#my head hurts from the prescription change

[raeathnos]

.

[tarraxahum-ish]

one would think I'd be glad to be potentially offered my old job back in the midst of a crisis and having absolutely no job perspectives

but I've been crying (I'd say full on whailing) and trying very hard not to throw up for 6,5 hours now

and I'd very much like my fucking body/psyche/nerves/whoever the fuck is doing this TO STOP

[koqabear]

hiii this is for the 2k event, i wanted to ask if u write hybrid!au cause yeonjun dressing up as nick wilde has got me feeling a little delusional. if u don’t completely ignore this but if u do, can i request fox yj and maybe bunny reader?

[2K Masterlist]

"Yeonjun is adamant that you’re a pretty, porcelain doll. You’re more than ready to shatter that idea and show him that you’re stronger than he thinks."

fox hybrid! yeonjun x bunny hybrid! reader // wc: 1.9K // genre: hybrid au, pwp. this is just straight filth im sorry. MDNI.

warnings dom!yeonjun, sub!mc, somnophilia (consensual), oral (f rec.) pet names (bunny, good girl), degrading, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, degrading, kitchen sex, manhandling, dacryphilia, begging, scratching, possessiveness, unprotected sex, breeding kink, creampies, aftercare kinda, girl idk i literally just dissociated when i wrote this i forget how exhausting this all is!!

Notes: the healthcare system is fucked even in fanfiction, you can’t escape. 

Every decision you’ve made throughout your relationship with Yeonjun has led to where you are now:

Face down, ass up, tears in your eyes and words muddled through the drool that spills through your lips. 

You’ve told him countless times that you’re not fragile; that the sweet, docile image he has of bunny hybrids is nothing but a sham, and that you can take anything he offers with a confident stride— and though he simply laughed in endearment and shook his head at your claims, you insisted. You insisted throughout all the sugary sweet times he made love to you, during all the moments where you felt his hands hesitate to hold you, as though he was afraid that putting pressure on your body would be enough to make you shatter. 

The words were tiring to both his and your ears at some point: the petulant whines asking for more, your pathetic attempts to try and take control and change the pace entirely— Yeonjun’s sharp, narrowed eyes that flickered at you in warning was the harshest thing you received from him— but judging by the shivers that flowed down your spine like water, your fluffy tail twitching in attention, you knew that your body only craved for more and your brain wouldn’t settle down until you got your way.

You could say that he warned you. He really did, technically, sitting you down for a serious talk about something you two never really discussed in detail. You watched with wide, slightly confused eyes as he explained to you that his heat was approaching, and that you definitely shouldn’t be around for it— when you perked up to interrupt, he merely shook his head to shut you down and continue his explanation. 

“I usually take medication, but my insurance no longer covers my usual prescription.” he told you, his ginger ears twitching in annoyance from the mere memory, “I’m taking a leave from work for it, and… I want to spend this time alone.”

“It gets intense… I don’t want to hurt you.”

A bruised ego and terribly confrontational personality was truly a god awful combination. Though you suppose it helped you for the better, considering that after a good argument with your ever-so loving and doting boyfriend, he finally gave up. 

You can remember the sight so vividly; his ruffled hair, the fluffy tail that whipped from side to side as he finally slumped back against the couch, out of breath and exhausted— his ears pinned against his head in defeat the moment he took a good look at you, in all your still fired up and energetic glory. 

He knew it was a losing battle the moment you cocked a challenging brow at him, as though begging for him to continue.

The word okay has never sounded better from your boyfriend's mouth. 

••••

That all leads you back to today. It’s been— oh, you really can’t remember. A day? Maybe two? You don’t think it matters at this point, since the only thing that fills your mind now is the feeling of being full, stuffed, and warm. 

Yeonjun gave you a chance to back out the second he opened the door for you. He spoke to you calmly, softly, nervously, watching you hop around his living room and throw your overnight bag on his couch, overjoyed to be taking such a monumental step forward in your relationship. You dismissed every slow, anxious sway of his tail as you ate dinner together, listening intently as he told you about how he’s gotten with his previous partners. 

It was too much for many of them. He gets aggressive. He gets insanely needy, it goes on for hours, even throughout the night. 

You prayed that he didn’t notice the pathetic clench of your thighs and slight arousal as he told you about his details, nodding sweetly when he asked if you were okay with doing the things he mentioned. 

You established a safeword, coddled him the moment you noticed his temperature beginning to rise, and gave him a gentle kiss on the forehead as you murmured your goodnights. 

About six hours passed when you first felt it; you’ve always been a light sleeper, so you were doomed the second your sensitive ears picked up on the sound of restless rustling behind you. You tried your best to ignore it, your drowsy mind eager to go back to sleep, but the white noise of sheets moving around was quickly accompanied by something else— breathy, desperate gasps.

“Bunny…” Yeonjun’s raspy whine was enough to have your ear twitching slightly; more rustling, and suddenly, a scorching heat hovers behind you. “Bunny, need… need you s’bad…”

His hands are heavy on your skin, almost scorching with the way he restlessly makes his way up your shirt, groping at your tits before they slide down your stomach, feeling you up all the way down before they stop at your thighs— without warning, he presses flat against you, a hand snaking beneath your body to wrap around your stomach and pull you flush into him. He was so hard, so needy that the very feeling of your soft ass pressing against him was enough to rip out a broken sob from him.

“Let me fuck you,” he murmured against the shell of your ear, words that slurred together showing that he was also half-awake, probably not too aware of his actions and the way he rutted into you helplessly, “C’mon bunny, lemme use you.” 

Your ass that pressed back into him and the sleepy whine that left you was enough for him.

You can only remember drifting in and out of consciousness that night; the sloppy, wet sounds of skin against skin and desperate grunts was nothing but white noise to you at that point— Yeonjun was glued to you for hours on end, fat cock thrusting harshly into your poor, abused cunt, filled with so much cum that it could only smear onto your inner thighs and his balls, leaving a mess you wouldn’t be able to clean anytime soon. 

When you woke up, you were on your back— your pussy was sore and a whine bubbled up uncontrollably from your throat, hips canting up and against Yeonjun’s face— your hands were shaky as you fisted the sheets, tears pricking your eyes as you listened to Yeonjun’s sweet nothings against your skin, leaving bites and kisses against your thighs as he promised you that he’d be quick, that he just needed to eat your sweet cunt— you’d get cleaned up nicely after. 

Yeonjun was a liar, of course��� because none of his sweet promises included his burning desire to fuck you after you came, cleaning you up only to push his cock back in and fuck you right into the mattress; legs pressed against your stomach, wails leaving you as he plunged into you with abandon, frantic hands scratching down his back as you cried from the overstimulation— it only ended with him pressing deeply into you and emptying yet another load into your tired cunt. 

The semblance of normalcy that followed after didn’t last very long, either— yeah, getting carried to the shower and having him clean you up and scrub you down was nice, and sitting at the counter as you watched him make a quick breakfast was nice too, a heartwarming glimpse into a domestic future with him— but you were only able to get halfway through your meal before Yeonjun decided that he’d much rather bend you over the kitchen counter and have you there instead— moaning wantonly as he watched your trembling legs fail to keep up, buckling under his pace and forcing him to hold you up with his insane strength— and just when you thought he was getting tired, he simply flipped you on your back and laid you on the counter instead; he always did think you looked really pretty when you were totally fucked out, anyway. 

Maybe that’s when hours started blending together— he was sweet and caring when he needed to be, cleaning you up with a feather-like touch and kisses that warmed your heart— only to give you the whiplash of the century when his pupils dilated and the only thing he honed in on was you. 

You. You you you. 

His ears would press against his head and his tail would flicker dangerously, narrowed, focused eyes meeting your bleary ones with ease; you could only sit there and let him maneuver you however he liked, shivering and falling limp with each time he’d slide his cock into you, as though you finally felt complete. 

You looked so breathtaking to him— under him, over him, whatever position he suddenly found himself needing you in— teary eyes and swollen lips calling his name like a mantra, a prayer, a plea for him to use your body until he got his fill.

There was something so addicting about the way you trembled from the overstimulation, sobbing and writhing yet never saying your safe word. It had Yeonjun fascinated, the guilty part of his mind berating him for trying to see how far he could take things— yet, no matter what he did or what he said, you only seemed to beg for more, like you’d been waiting for this moment for ages.

“Take it, T-take it like a good toy,” Yeonjun hissed, fingers digging into your hips as his cock battered into you ruthlessly. You merely cried and moaned, cotton tail wiggling with every drag against your walls, the soft fur coated with dried cum, “said you could handle it, right? Stupid fucking bunny— nothing but a cumdump for me, hmm?”

Your squeals and chants of yes! Yes yes yes! only spur Yeonjun on even more— his body feels as though it’s on fire, bright hair sticking to his sweaty skin as he merely pushes himself further— you can practically feel his back hover over your own, able to tell that he’s close from his faltering pace and shaky breaths that fan across your skin. 

“Want me to breed you?” he asks, though there’s no need to ask anymore if the previous loads he’s dumped into you are any indication of your answer. Yet he still does, almost like instinct; it’s much more satisfying to hear you beg for it, anyway. 

And you do— your begging is so cute, how could he ever resist? Yeonjun’s nails might break your skin with how tightly he’s holding you, teeth digging into his pouty lip as he pumps himself into you, once, twice, then empties out everything he has to offer— your back arches and your hips move back to try and glue yourself to him, crying out his name in satisfaction as he fills you for the nth time of the night. 

The way you keen out, the sight of your ears that are pinned to your head along with your tail that shivers with satisfaction is like drugs to him; he’s hopelessly addicted to you, to all of you, from your stuffed cunt that continues to suck him in to your soft voice that whimpers out at every sensation you offer him.

Such a good girl, Yeonjun thinks to himself, butterfly kisses spanning along your sweaty skin, your barely conscious form curling into him for more, how did he get so lucky?

Even after he’s given you a moment to rest, laying down with you on top of him, you still cling onto him, sighing in content as you allow him to cockwarm you, already bracing yourself for the moment he feels himself needing you again. And as you both drift into a much needed nap, Yeonjun can only find himself thinking one thing. 

Thank god for you and your argumentative nature.

[maiko-san]

Catnap + Dogday x Reader (Part 6)

<<< Part 5

Relationship : Fluff

Warning : ⚠️ Mention of blood, mild amnesia ⚠️

Recap : After inhaling the red smoke, you find yourself awake in Catnap's hidden room. For some reason, you don't remember what happened before you got here....

Yet again, you wake up from your slumber. You let out a groan and massage your temple.

Your head is throbbing and your whole body aches for no reason. Probably you slept on the wrong side of the bed— wait.

This is Catnap's room.

You're laying on his large cat bed and you begin to question yourself...

Why are you here?

You remember being in the infirmary after you exhausted yourself with work. But something doesn't feel right and you swore something happened after.

You try to remember what had happened but nothing came up, everything is a blur.

It made you feel frustrated.

A sharp pain in your head makes you jolt as you hisses in pain. You decide to ease yourself from thinking too much.

"Catnap?" you called out for the feline mascot.

Silence.

Where did the cat go?

You look around the room and notice a tray with medicines on them with a few bottles of water.

You pick up the pills and it was the prescription given by the doctor for your headaches.

You didn't think twice and took the pill so it will make your headaches go away.

After that you lay back down on the soft bed, you can return to your office after your headaches goes away.

As much as you want to walk back to your office, you don't want to stumble around like a drunk idiot and hurt yourself.

You close your eyes and rest....

Purr...purr...purr...

You hear soft purring in your ears, you slowly open your eyes and purple fur fills your vision.

You knew who it was and it is Catnap.

Hugging you close to his body with one arm over you as he purrs softly in his sleep. His body is curled around you in a protective manner.

You unconsciously bring your hand up and rub the feline's head, causing his purring to become louder.

"Star..."

Catnap's eyes open as he stares down at you, he shifts a bit to give you some space.

"How....are you...feeling?"

"I feel a little bit better...hmm...I remember being in the infirmary, did you bring me here Catnap?"

"Yes...I brought you here.... the infirmary bed is...bad...and not good for sleeping"

You hum at his response as you continue to pet him, Catnap closes his eyes and accepts the affection he's receiving from you.

You smile at the sight of the purring cat, you quite enjoy petting him and the other SC. They were made to comfort children in the orphanage after all.

You lift yourself off the bed and stretch yourself, "Well, I guess it's time for me to go back to my office!" this caused Catnap to snap out from his purring state.

"You can't!"

This causes you to flinch slightly at his sudden change of tone, "Why?" you questioned the cat.

Catnap froze, why didn't he think this through? He doesn't want you to go back to your office and see the massacre.

Also, the risk of losing you to the other toys is high.

"Everything.... already closed down"

Catnap said. It's entirely true that it's already past closing time. The playcare and the cable car usually shut down after 9:00 p.m. The only people who have access to everything are the night guards.

"What?! It's already past 9:00 p.m.?!"

You were shocked. You've slept that long? Catnap nods as you rub your forehead, guess you have to sleep in for the night huh.

You pucker up your lips before your stomach lets out a loud growl indicating your hunger.

Catnap's ears perk up at the sound as you smile sheepishly, "I haven't eaten since afternoon...I do remember leaving my lunch on my table" you hummed.

"I'll go get it!"

Catnap said as he stands up on all fours. Before you could question him, Catnap jumps up to the hole above leaving you inside the room.

"Huh?! Catnap, wait! Take me with you!"

You called out for him but to no avail. You let out a sigh as you stare up at the entrance on the ceiling. This room is easy to get in but hard to get out.

