my eyes up to his, only making my cheeks burn even brighter.  

“I love you so goddamn much.” 

“I love you too.” 

I feel him pull me into an embrace again, pulling apart only to lie me down on the bed. He pushes my back against his waist until he spoons me, helping me in feeling so very sleepy again. With the safety of his arms, I begin to drift off again... 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I hope you enjoyed! Feel free to leave any feedback or comments! Maybe a part 2??

[futbol16]

La Princesa  • Barcelona Femení

Sorry for disappearing for a few days, had to catch up on some of my exams.

Hope you enjoy this fluff bomb!

“I have really been enjoying all the requests you have been writing especially 'your four tigers'. Could I request a second part to 'your four tigers' with the four taking care of R while she has a concussion.”

Part 1 Your Four Tigers

Word count: 740

“bebe somnoliento” Irene muttered into your hair as she held you close. You sighed comfortably in your position, laid over Mapi and Irene’s laps. 

You had gotten a concussion during a game the other day after a hard collision and you were definitely not handling it well. At least you had the day off for today to get through the harder part of it. Your four protectors have not left your side since, except Alexia who was at rehab right now. 

Ana-maria comes back in the room with a glass of water as she hands you a pill.

“Take it Y/N/N.” she told you as she nodded. You eye the pill for a second, but when you part your lips a hand on your wrist stops you from popping it into your mouth. You both look up at Irene questioningly.

“Ana, she's already had enough pain killers. We’re not going to drug her into oblivion!” she scolds with a pointed look when the blonde throws her arms up.

“But she’s still in pain! I don’t want her in pain.” she says, calming a bit and staring back at Irene.

You look between the two of them before looking over at Mapi for help, she only laughs at your expression.

“No can do cariño.” she shrugs and you huff at her, moving off your teammates’ lap. Conversation between Ana and Irene comes to a halt as they watch your every move. Standing up you reach for the glass that was now set on the coffee table and drink it all. As you move your head from its tilted back position you suddenly feel even more dizzy than before and stumble forwards a bit.

 All three girls spring to their feet but it’s Mapi who reaches out to grab your hips and steady you. You lean back into her body, your lip quivering. 

It's only been a day and you were already so tired of this concussion. Mapi shushes you, pulling you with her to the bed of the hotel room. She sits down at the headboard and pulls you into her lap, your back against her chest. She tightens her arms around you and mumbles something to you.

The other two look at each other with a shrug. They settle either side of you and turn on the TV at a low volume hoping it would take your mind off and the last of the pain meds would finally kick in.

Sure enough a good 40 minutes later you were sound asleep in Mapi’s hold, your hand in Ana’s and Irene’s fingers running through your hair. You had no idea how they all managed to be so close to you without practically sitting on each other, but the three of them didn’t mind. Their priority was you.

A soft knock on the door has you groaning at the sound and turning, your head falling to Ana’s shoulder. Mapi is quick to lean down to press a kiss to your cheek knowing it comforted you. She looks over at Irene expectantly and the defender gets up with a playful roll of her eyes, opening the door.

Alexia stood with a smile on her face at the prospect of finally getting to see you, she had been at rehab for most of the day and she missed having her bebé close to her. She walks past Irene and to the bed, staring at the three of you with a fond look. 

It was adorable how the tough looking Mapi and stubborn Ana-Maria held you close to themselves like you were their own little teddy bear. Irene gives the girl a gentle nudge towards the bed and she doesn’t have to be told twice as she crawls up the bed and into the small space Ana had made for her. 

Your eyes flutter open at the familiar smell of Ale and you smile at her lazily.

“Ale” you whisper faintly as you move from Mapi and practically collapse on top of your captain, cuddling close to her with your head in the crook of her neck.

Alexia doesn’t pay any mind to the scoffs let out by the other three, too focused on your sleepy face as she runs her hand up and down your back.

“Of course all she needed was Alexia.” one of them says, shaking their head with a tiny smile.

“She really is the princesa.”

[spiderprincess-suffet]

⚠️ARTSTYLE RANT INCOMING⚠️

So for the past few weeks and honestly even longer I've really been struggling with my artstyle, not in the way that I don't like it though more so IT TAKES WAY TO FUCKING LONG TO FINNISH ANYTHING!!

Before my current one I used to have an art style I called the Hazard style, because it was basically stolen from an artist called Hazard Girl (They were a Frans artist so I figured they didn't deserve their artstyle lol) well anyways I original switched to that style because the one BEFORE that (I've had a lotttt of styles-) was like the current one IT WAS WAY TO COMPLICATED!

So I switched styles using a more simpler one because well

I have Hdhd like really really bad BUT I do have meds for it but those meds have a time limit..a very short one even taking it twice a day leaves me in a panic trying to Finnish the stuff I wanna draw because I know as soon as it wears off I'm basically useless any time I attempt to start or Finnish any drawings when it wears off all I end up with is like 25 more wips I'll never finish.

And so I switched to the Hazard style, it was soooo much faster I could get stuff finished and hell sometimes I coule even fet multiple things finished before my meds wore off!

And the same things happening now and honestly worse, my meds wear of so fast to me I've been trying to finnish stuff all week and ive gotten hardly anything because it takes so long by the time I even get to the coloring my meds have already worn off and I'm left unable to finnish it, or worse and the most frequent thing to happen lately it takes me so long to decide what I wanna draw or i do know what i wanna draw i just cant get it to look right and next thing i know my meds have worn off and i dont even have a sketch done!!

That's honestly why ive been debating going back to the Hazard style but like..I really like my current artstyle and yes I do like the old one to but the current one is what I always wanted ESPECIALLY for my Undertale comic it gives the exact feels that I want it to and it's perfect for that sort of art, but I literally can't do it i just it takes soooo longggguhh to the point I literally can't finish anything I start.

Not to mention I'm almost out of my medicine for the month and I don't usually get refilled right away i have to wait WEEKS until my next refill so I end up not drawing at all for weeks Wich I hate because I have so many ideas but literally CANT do them, so now I'm stuck

I can't Finnish literally anything

I don't wanna change my style because I love it

And I'm very quickly running out of my Hdhd meds

WHAT THE HELL DO I DO 😭

And no I can't just not take it for a day it causes MASSIVE headaches and dizziness if I don't take it twice a day like I'm supposed to 🫠

..anyways here's some Hazard art of clockwork i managed to do 🥲 sorry for the rant even if I don't get any answers I at least wanted to get it out there...

[hismercytomyjustice]

I feel like I should issue a blanket apology for anyone unfortunate enough to have to deal with me over the next few days (and the past few) because I’m out of Adderall and the ADHD is running fucking wild.

Please keep my piano teacher and therapist in your thoughts and prayers during this difficult (for them, HAHAHA) time, as they also have ADHD and two people alone in the same room with ADHD is a dangerous combo.

…as evidenced by my chitchatting with my piano teacher for almost half an hour after my lesson yesterday…

IN MY DEFENSE, he started it! I just…did not finish it… BUT I DID WARN HIM!

