#sorry this got a bit rambly I have a bit of a headache but I hope I got the picture across haha picture get it

[robinfollies]

me and the guy i pulled by accidentally implying i like jazz music

[bakerstreetdoctor]

can you tell us about the ballistic experiment they did to reconstruct what happened to your boy Karl XII that made his wound so fucked up?

Omgggg yes lemme tell you.

Okay, the paper itself can be found here

I will be posting the actual autopsy pictures so I'm gonna put it underneath a read more!

My crumbly dried out old guy <3

Following the lay person's knowledge of ballistics one would assume that that the upper picture is the entry wound and the lower one the exit one. In the moment of his death however he was peeking out of a trench with the enemy positions ahead and to the left.

Since it was super unclear where the shot came from and the bullet punched clean through and wasn't found, this was cause for much speculation, including that it was an assassination (there were enough parties that might've had cause, 18 years of war and no clear succession will do that).

They could've easily deduced that it was not a shot from up close from the fact that none of the people that were with him heard a gunshot in their immediate vicinity, but whatever.

What the ballistic experiment proved was that it was actually Karl's felted hat, that might've caused this unusual deformation!

On the right side you can see where the bullet went through the lower rim.

Most importantly however is that it also made x-rays of the models they shot and with the lead bullets which would've been used as standard ammunition by the Swedes there would be traces of lead left, and none showed up in the x-rays of the autopsy (btw if anyone knows where I can get the full autopsy report from 1917?18? Something like this. I need to see those x-rays they took of his lower body <3 for science <3), unlike his foot where he had been shot 9 years earlier. However with the iron bullets to simulate the grapeshot there ofc would be no metal traces left

This is a grapeshot btw:

(I think it should be wrapped in something, but just to illustrate. Many cannon-shot little iron balls)

Okay, I got kinda ahead here, but there was also some stuff about how an apparently bigger ball can punch a smaller looking hole into the felt, but I guess that just works <3

This is also a good picture to demonstrate the actual deformation to the skull (there's also pics where they peeled back his skin a little to get a better peek at the fractures), and you can see that actually there is actually quite a big hole on the other side too.

[rc-writes]

𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐮𝐩𝐨𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬

𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙨 | 𝙩𝙖𝙜𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙢

pairings: spencer reid x bau!reader

warnings: reader has a headache due to accidentally missing lunch

a/n: one more little blurb i've written due to my criminal minds rewatch journey! as of now i unfortunately have no other little blurbs written so i don't want you guys to think this is me suddenly being active a lot again. like i said in my penelope blurb i make no promises of me posting regularly again, but i definitely want/hope to write more! anyways, this blurb is completely inspired by me forgetting food exists for half a day a few weeks ago and getting a massive headache due to it :/ advice of the day kids, eating is important! lol

You and JJ had been on reading files duty for the day which meant being held up in the tiny room the local police station had set up for the team. Usually, it was Garcia who was in charge of digging through the files for potential suspects, but the station was severely behind on digitizing their files so manual reading was what had to be done.

As the day went on you began to have the world's most annoying headache. It wasn't too debilitating that you couldn't push through it to get through the last few files however, so you continued your reading. That was until you also began to feel a wave of exhaustion wash over you suddenly.

The most you had done all day was walk from one side of the table to the evidence board across the small room, so you weren't sure why you were suddenly on the verge of nodding off. If you were out conducting interviews or going over the crime scenes like you usually did, then maybe that would explain some tiredness, but that wasn't the case today.

"Hey, we're back!" Spencer's sudden voice filling the room made you jump out of your thoughts.

"Hi." You replied back with a soft smile, trying to mask the tiredness. "We managed to narrow the suspect pool to five people."

"Garcia is already on searching for anything that might not be in any of these files." JJ added from her spot at the table.

"Hard to believe anything is not in all these files." You joked, laughing. Mid-laugh your voice seemed to falter, the headache deciding to grow stronger at the sudden higher noise level of the room. You tried to mask your voice fading by slowly turning to face the board again, trying your best to massage your forehead a little.

"Hey are you alright?" Spencer asked as he walked closer to you.

"Yeah, yeah." You lied, turning to face him. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"It's just that I noticed your movements seem to be a bit sluggish. Not- not to say that's a problem considering you've been cooped up in here all day. But also, I noticed you're rubbing circles into your forehead which might be a sign of a headache. Which is actually a good thing to do when you have one because researchers say-" Spencer trailed off when he noticed you bringing your hand up again to your forehead. "Sorry, that's not the point. Are you okay?"