You have no choice but to wait for Catnap to come back.

You wait...

and...wait...

waiting....

What's taking Catnap so long?

You wish there's a clock in here and you don't have a watch to tell you the time. You assume he was gone for 15 minutes now.

Then, you hear something and it comes from the hole.

"Catnap?"

Something large drops down onto the cat bed, causing you to flinch. It was a blue box with a star on it. It has a crank on its side too. Is it...a music box?

For some reason, you feel the sense of deja vu.

You stare at it for a while, narrowing your eyes at the box.

You just couldn't keep your eyes away from it, if you do something bad would happen.

You and this mysterious box are engaged in a staring competition.

A few minutes pass and nothing happens but that uneasy feeling hasn't left your guts.

Then, the box begins to wind up and plays the well known 'Pop's goes the weasel'

'Get. the. f*ck. outta. there!'

As soon you take a step back, the lid pops and comes out from it, was a monster with razor sharp teeth and claws covered in fresh blood.

By the blessing from the god, you somehow slip and avoid getting eaten by the red headed monster.

"Sh*t!"

That's the only thing you could cry out as you quickly get to your feet and run.

But...where?!

The box monster springs itself towards you like a charging bull, you scream out in fear as you yet again dodge it but it manages to scratch your leg.

You fall on to the ground as you watch your leg bleed, the box monster stalks towards you with hungry eyes.

Your body begin to shakes in fear.

There's no way you can survive this, there is no escape!

As the monster lunges at you, you feel something sharp hooking itself on the back of your shirt and drags you high up.

The box monster was surprised as you are, it let out a frustrated roar as you feel yourself being dragged away by a strange force.

A/n : I know it's a short chapter but I want to leave a cliffhanger.

Also, the Reader had mild amnesia but having it doesn't mean that she forgot her entire identity!

It is only the memories of the previous event were wiped out and she only forgot the event of her being kidnapped and the hour of joy.

But she does remember being in the infirmary, resting.

[jeonsbabygirlsworld]

SUMMARY: Life was easy until you meet the eye candy of your life and the adventure with him is a hell of ride, but there is certain someone who seems to get hurt in this.

PAIRINGS: Gynecologist Jungkook X reader ft. bartender yoongi

WORD COUNT: 1.2K

A/N: lol I see no one wants to get tagged in this when I posted the snippet but anyway the tag list is open, and please guys don't let this flop; [ I worked really hard to get motivated enough and write, and this a series and this the first part.✨smut will be there eventually ✨

Note : this is inspired by a web series and I’m GONNA EDIT IT , I’m not gonna make it a whole ass 3 season containing 10-12 episodes per season and I felt like I could do something with this series. Thankyou

Your surroundings suddenly felt hot, the interns did a great job explaining the project to the clients sitting in front of you. The air conditioner did a shit job of keeping the surroundings but it's just you because you see your other intern rubbing her palms under the table.

The meeting was about to end and just when you were about to get up from the chair to leave the hall, the intern called out your name just so you could brief out the entire thing and thank the clients, grabbing on the metal stick you stand in the place where your intern was speaking.

"I hereby extensively elaborate on the profile success of our company, we all can see the numbers of shares growing quickly, see for yourselves" You point to the whiteboard where the graph was made, your company making progress in these past years.

"We can be a great profit for the leading country, sir, I hope you can see the numbers growing live" You then point to the laptop which has a live count of people buying the shares from the company, in the middle while everyone was focused you undo some of the buttons of your red satin shirt and mutter about the poor air conditioner "why am I so damn hot?"

Just when you were about to continue you see Mr. Jeon sitting on one of the chairs that too naked, just in his Calvin Klein boxers, what the fuck? "Yes Ms. Kim, why are you so damn hot?" Jungkook says he rises from his seat climbs over the desk and walks towards you.

you can see the client in shock and eye him, while he climbs down from the table your doctor "Mr. Jeon" is in front of you, his eight packs abs and muscular biceps all out to see, just when you are registering about his details, he picks up the glass of water on the table and drops it all over the neck and you hiss at the cold feeling.

Jungkook scurries the files away from the table and picks you up so you can sit on the table, your shirt is then unbuttoned by him, and he lays soft kisses and slowly bends you down completely until your back is pressed on the table.

Beep beep beep

A loud beep of your alarm drags you out of the dream and you gasp and sit up "fuck did I just have a wet dream about my doctor?" you mutter and grab your phone to off the alarm, you check the number of notifications you had overnight and stumble upon the "doctor's appointment" reminder.

Gasping for the second time now you scurry away from the bed to get a nice warm shower and head to the mister ever so sexy man your doctor "Jeon Jungkook".

"It's itchy lately, hasn't got better since last week" You talk to the man who is between your legs while you keep trying to not moan while checking your vagina. "You may get dressed now and it looks completely fine, and I can't see any infection" Jungkook says and stands straight and moves to his chair right behind the desk giving you some space so you can change.

closing the blinds and getting dressed you place the hospital gown tidily in the basket and move to his table, you grab on the sanitizer which is on his table pump a few drops on yours and apply it while your doctor writes down the prescription.

You notice the hot features of a sleeve tattoo of his you saw on his Instagram when you stalked him on the first day of meeting him, the depth of his gaze looked enchanting, and the afternoon sunlight complimented his skin tone well while you were busy studying his features a small cough brings you out of the daydream.

"Here miss y/n" The doctor hands you the prescription and you widen your eyes seeing at the statement which had written "bath three times a day" You eye him and check yourself by smelling when he isn't looking, and you smell perfectly fine because you sprayed almost the bottle of the perfume and bathed with the new soap bar you bought recently. Giving him a crooked smile you leave the room embarrassed.

Crumbling the paper you place it in your purse and straight away call your best friends to meet up for a brunch and she gladly accepts.

"No, but like seriously y/n" Chae and Yuna both seem shocked and confused and you appear to be more embarrassed "Yeah, he wrote that in the prescription" You show her the paper Jungkook gave you, and she says he wrote it so that you could maintain a proper hygiene and you buy it and proceed to eat your brunch in the cafe.

"Chae Yuna, you can go ahead I'm staying back so I can spend some time with Yoongi, I haven't been catching up on him." Tell her you give her a hug and a kiss on the cheeks, and you part ways.

You head to the bar where yoongi works as a bartender and you make sure to buy his favorite chocolate on your way, you reach there in less than five minutes and there you see Yoongi arranging the glasses in line just to make them fancier.

"Hey, how are you?" Yoongi is slightly confused to see you in the middle of the day and that too a weekday, you chuckle at him, and you tell him you are fine, and you had to meet a friend and not tell him the details about the meeting with the doctor.

"You up for a drink y/n?" The sweet boy asks you and you gladly accept it, looking here and there you realize he is working alone and his intern who never fails to hit on Chae is missing.

"Is Taehyung not here?" you ask him, and he says he had ditched today just because he had an early date and will be here for the night shift nodding you accept his famous highball, "you want any help? I'm free for the day" you offer him, and he casually refuses, and you become a bit sad, but you play it cool.

Yoongi looks at your features and chuckles and tells you he is just kidding and won't mind your help and he's rather happy you want to help him, before coming back to the other side of the table you hand him the chocolate you bought.

Helping him and chatting for a while you hug him and say goodbye, you notice a bit of blush creeping on his cheeks but you wave it up because it can be the alcohol you both drank, and you get back to your home and get a bit of rest so you can wake up fresh and get back on your work from home.

Taglist: @jungk97kwife, @kimmingyuswifee ,@kingofbodyrolls

A/n : this short but hehe more is yet to come 💖

[indulgentdaydream]

I may request something for our Jason boy, what about a nurse!reader where he saves her and she just goes 'so, do you're the guy who makes my job a living hell'?

If you can't do it, it's fine luv 🩷

of course I can do it!

Meet Cutes

Jason Todd X fem!nurse!Reader || Fluff Word Count: 1,035

Sorry this took a couple days, university is being rough :(

Warnings: blood, death, injuries, medical tool use (needle and sutures, etc.), drug mention, broken glass, stitches

You worked for a small Gotham 24-hour walk-in clinic. You always tried not to think too much about who was coming in and out. Some patients would stumble in, covered in blood and bruises, yet not have a scratch on them. Where did the blood come from? You never asked. You would treat whoever was assigned to you and then be on your merry way.

The clinic was closer to Crime Alley than anyone would have liked, but it settled for good service. Especially once the Red Hood started patrolling. Your very first day at the clinic had you stitching up five bullet wounds on the same patient. Your first patient of the day, at that, who had stumbled in at five in the morning. He was mumbling the whole time, swearing and cussing out Red Hood's entire legacy.

Over the months you had now worked there, bullet wounds were your most common injury. Followed by any kind of broken bone. Most of them babbled about the Red Hood, saying how he gotten them. You never asked any further, hoping to never poke your neck out to far in order to gain any attention.

You stood in the back, cleaning up one of the clinic rooms after having sent another probable criminal on their way with stitches and bandages. A crash rang out from the front, making you swivel your head.

You ran out to the lobby before freezing in your tracks. A robber stood at the prescription counter, gun in hand, pointed at the pharmacist. The shattered glass of the divider lay out on the floor around them, the pharmacist assistant cowering in fear as the robber yelled at her for certain drugs.

There weren't any patients in the waiting area. There were none left in the back. No other employee had been hurt. Only badly scared.

The robber hadn't see you yet. You were close to the reception desk. You inched sideways, trying not to make a sound or any sudden movement. There was a panic button under the desk that you could press, easily alerting the authorities. It was a clinic. They would prioritize you over all other petty Gotham crimes.

It was sad, but true.

The poor pharmacist assistant, Cindy, was slowly sorting out the drugs the robber was asking for, placing them in the bag he had thrown at her. She was trying to drag things out. That much you could tell.

You were behind the desk now, reaching for the button ever so slowly.

The automatic sliding front doors of the clinic opened. The robber changed his aim. Staring down the figure in the doorway.

Red Hood aimed his own gun, his shiny red helmet reflecting the florescent lights overhead.

Both of the shots rang out at the same time. Cindy screamed, dropping the bag of pills onto the floor.

Red Hood's shot landed true. Right between the eyes. The robber's had gone astray, but still managed to shoot through the out side of the Red Hood's leather sleeve, making him flinch back as a result.

You were frozen, hand hanging over the panic button. Did you press it? Or did you let the vigilante do his work?

You were still deciding as Red Hood walked over to Cindy, making sure she was alright. Two other nurses and another pharamacist ran out to help her. You watched as Red Hood stepped back, letting them take over.

He turned around, placing his gun back in his holster as he started to walk back out. He moved his hand to his arm, clamping his hand over it.

He walked past the reception desk.

"Wait," You said.

He paused and turned to look at you.

You nodded to his arm, "Let me stitch you up."

Surprisingly enough, he followed you into the back. He sat down on the cot you told him to. Took off his jacket when you said.

You found it awkward, standing in silence with the Red Hood. You decided to speak up as you started the first stitch, "So... you're the guy who makes my job a living hell?"

He turned his head to look at you, those white eyes of the helmet boring into you. You wished you could see some sort of facial expression of his.

When he spoke, his voice was modulated, "Did I not just save your clinic from a robbery? How is that a living hell?" There was a tone of sarcasm to it.

You smiled a little, "We get a lot of criminals coming in here post-fights. I've gotten pretty good at sewing up gunshot wounds that were your doing." You glance up at the helmet's eyes, "No offence."

"You fix up those assholes?"

"I fix up those human beings," You retaliate, finishing the last stitch. You step away, "I don't know them or their pasts. To me, they're innocent people that just need some healing."

You can see the confusion in his body language, his head turning down to ponder at how quickly you had stitched him up. He stayed quiet.

You turned away from him, gathering some bandages to wrap his arm up, "Though... I will say how most of them will rant to me about how much they hate you. More often than not admitting their own faults as they do."

Something like a chuckle filters through the modulator, "You know what? I hear the same stuff."

You can't help but laugh back. You bandage him up before nodding, "You're all set."

He nods in thanks, slipping his jacket back on. He extends his gloved hand for a shake, "What's your name?"

You give it to him, a little surprised at his firm yet gentle grip, "You may want to leave out the back door. I pressed our panic button before bringing you back here."

Red Hood nods in understanding, before walking out.

This would not be the last you saw of him. Because now he had a personal nurse.

The day after every visit of his, a bill comes in from Wayne Enterprises. You look at your colleague, "This guy is straight up stealing money from the rich to pay for his medical bills."

"As he should."

"Agreed."

[hihello-pinky]

Sight (5)

Suna Rintarou X F! Reader

Sometimes, it takes losing someone to finally see them. He wished he knew this before, but Rintaro had to learn this the hard way.

Genre: Angst, Romance, Hurt/Comfort

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and in no way represents my views of the original anime/manga characters.

WARNINGS: nothing, just fluff, and OH, did not go through proofreading lols

Word Count: 1.6k

Surprise quick update! I know I said in the last part that things are about to get downhill starting from this chapter. However, I really enjoyed writing this one that I had to cut out the angst portion. So... this is also quite a short read. Happy reading, though!

Kindly reblog, like, and/or leave a comment if you loved this chapter and let me know what you think! xoxo

part one part two part three part four

kofi ~~

˚✧₊⁎⁎⁺˳✧༚ - - - ˚✧₊⁎⁎⁺˳✧༚

“I’m very happy, Y/N,” Dr. Hirai says in front of you as she examines the papers. “These results look good. You haven’t been stressed much lately?”