I think most of his students are literal kids, so he gets to hardcore geek out with me about music (though most of the time he leaves me in the dust). He plays trombone and trumpet and piano and is super into jazz and I’m super into classical, so we get lost on a lot of tangents.

I did manage to rein in the impulse to go hardcore into true crime territory tho. I feel like I should get a non-participation trophy for that lol! BUT, AGAIN, HE STARTED IT. How is your response to me telling you some of my favorite local restaurants to bring up a murder at a local restaurant??? *checks notes* Ohhh, the ADHD strikes again…

SIR. I cohosted a true crime podcast for two fucking years because I could not shut the fuck up about the subject!

Bad news tho, my therapist is super into true crime. And we are also TERRIBLE about tangents. Especially when it comes to talking about the research and stuff behind OCD and ADHD and all.

Christ, it’s been a hot minute since I’ve been off Adderall this long and I forgot how all over the fucking place my brain can be. Just playing hopscotch in my noggin I guess. Or the floor is lava. Maybe both at the same time!

BUT. It has also been an impromptu experiment of sorts because FUN, *checks notes* CORRECTION NOT FUN, FACT! ADHD meds can exacerbate OCD symptoms! Because WHY WOULDN’T THEY?! Can’t make my life too easy, now can we!

God knew I would be too powerful if I were mentally stable… ╭( ･ㅂ･)و

SO, YEAH. SORRY. CAN’T FOCUS FOR SHIT RIGHT NOW. And am unfortunately making it EVERYONE’S FUCKING PROBLEM.

[sirowsky]

The Flowers Always Know

Chapter 20 - But You Were Never Normal

Description: After receiving some extremely unexpected news, you were suddenly forced to confront certain things from your past.

**Beware! Author chooses NOT to display warnings on the individual chapters of this story. Read at your own risk!**

Rating: Mature 18+ONLY Word Count: 3859 (2263 words added) Masterlist (this story)

   Over the next two days, your mood consistently got progressively worse.    As your strength returned, you were allowed to move around freely, but you weren’t allowed to leave the med-chamber until you’d completed a full assessment of your abilities.    And because of how quickly your powers drained you, the Science Department wouldn’t agree to do that until they’d come up with an acceptable alternative to regular foods.

   Which meant that people were constantly running in and out with pieces of experimental nutritional little cubes they wanted you to try, not to check if they were actually edible, just whether or not they had the intended effect. Flavour and texture would be added later, so it was basically like chewing cardboard.    On top of that, you were still struggling with the fact that you were lying to Marcus, getting more and more anxious for some answers so you could go ahead and tell him everything.

   And to make matters worse, Missy was allowed to visit you as much as she wanted but your partner was kept on a strict once-a-day regimen, and only with staff present, courtesy of your continued inability to keep your hands off each other.    It felt a bit excessive, but you’d accepted that things needed to be like this for the time being, since the two of you weren’t exactly harmless together.

   Over the weekend he’d opted to just bring Missy during his “visitation”, where the three of you had hung out for a few hours, and it was the only thing keeping you from going stir crazy with the isolation.    Your doctor was much more lenient about him being there while Missy was present, and especially since Amaire took turns watching you, so you were never alone. But being confined to one room and not getting to chose when you wanted company, or from who, was starting to feel a lot like a prison.

   But on Monday, Marcus showed up without his daughter, and the moment he walked through the doors, you could tell he wanted to talk about something important, or unpleasant. There was a hard set to his jaw and a slight hesitation in his stride.    And since you were already in a mood, after having about a dozen cardboard cubes shoved down your throat before dinner, none of which had produced the desired results, you weren’t looking forward to any serious talks.

   “What is it?” you snapped before he’d had a chance to say anything, and your tone was unfriendly enough that it made him stop and tilt his head to the side, with a mildly shocked huff.

   “Well, hello. How are you today? I’m fine, thank you for asking,” he shot back with a hefty dose of sarcasm, and although there was a laugh brewing somewhere in the back of his throat, it did nothing to lift your spirits.

   “I’m so not in the mood, babe,” you cautioned, sharply enough that he knew not to try and push any buttons. “Just tell me.”

   But he didn’t start talking right away. Instead, he crossed his arms over his chest and took a little stroll through the room.    You’d been pacing when he first walked in, but stopped to find out what he wanted, and now he was the one who didn’t seem to be able to stay still.

   “Um… I got an e-mail last night, from an address I didn’t know, and they were asking about you. So, I looked into it, wanting to make sure it wasn’t anything potentially dangerous,” he finally started, while coming to a stop next to the bed, on the opposite side to where you were standing.

   “Okay…” you said after he’d paused for a little too long, hoping to spur him into explaining further, but he still hesitated.

   It was extremely rare for this man to ever be fidgety, so seeing him like this, constantly looking for something to busy his hands with, whether it be your sheets or one of the machines attached to the bed, made you seriously nervous.

   “Well, it turns out… the e-mail is from your brother. Daniel.”

   You flinched so hard that it offset your balance and made you take a step back.    Of all the people you’d heard say that name, a part of you had hoped to never have to hear it from Marcus’ lips. A part of you had hoped he’d be kept safe from that darkness forever.

   “Fuck,” you breathed, abruptly more nervous than your partner.

   You started pacing again, unknowingly wringing your hands and running your fingers over the scars which were no longer there on your abdomen.    It had been a bad day from the start, but this was somehow the worst thing that could possibly have happened, turning it from bad to horrendous in one sentence.

   “Hermosa?” he tried, hoping to get your attention, but your mind was already a thousand miles away, swirling back towards memories you wanted anything but to revisit.

   Danny had no right to ask you for anything, ever. It didn’t matter why he’d reached out, or how he’d even known he could find you through Marcus, you weren’t going to listen to anything he had to say.

   “He wanted to kno-…”

   “Shut up!” you almost screamed at your partner, who jumped involuntarily at the unexpected panic in your voice. “Sorry… I’m so sorry, I just… I don’t wanna know. Don’t tell me.”

   Turning away from him, you continued pacing, faster and faster, from one wall to the next, trying desperately to keep the flood of images out of your head.

   “What the hell did he do to you?” Marcus wondered quietly but with emphasis, unaware that the question sparked a giant surge of memories, not one of which would allow itself to be bottled back up.

   You closed your eyes against them, but once they started, they kept coming. They always did. Except this time, there were new parts of you reacting to what you were experiencing, and those reactions stood in direct proportion to the severity of the memories.    The last time you’d fallen into this pit of despair it had made you curl into a foetal position on your boyfriend’s lap. Now, it flooded the room with your shield, hopelessly trying to protect yourself against the past.

   It was so powerful it sent the bed careening into the opposite wall, forcing Marcus to quickly jump on top of it to avoid being crushed by it.    One of the twins was in the room, as always, and she had to duck and take cover under the desk when equipment came flying at her, hard enough to shatter against the walls, or leave big dents in them.