"I've been a little tired and have a minor headache. Nothing too bad, don't worry." You admitted, no point in trying to lie anymore. "I'm not sure why though. It's not like I've done much moving around all day, just flipping through piles of paper." You gestured to the table. It was then that you noticed JJ had left you two to be alone. "But I suppose just sitting here all day could be exactly the reason." 

"It is proven that little movement can have just as much effect as too much movement on the body." Spencer agreed. "To add to that, whatever you ate for lunch today could also have an effect as well."

Spencer then began to ramble about the importance of what kind of food you need to eat for which meal, but you didn't hear much as your own thoughts were racing.

A look of slight horror crossed your face. "Oh god, I didn't even realize I skipped lunch completely."

"What?"

"Yeah, I got so caught up in reading over the suspect files that I didn't want to leave when everyone else went to go get something from the break room. Thought I'd wait until I got done reading this one file, but I must have gotten too distracted and completely forgot to ever actually get up."

"Honey, no wonder you're tired and have a headache then." He reached for your hands. "You haven't eaten since we had breakfast together at the hotel." 

You held onto his hands back. "Yeah, and it wasn't exactly a big breakfast either." You both laughed. "I guess a big dinner is in my future then."

Spencer nodded, smiling. His eyes seemed to light up suddenly, you assumed some sort of idea popped into his head. He then immediately headed to the door.

"Where are you going?"

Spencer turned, walking backwards out the room. "To find food! Anything! You need to eat pronto." He bumped into the doorframe before walking completely out the room. From your small frame of vision out the doorway you saw he also nearly bumped into one of the local police officers as he was too focused to notice other people. 

You giggled to yourself at his new sudden mission to find you food. He really would do anything at the drop of a hat for you and you had no idea what you ever did to deserve it. But then you thought about how you'd do the exact same for him and he's said before he didn't deserve someone like you. It truly was a never-ending cycle of caring between you two. 

[captain039]

PART 2 Daddy’s Little Girl

Logan x reader

Warnings: Age gap (early twenties reader) , swearing, first times, virgin reader, plus size reader, tension, oral f receiving, smut, daddy kink, dom!logan, Abuse (Not from Logan), anxiety, depression, mention of self harm scars, reader has muscle issues and body pain, angst

Taglist: @clairealeehelsing @dirtydianaahah

Previous part <-

You awoke with pain in your body. You were fine for a few groggy minutes before you felt all your muscles angrily annoyed at your existence. You struggled to go down the stairs and jump into the truck earning a pissed off look from your dad and back handed comment about your weight. You hardly ate, worked hard all day and yet you still looked like this, then again before when your mother was alive she would make the best food, take you out for lunch dates and sweet treats, the movies too. You want to smile at the memory as the truck bumps along and soon you’re back at the lumber station. You see most of the team already there including Logan and feel thankful he won’t be around to see you wince and struggle.

“Get some fucking work done today” your father snaps at you in the car before leaving. You gulp a bit before sliding down to the ground with a wince seeing the mask your father puts on as he shakes hands with his team members. You close the door and sigh a little only politely saying hello when the others wave before you head to your trailer. You curse when you sit down, back and hips protesting in the uncomfortable wooden table chair. You grab the couch cushion but it doesn’t help and you make a small fake sob noise before turning on the computer.

It’s around lunch and you jolt a bit realising you’re falling asleep and a cars pulled up. You relax seeing Logan’s car with him and Graham in it. You get up awkwardly but peer out the door.

“Everything ok?” You call.

“Yeah all good love, need some more blades!” Graham calls and you nod to the man with a smile before heading back inside. You press fingers to your temples your eyes hurting as well and a headache coming on.

“Knock knock” Logan says before walking in.

“What’s up?” You say putting on a smile.

“You need anything?” He asks and you frown a bit.

“No, I’m alright” you say a little confused.

“Want anything from the bakery?” He asks.

“Oh, just a sandwich please, I can pay” you say grabbing your phone.

“I’ve got Bub, be back in a bit” he says tapping the trailer before leaving. You wave them goodbye before sagging again damn this chair is killing your back. You get up and awkwardly get on the small couch, it’s not really comfortable your legs hanging off the edge with your jumper as a makeshift pillow but it’ll do.

You awake to a gentle shake frowning as you come back to reality.

“Sorry, sweetheart” you hear and mumble an it’s ok before you realise it’s Logan.