You beam at the woman. “I guess so. My headaches have rarely occurred as well.”

”Great.” She smiles as she picks up her pen and starts to write. “I’m going to prescribe you some vitamins and supplements. But remember, rest and sleep is top priority, okay?”

You respond with a nod, akin to a child receiving instructions from their parent on the first day of school.

As you wait for Dr. Hirai to finish writing the prescription, a knock comes on the door. After the doctor’s “Come in”, your husband’s head peeks inside.

”Hi, Doc.” He greets before looking at you. “Hey. Something came up at the company and I have to go there. Would you want to wait for me at the cafe across the street?”

Other times you would have felt disappointed about his need to leave, but the mere fact that he’s informing you - through a cute peek at the door nonetheless - makes your heart flutter instead.

“Okay, sure.”

Rin shoots you a smile that almost melts your heart. “Great. I’ll keep you posted.”

And just like that, the door closes again. You turn to Dr. Hirai to see her looking at you. “Anything’s the matter, Doc?”

The woman just smiles before handing you the prescription. “Oh, nothing, Y/N. Nothing.”

˚₊⁎⁎⁺˳༚ ˚₊⁎⁎⁺˳༚

You watch the busy street through the window, your hand tapping a pen against your journal. You’re not one to miss writing daily but these past several weeks, you have been too preoccupied to jot down your thoughts.

Then, there’s also the matter of an irrational fear.

Truth be told, you’ve been happy since that night Rintarou admitted his attraction to you; the night he asked you to give him a chance and for you two to get to know each other.

You’d love to pen down those memories but there’s a voice at the back of your head telling you that it’s a bad idea. That it’s a prelude to something terrible happening.

You place your pen on the table and flip through the older entries on your journal, only to remember the entries you are looking for are no longer in the notebook’s binder. You had them removed and placed in a box the day before you asked Rin for divorce, thinking that it's time to give up on trying to make things work for both of you.

But then, things have changed now.

Or have they really changed? That voice in your head asks in skepticism.

What if, just like before, this “peace” is a fluke? What if Rin ends up hurting you again?

You close your eyes tightly and rub at your temples. You shouldn’t be entertaining this kind of thoughts. Overthinking and worrying about things from five years ago…

”Hey, Y/N? Is that you?” A familiar voice brings you out of your thoughts and you open your eyes only to be met by a friendly smile.

”Oh,” you say in pleasant surprise, “Hi, Hajime. What an unexpected meeting.”

The older guy's smile widens as he gestures for the seat across you. You nod in reply, closing your journal and putting it at the side.

”What brings you here?”

”I had a check-up with my doctor at the hospital across the street. How about you?”

At your question, Hajime scratches his nape. You notice his ears redden and you try not to smile at how boyishly embarrassed he looks. “Um, I’m visiting someone.”

”A friend?”

He locks eyes with you and groans at the teasing look that you know is visible on your face. “Okay, okay. She’s not technically a friend. I… met her one night through an accident, my motorcycle bumped into her. Thankfully, her injuries are not serious.”

”Oh my god,” you cover your mouth in reflex. You compose yourself before continuing, “I’m assuming she’s okay, though?”

Hajime waves his hand in front of you. “No worries! She’s fine and getting better. In fact, she’s about to get discharged tomorrow.” He suddenly clicks his tongue. “Am I bad to feel sad about her being discharged? I won’t have a reason to see her anymore.”

This time, you’re not able to stop yourself from laughing. “Hajime, that’s silly! Why won’t you just ask her out? Or her family and friends, maybe? You probably have met some of them, right?”

He smiles sheepishly and it’s a contrast to his usual demeanor when in the playground with his son. “I’m nervous to ask. Also, her family’s not here. She very recently moved back to the country from living abroad several years before. She also mentioned she has yet to reconnect with any of her old friends.”

”Oh, I see. But isn’t that reason enough to ask her out, if you’re really interested in her?”

”I guess so…”

Seeing the flush on your friend’s face makes you smile. “Who would have thought you’d get yourself in a classic meet-cute scenario?”

”Ugh, Y/N, please stop teasing me.” You know he means to reprimand, but Hajime still joins you in your laughter.

˚₊⁎⁎⁺˳༚ ˚₊⁎⁎⁺˳༚

“Fuck.” Suna resists the urge to throw his phone after the screen died on him. The battery had been on the verge of dying and he couldn’t find his charger anywhere. So, he’s on the way to the cafe, hoping that you didn’t decide to go somewhere else.

As he approaches the entrance, it amazes him how he’s quick to spot you in a crowd now. He sees the baby pink dress you’re wearing, your cardigan looking soft and comfortable over it. He also notes that you had tied your hair into a bun, a few strands framing your face.

And then he notices you’re not alone. To his dismay, he recognizes the person you’re currently with. Before he knows it, Suna is already brisk-walking the short distance from the entrance to your table.

You notice his presence as you look up at him and smile. That very sweet and innocent smile instantly calms him down a notch. He takes a deep breath. “Hey. I wasn’t able to send you a message, my phone died on me.”

”That’s okay.” Then, gesturing to your companion, you ask, “Rin, you remember Hajime?”

Suna tries to sound as nonchalant as possible as he faces the man. “Yeah. What brings you here?”

Hajime gives him what he assumes to be a friendly smile and Suna reminds himself that there’s no acceptable reason why he should give in to the urge to punch the smile out of the man’s face. “I was gonna visit someone at the hospital.”

Before Suna can respond, the man quickly checks his watch as if suddenly remembering and curses under his breath. “Oh, shoot. Uh, I should go.” He gives a wave before going over to the counter to make his purchase.

Suna shakes his head, a small scoff leaving his mouth. “Rin,” you call his attention. “Let’s go?” He watches you zip your bag close and before you can put the strap on your shoulder, he swiftly grabs to carry it for you.

If he didn’t turn his back as soon as he does so, he wouldn’t have missed your blush and smile.

˚₊⁎⁎⁺˳༚ ˚₊⁎⁎⁺˳༚

Once you reach Rintarou’s car, he asks if you have your phone charger with you. As you say yes, he asks again if you would plug it in the car’s charging port as he maneuvers the car out of parking.

You do as he asks and, as you place his phone on the console, notice some things that spark your concern.

”Rin?”

”Yeah?” He responds, eyes ahead.

”I know we both have sweet tooth, but didn’t we agree not to give Risa and Ryuu too much candy?”

”Huh?”

”Lollipops and gums,” you answer, finally tearing your eyes away from the items that had caught your attention. You turn to Rin and watch as the confusion leaves his face.

To your surprise, he only chuckles in response. “Those aren’t for the kids, Y/N. They’re mine.”

Now, it’s your turn to feel lost. “Huh?”

Rintarou bites his lips. “I’m trying to quit smoking. I heard those are nice alternatives.”

”Oh.” You’re at a loss of words for a moment, remembering the many times you have told him in the past that smoking is bad for the health. As you struggle to find what to say, Rin continues.

”It’s gonna take a while though. To be honest, this isn’t the first time I’m trying and it’s really hard.” A small laugh. “I’ve been smoking even before I was legally allowed to. But god, I do hope I can finally quit this time.” He shoots you a quick smile. “I don’t want my wife to leave me because of nicotine problems.”

And just like that, whatever response you’ve been able to come up with in your mind gets forgotten, chased away by the butterflies in your stomach.

Rintarou has been doing this a lot lately: calling you his wife.

Of course he had done so in the past, but they were all said in mockery, with the intent to spite and hurt you. It’s the very opposite now. He knows he makes you flustered and you know he enjoys seeing you blush.

You turn your head to look out the window, hoping he can’t see your very red face. Behind you, he laughs a little. It does not help in calming the beating of your heart. “What’s the matter, Y/N?”

”Shut up, Rin!"

to be continued.

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[abnomi]

random assorted headcanons for Turbo because I like thinking and having fun !!!! 🎉

Read More to Find Out...or are you too scared?... i bet ur too scared ahaha youre too scared Lol! Hahaahaaa!!!

The steering wheel of his kart is covered in bite marks, similar to how one would bite their favorite pencil. he bites things to mark his territory because Nobody is gonna touch that unless they want all of his diseases (150+).

i just know he was fighting to restrain himself not to chew on any of the candy civilians

when it comes to music, he doesn't see the point of listening to it. he doesn't have enough patience to really take it in; to him, it's just a thing that exists and not much more than that ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ ∵⁠ )⁠_⁠/⁠¯

adding onto that point, this guy listens to metal clanking sounds and loud engine roaring for entertainment because he likes things that would overstimulate any normal person. turbo is incredibly sensory-seeking and will do anything for The Sensations

someone should take him to a heavy rock concert i think it would change him a little. keep that thang on a leash

related to being sensory-seeking, i think he would absolutely love running his hands over random textures. if anyone has run their hands along a wall while walking alongside it...He does that...If u know u know... he is SO stimmy its unbelievable. Unreal.

very pain-tolerant. he'll whine and complain about it for attention, but physical hurt really doesnt bother him much until it gets in the way of what he wants to do.

funnily enough, he is very picky when it comes to temperature. he can handle getting ran over but if its 1° too hot or cold he'll start nagging and nagging for it to go back to normal. turbo really needs his own enclosure i think it'd do him a lot of good

this is a more popular headcanon and its canon-leaning, but he's an artist :-] he usually sticks to graffiti art because its generally considered more "rebellious and cool" but he also sketches cars, design decals, and other stuff when hes alone!

i would love to see his process of character designing king candy because i dont think he really knew what he was doing

he was just like "ok what does a generic king look like. uhhhhh.... 1, old and jolly like santa claus.... 2.... uhh crown..... 3......... purple.... FUCK YEAH im so good at this!!!!🔥🔥🔥"

i just noticed how his design has like 0 actual candy motifs aside from his bow being a candy wrapper and his shoes having those little gumdrop end pieces. what was he THINKING

while King Candy has a lisp, i think it's a coverup for his actual voice because of how goofy and recognizable it is. Overall its the same as his regular voice, he just gets silly with it. i noticed that he still does retain some of his lisp when hes screaming his lungs out at Vanellope, however, so maybe he genuinely does have a lisp that makes itself known when furious :3

another thing i noticed is how he hisses his S's. very cool very cool the reptilian

@/tasticturbo made a post abt how he has tinnitus from the constant noise in his game and i couldnt agree more

AND THE PRESCRIPTION GLASSES. where did he get those...he needs to See

side note, the aforementioned account has made so many interesting analyses on turbo and theyre all so insightful. i recommend u check them out

i think he gets migraines from stress. constant buzzing or pain flood his head but hes like "IDGAF i need to DO something at ALL TIMES no matter what"

hes like a shark in that way. if hes not moving he'll die instantly. idk a lot about sharks or if thats how it works srry but im going off of what the Worms are saying to me and i dont have much to work with

i think a really big contributer as to why he lacks in the self care department is because he fails to notice that something in his body is wrong. hes far too distracted on something he thinks is more important than remembering to Eat Food or Drink Water or Wash Himself or

he's like "WHY DO I FEEL LIKE SHIT ALL OF THE TIME!!! I HATE MY LIFE" and he hasn't slept in 4 days

hes so me. Sorry.

i dont think turbo is necessarily suicidal, but the way he behaves shows a clear disregard for his own safety and wellbeing. he thinks that he knows what he needs but he really doesnt :-[ i think he has some kind of immortality complex, feeling untouchable and like nothing could get to him. as scared as he was when ralph was about to turn him into sloppy mush, he didnt take the threat very seriously. like it was some kind of joke

his kart regenerates every time his game starts up, so what if he smashed it into buildings for fun. He's the number one fan of car accidents. he is all about that shit

i think his living space would literally be a garage btw. its a place to sleep and a space for his car all in one!! he thinks its very convenient and awesome but i think he is coping. he has some old dingy stained sheetless mattress that he has never washed in his life and its covered in dirt and smoke particles. no wonder he has such heavy eye bags Dude Please

the turbo twins have a garage used in a similar way, and while its still pretty shitty, they still at least TRY to maintain it. they just fight a lot over who has to care of it. nobody taught them how to take turns ever

but this aint about them. maybe another day

i think that turbo would find comfort in garbage and keeping it around because its familiar to him. a big clean empty space would make him so mad and if anyone moves even an inch of scrap off to the side he will throw a fit. he generally doesnt pay attention to his surroundings but when its his personal space he is 1093 times more neurotic

i think the big empty castle he stole wouldve been a big transition for him. maybe it helped him clear his mind a little more to practice his tricky schemes...it helped him get more subtle

thats all i have for nowww ty for reading ^_^ if anyone else has any wacky ideas pleeeease tell me i would love to hear them!!

[darling-wendy]

they made each other fathers

This has been staring us right in the face the entire time, but it's only just registering to me that Kazuki defaulted to "Rei-papa" when he could've easily just said "Rei-niichan" or "Rei-ojisan" or "Rei-san", some other form of honorific. A four year old is aware of the concept of an uncle, he could've gone with that to begin with. It's very interesting that Kazuki instinctively reached for the one honorific that tacitly implies a relationship between him and Rei. Like, somewhere in the back of his mind he said 'Well, if I'm her pretend dad then Rei, as my partner (and it's also interesting that the first time we first see him use the term, it's the ambiguous English loan word rather than either of the two Japanese equivalents), is obviously also her pretend dad'.

And, honestly, Kazuki doing this seems to kinda low-key incept Miri into viewing Rei as her second papa lol.

She was told by her mother that she had a Papa, singular, and that she was going to meet him at the Varint Hotel. Kazuki presented himself as such, and in the specific context of rescuing her, which is something that Misaki seems to have have told her is what a Papa does.