   “Okay, honey, I think you need to take a breath now,” she hurriedly suggested, but you barely even heard her.

   You were trapped by the reality of what had happened to you, and there was no way out. You’d always had to go through the flood to free yourself of it. Trying to avoid it had never worked.    Marcus scrambled off the bed the moment it came to a stop, so he was already on his way to you when Amaire spoke.    Once he reached you, he took your face in his hands and kissed you, softly and lovingly enough that it managed to break through the surge and let you come back to him.

   “Sweetheart are you with me?” he asked, and he sounded so scared for you.

   “Yeah, I’m here…” you managed in between strained breaths, shaking like a leaf while he repositioned his hands to your upper arms, making sure you met his eyes so he could see that you really were back in the room before he pulled you into a hug.

   But he couldn’t see or feel how much of your shield was still floating around you, filling the room with its strange density, and reminding you that you were still guarding yourself, which meant you didn’t feel safe yet.

   “Please, talk to me,” he begged, and he was in tears now, you could hear it in his voice. “Whatever this is, it has so much control over you… It’s never gonna let you go until you talk about it.”

   “I have talked about it. Just not to you,” you returned, verging on tears now yourself. “Not you. I don’t want this to touch you.”

   “But it already is. It hurts you, and therefore it hurts me. You know that,” he persisted, and you knew he was right, but it still felt wrong to put something so awful in his head.

   “Fuck. I hate this…” you cried, so ambiguous about the whole thing, it was making your head hurt.

   Of all the bad days you’d had in the past six months, this one was turning out to be one of the worst, just from the sheer weight of the past. It almost felt like a living thing, doing its damnedest to crush you and everyone you loved, for no other reason than that it could.

   “Let me tell you what the e-mail said,” Marcus kept going, apparently determined not to let this go, “and then you can decide if you wanna elaborate.”

   You thought about it for a minute. There were any number of reasons why Danny would try and contact you, but not one of them would be of any benefit to you. Such a thing simply wasn’t possible.    The main reasons you imagined were either him asking for your forgiveness, or more likely, needing money, neither of which you had any interest in giving him.

   “Fine,” you eventually agreed, not because you wanted to know, but because it dawned on you as you stood there in your partner’s arms, that he was the one who was being hurt worst by all this, and you couldn’t let that continue.

   He pulled back just enough that he could look at you, and he looked so pained it made you wish your family had never existed, just to spare him all this shit.

   “He wanted me to deliver a message to you… from your mother,” he started, and the sudden hatred which flooded your blood was so strong it made you jerk out of his arms and step back, so you wouldn’t accidentally harm him. “She, uh… is hospitalized and dying, and she wants to see you.”

   You froze. For what felt like minutes your body wouldn’t move with the shock you experienced in that moment. But inside, you were boiling.

   “Those sons of bitches… Those motherfucking sons of bitches!” you all but screamed, well and truly done with all of it.

   If your brother was a sore spot on your mind, your mother might as well have been a tumour in your brain.    In your thirty odd years of life, you’d gone through phases of desperately wanting to love her, pitying her, truly hating her, and finally just not able to care anymore. She was the fucking devil, as far as you were concerned, and she had long since lost the right to call herself your family.

   The fact that she would even attempt to reconnect with you after everything she’d done sparked a fury within your heart the likes of which you’d never known.    But it was a dark and horrible rage, bringing out the very worst parts of you, so when the floor, ceiling and walls all buckled as your power crammed even more energy into the room, you didn’t even realize that if you kept going, you could end up killing the people in there with you.

   All you could see, all you could hear were the memories, burning through you like a wildfire being whipped by a gale force wind. And all you wanted was to let it all burn.    Until Marcus’ hands fell heavy onto your shoulders, reminding you of where you were and what was actually happening. But your power didn’t deactivate, because suddenly you needed him to know.

   You’d tried to protect him from this for as long as you’d known him, but now, for the first time, it dawned on you how wrong you’d been. You should’ve told him from the start, not due to any difference it would’ve made to the power the memories had over you, but simply because it was these moments, these horrible moments, which had built you.    And despite all the pain and fear, they hadn’t managed to blacken your heart or turn you cold or uncaring.

   These memories were the ultimate testament to your character, and the man who loved you deserved to know them.

   You weren’t sure how, but experimenting with and manipulating the unknown energy you had access to, you managed to bring colour and texture into the unseen atmosphere of the room. As if merely a thin veil sat between your power and the air around you.    And like a stroke of magic, the images inside your eyes were suddenly playing out before all eyes present, as though there were a dozen little movie screens in there.

   Marcus let go of you, turning in circles as he tried to understand what he was seeing, as well as keep up with the story as your memories weren’t appearing in a linear order.    Each one played on repeat on its own little screen, but once he’d seen them all, the story came together by itself.    Amaire was still huddled underneath the desk, but you could hear her reactions as she too managed to work out your story.

   --The happiness you’d had in your life while your father had been alive. The wisdom, joy and sense of adventure he’d poured into your soul--

   --The moment you’d found out he’d died--

   --The day you’d buried him and said goodbye to happiness--

   --Your mother’s abuse, starting the day of the funeral and only getting worse as the years passed, blaming both of you for her inability to find a new man because you’d ruined her perfect body--

   --Trying so hard to protect the two-year younger Danny, antagonizing her so she’d focus on you and let him slip away while you took the beatings and the degradation--

   --Remaining loyal to the family when teachers questioned your wounds and bruises. Lying and evading their prodding because you knew she’d only get worse if she felt threatened--  

   --Trying to keep Danny away from the bad kids he started hanging around. The drugs and the guns and the violence, drawing him in with the promise of one day being able to exact revenge--

   --Protecting your mother from Danny once he’d tipped over the edge of what he could take, only to have her turn around and abandon you--

   --Trying to protect yourself from Danny when he started using you as a surrogate for your mother--

   --Calling the cops on him after he almost choked you to death, only to have him scream the same vile and horrible things at you as she had, even as they dragged him away--

   --Crawling over the kitchen floor, reaching the house phone and managing to call an ambulance just before you lost consciousness, after he’d stabbed you eight times in the chest and abdomen and left you for dead--

   --Defending yourself when he’d tried again, and then calling an ambulance for him--

   --Going to see him at the hospital, saying goodbye and then leaving town, walking away from that life for good--

   The images faded away as your strength failed, and just before your legs gave out, Marcus reached you, but sort of fell with you, landing you both in a pile on the floor in the middle of the room.    You were so tired, but you stubbornly stayed awake for him, because you could see a sorrow in his eyes you couldn’t compare to anything you’d ever seen before. He seemed to be holding on to you as much as he was trying to just hold you, while he cried as hard with you as he did for you.