“Ah, oh no” you say getting up way too quickly and rushing to see your phone thankfully empty of calls.

“Fuck” you mutter leaning against the desk biting your inner cheek. You wish this pain would leave or you could go to the doctor.

“What happened? You ok?” Logan asks reminding you he’s still there and that you’re not wearing a jumper.

“Fuck, I mean yes, sorry” you stand up forcing a smile awkwardly trying to hide your inner arms.

“You don’t have to lie to me Bub, what’s going on?” He asks and you sag a bit in the shoulders.

“Just some pain” you shrug.

“Where?” He asks placing the bag he’s got in his hand on the table before circling it.

“My back, hips, shoulders, neck” you ramble.

“It’s fine really, I’ll take some Panadol” you say frowning a bit when he goes behind you.

“Geez your necks tight” you almost moan as his hands gently massage your shoulders and neck.

“Got a million knots too” you can’t think properly with his hands on you, your head hanging.

“It’s fine” you slur like you’re drunk.

“You’re not fine” he tsks and you just nod a little. It feels so nice, his hands are warm too strong but gentle. It’s interrupted by your flinching when you see your dad’s car approaching. You move away faster than you ever have making the man frown his hands hung mid air before he lowers them. You wince at the sudden movement wanting to scream at yourself. Your dad walks up to the trailer and frowns seeing Logan already there and eyes the small bag on the table.

“Lunch’s in the car, Grahams got it” Logan says casually as you stare at your feet.

“Thanks Logan” is all your father says as he gathers more rope and heads back to the car.

“I got you a sandwich and some juice” Logan says pointing to the bag.

“Thank you” you mutter.

“Just take it easy alright, try not to sit or stand too long, have a warm bath maybe hey?” You nod as the man leaves with a small sigh. Once they’re gone again you sit down take some Panadol and try not to cry at work.

Back at home the door doesn’t even close before your father’s yelling at you. Something about how you’re seducing Logan and being a pig of a slut. His words hurt and bring you down two steps you’ve taken weeks to climb back up before you’re heading up the stairs once he done.

“And no fucking shower! Water bills already damn high!” He growls and you nod. You don’t sleep well that night, the pain making you cry or overwhelming motions.

The next day it’s cold, windy and looks like it might storm, you rug up the best you can knowing the cold will affect you even more and shut the trailer door hoping to keep some warmth in. There’s no heater or air con in the trailer either. You feel gross too from not having a small shower yesterday and not sleeping properly. You hear the door open and see Logan again giving him a small smile.

“How can I help?” You ask.

“Wondering if you could look up some recent shipping info, I forgot the folder at home” he sighs a bit and sits down on the couch.

“Yeah sure, for the Terria company right?” You ask and he nods. You search your emails but find nothing of the forms needing to be filled out.

“They came in person here? Didn’t they to drop off the forms?” You ask and Logan nods.

“They didn’t send an email” you add and Logan sighs.

“Worried you were gonna say that” he chuckles lightly.

“Sorry” you say.

“Not your fault bub, feel like going for a drive?” He asks and you hesitate.

“My dad-“ you trailed off quietly.

“He doesn’t need to know” Logan smirks and you sigh but nod. It’s nice and warm in the car, you were shivering in the trailer. You snuggle into your hoodie with a small sigh as the rain starts coming down lightly.

“Ah damn” Logan mutters. Damn indeed it’s going to be a short day and a long day of your father drinking and yelling. You realise you’re heading to his house, you’ve been there once or twice before, it’s nice, a little scary on the mountain all alone but nice. It begins pouring down by the time you make it to his house, thunder rumbling through the sky. You can’t make it to the house without getting soaked, his drive way not suited to running and you shudder and shiver as you enter through the door.

“Hang on I’ll get us some towels” he says heading off to the bathroom no doubt. You look around it’s been renovated since you last saw it. Some new furniture too, it’s got a modern but cozy feel too it.

“I’ll turn the heater on first then get the fire going” he says wrapping a towel around you.

“Geez you got soaked” he says and you chuckle a bit.

“I didn’t want to fall over face first in a mud puddle” you gesture outside to the now muddy road and he chuckles.

“I have some spare clothes for you, don’t want you to get sick” he says and you flush a bit.

“Take a warm shower if you want too” he calls as he heads down the hall coming back out with clothes. You’re stood frozen though thinking he’d just get the papers and go back, soaking or not.