(The expression on her face and her hand gesture and the way she says this sounds like she's repeating something a trusted adult told her rather than something she came up with herself imo)

So, case closed. But then! her papa tells her to go play with this other guy, who is apparently also her papa? He says he isn't, but the seed has been planted, and it sprouts up later.

Kazuki is berating Rei for not just telling the neighbourhood watch guy that he was her dad, and Miri takes notice. Rei once again denies being her dad, but the idea seems to have stuck for her.

Look at her hurt little face after she heard Rei outright deny being not just her father but also some other sort of family member. She's attached to Rei. She wanted to eat breakfast with him and later wants to sleep next to him. And I'm sure at least some of that is having had him introduced to her as another parent. Fortunately, it works out in the end.

(The voice Kazuki uses here kills me softly. There is genuinely no heterosexual explanation for it lmao.)

('All according to keikaku')

Don't look so smug, Kazuki. Aside from taking Miri into your shared home in the first place, you put the idea of 'Rei-papa' into her head.

So, within Rei's overall arc of changing to become a suitable parent, there's this first mini arc of him accepting identifying as her papa, and it's partially instigated by Kazuki. On Kazuki's end, he doesn't struggle with the label (despite and/or because of his past? Kazuki, you are fascinating), but he has his own unique arc around it.

Part of the reason that Kazuki is so fascinating to me is that he's very straightforward but also he masks as readily as he breathes. Rei isn't as demonstrative or expressive, but he doesn't really hide what he's thinking or how he's feeling. Rei's arc with becoming a father is pretty linear; he first denies then accepts being Miri's papa, he gets a bit involved with raising her, he learns the lesson of how he's not doing enough and needs to step up, then he gets more involved and becomes more confident, culminating in him declaring his desire to be her father in an outright permanent way and he continues growing after the main timeline wraps. His failings are mostly due to having no idea of what a parent is supposed to be like. His father wasn't his father, he was his boss. (Imagine being ~11 years old and having your father hit you in the face and tell you that he's your boss, not your father. This is immediately after he forced you to try to kill a rabid dog, arming you with nothing but a knife, and berating you for not finishing it off. Woof).

Kazuki's failings seem to come from him being too prescriptive or blindly using negative personal experiences as an anchor for what not to do. He also had a terrible childhood, but we lack specific details. He seems to have been abandoned when he was young, so young that he doesn't even remember his parents, and so lacked a real example of how a parent should behave. This undoubtedly would've come up as a stressor when Yuzuko was pregnant. I imagine that he would've gone through the beginner level stages of growth that we saw with Rei, if not exactly in the same way. We come to him at an intermediate level where he knows a lot of basics, but gets tripped up by more higher level concepts.

(Pre-school socialisation isn't about establishing dominance and young kids can have an understanding of right and wrong, Kazuki)

Over the course of the series (and especially in eps 7 and 9), we see Rei look to Kazuki for guidance, and there are also times when Kazuki asserts himself (often erroneously lol) as having the right idea of what to do in a particular situation.

Kazuki's papa arc is more about breaking down the ideas he had built in his head about what good parenting is supposed to look like and holistically feeling it out with respect to what Miri specifically--not some amorphous Child--needs. Rei kind of has the opposite problem, operating purely on vibes rather than structure lol, and that's why they balance each other so well.

Now for the reverse. By the midpoint of ep 3, Miri has been calling Kazuki 'Papa' for days now. It's just hitting me that he didn't try to gently let her down and reveal his lie after they got out of the gunfight. [Rei straight up asked her 'What about your real father?' and got a philosophical answer, so maybe that strategy wouldn't work anyway lol]. I guess he might think of it as easier to just lean into being 'Papa' until they got rid of her, but I'm gonna call it an inverse Freudian slip. Especially since it ties into the first moment I wanna highlight.

Rei is emotionally stunted but also very perceptive. He's read something in Kazuki's actions, tone of voice, body language, etc that indicates that Kazuki doesn't actually want to give Miri up. She's been a little torpedo that imploded two jobs back to back, she gets underfoot, she and makes lots of noise, she and breaks things...and yet. He knows Kazuki well and he saw, perhaps, what Kyu saw when Kazuki was having a moan about them in ep 7.

The rest of the episode plays out and ends with Rei, Miri, and Kazuki going home together for dinner, this time as a quasi family unit. They haven't made any declarations yet, they're just kind of feeling and fumbling their way along. They have some ups and downs as they settle into a dynamic. Then it all blows up in ep 10.

[I could write a whole screed about how ep 10 was a necessary--at least a highly valuable--story beat, but this post is already very long. Some other time, perhaps. ]

Misaki comes back for Miri thanks to Kyu, they are successfully convinced to give her up, and then their little unit falls apart. Another explosion comes in ep 11 with Misaki's death, and now Miri is officially orphaned. Rei, as per usual, asks Kazuki what they should do, and Kazuki reveals that he's in a deep, guilt-induced trough.

We see how Misaki's death is weighing heavily on his mind, and he's surely thinking that he got yet another woman killed due to his desire for a family. He processes her 'protect Miri' plea as needing to stay away from Miri--that that's what he has to do to prevent her from becoming the second child he has to bury. But Rei surprises him.

Kazuki's response is a bit cruel, though not entirely unfounded. He had to temporarily ghost Rei for him to realise all the work that goes into looking after Miri. And even though Kazuki left a fridge full of meals, Rei still ended up ordering pizza because he couldn't recognise them as such. He has a long way to go as a parent. But he wants to do it, and he beseeches Kazuki to make the jump with him.

Kazuki's talking back to himself just as much as he is to Rei. "It might not be too late. [for] Normal happiness" is what he said to Rei on the Ferris wheel. At that time he genuinely thought there was nothing else for them to do but give Miri back to Misaki. But that was when he, like the rest of them, thought that simply stepping back would be enough for Shigeki to be satisfied. It's different now. They both know that, but Kazuki is too raw with hurt and guilty to let himself be happy. It's that characteristic manner in which he gets in his own way. But Rei breaks through all that.

This is the moment. Rei, for the first time as far as I can recall, is shown to initiate physical contact with Kazuki in a way that's soft and not utilitarian. While he talks, he even gives Kazuki's hand a little squeeze. He is going way further than he ever has in expressing his emotions. Change has been a motif for both of them, and Rei says it's possible for them with such conviction--that they can make Miri happy--that Kazuki stops getting in his own way. He comes around in the most Kazuki way possible: transitioning their serious conversation about taking responsibility for Miri (and the implications of dealing with the organisation) into a comedic moment about Rei doing his share of the household chores and childcare.

And with that, they're over the finish line! There's still a lot for them to do in the final episode, but this is the climax of their respective papa arcs. Storming the Suwa compound, confronting Shigeki, and the 10 years later bit are denouement. The two of them approached fatherhood from completely different backgrounds and stances and levels of experience, but it was a journey they took together and one which was not possible without the other.

[peachesofteal]

okay okay I’m the anon who sent in the ask about if Simon would’ve chased Darling and like…now you have me intensely needing that AU where he chases her, carries her back, and ties her to the bed 😈

AND wondering how they even got her to the flat in the first place?? Like even Darling is confused, so it must’ve been that quick for Simon and Johnny to get her from the hotel back home for her to wonder how the hell she got back there

Sorry sorry I’m just so obsessed with Dead Disco and all these possible AUs and different scenes and scenarios have me going absolutely FERAL

I could be very well tempted to write "tying to the bed" au but also, loved this opportunity to revisit Darling and the guys between chapters three and four, when she was incredibly vulnerable and in a difficult mental space. So, thank you. All my love to you! 🩵

Canon for Dead Disco - takes place between Chapters 3 and 4. 18+ Mature themes. No smut but Darling doing darling things (eating issues, alcohol use, anxiety, depressive episode, etc.) Mentions of prescription medication. 

“Do you have any clothes?” Johnny asks, rubbing your shoulder softly. You nod and point to the bag that sits haphazardly on the chair. Simon rifles through it while Johnny works the towel in your hair, trying to get it as dry as possible. You sit still for him, unmoving, and it hurts when he remembers the way you were only two months when he washed your hair, giggling against him, relaxed and happy while he massaged his fingertips into your scalp, carefully making sure everything was rinsed from roots to ends.

Something rattles in Simon’s hands, and it draws your attention, your head whipping to where he’s got a bottle of pills in his hand, a full bottle, and Johnny smothers his grimace. Simon puts it back in your bag without saying anything, but the silence speaks for itself. You haven’t been taking your meds. 

“I’m sorry.” You lament, voice choked with tears, and Johnny pulls you into his chest, smoothing a hand over your hair. 

“Shhh. It’s alright, we know.” His heart breaks for you, for what he knows is going on in your head, for how you must feel. Abandoned. You felt abandoned by them. You felt like you were on the outside. You felt left behind.  He swallows the guilt, not allowing his own unsteady emotions to take over, instead choosing to finish with your hair and coaxing you out of your robe to get changed. 

“Are we…” you begin but trail off, and he holds the t shirt that Simon pulled from the bag towards you. “really going to get a new place?” you finish once your head pops through the hole, and he realizes it’s Simon’s t shirt. You were wearing his own when you answered the door, and he wonders how much of your bag is actually their clothing.

“Yes, darling.” Simon answers. “But first we need to get you home.” You stare at him kind of blankly, a little void-like, before you blink and nod slowly. 

“Okay.” 

“Okay? You’ll let us take you home?” Simon clarifies, because he needs it. Johnny knows, he needs to hear it, the permission, the allowance for what comes next. 

Control.

“Yes.” You whisper. Simon looks at him, and it’s all Johnny needs to understand. Stand down. Let me handle it. Lock step. Johnny nods. 

They get the hotel room together pretty quickly. You sit on the bed with your legs crossed the entire time, eyes burning a hole in the wall, vacancy still present there, unmoving until Simon prompts you, encourages you to stand, where Johnny hesitantly offers you his hand, to hold. Take it. Take it, please darling. Trust me. I’m here. I’m right here. 

You stare for a long moment, before you’re finally clutching onto him, letting his fingers intertwine with yours as he moves you towards the door. 

When the three of you get to the elevator, you falter. You step away from the both of them, letting go of Johnny’s hand, panic rising through you, your eyes darting between them and the elevator. 

“Darling.” Johnny tries to reach for you, but you step back. 

“I-“ you gasp, and then press your palm over your heart, like it aches, like you’re physically hurting. “I d-don’t know what’s wrong with me.” You sob, the sound tearing into Johnny, shredding him apart and he gapes at you, momentarily confused. No, no no. Come back to us. “I don’t- I don’t know.” Simon moves, fast, into your orbit, wide palm streaking across the dead air to hold onto you, pulling you into his chest while gripping your neck. Not hard, not enough to hurt, but enough to act as the fail-safe, the thing that they turn to sometimes when presented with no other choice. The shutdown button. It settles you easily, gently, and pulls you back into yourself in moments like these. “I’m sorry.” You blubber, while Simon walks you backwards, slowly, until you’re pressed against Johnny, and his arms come around you easily.

“Stay with us, darling. Stay here. With us.” He coaches you, trying to keep you present, keep you calm while kneads his fingers against your shoulder. He vaguely remembers the still cold, half drank beer that was sitting in the dresser in your room, and it clicks together a bit more, why you’re so upset in this moment, compared to the tired, subdued, near catatonic state you’ve been in for the last hour. Alcohol is a depressant. And for you, and others who struggle similarly, it can make or break you. It can leave you feeling anxious for days after over consuming, can make your heart hurt and your brain confused that much more easily when you’re vulnerable like this. Johnny knows this. “Love, look at me.” He taps your jaw while Simon shuffles your bag back onto his arm and presses the elevator button, all the while still rubbing your neck. You peek up at him, face still half burrowed in his chest, and he takes the opportunity to ask. “Were you drinking earlier?” 

“Yeah.” You whisper. “I’m so-“ 

“Don’t.” Simon soothes you. “Don’t apologize, darling. You’re okay. Everything’s alright now. We’re going to get you home, and get you into bed. Maybe something easy to eat if you feel up to it, okay?” 

“Okay.” You mumble. You keep yourself pressed into Johnny and he can’t help but soak it up, loving the feeling of you in his arms, safe, here, with him. Not gone. Not MIA. Here. 

You fall asleep in the car. Johnny holds you in the backseat, the entire time, and nobody speaks. Simon occasionally checks on him via the rearview mirror, and then reaches his hand behind the driver’s seat to squeeze Johnny’s knee. It’s a comfort, and Johnny just wants to fast forward until the three of you are together, at home, in bed. 

He wakes you when they pull into the parking garage, managing to rouse you enough to get you into the elevator, and by the time the doors are opening on their floor, you’re fully awake, your hands twisted together while you walk. He breathes deeper, breathes easier, when the front door opens, and he walks through, turning to coax you through the doorway with an outstretched hand and open palm, as Simon stands with every muscle tense, his eyes not blinking, not willing tear his gaze away from where you linger, and he knows its because he is afraid you'll bolt. Johnny's not sure he could keep him from chasing you down at this point, and when he glances at him again, he sees how his body is thrumming with nervous energy, ready to break into a sprint at a split second’s notice.

Come on, love. Come inside. 

“Darling?”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Same as it ever was 13

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as neglect, bullying, manipulation, cheating, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Between your home life and work, you just can’t catch a break. Especially after you draw the ire of your boss.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen ft. Pete Brenner

Note: I am not doing well with the time change lol

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You wallow in the jagged fragments of reality, skipping through the cracks into delirium. The pain is dull but tolerable as you languish on the couch, forgetting now and again where you are, even your own existence. Figures pass by you and vaguely familiar voices waft in the air. 