   Over his shoulder, you could see Amaire sitting on the floor, holding onto one of the legs of the desk, as if she’d needed to ground herself while watching the memories.    She was a mother, and your friend, so seeing something like this must’ve rocked her to her core, as it would any decent person. You knew her and her sister well enough to know that theirs had been a loving, safe home, so she could only imagine the pain and fear you’d lived with. But she was also incredibly empathetic, so that imagination could take her quite far.

   All that aside, she was a professional caregiver. She’d seen and experienced a lot, and therefor knew how to compartmentalize when she was on the clock.    So, after a few minutes, when people appeared on the other side of the buckled and broken doors, she got up, wiped the tears away and went back to work.    There was noise and shouting as they worked to get through, but eventually Crushing Low was called in to simply rip the doors down, since they were beyond all hope of salvaging.

   Still, even after they’d gained access to the room again, no one approached you or Marcus, not even any doctors.    You suspected you’d have to thank Amaire for that later, since no one else could’ve convinced both the Medical and Science departments to leave their newest project alone after such a significant event.

   There was no telling how much time had passed when the tears finally started ebbing out and you and Marcus began to let go of one another, finding the room around you empty. It felt like a long time, though, and you were only more drained as a result.    But while you had started feeling better almost immediately after the flood of images had ended, your partner was the one who’d needed time to process, and you’d felt very strongly that you couldn’t have asked him to put his feelings on hold simply because you were tired.

   “I get it. I understand why you didn’t want me to know,” he finally croaked, with a voice made hoarse and raspy after so many tears.

   “Nothing good comes from it. All it’s ever done is taint the way people look at me, with pity or sorrow, making me feel like some broken trinket,” you admitted, and he immediately objected, just like you knew he would.

   “No, you’re not broken. If anything, this proves you’re practically unbreakable…”

   “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, because I realize now that I always knew you’d see it that way. I knew you wouldn’t treat me any different, I just… needed to believe it before I could take the risk.”

   “It’s okay, I understand,” he reassured you, putting a warm hand on your cheek for a moment.

   “I left it behind,” you continued, needing him to hear everything you’d wanted to tell him from the very beginning. “I know it doesn’t seem like it because of how I react to the memories, but I did. Especially after Prince. Because his so-called treatments healed all my scars from those days, helping me to let go of them.    Falling in love with you is what brought these strong reactions to the memories back, but only because of how different I am with you. Because where I used walls and shields to keep everyone out before, you make me want to share everything with you, and that’s really fucking scary at first.”

   “Of course… I can only imagine. You’re so brave to let me come so close to the things that scare you the most.”

   “I’m sorry that I needed you to see it, I know those images will never leave you.”

   “Don’t worry about it, I can take it. So long as I know you’re still with me, there’s nothing you can do to me that I can’t recover from,” he smiled softly, but then something worrisome stole the comforting warmth from his eyes. “I see now why my actions after the prison hurt you so badly.    I left you alone with all that pain and fear… just like she did.”

   “Yeah. But if I’d told you about it sooner, you might’ve acted differently, so let’s not get caught up in blame.    You’ve earned my trust back, and my love was never in question. We made mistakes and we’ve learned from them, all we can do now is move on, right?” you posed, and it brought his smile back.

   “Thank you, Hermosa.”

   You leaned your forehead against his and just sat there for a minute in comfortable silence, absorbing the new understanding you had for each other now.    Until he decided you couldn’t put off the reality of what had brought you to this point, anymore.

   “So, I guess the only thing we have left to sort out, is the e-mail,” he sighed, and you mirrored him.

   “Last I knew, he wasn’t any closer to her than I was, so I don’t know why he’d even care if she really is dying. He was only fifteen when she bailed. Although I suppose it’s possible that the hospital reached out to him.    I changed my name and scrubbed all records of my relation to them, but he never did, so they might’ve been able to track him down. But why he’d agree to do anything on her behalf, I can’t even guess at.”

   You shook your head with equal parts confusion and fatigue, truly starting to feel the drain on your energy reserves now.

   “Maybe in his own way, he’s still looking for her approval,” Marcus suggested, and while it did sound plausible considering the person you were talking about, the places your thoughts went with that idea told you it was time to leave this subject, and not let your screwed-up family steal any more of your energy.

   “You know what? It doesn’t matter. I’m not interested in meeting either of them. I don’t owe them a god damned thing,” you firmly stated, meaning every word.

   “Good,” your partner approved with a little smile. “Then I think we should get some food into you before you pass out, mama bear.”

   “Hey, she hasn’t even growled yet,” you played along, because it was nice to return to some light-hearted banter after so much heaviness.

   “I know, but she will,” he hummed with amusement while getting up from the floor and then pulling you to your feet.

   Which was good, since your legs were so weak they barely held your weight. And just when you started heading for the broken door, as if on cue, your stomach growled, much to Marcus’ delight.

   “Don’t say it,” you cautioned, although without any actual warning in your voice.

   He apparently decided you’d been through enough for one day, and just smiled wider before he kissed you. The kind of kiss which wasn’t long or passionate, but still told you that he’d be there tomorrow, and next week, and next year. No matter how much weird shit or painful drama you threw at him.

[wowbright]

Today was soooo stressful.

There were also moments of non stress.

Went birding with my old people. My friend X is one of the first people I met when I moved out here and spouse refers to him as "yo boy," a recognition of high friendship status in our household. Probably the most outgoing and friendly among the birding crowd around here. He's in his 80s now and started having in the past few years what the doctors diagnosed as seizures. He's on anti-seizure meds and he's losing sight in one of his eyes. He says his memory (mostly in the recall of facts) isn't what it used to be. He wonders if he's getting dementia but that hasn't been diagnosed and I kind of think (not a medical diagnosis) it's more likely to be depression. He's been pretty glum lately, really is not adapting well to the changes in his body and feels very limited by them, it doesn't feel like he can engage in most of his hobbies anymore. He can't drive anymore either because of his vision, his wife taxes him most places. He mostly goes birding for the social aspect, though he does seem to enjoy the easy finds like the larger water birds. (His vision issues make looking through binoculars hit or miss and he has given up on wearing his hearing aids when birding.) He said he recently went into the doctors for a rash, took one of those wellness surveys during the intake, and the first thing the doctor wanted to talk about was not about the rash but whether or not he had any guns in his house. (He doesn't.) He tells me he's not suicidal and doesn't have a suicide plan, but over the past few months he's expressed more than once that maybe he would be okay with dying already. I listen, and then he tells me a terrible birding joke.

He does get excited over the number of songbirds and ducks we see today. I am pretty happy with our sightings too. Canvasbacks!