“See ya, sweetheart,” Hansen's face comes clear through the haze as he leans over you and taps your thigh, “don't have too much fun without me.”

He struts away, fading back into the obscurity of your prescription laced coma. The relief is more than physical, it feels nice just to stop thinking. No kids, no scummy husband, no skeevy boss. It's just you and the sofa.

Your lashes flick as you sense another shadow. You can make out your name but nothing else. The world shifts painfully around you as a grunt cuts through your brain. Your eyes open as Pete lays you sideways on the bed.

“Honey, you okay?” He asks uneasily as he peers down at you. He leans over to touch your forehead, “hey, I'm gonna get you changed, alright?”

You garble and stay as you are. You could just fall asleep right then and there. He sighs and you sense him pacing along the foot of the bed.

He returns to you, undressing you clumsily. Each time he jars you, you whine and he apologises. You barely register each sorry as he strips away your armour.

As he unhooks your bra, you wave him off. You cover your chest, clinging to the pilly satin blend. He touches your wrist gently.

“Hey, I got a shirt,” he waves a length of fabric over you, “come on, honey.”

You pout as he pulls your arms apart and slips your bra off. You close your eyes, the mortification the only feeling to break through the medicine’s blur. He helps you sit up and unfolds the tee shirt, opening the head hole only to pause it just in front of you.

You feel him staring.

“Babe,” he rasps, “you know I still love you, don't you? It was stupid mistake–”

You groan as a surge breaks through the muddy waters of your mind. You snatch the shirt from him and hiss, your back spasming. You ignore the vicious twinge and throw the shirt over your head.

“Babe, please, let me prove it to you.”

You scoff and shove his shoulder, “look what you did,” you snap, “you did this. You hurt me.”

“I didn't mean– I was trying to make it up to you–”

“I told you to stop,” you lay back with a whimper, “but you never fucking listen.”

Your eyes roll back and you heave a shaky breath.

“Honey,” he squeezes your shoulder, “please, just give me another chance.”

“Leave me alone,” you sneer as you hide beneath your eyelids, “I got enough pain as it is.”

🗄️

You plummet into a shroudlike sleep. Your head is foggy and swimming as you body detaches from your mind. You are nothing in the ether of your subconscious.

The depths of your drugged coma recede slowly, like crumbs falling away from a scone. Little by little, the tension coils in your muscles and the ache becomes less dull. It isn't until the thrumming becomes an agonizing pounding that you escape your medicated stupor.

Your eyes snap open as a tickle along your thigh sends tendrils through you, knotting between your hips as you whimper. God, you hurt so bad. You need more of your pills.

Your discomfort is made little better by the stiff bend of your legs. At first, you don't understand why you're splayed like that, knees at an angle, hips wide open. The cool sensation along your folds has you gasping as you throw your hand down to ward off your assailant.

You lift your head shakily and stare at your husband bent between your legs. If you hadn't already uncovered his sliminess, you'd be in disbelief. You're only dazed by the dregs of your prolonged slumber and the intensity of your tortured tailbone. You push on his head, his hair slightly greasy as it dangles down to tickle your pelvis.

"What..." you eke out, "are you... do--"

You drop down and wrack with pain as he prods along your folds. Your tailbone is on fire. He continues he violation as you squirm and whine helplessly. You're nearly blinded in agony.

"St-st-stop," you stammer between shallow breaths.

"I told you, baby," he purrs as he pokes his fingers past your entrance, "I can show you how much you mean--"

"It hurts--" you babble, "Pete, please, you're hurting me---"

He hushes you and bites into the tender flesh along your thigh as he dips his fingers into the knuckles. Your eyes well up as your muscles draw tighter and tighter. You want him to stop but you can't fight your own weakness.

"Stop," you snivel as your head lolls back and forth, "stop, please..."

"Baby, you're wet," he snarls and laps at your folds, "you were wet..." he breaths humidly against you, "before I even touched you."

"N-n-nooooo," you mewl and close your eyes.

This isn't happening. You said stop, you said no, but he's not listening to you. When does he ever? But that's about the chores and schedules and responsibilities.

"P-p--" you puff out.

"Shhhh," he purrs, "gonna wake the kids..."

His tongue delves along your cunt again and he rams his fingers in deeper. Your tears spill down your temples as you clutch rumpled duvet to one side of you. You can't believe this is happening. And you can't believe after the months you spent pleading for you to touch you that it feels so rotten. He doesn't want you, not really, he just doesn't want to lose what you do for him.

You close your eyes, trying to forget what's happening, trying not to feel but it's too goddamn painful. Flashes glimmer in your mind. Another man, another touch. Lloyd's silty slither taunting your mind. You're back on the couch and he's crowding you, touching you, but it's not the same. You can't find that peak. The final release.

Pete slips his fingers out of you, growling as he lifts himself over you. You sense his shadow and the bed jostles you, drawing several squeaks from your wrought lips. He bends over you, his breath scalding you as his body heat roils across your skin. He rubs his tip against your folds and sighs.

"You came," he snarls, "I felt it."

You don't even have the strength to argue. You can't feel anything but repulsion for him. You're not even close to orgasm. You're only delirious because of the ringing at the base of your spine.

He angles himself along your cunt and holds his breath as he leans his weight into you. He forces himself inside, jolting you as he loses all patience. Your cheeks are a flood of horror and helplessness. Your legs fall flat as he begins to thrust, short, harried bursts that have him panting into the crook of your neck. He growls and grits out your name as he ruts.

It doesn't last long. You don't even have time to wish it's over. He's done. He collapses on you and your voice fizzles to a weak rasp. Ow.

"Figure we could get some of that tension out," he nuzzles your neck.

"Get. Off," you gnash through your teeth.

"Huh?" He gurgles and raises his head to gape down at you, "honey--"

"Why--" you gulp back your disbelief and push on his shoulders, "get off!"

"Woah, woah, the kids are sleeping--"

"Yeah, so you do that," you sneer as you slap him, your hand only weakly glancing off his cheek, "get off of me."

"I was only tryna make it up to you," he whines as he slides out of you and sits back on his heels, "come on. What do I have to do to get through to you--"

"Owwwww," you sit up with as much strength as you can must, nearly sobbing from the agony, "stay away from me."

You push yourself off the bed and crumple to your knees. The shirt clings around your middle as you quake, putting your hands flat to the floor as you crawl across it. The bed lurches as Pete bounces off behind you.

"Here, let me help--"

"You touch me again and I am going to lose it," you snap, your breath laboured around your threat.

"I..." his protest shrivels up. "I'm sorry."

"Fuck off," you reach to pull open the door, ready to break down as you think of the trek ahead of you. Two floor down to the cot in the basement.

You hear him harrumph and can picture the pout on his lips. You hate him. You hate him so much that you don't even feel bad about what Hansen's going to make you do. You might even like it.

🗄️

You only make it down to the couch. You manage to drag yourself onto the cushions and get under the throw blankets. You think of snagging some more pills but think better of it. It'll be up to you to get the day started, as always.

You don't sleep. You just lay in the aftermath of what happened. Of what Pete did. It churns your stomach so violently it makes you hurt even more.

It's over. That's what really keeps you awake. Your marriage is done. It's not just his doing, it's yours. You need to cut the fat and yet you feel guilty at just the thought. 

You wake up at your usual time. You swallow a single pill with a cup of bitter coffee. You pause as you look at the label of the amber bottle.

‘Take one pill every six to eight hours.’

You think back to the two tablets in Hansen's palm. You should've known better. You do. You just can't think straight through the pain.

You climb the stairs one at a time and hobble down to the kids’ rooms. You get Simone up first and she helps you with Malik.

“Mom, you look tired,” she says as she takes a sleepy Malik by the hand and tugs him away from his bed. “Did you sleep at all?”

“A little,” you answer evasively, “come on.”

You usher the kids downstairs, gripping the railing for life. As you come to the bottom, your legs wobble. You can’t hide the moment of weakness from Simone as she turns to watch you.

“Mom, please, sit down,” she begs, I’ll make cereal for Maiik and get him ready.”

“Sweetie–”

“Where’s dad?” She interrupts, “he should be doing this?”

You blink. You think of telling her to go find him but given the last time you saw him, you’re too nervous to do that. You wouldn’t want her to find him in a certain condition.

“He’s getting ready for work,” you sigh, “I got some time off for my back, I can handle the morning.”

“You won’t get better if you don’t stop–”

“Simone, I get it, okay? But I’m your mother, it’s my job to take care of you, not the other way around,” you say firmly, “you can get Malik his cereal and you get yourself some too, okay? You two can catch the bus with Erica today.”

She frowns but accepts your order. It’s a compromise. You know you can’t drive. Just the thought of getting in the car makes you want to vomit.

You grab the inflatable cushion and add a few breaths to it before setting it on the couch. You lower yourself with a grunt and shift, your comfort dangling just beyond grasp. The problem is you can’t stop fucking tensing up.

You lean your head back and blow out a breath. You listen to the soft clink of two bowls and the fridge, the pouring of hard cereal into porcelain. It’s not that bad. You’ll get up to help them brush their teeth and brush their hair and all that.

“Come on, Malik, you have to eat at the table.”

“I’m sleepyyyyy,” he grumbles as you hear him stomp across the tile.

“So am I, be quiet,” Simone snaps and the bowls clink down. “Sit down and eat.”

You rub your forehead, yawning as you commiserate quietly with Malik’s struggle. A dash of colour flits by and before you can call after her, Simone is rushing up the stairs. Dammit. You can’t keep up. You’re old and fat and hurt and useless. Explains a lot.

You cringe as your ears tweak, listening above for the commotion.

“Dad, get up! You have to come down and help mom,” Simone’s voice is loud as she nearly hollers at your husband.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m up, I’m up,” he grumbles as footsteps come muffled through the ceiling.

The stairs creak as they descend. Pete wears a pair of boxers and a grey tank. You look away, mortified.

“I can’t get Malik dressed by myself and I don’t know how to make coffee,” Simone says.

“Right,” he utters as he lingers by the kitchen door. 

Simone goes back to the table and you hear her spoon hit the bowl as the chair legs scrape on the floor. Pete stares at you as you ignore him for the wall. He huffs before passing into the kitchen. You hate this. You hate feeling so futile.

You flinch as a knock hammers on the front door. You whine as a pang strikes up your spine. Pete comes back in, a coffee filter in hand. He clammers across the room into the entryway and the lock loudly grinds back.

“Oh, hey, uh, Lloyd?”

“Sup, Petey Pie,” Hansen’s voice chirps back, “hope you like Dunkins. They got a cinnamon roll ice coffee I thought the missus would love. Got you a tall black and the kids some donuts.”

“Wow, you didn’t have to do that.”

You hate these men and how fake they are. More so, how pestilent they are. Two sides of a sleazy ass coin. Counterfeit at best.

“Figure you could use the help,” Hansen continues, “get the kids out the door. Oh, I also called my specialist. Can get her in for scans at noon, make sure nothing’s totally broken.”

“That’s great,” Pete croaks, “uh, come in, I guess.”

“Don’t mind if I do,” Hansen sings.

[kutner-elegist]

House MD ending theory

My House post-finale theory and probably an unpopular opinion is that House turns himself in after Wilson dies. Obligatory I Am Not a Lawyer and dental record forgery, stealing and charring a body, possibly arson etc. for faking his own death are serious crimes, but if he actually tried and got a really good lawyer and appealed to "my best friend was dying" etc. he could parole out in 10 years. Or he could plead insanity and go to psych ward for a while because if anyone could get a not guilty by reason of insanity vertict, it's House. His medical license will be permarevoked but House could live with that and find other things to do. Plenty of mysteries to solve in the world. He was willing to accept that when he fake-died. If you ask me, he'd been drifting and spiraling away from being a diagnostician since season 7 anyway.

Before the tickets in the sewer debacle, when House did something reckless, it was usually taking calculated risks (in his mind) for a good reason or doing it anyway but knowing the consequences and willingly accepting at least the possibility of said consequences. When he crashed into Cuddy's, he accepted a year in prison without even getting a lawyer. But flushing tickets down the drain wasn't even something he did for a good reason or really any reason at all, and it backfired so bad. He hurt Adams and Park. He was about to go back to prison for longer than Wilson's time left. And that's because he was already on parole for what he did to Cuddy and didn't even care. If it wasn't for the outstanding parole, he'd have gotten probation and fines. But everything caught up to him when he needed to be there for Wilson the most. If anything was going to get it through his head that he can't be like this anymore, it's Wilson dying.

So when he fake-died, he knew what he was doing and was willing to live with what comes after; he just needed six more months. For Wilson.

So in 2024, House is likely out on parole. Thirteen's Huntington's likely would have onset. He promised Thirteen he'd kill her when she needed him to. He can't get prescription drugs since his license is revoked, but he can figure it out. He's chilling with Thirteen and hanging out with Taub and Chase and even Foreman occasionally. And he'd be there when Thirteen's illness progresses too far.

I think that deep down, House wanted people to stop enabling him. I think he wanted to stop hurting everyone around him, but he needed to spiral truly out of control to finally stop.

Maybe House would never change, maybe this is my wishful thinking, but this is the only way Gregory House will ever make sense to me.

[metalnecklace]

Be Good To Me

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader (plus size)

Words: 3899

Summary: Periods are awful, and sometimes Joel loves taking care of people.

Warnings: Slight age gap (Reader is somewhere in her late thirties/early forties, old enough to have had a period for a while before the outbreak, Joel is his age after the series), Blood, Periods, Pain related to periods, Doctors failing people with reproductive organs, Fatphobia because doctors suck, Reader is afab, Allusions to smut, Hurt/Comfort, Joel is an asshole until he isn’t.

Notes: This is barely edited, my period is late and my hormones are going nuts so this is totally for me. Also periods suck, so so bad. This may not be everyone’s experience with them but mine are absolutely awful (yay PCOS), so yeah!

Masterlist

Periods before the outbreak were no walk in the park. Women’s health wasn’t viewed as something that needed to be looked at too closely by professionals, so when my period was too heavy and too painful the only prescription I was given was the advice to lose weight.

That didn’t happen.

In fact, even once the outbreak happened and food became scarce I still didn’t lose weight. I believed it was the stress, but there was no way of knowing. However, one good thing about the malnourishment was the absence of a period.

I still got one, from time to time. And it sucked. It always caught me by surprise and was either extremely light and barely noticeable, or it felt like I had been hit by a truck and left an unreal crime scene behind.

I took what I got in stride, though. I was okay only having one every once in a while instead of the monthly horror that I had been living through before. It was bad enough to have to survive through the outbreak, let alone bleeding along the way.

Things changed once I reached Jackson. I was introduced to regular meals, less stress, a routine, a schedule, a roof over my head, and reusable period products. Fabric sewn together made pads that I could wash and reuse over and over, and a diva cup helped when I needed that extra protection. Especially if I left my house.

Because once I was more at home, my period came back. It came back hard.

It was still monthly, though the only thing that let me know it was coming was the hurricane of mood swings that took over me days before. When they were happening my cramps were usually so bad that I was bedridden, and the bleeding was so heavy I couldn’t leave the house unless absolutely necessary.

I had spoken to Maria about it when it first happened and I found myself doubled over in pain during mealtime. She helped me get comfortable back at home, and listened to my complaining until I fell asleep on my couch. Although her periods weren’t nearly as bad, she still held sympathy and allowed me to rest when I needed it.

I usually only needed rest for the first two days, although sometimes the cramps lingered into three. Maria was the only one who knew why there were days I couldn’t leave the house, and we kept it that way. Most people understood, some didn’t.

Joel Miller was one of the ones that didn’t.

To him, work was work. No matter the pain you were in or the comfort you lacked. You were there to help everybody. He was especially pissy on the days he had to help pick up my slack on patrols or cleaning out the horses, and he was usually the one who stepped in because Maria knew he wouldn’t say no to her.

This carried on when we were stuck on patrols together. He usually grumbled about how hard some people work, and how he never had patience for slackers. Though, I never slacked while on the job, especially around him. It was almost like I felt I needed to make it up, and that I needed to prove I could work just as hard as anybody else. That was a habit that I carried with me from before the outbreak.

One day we were patrolling further away from Jackson than I had liked. My moods had been awful, and I knew what that meant. I made sure to wear a liner and pack some pads with me for the day, knowing that the storm cloud that hovered over me was an omen for what was inevitable. I didn’t want to have to leave patrol early because I was ill prepared, and Joel didn’t need one more thing to dislike me for.

Unfortunately, the cramping started once we reached the end of our patrol route. I was glad we were heading back, but it was still at least an hour ride home. Plus, having period cramps while riding a horse was not pleasant. Still, no matter how much the pain started to creep in, I kept it together.

Until we came across an infected. They came out of nowhere, and usually I would have been able to hear them but I was so focused on getting home that I didn’t.

Joel was knocked from his horse, and it took me too long to get my gun locked on the target. Luckily it took two shots for the thing to drop dead, and Joel’s horse was only spooked. He was also okay, other than a slight limp that I wasn’t convinced he didn’t have before that day, but he was angry. Extremely angry.

“What the fuck, (Y/N)?” He barked at me. “You know I can’t hear as well on that side! Pay attention next time. You’re fuckin’ lucky it didn’t get me.”

I just nodded, still sitting atop my horse, feeling a knot form in the pit of my stomach. My eyes started to prickle and I pressed my lips shut to stop them from trembling. The last thing I needed was for Joel to see me crying just because he was scolding me, and rightfully so. I fucked up, he could’ve died, all because my body sucked.

He climbed back on his horse, turning in his saddle so he could see me. “Don’t you have anythin’ to say? Or are you just gonna sit there.”

“I’m s-sorry, J-Joel,” I stuttered out, feeling the knot rise from my stomach into my chest, then into my throat. “I’ll pay attention.”

He shook his head, and turned back forward. We rode the rest of the way home in complete silence. I didn’t dare move a muscle, and even my tears fell silently down my cheeks. My jaw ached and a headache was forming from holding back my grief, all while the pain from my abdomen bloomed throughout my lower body. I still listened for any other dangers on our path, but mostly kept my eyes glued to the stony shoulders in front of me.

When we finally arrived back in Jackson I felt like crying from relief. Then frustration, as I thought I was being ridiculous. That was usually how my moods went though, from pure anger to extreme sensitivity when my period actually started. It didn’t help that I would’ve been upset anyway from fucking up, especially when Joel had come that close to dying. But I wouldn’t have even been distracted if it wasn’t for my period to begin with.

Maria was at the stables when we arrived, and I could tell by her face that she knew something had happened.

“Did everything go okay?” She asked anyway.

“Fine,” Joel grunted. “Only one infected, it’s dealt with.”

Maria’s eyebrows twitched up. “Why does it feel like it wasn’t fine?”

I didn’t even get a chance to say anything as Joel got off his horse and marched toward her.

“Next time don’t pair me with someone who’s going to get me killed.” He started toward the barn, his horse leading behind him.

Maria looked at me, and I’m sure she noticed the look of pure discomfort on my face. “Shit. You should get home, (Y/N).”

“Her? What about me?” Joel whipped around, his face reddening. “I’m the one who got pushed off a goddamn horse, and nearly bit!”

“Joel, cool it!” Maria countered, rounding on him. “Mind your fucking business and put the horses away.”

I got down onto the ground and Maria reached out for my reins, then handed them to Joel who grumbled as he marched into the barn. Maria turned back to me with a look of pure concern on her face.

“You alright?”

I nodded sheepishly. “I will be. I just feel awful. He could’ve died and it’s all my fault.”

She stepped toward me and placed a hand on my shoulder. “It’s okay. Things happen, and he isn’t dead. You’re both here and you’re both okay. Why don’t you go home and get some rest? I’ve got your patrols covered for the next two days.”

“Okay. Thank you, Maria.” I smiled but felt tears brim my eyes.

I made my way to my home, and once I was there I let the floodgates open. I had heard about ugly crying, and didn’t experience it until my parents had been taken from me at the start of the outbreak. However, when I got home from that patrol I couldn’t stop the sobs from escaping my chest.

I was grateful for the hot water in Jackson as I sat in the shower and let the water cascade down my aching body. Blood swirled in the drain and I averted my eyes, not wanting a reminder of why I was so upset. The cramps had fully settled in however, and no matter how hot, the water wasn’t enough. I eventually had to get out, and I utilized my period products to their fullest.

Once I had comfier clothes on I buried myself under blankets on my bed. Luckily sleep pulled me under, giving respite from the cramps climbing my abdomen and reaching down my inner thighs.

Sleep was the only time I wasn’t in pain, and it was like my body was so exhausted that nothing could wake me. Except for a knock at the door.

I groaned but climbed out of bed, wrapping a blanket around my shoulders like a cape. I was about to tell the unwanted visitor to go away but was rendered speechless when I saw Joel on the other side of the door.

“What do you want?” I was no longer upset, too groggy from sleep.

He sighed as if it pained him to be there. “I came to apologize. I was a complete ass, and I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Joel,” I said through a yawn, knuckling at one of my eyes. “I fucked up, I deserved to be scolded, okay?”

“Yeah, but we all fuck up.” He stepped forward, his voice soothing for the first time when speaking with me. “Hell, I know I’ve fucked up many times.”

A cramp pierced its way through my lower abdomen, and I tried my hardest not to show it. “Well, thanks, Joel, for apologizing. I know that’s not easy. I’ll let you get back to your day.”

I stepped back to close the door but he stepped forward, placing his wide palm on the wood to stop it from closing. “(Y/N), are you okay?”

“Never better,” I gritted out through my teeth as another cramp bloomed through my lower back. “I just need some rest, is all.”

“I know you’re lying,” his voice was gruff but the concern shone through his dark eyes. “Here, let me help you.”

Joel pushed his way into my house, closing the door behind him. We had been alone on patrols before, even while doing odd jobs, but they were done in silence while focused on the task. This was a whole different beast. He stood in my entryway, my decor seeming odd as a background for him, while he stared me down, willing me to break.

“Joel, it’s fine. Maria is aware of how I’m feeling,” I assured him, pulling the blanket tighter around my body. “I just need some rest, then I’ll be back to working rounds and shoveling shit, okay?”

He shook his head. “(Y/N), I know Maria knows, but I don’t. Please, what’s wrong? Are you sick?”

I winced at a smaller cramp that burrowed into my body. “Kinda, just leave, Joel.”

“I’m not leaving until you tell me,” he said. He was standing firm, like a brick wall.

I sighed, admitting defeat. “Fine! It’s my period, okay?” My cheeks burned at the embarrassment of my admittance.

“What? I don’t understand.” His brows knit together, and he would’ve looked adorable if I wasn’t so frustrated.

“Of course you wouldn’t understand,” I grumbled. “You’re a man. You don’t have to deal with this bullshit.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” He held his hands up as if I was a rabid dog about to charge. “I just mean that I don’t know enough about them, that’s all.”

I rolled my eyes and turned to go to the kitchen. I wasn’t usually a drinker but sometimes the circumstances called for it. Joel was silent as I poured us both glasses of whiskey, and only broke it once I had settled with my drink.

“My daughter, Sarah, had just started before…” he trailed off. “I always wanted to learn more, and had only started to, a bit. Her mother never told me a thing about them, and I didn’t think I’d be a single father at the time. I was naive and should’ve put more effort in, maybe.”

I took a sip, letting the liquid soothe my throat.

“I was with someone, a few years ago, but she never wanted to tell me about that stuff. She put on a brave face and never wanted to show weakness. And Ellie,” he chuckled, “Ellie threatened to skin me alive the last time I asked her about it.”

I laughed, thinking about the daggers the kid could probably shoot from her eyes if she tried hard enough.

“All this to say, I’m an old man, but I can still learn.” He downed his drink and placed his glass on the counter. “I know I’ve been… unhelpful, when it comes to you needin’ time, but I just didn’t know.”

He stepped forward, taking the glass from my hand and placing it next to his. His hands then came up to mine, rubbing the backs with his thumbs. My heart caught in my throat, feeling warmer than I had in the shower.

“Will you let me know? The next time?” He asked, his voice sending vibrations through my fingertips. “Will you let me help you? Let me take care of you?”

I thought about his question. As much as I didn’t want to be a burden, and didn’t need anybody to take care of me, really, the idea of Joel being the one was too appealing. I had always felt a pull toward him that I never had with anybody else, but was too ashamed, feeling like he hated me for needing the breaks I did. Like I was a freeloader.

It was no use letting my thoughts surround him in the past. But this time…

“Okay, Joel. I’d really like that.”

-

A few months passed with him doing just that. Taking care of me.

Joel always seemed to know when I was about to start, probably because of the way I threatened to break everything I touched for a solid three days before, and he always had the best snacks for me. He usually stayed as long as he could before having to start patrol or whatever other chore he had to partake in.

It was like we were in sync, like the second I started he would be knocking at the door with a snack and ready to deal with my whining.

“Ellie recommended chocolate, and lots of it,” he said once when I asked him how he knew what to bring. “Maria also suggested tea but I wasn’t sure if you liked it or not.”

“I like tea,” I replied, after thinking on it. “Depending, anyway. I used to drink this cinnamon tea with lots of honey whenever I needed extra comfort. My parents would always make it for me.”

The next time my period hit, he arrived at the door holding cinnamon tea and a jar of honey.

“Joel!” I stood in front of him in shock, a tug in my heart at the gesture. “How did you get this?”

He shrugged. “I have my ways.”

He also made sure that I wasn’t bothered by anybody else whenever it came to needing a few days off. One guy made a comment about it once after Maria let me leave the barn early one day, but one look from Joel shut him right up.

“You don’t have to do that, you know,” I said after the incident. “I’m used to some people being dicks. Like you used to be.”

“Yeah, but I’m not easy to deal with,” he grumbled. “I don’t want any other assholes bothering you.”

“Just you?”

He laughed. “Yeah, just me, sweetheart.”

That was another thing. The names. Mostly sweetheart, or darling. The latter always made me smile, with the way his drawl would cut off the last letter. The former always stoked a fire deep in my chest, spreading warmth through my bones.

One day my period hit me like a ton of bricks. It had been about a week later than usual, and it was like it needed the momentum. It came in the morning, which I was grateful for as I laid in bed clutching my stomach, since it didn’t catch me when I was already out. I had showered after waking and seeing the blood on my liner, and was ready to spend the day under the covers.

After a few hours of falling in and out of sleep I heard my door open. I stayed where I was, knowing it was just Joel letting himself in. He didn’t bother calling my name, already knowing where I was. It took a few minutes for him to finally enter my room, not making much sound except for his soft footsteps and the small thud of the hot mug of tea I knew he had just brewed as he placed it on my bedside table.