I run some errands and on the way back in a 40 mile an hour zone with nowhere to pull off, my car starts acting wild. First thing I notice is that the defroster stops working. Then the radio cuts out. That I noticed that the brake light is on, even though the emergency brake is definitely not engaged (I check). I have forgotten where the switch for the hazard light is. The hand on the speedometer is waving wildly between 0 and 40 mph, even though I'm going at a steady speed. I find the hazard light switch, hit it, but nothing happens. I reach an intersection and turn onto a smaller road, but the power steering isn't working so it's a bit of a task, especially when the steering wheel momentarily freezes up completely in the middle of the turn. The car is moving but there's definitely some miscommunications going on between the gas pedal and the engine. I am on a less busy (but still busy) street, my goal is to get down far enough so that somebody turning right around the corner doesn't just hit my car, park in the right lane (there are two lanes in each direction) and turn on the hazards. BUT WAIT THE HAZARDS AREN'T WORKING. So I just keep going and hope I can pull into the next side street. I reach a side street, pull sideways into it. The side street goes uphill and the car does not have enough power to make a complete right turn or to go up that hill, so basically I am parked across one of the lanes. Fortunately it is a dead end street into a shishi residential neighborhood, and it's the middle of the day, so no one is trying to go in or out of it. Call my spouse who doesn't answer, call again, no answer, police officer stops and wants to help push the car to a safer place but that's a no-go. She also mentions that I probably should not sit in the car in case it gets sideswiped. (Oh yeah whoops.) Tow truck shows up after about 10 minutes, and it turns out that this really was a good street to pull into, because I only see one vehicle going in or out the entire time I'm waiting, and it has no issues going around my car.

Well, survived that! The car is back at the apartment along with the groceries that were in the trunk, but it's not going to run until we get it towed *again* to the repair place.

If only the alternator (we're assuming that's the problem) had waited two more months to crap out, because we'll be living in the city by then and could feasibly just not have a car at all. That won't work in the meantime though. Sigh.

[scaewolf]

M.A.L.E.U. - Characters Pt.1

------

(I put all of this together within 15 hours Lord have Mercy)

Name: Gene Miles | (He/Him) Asexual,Panromantic

Age: 25

Race: Monan'

Magic Focus: Temperature Magic, preferred higher temperatures | 6th Sense (lifeforce detection)

Summary: Gene is the Leader of Unit 5A, with His Teams focus on Tracking down and First contact with Targets.

With 19 He was involved in a Freak accident that Destroyed His right Body half. Part of His Body is now supported by an Endo-Skeleton, which Supports His movements and General physical Stability.

He Is related with Lucia Miles and engaged with Sidun Martáine.

Personality/Traits: At Work He Is a very disciplined, Task focused leader, known for getting Shit done. In conflicts He can get cruel and stoic If provoked. In His private Life He Is soft spoken, understanding and Loving.

He enjoys Poetry and Apple cakes.

He Is very Spiritual and Nature Loving.

Important fact(s): Due to His 6th Sense, that cannot be suppressed without Meds, He struggles with Insomnia, exhaustion, restlessness. Due to the 6th Sense and His Endo-Skeleton in Combination Staying in one Position gets painful very fast for him. So you will never See Him sit still.

Name: Lucia Miles | (She/her) Demisexual, Aromantic

Age: appearance ~ 18, actual age 28

Race: Monan'

Magic Focus: Temperature Magic, prefers Heat | foreign Body Manipulation (aka controlling others via reducing their senses or causing physical exhaustment)

Summary: Lucia Miles is the Leader of Unit 5B, with her Teams focus on Observation and de-escalation, aswell as emergency Backup.

Due to some Experiments in her past she struggles with her Skill of absorbing the lifeforce of recently deceased people. That causes her personality to fracture. She slowly looses Touch with reality with every human fragment her Soul adopts.

After the Death of a teammate she gets into necromantic experimentation herself.

Personality/Traits: Lucia is completely Emotion based. She can get hot headed and emotional on a Wink but Manages to keep outbursts under Control while she is at Work. In private Life she is lonely and melancholic. She is forced to enjoy her own company, which Is No good company.

She Likes fancy Dresses and prefers hot environments.

She loves fire works and would Love to visit a desert one day.

Due to her fracturing personality she Is very labil and Tends to get into hyperfixations to keep herself rooted.

Important fact(s): Due to her ability to attract the lifeforce of Others, it Takes a Long Time for her to feel physical exhaustion. She can use her magical abilities for a Long Time before she runs Out too.

That comes of the Cost of her sanity tho, since she Not only Takes in the lifeforce of Others but she also partially adopts Memories and emotions attached to It.

Name: Sidun Martáine | (He/Him) Homosexual, homoromantic

Age: 24

Race: Human

Magic Focus: -

Summary: Sidun is an orphan. When He Had to leave the orphanage with 15 He soon involves himself in the Korean Mafia, the "Bonghwang". In one of their Safe Houses He found His passion for cooking.

With 18 He Lands himself in prison for a few months. After He gets released He meets Gene who Turns His Life upside down.

After cutting the ties to the Mafia, Sidun Takes on an apprenticeship as a Chef and finished This with Bravour. He now works in a Common Restaurant.

He Is engaged with Gene for a few months now.

Personality/Traits: He Is a very silent Person and hates to be the Center of Attention. Sidun only speaks Few words, If at all, with persons that are Not closely related with him. He rarely shows his emotions and keeps to himself.

In private, especially with His Partner, He Is very Loving. Acts of service being His Love language. He can also become very protective and Dangerous If His friends and Family are in danger.

Thus He can also Channel a cruel personality.

He loves Cats (especially Strays) and appreciates good food and new recipes.

He dislikes the food Made by Gene very much. And goes so far as to ban him from His kitchen.

Important fact(s): Even though He settled on the domestic Life, He wouldn't hestitate to get Back into criminal Activities for the Sake of His Family. Or for Revenge.

Due to being convicted He Is banned from owning pets and moving in with other people for 5 years. (There are also other Rules but those affect him The Most)

Name: Blaiden Miles | (She/They/He) Bisexual, Biromantic (both sapphic leaning)

Age: 30

Race: Monan'

Magic Focus: own body Manipulation (aka physical enhancement for strenght, dexterity and The 5 senses

Summary: Blaiden Miles is the new identity Lucia Takes on after her mental breakdown. After she got cured of the disease that caused her to loose Touch with reality, she fled to overseas to escape her path.

Making new Friends she slowly builds a new identity, until she is ready to Go Back Home and face her past.

Personality/Traits:

Blaiden is very extroverted. Easily finding Friends that align with her dark humor. Due to a Lot of mixed Memories she often confuses Things and she can come Off as clumsy in her daily Life.

At Work she is very focused and calculating, But still Cares a Lot about her teammates. Always Putting their Wellbeing upon the Mission.

She loves learning new Things, especially about languages and technology.

Important fact(s): Blaiden still has a deep rooted Love for Lucias Family, But she does Not think that she is allowed to Claim this Family as her own. Even though It's the Same Body, she thinks that the "original" Lucia is Long gone. Thus the Name Change.

Name: Kristan Crockett | (He/Him) Bisexual/Biromantic

Age: 22

Race: Monan'

Magic Focus: Body Manipulation (foreign (5 Sense Block) aswell as own (Focus on strenght)

Summary: He Is Part of Unit 5B and works under Lucia Miles. Kristan grew Up in a rich Family with a Lot of influence and He Always Had a Drive to Change Something in the World. To have some Kind of Impact.