I heard him start to leave, probably wanting me to get as much rest as possible, but I wanted something else.

“Joel?” I croaked, using my voice for the first time that morning while poking my head out from under the blankets.

He stopped and turned back. “Yes, darlin’?”

I smiled. “Could you stay?”

He smiled back. “Of course, I’ll just grab a chair.”

He turned to leave again but I called his name. “I mean, stay with me?”

The tension rose in the room, threading itself through the silence. He was confused, I wasn’t making any sense. I also felt extremely nervous.

“I don’t think I know what you mean,” he walked over and sat on the edge of the bed. His hand reached out to a lump under the blankets that resembled my leg, and he massaged my calf with his thumb. “You don’t want me to get a chair, but you want me to stay.”

Then I realized. He knew what I wanted, but wanted me to say it. The smirk that spread on his lips confirmed it for me.

“Joel, please. Stay in bed with me.”

“Since you asked so nicely.” He smiled and stretched himself out beside me.

I felt myself growing bolder. “No pants allowed, though. Only comfort.”

After a moment of silence where I thought maybe I had gone too far, crossed some sort of line, he sighed and stripped off his jeans. He looked at me as if to say ‘happy now?’ and I giggled before wrapping the blankets around him.

“Is this okay?” I asked while scooting closer to him.

He slipped his arm under my head and pulled me closer until I had my head on his chest and my arm and leg draped over his torso. I pulled my lower body away from him.

“Sorry, was that too close?” He asked.

“No, I just don’t want to leak on you or anything. I don’t know how heavy it is this time.”

Joel chuckled. “I’ve had enough blood on me over the years that I really don’t care about yours. Come on.”

He pulled me closer once again, until one of his thighs slotted between my legs. My body melted against his and we both sighed as if finally feeling relaxed for the first time in who knows how long.

We laid like that, his hand tracing patterns on my back, while I smoothed my thumb over his ribs. Finally I pulled back a bit so I could look up into his face.

“Thank you, Joel,” I said. “For taking care of me.”

He smiled, his eyes softening even further. “Someone had to.”

I wrinkled my nose and he copied me, causing me to laugh. “I can take care of myself, you know.”

“I know. But you don’t have to.”

The laughter died in my chest, replacing itself with a heat that spread through my body. A tension rose in the few inches of space between us as he lowered his head.

With nothing but pure bravery, I lifted my head.

Our lips met gently, sponging together. I felt the air leave my body, and I pulled myself even closer to him. He moaned softly, gripping onto my thigh and deepening the kiss.

It was like we were starved. Starved for each other. He drank me in as our tongues massaged against each other and our fingers gripped us closer. I never wanted it to end, but a cramp sliced into me, causing me to pull away and groan against his heaving chest.

“Oh fuck, sweetheart, you alright?”

I nodded, whimpering.

“Here,” he started helping me flip my body over, “this will feel better.”

I maneuvered myself until my back was plastered against his front. My body melted once more into him, as his arm wrapped around my middle. His hand was a welcome weight against where the cramps were aching the most.

“But I want kisses,” I whined, feeling like a child not getting their way.

He laughed and pressed his lips to my neck, trailing them down to my shoulder. I moaned as he continued smudging them along my skin, mixing between soft kisses and small licks of his tongue. My body writhed under his grip until my ass pressed back into the hardness of his crotch.

“Calm down there, darlin’,” he warned, placing a final kiss just behind my ear. “There’ll be plenty of time for that when you’re up for it. Just rest for now.”

“Fine.” I wasn’t happy stopping, but felt good having him with me. “Can I put your hand on my stomach?”

He slipped his hand to mine, letting me move him around. “Of course. I’m all yours.”

I held his hand and pushed it up, under my shirt. I placed it onto my abdomen. When I pulled my hand away he kept his there, splaying it out so some of his fingers were tucked beneath my breasts and his palm was like the perfect heating pad.

We sighed once more together, and I promptly fell asleep. When I woke up he was still there, snoring softly in my ear. He stirred when I twisted in his arms until we were tangled up face to face once more.

“Don’t you have work today?” I asked, my voice thick with sleep.

He didn’t even open his eyes. “Nope. Got someone to cover me so I could take care of my girl.”

I smiled and nuzzled my face into his chest, inhaling his scent. Sleep crept up on me once more, and the cramps dulled away.

I was ready to stay in that bed forever, even through all the pain, as long as I had Joel with me.

———

Taglist: @sullyosully @ashleymsnodgrass

[estellan0vella]

Sunshine's Guide To Murder│Lee Minho

Chapter Sixteen: All This Time SS: 7 (ignore time stamps and dates) Word Count: 2.1K Content Warnings: Discussion of drug use & addiction, discussions of rape, recording of rape, discussion of covering up for a rapist Previous Next Masterlist

The living room is bathed in warm light, and the soft clink of wine glasses is the only sound breaking the quiet tension in the room. Felix, Jisung, Minho, and Hayun sit on the couch, each nursing a glass of wine. The air is heavy, charged with the unsaid things lingering between them.

Jisung leans back, stretching out with a sigh, his eyes glinting with a mix of curiosity and concern. "Well, Jeongin’s off discovering his latest kink at Chan’s place," he says, voice tinged with humor, though his mind is clearly elsewhere. "So, let’s get back to the case. Minho, did you find Chaeryeong’s old phone?"

Minho lifts the phone from his pocket, holding it up for everyone to see.

Felix’s eyes light up as he nods toward the device. “Did you charge it?”

Minho shakes his head. "No, not yet. I brought the charging wire, though."

Jisung frowns, narrowing his eyes at Minho. "Why the fuck wouldn’t you charge it first?"

Minho sighs, running a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. "I had to steal this from my mother’s house, Jisung. It’s not like I could just waltz in and plug it in."

Jisung opens his mouth to retort but snaps it shut, nodding as he concedes the point. “Fair enough.”

The conversation lulls for a moment before Hayun takes a sip of her wine and breaks the silence. "We still haven’t spoken to Yeji or Ryujin about the case," she says, her voice thoughtful.

Jisung, already distracted by the case, nods. "You and Minho can go tomorrow."

Minho sits up straighter, his expression hardening instantly. "No!" he blurts out before he can stop himself.

Hayun nudges him sharply, trying to subtly shut him up, but Minho isn’t having it. "It’s a bad area," he says firmly, looking directly at Jisung and Felix. "I don’t know if I’m enough to keep Hayun safe. You know where Yeji lives—she’s in an apartment building full of dealers. It’s not a nice environment."

Felix’s face tightens in concern. “He’s right. Yeji’s place... it’s not somewhere you should go, especially not alone.”

Jisung, however, tilts his head, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. “There’s something you’re not telling us.” He glances at Felix, then back at Minho and Hayun. "Look, I know we’re not the brightest bulbs in the box—"

"Hey!" Felix protests, though it’s half-hearted, his attention clearly focused on the underlying tension in the room.

Jisung rolls his eyes but continues. "We’re not complete pabos either. You two are hiding something. Don’t think Felix and I haven’t noticed."

Hayun shifts uncomfortably in her seat, gripping her wine glass a little tighter. “I’m fine.”

“Really?” Jisung says, his tone sharp, cutting through the thin veneer of calm. “Because I noticed this.” He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a small, familiar orange bottle with Hayun’s name on it—oxycodone. “I noticed it was almost empty, so I called the doctor to get your prescription refilled, like a good friend. You know what they said?”

Hayun stares at him, her heart dropping.

Jisung’s voice drops to an almost dangerous whisper, “They said Jang Hayun has no record of ever being prescribed oxycodone.” His eyes burn with hurt and anger as he stares her down. “So what the fuck, Yunnie?”

Hayun freezes, her mind scrambling for an explanation. Her gaze flicks to Minho, silently pleading for him to intervene.

But Jisung isn’t having it. “Don’t look at him!” he snaps, his voice rising. “I know he knows. And I bet Jeongin knows too, doesn’t he?” His voice shakes with frustration. “Look at the two friends you’ve been hiding your addiction from. What happened the night of Yuna’s disappearance five years ago? Because you changed that night. You’ve never been the same since.”

Felix, usually the softer one, leans forward, his eyes wide with disbelief. “Hayun… you’re one of the girls Mingi raped, aren’t you?”

The room goes deathly quiet. Hayun doesn’t say anything. She just stares at the wine glass in her hand, her fingers trembling as she grips the stem. She can feel their eyes on her, waiting for confirmation, waiting for something—anything.

Minho steps in, his voice sharp, like a blade cutting through the tension. "That’s enough. Both of you."

Jisung’s gaze snaps to Minho, betrayal written all over his face. "You knew?" His voice breaks. "You knew before us? You knew before me? I’ve known her since we were kids. Felix has been her friend for two years. But you—" He points accusingly at Minho. "You’ve known her what? Four months?"

"Enough!" Minho snaps, standing up, his posture tense.

Jisung, taking a deep breath, tries to steady himself, but the betrayal is clear in his eyes. Felix, sitting beside him, looks down at his wine glass, his eyes glossy, trying to hold back the tears threatening to spill over.

Felix’s voice is soft, barely above a whisper. "We could’ve helped you, Yunnie," he says, his voice cracking slightly. "You didn’t have to go through this alone."

The weight of his words crushes Hayun, guilt settling in her chest like a stone. She looks up at them, eyes wide and filled with regret, but no words come out.

Jisung runs a hand through his hair, frustration seeping from every pore. "All this time," he mutters, "all this time you were keeping this from us. After everything... how could you not trust us?"

Hayun swallows hard, her throat tight, but she can’t form the words. What could she say that would make any of this better? That would explain everything?

Felix wipes at his eyes quickly, trying to maintain some composure, but the hurt is plain as day on his face. "We’re your friends, Hayun. We would’ve been there for you."

Minho, now standing protectively near Hayun, shakes his head. "This isn’t the time for this. You have no idea what she’s been through."

Jisung turns on him, anger flashing in his eyes. "Don’t act like you’re the fucking protector here, Minho. You’ve barely been around, and yet, you’re the one she confides in?" He shakes his head, voice trembling with emotion. "I can’t believe this."

Minho steps forward, his voice steady and commanding. "I’m not protecting her because she chose me over you two. I’m protecting her because she needs it."

Jisung’s mouth opens to argue, but nothing comes out. Instead, he looks at Hayun, the disappointment evident on his face.

"Yunnie," Jisung says softly, his voice cracking, "if you ever trusted me at all, tell me the truth. What happened that night?"

Felix tries to mask his tears with a small, sad smile. "It’s okay, Yunnie. You can tell us. We’re not mad... we’re just—"

"Hurt," Jisung finishes, his voice breaking. "We’re just... hurt."

“She never told you,” Minho starts, his voice steady but somber, “because your sister knew.”

Jisung’s head snaps up, his eyes wide and confused. “What?”

Minho sighs, glancing at Hayun before he continues. “Remember how we said an anonymous source came forward? It wasn’t anonymous. It was Hayun. Yuna would drug the girls, Mingi would rape and record them, and Lia would distract anyone who came looking for the girl.”

Jisung stares at Minho in disbelief, his mind spinning as he tries to piece everything together. “So, when Lia was helping me look for Hayun at that party...”

Minho nods grimly. “Lia knew where Hayun was the whole time. She led you on a wild goose chase, keeping you away from what was really happening.”

Jisung’s face crumples, his hands trembling as they come up to cover his face. “My dad... My dad was fucking Yuna—his student—and my sister’s been protecting and helping a rapist? My family—” His voice cracks. “I— Oh my God.”

Minho’s voice softens slightly, trying to ground Jisung in this horrifying moment. “Mingi blackmails the women with the tapes he keeps. That’s another reason Hayun never said anything. He had power over them.”

Jisung can’t hold it in any longer. He reaches out for Hayun, pulling her into a tight hug. His grip is almost desperate, as if he’s trying to apologize for everything—his family, his ignorance, the trauma she’s had to carry alone. He buries his face in her shoulder, mumbling apologies over and over again, his words thick with guilt and pain.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Yunnie.”

Hayun doesn’t cry, though the weight of his emotions presses heavily on her. She runs her hand gently up and down his back, offering silent comfort as his sobs rack his body. His apologies fall on deaf ears—she doesn’t need them, not now—but she lets him get it out. This pain isn’t just his, but something they all have to bear now.

Across the room, Felix isn’t handling it any better. He’s slumped over, face buried in his hands as he sobs uncontrollably. He’s always been the sensitive one, and right now, this truth is too much for him. He trembles as the sobs wrack through him, his breaths coming out in broken gasps. The devastation on his face is hard to watch.

Minho keeps a steady hold on Hayun’s hand, his own expression hard, though his eyes betray a deep sadness. He’s holding himself together for her, but the rage simmering beneath the surface is palpable. Everything he’s learned about Yuna, Mingi, and now Lia—it’s enough to send anyone over the edge.

“We need to stop the investigation for now,” Felix finally manages to choke out, wiping at his tear-streaked face. “We need to find those tapes before anything else happens.”

Hayun’s voice cuts through the room, calm and resolute. “Then I need to speak to Mingi.”

Her words send a shockwave through the room. Minho freezes, his grip on her hand tightening instinctively. Felix and Jisung both look at her, wide-eyed, the tension in the room suddenly suffocating.

“What?” Minho’s voice is low, dangerous. “No. Absolutely not.”

Felix, his face still red from crying, shakes his head rapidly. “Hayun, no, you can’t. You can’t face him alone.”

Jisung stares at her in disbelief. “Hayun, that’s not—that’s not an option. After everything he’s done to you, you can’t be thinking about confronting him.”