While working with Unit 5 He finds Friends and gains a new Outlook on Life due to the diverse Background of His teammates.

Unbeknownst to Them, he is involved with the Terror Organisation they are supposed to Work against.

Personality/Traits: Kristan is a very Open Person. Often joking around with His friends, and making Smoking Buddies. He loves to Talk about philosophical topics and enjoys debates.

He Is also careful to Not Overshare and keeps His Family Business To himself.

He loves Traditions and knows a Lot about History. Always Sharing little funfacts about Monan' Tempels the Team Visits.

Important fact(s): Kristan was the Organisator behind one of the recent terrorist Attacks and helped some of the attackers to flee while He was on duty.

He still respects the Team even If they are working against His cause, so It Takes a while for him to execute His plan on openly betraying them.

Name: Lillian Eavs | (She/They) Demisexual/Demiromantic

Age: 18

Race: Monan'

Magic Focus: Own Body Manipulation (Focus on Dexterity and Speed) | self healing

Summary: Lilly has been living in the country for the past 8 years and grew Up with the growing influence of the M.A.L.E.U. Units. With a Drive to also become a powerful protector, she signs Up with 16 and gets through Basic training with her Goal to Join Unit 5.

Just for her to Miss the group and getting assigned to Unit 8 instead.

She still tries to befriend the group and gives Them Hints about her theory of a necromancer on the run.

As soon as her theory proves to be right, she becomes a Honorary member of the Team and joins in on their efforts to end the Corpse snatcher.

Personality/Traits: Lilly is very outgoing and cheerful. She is a very "half Glass full" Person and Always tries to be optimistic. She is curious and loves to get involved with everything she can get her hands on.

She even Manages to Take on Lucia alone for a while.

At Work she can be distracted easily, but she Manages to pull together in critical Situations.

She loves everything sweet and cute. She Also enjoys trying Out new Things in her daily Life at Random. (Like food, new Hobbies, spontaneous travels,...)

Important fact(s): She is the First one to get behind Lucias descend into Madness and volumteers to Take the rage upon herself so her Family and friends do Not get Trapped in the ensuing fire Exchange.

[lupismaris]

It's the final day of my 20s and I found myself answering, as expected, the question "how's it feel?" rather a lot, asked most by my older colleagues, especially when they realized this is technically a big milestone birthday

The trouble is it's not a milestone birthday for me in the same sense.

24 was a milestone, it was supposed to be a diagnosis, an omen, the tidings of the end.

25 was a milestone, the final bell, last call, the closing of the doors. I can remember standing in a freezing Times Square at midnight while bf ordered our pizza waiting for an act of god, hoping it would sound as loving as a bartender calling out the last round of the night or a mother switching on the porch light for wandering kids to come home.

26-29 weren't milestones so much as baffling confusing years left to my own devices waiting for the cosmic powers that be to realize they'd miscounted and the hunt would snatch me up at some point or another to set the scales right. Somewhere along the way I stopped thinking that and started thinking instead that I might as well make use of whatever time I'd manage to steal before someone notices. Then it shifted to "how does one build a life out of borrowed time, especially when life after 25 never existed as a possibility?"

Now 30 comes, and I'm being asked on the last day of my 20s, how I'm feeling, by people who were terrified of aging, terrified of losing that chapter of their lives, and I told them honestly, as un-depressingly as possible, that 30 feels a bit like coming up for air. I never thought I'd see it, but here it is and I'm waiting to breathe deep.

I swim a lot, whenever I can, the colder the water the better, and there's a moment when you've pushed too hard and held on too long and you see the surface above you with the light cresting and shimmering in the dark as your muscles seize and your lungs shudder under your ribs and you push for those last few inches until you break through for air, gasping, wrenching breathes without grace or dignity, reborn each time, raw and desperate and violently alive- only to do it again a few minutes later, joyfully.

That's what this feels like.

There's no running away this year, no fleeing as far from this makeshift home as possible. There's no self deprecation or deprivation or spreading ourselves too thin. Hell, I have a shrink appointment in twenty minutes, I'm asking for med refills and sleeping meds finally after fighting it for years. I have an ultrasound a week after Christmas. Nothing changes really. But I'm surrounded by people who showed up when I offered a place to come and be together, offered a meal and a bit of love. I have you all here in the void. I have enough to keep the cats fed and medication in the cabinet and food on the table. I have partners who love me even with the distance. Despite it all I'm happy, I think for the first time I am happy, debt, illness and all.

Here's to 30.

Here's to you, to me, to coming up for air.

And here's to the queers who can't envision life past 16, 18, 21, 25- we build our own lives. Sometimes it's entirely out of scraps. It will never look quite like you picture it. But there will hopefully come a moment, be it soft and subtle or a jazz band chorus, when you realize you are loved and the world lies at your feet. The smallest step makes it possible, even just waking up tomorrow counts.

I love you all so very much. Thank you for sticking with me the last decade 💕

Here's to 30 🥂

All my love xxoo

James Maren

[zionchubby14]

I wasn't sure if I was going to make a post about this, but this is something I feel like I need to do, especially for those who know and care about me (I know, people care on here? That's crazy.). I'm definitely going to struggle typing this all out, but...here it goes.

_____

So over the past month (and quite possibly earlier), Mom has been dealing some abdominal pain that radiates to her back. The pain would be so bad that it would cause her to throw up at times. She barely ate and slept while this was going on. On January 6th, things finally came to a head and we made the call to take her to the hospital.

When she first came in, she was diagnosed as suffering from pancreatitis (for those who don't know, it's inflammation of the pancreas that, if left untreated, can cause a high amount of pain and nausea to the person. There's two types of pancreatitis: acute, which is very treatable and will go away after a while, and chronic, which will last a lot longer and hurt more). They were able to treat her and she felt better for a while, discharging her after 3 days. When they released her, they wanted her to get a endoscopy test done up at a hospital in Royal Oak. With neither Mom or I having a car, this was difficult for us to do. But we would come to know why soon enough.

Mom came home and for a day or two, she seemed fine. She ate well and was able to sleep soundly, which I thought was the important thing. But the pain and nausea eventually came back with a vengeance We tried every the hospital doctors had told us: heating pads, soft to liquid diet, pain patches. Nothing was working. Her primary care doctor even had her go on some antibiotics and a stronger pain med than she had, but nothing seemed to help matters. We took her back to the hospital this past Saturday, January 20th.

When we initially got there, after they had done a CT scan on Mom, they said that the pancreatitis was gone. But what was left was a mass on her pancreas. Scared and unsure as to what it may be, they admitted her and has been in the hospital since. On Tuesday, they took her to the University of Toledo Medical Center for the endoscopy and see what the mass might be. They did the scope and drew fluid from the mass for testing.

On Wednesday, we get the news that it is cancer. More precisely, metastatic pancreatic adenocarcinoma. In layman's terms, it's Stage IV pancreatic cancer, not curable.