Hayun remains eerily calm, though her eyes are locked on Minho’s, the determination in her gaze unwavering. “I have to,” she says firmly. “If we’re going to find the tapes, if we’re going to take him down, then I need to be the one to face him. I can get information from him that no one else can.”

Minho is visibly tense, his face set in hard lines as he struggles to keep his composure. “You’re not going near that bastard again. I won’t let you.”

“You don’t get to make that choice,” Hayun counters, her voice steady. “I know what I’m doing.”

“No, you don’t,” Minho growls. “He’s dangerous, and you think you can just walk in there and manipulate him? This isn’t some casual confrontation, Hayun. This is the man who raped you.”

Hayun’s eyes flicker, but her resolve doesn’t falter. “That’s exactly why I have to do it. He thinks he still has control over me. He doesn’t. Not anymore.”

Felix, still clutching his wine glass, looks at her pleadingly. “Please, Yunnie. We can find another way. We’ll figure something out.”

Jisung is shaking his head, running his hands through his hair in disbelief. “This is... no, this isn’t how we do it. We can’t risk you like that.”

Minho leans forward, his voice low and filled with barely-contained anger. “You think this is about control? This is about survival, Hayun. You walk in there, and he’ll destroy you. He’s done it before.”

Hayun’s jaw tightens, her grip on Minho’s hand tightening as well. “Not this time,” she says, her voice like steel. “This time, I’m going to make sure he loses.”

The tension in the room is unbearable, each of them grappling with the horrifying reality that Hayun is willing to put herself in harm’s way to bring down the man who hurt her.

Minho doesn’t let go of her hand, even though his whole body radiates with anger and fear. He can see the resolve in her eyes, but it doesn’t make this any easier. If anything, it makes it worse.

“If you go through with this,” Minho finally says, his voice quiet but firm, “I’m going with you.”

Hayun turns to him, her expression softening just a fraction. “No, Minho. You can’t.”

“Then I’m not letting you do it,” Minho shoots back, his voice resolute. “If you’re going to face that monster, you’re not doing it alone. Not this time.”

The room falls into a tense silence once more, the weight of the decision looming over them all. None of them want to accept what’s happening, but they know there’s no turning back now.

Hayun finally nods, her hand still held tightly in Minho’s. “Okay. But if we do this, we do it my way.”

Taglist: @hityoulikebahng @drewsandsebastianswife @fackeraccount @lily-loves-kpop @stilldontknowhoiam

@ziggy1221 @justaspoonofjam @tr-mha-fan @candycurshidkwhatthehell @heeseungspookie

[teecupangel]

Rather specific and weird but, how do you think Altaïr, Ezio, Ratonhnhaké:ton, and Desmond would react to having chronic migraines? Totally not asking because my chronic migraines are kicking my ass right now. Totally.

I hope you feel better, nonny, and I’m sorry this is so late TTATT

Altaïr:

Altaïr had been living with the pain in his head that comes and goes regularly since he was a child.

He knows how to hide it and he has no plans to tell anyone about it.

Al Mualim knows of it and has told him repeatedly how important it was for nobody else to know.

It was a weakness that Altaïr cannot show to others.

So he pretends he’s fine.

Everything was fine.

He’s fine.

He must be fine.

Ezio:

Ezio’s sickness in the mind as the dottore would call it always worried his family. He tried to hide it at times, especially when he knows that Petruccio needed more care and attention that him. He was the older brother. The least he could do was make sure his youngest sibling would be cared for. He can endure the pain.

“You’re an idiot.” Claudia would always say as she drags Ezio to his room and force him to lay on his bed.

“I’m fine, Claudia.”

“I know. You’re helping me practice.”

Ezio had hated this ‘practice’ when he was a child. A practice to when I have my own child, Claudia would say.

It was embarrassing.

But hearing Claudia read out loud a book for children…

Feeling the warmth of his blanket…

The relaxing scent of tea that Claudia would sip from time to time…

The pain in his head was still prominent but… Ezio couldn’t help but relax nonetheless.

“Thank you, Claudia.”

“Shush, babies don’t talk.”

Ratonhnhaké:ton:

Everyone in the village knew that Ratonhnhaké:ton would have this ‘episodes’ every so often. They always seemed to realize it even when Ratonhnhaké:ton is trying to hide it and tell him to go home and rest or, if Ratonhnhaké:ton is being a bit too stubborn, they’ll let him do something for the village that he could do at his own pace. Nothing dangerous. They’d always check up on him every so often and Ratonhnhaké:ton would try to finish it. But his mother would always come to him before he could and they would go home. His mother would tuck him after they ate and hum some kind of song as she held her son.

When he became an Assassin, he tried to hide it. It was easy to hide it among the people who didn’t know him.

But Achilles always knew.

“You’ll only be a danger to everyone and yourself. Rest and return when you’re better.”

Achilles tried to keep his distance.

But Ratonhnhaké:ton still heard the concern in his tone.

He always watched as Achilles walked away after saying his peace even though the sound of his cane tapping against the wooden floor made the pain in his head hurt a little bit more.

Rest.

Yes.

Ratonhnhaké:ton supposed he should take a rest.

He didn’t want Achilles to come back and hit him on the head with his cane later after all.

Not that it ever happened.

It was an empty threat and they both knew it.

Desmond:

Desmond is slave to capitalism. He has no choice but to keep on working even though he has a migraine. It’s absolute hell but Desmond has grown used to this.

Even back on the Farm, he would still continue to train when he was having a migraine. Nothing has truly changed.

Hell, this is an improvement.

The worst he could do was drop some kind of glass or bottle instead of falling or getting hurt himself.

It’ll be fine.

He’ll be fine.

(He does not realize that the lighting and the music of his job is worsening his migraines, he just thinks he need to power through it)

He would probably check online for medicines that can help make his migraines ‘easier’ or remember the medicine his parents used to give him (and yeah, if it needs a prescription, Desmond’s gonna steal it)

[gotham-ruaidh]

Little Bit Better Than I Used To Be

Catch up: Chapter 1 (Starry Eyes) || Chapter 2 (Save Our Souls) || Chapter 3 (Dancing On Glass)|| Chapter 4 (Merry-Go-Round)|| Backstage (1) || Backstage (2) || Chapter 5 (Danger)|| Backstage (3) || Chapter 6A (Love Walked In) || Chapter 6B (Without You) || Backstage (4) || Chapter 7 (Stick To Your Guns) || Chapter 8 (Time For Change) || Backstage (5) || Chapter 9 (Take Me To The Top) || Backstage (6) || Chapter 10 (Home Sweet Home) || Backstage (7) || Chapter 11a (Nightrain) || Chapter 11b (Nothing Else Matters) || Chapter 12a (Handle With Care) || Chapter 12b (I’m So Tired of Being Lonely) || Chapter 13a (Angel) || Chapter 13b (She’s My Addiction) || Chapter 13c (Patience) ||| Also posted at AO3

Chapter 14A: Where Do We Go Now?

Soundtrack: “Sweet Child O' Mine,” Guns N' Roses, 1987 [click here to listen]

She's got eyes of the bluest skies As if they thought of rain I'd hate to look into those eyes and see an ounce of pain Her hair reminds me of a warm safe place Where as a child I'd hide And pray for the thunder and the rain to quietly pass me by...

Philadelphia || June 1988

Claire pushed her chair back a bit from the desk. Raised her arms. Stretched. Breathed deeply.

Reading for the eighth time the words she’d finally tapped out on the Selectric this morning, after days of rolling them around in her head.

Chief Physician

Boston Medical Center

To Whom It May Concern,

As you may be aware, I am a trauma surgeon at BMC. Twelve months ago I was placed on administrative leave by the BMC, and my medical license was suspended, pending the resolution of BMC’s internal investigation into my conduct. The investigation started by looking into a near-fatal error I committed during a surgery, and then quickly discovered that I had not only been forging prescriptions and stealing painkillers for quite some time, but also developed a severe addition to those painkillers.

As you may also be aware, I did not contest the actions taken by BMC. Subsequently I enrolled in an intensive drug rehabilitation program in North Carolina. I am happy to share that I am almost twelve months clean, having completed the program last December and successfully maintained my sobriety since then.

I have previously communicated to the Board, on several occasions, my sincere regret for what I did and my remorse for the incredible lapse of professional judgment and ethical standards I demonstrated. I repeat those regrets to you now.

Which is, in part, why I am writing you today. I wish to understand what else is required of me to return to work, in any capacity, at BMC.

Making amends for wrongs was something that Claire and Geillis had talked about a lot, during her time at The Ridge. Yes, doing that was a formal part of any 12 Step program.

But it was more than just saying sorry – it required the addict to recognize the wrongs.

To own them. To understand why they had happened, and the impact they had had on others.

Because nothing sounded more inadequate in the English language than the two words, I’m sorry.

But words matter. And this attitude shift was a crucial step on any addict’s road to recovery.

Making amends was something that Claire and Jamie had talked a lot about, too. She had seen him make amends many times, in their short time together – and quite often during their last few weeks on the road, as they traveled city to city for Print’s acoustic tour and Jamie came into contact with many people who had last seen him drunk/rude/high/demanding/hung over/acting like a total asshole during the last (disastrous) tour in ’86.

He made it a point to really talk to each person, to apologize for specific things he remembered doing. No matter if it was the venue manager, or the catering guy, or the lighting guy, or the security guard. I was a dick when I was drunk. I said terrible things. I hurt you. I’m sorry.

Two weeks ago in Chicago, he couldn’t sleep after a fucking incredible show at the old Chicago Theater. The adrenaline buzz after the show so much better than any pills or bourbon or groupie could have given him. He had tossed and turned for hours, until finally, quietly slipping out of their bed and perching in the easy chair in their suite at the Palmer House, watching Claire shift restlessly under the covers without him.

But of course, she knew when something was wrong. She woke, and turned to face him, easing up on one elbow. Watching him back. Giving him space.

When he finally spoke, it was just above a raspy whisper.

“How can you be here, Claire, when all you do is hear me talk about how awful I was to so many people?”

Her heart did break a little bit. “Because I never knew that version of you, Jamie. What I care about is who you are now.”

He sighed, breath ragged. “This shit is so fucking hard.”

“I know, baby.” Somehow she was standing beside him, and blindly he buried his face into the warm skin of her belly. She threaded her fingers in his hair, held him close as his pulse spiked.

“Deep breaths, Jamie. Focus on me. I’m here.”

He had had several panic attacks during the tour. Which could be chalked up to anything – the stress of changing hotels every day, the crush of fans and press that clustered around their tour bus when they arrived in a new city, the women who pulled down their tops in the front row at every concert, the Jack Daniels bottles and little baggies of powder left in his dressing room before the show in Wilkes-Barre.

But instead of smashing to pieces all alone, she sheltered him. He knew when to ask for help. And always found her just in time to crash against her, shaking and crying in bathroom stalls and green rooms and even once on the deserted tour bus. And each time she was so grateful for the psych rotation she’d done in med school that prepared her to help him.

But that didn’t make it any easier.

“Breathe in, Jamie. Think about how much I love you.”

He drew in a deep, sobbing breath.

“That’s right. Now exhale. I’m never going to leave you.”

He exhaled, shoulders shuddering.

“And inhale, Jamie. We can get hamburgers for breakfast again, if you want.”

He inhaled, and she felt a faint smile against her belly.

“That’s right. And out. Think about how amazing our wedding night will be.”

He exhaled. Gently bit the soft, soft skin above her bellybutton. She shivered, and smiled.

“Good. Center on me. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

She counted along with him – twenty four more deep breaths. Caressing his forehead, and kissing his hair, and loving him and loving him and loving him.

Finally when he had calmed down, she crawled back into bed, and he held her so close against him. Kissing her forehead. Whispering endless words of love.

“If I ever fuck up with you, Claire, know I’ll always own it.”

She kissed his eyebrows. “The same for me, Jamie. I’d rather be mad at you than not have you.”

He had said the same words to her this morning. A promise he never tired of repeating. Murmured against her hair when he bent over to kiss her in the bed, body thrumming with energy.

Colum had booked a studio here in Philadelphia for the day, so that the band could lay down recordings of the acoustic tracks they’d played to dozens of sold-out crowds during the tour. With the incredible press from the tour – thanks in no small part to Geordie Ash’s profile in Rolling Stone – and bootlegs in wide circulation, it was time. And for once, the band agreed with the label.

She would join him later, of course. But today she needed the time to herself, to finally write and then mail the letter to Boston.

All because of Jamie.

“You can’t stay in a state of limbo forever, Claire,” he had said one night, meeting her eyes in the bathroom mirror as he gently brushed her shower-wet hair. “And I know we still don’t know where we’ll live when we’re married. But you have the right to know.”

She had sighed, jamming her hands in the deep pockets of the hotel bathrobe. “I don’t want to go back to that life.”

He had set down the hairbrush they shared, slipping his hands into the pockets, pulling her close against him. “I know. But you can’t have that door hanging open, Claire. Whether you open it or close it, you know I support you. But you’re not doing yourself any favors by not knowing.”

She had nodded, and pursed her lips. Smiling just a little as he kissed the shell of her ear.

She blinked, and turned back to the typewriter.

I have been traveling for the past few weeks, and won’t be back to Boston for at least the next month. Although I may not be immediately reachable by mail or telephone, I’m enclosing the contact information for someone who can get any letter or other message to me.

I look forward to hearing from you.

Sincerely,

Dr. Claire Beauchamp

She gently pulled the paper from the typewriter roll. Signed her name. Took a deep breath. Began to address the envelope.