I could not believe it...

We don't really know how long she may have left, but the rough and harsh estimate is less than 6 months...

Needless to say, I broke down, not in front of Mom or my brothers (who have been with Mom and I throughout this whole thing).

I can't imagine being here on Earth without Mom and I'm somehow going to have to figure out how to...I panicked and wanted to run away...a moment of weakness...

I don't know what will happen between now and the inevitable day, but we all agreed that we're going to try and make the most out of the days she does have left. I know that there will be bad days ahead, and there'll be good days as well.

But it's tough, knowing that the last few years I've been taking care of her (and complaining about her behavior, which is making me feel guilty about, now that this is happening) and it's going to come to an end.

_____

I know this isn't the greatest of things to post on here, but I needed some therapeutic way to get some of the emotions I am feeling right now out and to inform you all of what has been going on. I thank you all for the thoughts and positive vibes before and coming in the future. It's going to be a rough time ahead and I hope you will all bear with me in the meantime.

I love you all.

[zeggyzone]

michaelangelo / david (to carve you out the dark)

chamber/cypher (valorant) tags: mentioned deadeye | omega chamber, name changes, unreliable narrator (only for a bit!), domestic, home, comfort, references to depression, bathing/washing, non-sexual Intimacy, implied sexual content, not beta read, cyphber week 2024

synopsis:

synopsis: after crossing paths with deadeye, cypher avoids the outside world like the plague. chamber wants his lover back. day 1: domestic / "home" / comfort | mini-fic for cyphberweek on twitter!

sfw. 2.3k words.

Cypher seemed to be fine after the whole Omega incident. Amir was not.

His room, normally bleak, has accumulated a stench– a putrid mixture of cigarettes and cherry brandy–, the plates and cups are stacking, and the only thing kept somewhat clean would be his desk.

An ashtray sits to the left of his keyboard, clicking and clacking away at hours God does not consider. Cypher doesn’t even think God would be interested in what he has to offer; a sad, forty-one-year-old man's antics were probably the last thing on his mind; that’s at least what he thought.

The man sits at his desk, typing another wellness journal that Ling Ying had advised him to keep logs of during his episodes– especially after what happened a week ago. His fingers move hastily– typo after typo weaves its way into his review and he wants to claw his eyes out.

He hasn’t removed his mask in days– unless you count the occasional lift of the bottom to get to the bottom of a bottle or the end of a cigarette. Few people have checked on him. Ling Ying knocks on his door every once in a while. Han periodically brings him a plate of warm food. Hazal asked if he needed anything, to which he ignored.

However, Vincent hadn’t talked to him since the briefing.

Cypher believed that to stay the same until he ran out of painkillers, and decided he’d finally have to leave his room. Of course, he could just page Ling Ying for more, but she’d keep it on a specific dosage, and Cypher was not about to run out in a few days time. It’s not like he’d abuse the prescription– no, why would he do that?

So, he slides open the door, and he sees Vincent right outside his door, adjusting his cuff while his fist is up to knock on the metal.

Cypher’s existence is dreadful. Vincent’s is picture-perfect. Cypher feels like a child looking at him. Vincent doesn’t look at him with disgust. It’s more concern.

It’s silent. Staring. Burning.

Cypher tries brushing past his presence, “Excuse me,”

“Amir,” Vincent’s eyebrows furrow, turning in the direction he tries walking off to, reaching out his hand to grab the shorter man (not by a lot, Cypher wants to mention), from the back of his coat, forcefully hauling him back to the doorway. 

“Ow.” Cypher fusses, swatting Vincent’s hand away, turning on his shoulder to look at him. The top shutters on his eyes are angled downwards— angry. Vincent almost laughs. He was like an angry little cat. He bites back his laughter with rising concern.

“You haven’t come out in days.” Vincent begins, fixing his cuff once more, rolling his wrist. “I knock, you don’t answer—“

“You haven’t knocked,” Cypher squints, a small hiccup accentuating his already sluggish words, “You haven’t even paged me—“

“I have knocked, Amir— supposedly only when you were either so drunk you couldn’t hear a simple tap or asleep.” Vincent snaps back, arms moving to highlight the importance of his words as if they didn’t already jab at Cypher enough.

He stays silent. Vincent opens his mouth.

“… thank God I found you before you went off and did something stupid.” 

“Stupid?” Cypher retorts.

Vincent crosses his arms. “Well? What were you going to do?”

Cypher can’t just say he was going to get a bottle of painkillers from the medbay and expect Vincent not to think he was reaching to abuse it.

“Pain meds.” But he says it anyway.

“I think you’re in pain because you aren’t taking care of yourself.” Vincent rolls his eyes, one hand reaching over to push down Cypher’s hat. He flinches. The hand quickly retracts.

“… perhaps I’m too hard on you,” Vincent adds, pliantly tucking his hands into his back pockets. Amir’s shoulders untense at that movement.

“What are you going to do about it, anyway?” Cypher exhales through his nose.

“I’ll make you a meal—“

“You’ll use far too much butter—“

“— and wash the cigarette ash out of your mangy beard. But since you want to be a pain—“

Cypher rolls his eyes behind his mask, “It was a joke,”

Vincent sighs a laugh, “I know, mon coeur.” He says, passing Cypher, looking back expectantly, “You forget that I know how to banter.”

Cypher shakes his head, following Vincent without a second thought.

Their relationship was nothing friendly. Cypher hardly considered Vincent a friend. Their relationship just had benefits, is all— whatever that relationship may be. Vincent often cooked for him after their scenes; after long weeks; especially after a rough day. They hadn’t gotten together since the incident. This would be the first time.

His thoughts lead him to the kitchen with Vincent, sitting at the island while he waits for whatever buttery meal his lover (a work-in-progress title for Vincent; even Cypher doesn’t know what to call him) has prepared for him. His shoulders droop, feigning slumber. Vincent cracks two eggs into a bowl and walks over to the island to wash his hands. Cypher looks up.

“We haven’t talked since the … uh, comment dit-on, the … incident,” He exhales, drying his hands on his apron before returning to the counter, where he beats the eggs in the bowl before dipping two pieces of bread into the liquid.

Cypher clicks his tongue, “Brimstone called your strike team ‘SHATTER-02’, which I thought was incredibly unoriginal—“

“Besides the point, Amir—“ Vincent sighs, “I understand that things get bad for you, but this is terrible. You live in filth and you reek of drugs.”

He doesn’t stop there, “What happened to you was terrible. I agree. I’m here to help you come back from it.”

Especially because it was Him who did it to you, he wants to add.

Cypher rests his chin in his palm, looking at Vincent cook. Deadeye.

He shakes his head.

“Have your wounds gotten infected? Anything I should be aware of?” Vincent asks, picking up the soggy bread and putting it in a pan on the stove.

“No infections. It just hurts.” Cypher complains, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

“I’ll get you a medically recommended dose and we’ll clean you up, oui? Is that of interest to you?” Vincent asks, brow raised.

Cypher tilts his head, “Will we share your fancy cigarettes?”

“No.” Vincent squashes his expectations— probably for the best. He imagines his double used the same brand. Even though Cypher smoked them with no problem, he didn’t want to remind him of that. At least… not while he was here.

“Luxuries aside… it sounds fine,” Amir says, getting up and walking around the island to stand next to Vincent and watch him cook. He hands the spatula over, and Amir begrudgingly takes it, pushing the toast into the pan to hear the small sizzle before he flips it.

It’s quiet from then on out. Amir flips the other buttered piece of toast and hands the firstly finished French toast to Vincent, who shakes some cinnamon on the top. He finishes it off with some syrup. He does the same for the next piece of toast.

Amir watches. Vincent empties his left hand and puts his thumb through the back belt loop of Amir’s coat. He rubs— so gently.

It is removed seconds later.

Cypher exhales, previously holding his breath. Amir’s face swells up. Comfort? Contentedness? He inhales.

He’s probably hung over. That is a good explanation.

Before he knows it, the apron is off and Vincent plates the dish, gently patting Amir on the shoulder, beckoning him over to the hallway once again. Amir grabs two water bottles from the fridge before retreating with his lover.

Because he’s had a long week. And that’s it.

The trip is short, and they make it to Vincent’s bedroom now. It’s neat, a bit rough around the edges here and there, yes, but it’s in a much better state than Amir’s. His LED screen is powered on, displaying Toulouse, Paris; home to France’s Aeronautics industry– Vincent’s hometown, from what Cypher gathered.

His bed is the same as always. Navy blue sheets, an abstract comforter, and gold satin pillowcases that he had spent far too much money on, and intended to use them until they frayed. When Amir found that out, he laughed in his face.

“I’ll help you wash up, yes?” He repeats, standing in front of Amir and gently placing his hand atop his hat, looking down at him. Amir scoffs out an affirmation, pushing away Vincent’s hand. He dares not to make eye contact again. He doesn’t know who he’ll see.

“We can do it the same way we always do,” Vincent says, voice gentle and sweet.

Amir missed it.

“Can I take this off?” He asks, hand rounding the top of Cypher’s hat. He nods.

Vincent removes the hat, walking over to put it down on his bed. “Go inside and call me when you’re ready. Take your food too.”

“What, will you feed me as you bathe me?”

Vincent titters. “That was the plan, yes. Maybe I didn’t think this through.”

“But of course,” Amir jests, “you never do.”

Vincent shoos him off.

French toastless, he walks over to his drawer, carefully taking out a long pair of shorts he wore to sleep, replacing his outfit with simply that and the undergarments he was wearing. He strips off his vest and dress shirt, folding them neatly on the bed for later use.

He hears two knocks from inside the bathroom, and he knows Amir is ready.

Vincent slides the door open, quick to turn off the lights and shut the door. He knows the routine all too well. Turn off the lights.

Shut the door.

Climb behind Amir.

Vincent crosses his legs behind his lover, craning himself to align his nose with Amir’s neck, breathing him in. He laughs– he smells terrible.

“We said no kisses, Vincent.”

“That wasn’t a kiss,” a graze of his lips, “nor that.”

His lips graze behind Amir’s left shoulder, and Vincent’s nose rests just above his trapezius, leaving peppered kisses along the backside. Amir leans his head back, “You never listen.”

“Guilty as charged,” Vincent smiles against his skin. Amir gently taps his nose with the showerhead, and Vincent happily takes it, pulling the faucet knob. The shower roars to life, and cold water hits Amir’s leg, making him flinch. Vincent chuckles, adjusting the temperature to a tolerable warm.

“I’ll wash your body first,” he says, “then we’ll get to your crusty beard.”

He rubs at Amir’s stubble. Amir pulls his hand away with the same laugh bubbling in his throat.

Vincent takes an exfoliating loofah, from his shelving (when you shower in the dark, you tend to memorize where specific things need to be) and applies body wash to it, lathering in his hands before scrubbing at Amir’s back, gentle and soft in circular movements.

Amir could fall asleep, just as he almost did many times before.

The loofah makes its way down Amir’s arms. Vincent gets to his chest and memorizes where the stab wound from the previous week resided (just below his left clavicle) and avoids it, tenderly rubbing around the sides of it to avoid any discomfort on Amir’s end, even if he’d tell him if he was.

“Neck,” Vincent mumbles. Amir hums and tilts his head up so Vincent can reach. “Can you do your legs?”

“I don’t know…”

“My goodness, mon coeur.”

A laugh, cigarette befouled, “I can.”

The exchange is swift, and Vincent softly tucks Amir’s hair back to wet. “Is this okay?”

Amir stays still. An exhale.

“Just be careful.”

Vincent nods, pressing a kiss behind his ear, “Okay.”

Once Amir’s hair is completely dampened, Vincent puts down the showerhead and puts a generous amount of his expensive shampoo in his hand, carefully lathering it into Amir’s strands. He does it slowly, careful for any injury there.

“I’m done with the loofa,” Amir mutters, picking up the showerhead and rinsing off the rest of the soap from his body and the sponge.

“I can take it,” Vincent responds, taking it from the older man and placing it back on its respective shelf. He returns to massaging the soap into Amir’s head, using his fingernails to drag the grime out. “I must buy you curl product.”

“No need.” Amir responds, “They will flatten anyway.”

“At least then you’d have something to take care of,” Vincent argues lightheartedly, “allow me? Please? Just this once, mon amour?”

He knows Amir loves it when he calls him that. “Fine,” Amir sighs, “only because I know you will do it anyway.”

Vincent laughs, “Because I never listen.”

“Precisely.”

The showerhead is exchanged with a gentle tap of the shoulder, and Vincent washes the soap out of his lover’s hair, angling it so it won’t get in his eyes. He wrings it shortly after, pulling the conditioner bottle from the shelving.

“Can I wash your face for you?” Vincent asks, “While the conditioner seeps in?”

“Don’t you always do that?” Amir asks, tilting his head towards Vincent just a bit– at least, that’s what Vincent thinks with how his head moves while he rubs in the conditioner.

“Yes, but I feel as if I should ask this time around,” Vincent says, voice small.

Amir tenses.

“You may.”

Vincent rinses his hands, pulling his facewash into his hands and arranging a careful amount. Amir turns to face him. His clean hand reaches out to feel Amir’s face– every cavern, every dip, every sag of skin, and every wrinkle, carving him out of the dark like Michaelangelo to David, bringing him to life with each etch. He can imagine him in his wake. What would he do for those lights to suddenly turn on?

Nothing.

He is content with this. He is content with his Amir.

He will bathe him in the dark for years if it means he’ll get to keep him.

For whatever man he might see, he will still be his Amir.

He feels a smile on the other man's face as the other hand comes to wash.

Son Amir.

His Amir.

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