“What’s wrong?” He asks when he sees you not moved from the door.

“I thought we were grabbing the forms” you say.

“Too dangerous to drive in this weather especially on this road, we’ll have to stay here for a bit” he says and you tense. Your dad’s going to freak.

“Oh, I’ll call my dad- or a taxi-“ you babble a bit fumbling for your phone cursing when you see a black screen, you forgot to charge it last night.

“Hey” Logan comes closer. You’re still shaking from the cold, your body aching even more.

“You’re shaking” he says voice quiet face close to yours, too close.

“Come on” he says and you frown as he turns to walk before he looks back and cocks his head.

“Come on, you need to warm up” he adds and you let out a shaky sigh. He leads you to the bathroom and you look at the fancy remade bathroom, big shower and one of those fancy jet baths.

“Your girlfriend make you buy you that?” You chuckle softly as he frowns and looks to the tub after he lays the clothes down.

“Girlfriend?” He questions and you freeze embarrassed.

“I just thought-“ you apologise quickly.

“It was a freebie from the company I went through for hiring a renovator” he says and you nod making a small ‘o’ sound.

“Logan I think I should just go home-“ you say nervously.

“It’s a storm outside Bub, no one’s going anywhere” he chuckles as he fiddles with the shower before turning to you a small frown on his face.

“Hey, what’s the matter?” He asks. You’re still shaking teeth chattering and bones aching.

“I don’t think I should be here” you whisper looking down to your soaked boots.

“I invited you, if your dad calls just say you’re with me” he says like it’s not the worst thing in the world. It isn’t the worst thing, you oh so love the soft look he’s giving you as he turns on the shower and steam rises.

“Logan” you mumble more to yourself.

“Just take a warm shower? So you don’t get sick?” He asks tilting your chin up with his finger.

“How- how long can I be in there?” You ask and he frowns and you curse silently.

“I need to leave” you say rushed cursing your phone and shrugging off the towel.

“Hey, hey-“ Logan cups your cheeks and you freeze in place looking into his eyes.

“You’re shaking like leaf, you barely walked inside without limping, please, take a warm shower however long you need” his words strike you as his thumb gently caresses your cheek.

“I’ll deal with your pops” he says and you nod taking a small breath.

“Atta girl” he says softly leaving the bathroom and closing the door as you sag and sigh.

Next part ->

[chrispotatos]

quit - chris sturniolo

summary: you had a stressful day at work so chris suggested you quit.

warning: none unless you're allergic to having chris as your bf.

a/n: i may or may not be projecting

a/n 2: i might only be able to write quick little stories like these then write smut and angst on the weekends because it takes me longer to write those generes than cute little fluffy shit.

my whole week was bad and it consisted of the same cycle on repeat work, eat nap. i could hardly see my boyfriend and my friends because of my busy schedule and when i wasn't with at work i was in my apartment trying to recollect myself.

today was friday and i promised chris i would come over to their house and stay till monday rolls around.

don't get my wrong i was itching to get there but i wanted peace and quiet. after all my social battery was drained and it felt like any minute i could cry if someone asked 'what's wrong' the feeling of taking my anger out on my friends and boyfriend because of a stressful day made my emotions subside by a little so something like that doesn't happen

i arrived and didn't hear anything i walked up the stairs and still no talking, laughing, nothing.

i took that as a sign they weren't here at all maybe they were filming. i leave chris a text letting him know im there.

i go down to his room and pick out some clothes that got cleaned from the last time i was here. the tub in nicks room was the only one that was here so i used it, putting in epsom salt and a bath bomb with a lack of scent so my headache doesn't get even worse.

when my bath was done i went to the kitchen and got ice cold water then headed back to his room.

i tried picking a movie but my thoughts flooded with what happend today and how my manager was yelling at me even though i was confused and needed clear instructions.

the thought made tear unwillingly fill my eyes and fall, it stung remembering the harsh words the way she made me feel small and disrespected.

i heard the triplets voices, slight bickering the front door closing after, i knew chris was gonna be coming to his room shortly after so i went under the blankets.

my predictions being correct the door to his room opened and he called for my name. i hummed as a response, that not being enough he came over to my side of the bed peeling the blankets off of my body.

"y/n, baby are you okay?" he asked worry coating his expression i cover my face crying more.

that question always tipped me over the edge "no im not okay, my boss- megan no maya i mean-" a frustrated grunt is all i could get out from all the clouded confusion. "it's ok take your time" he rubbed my arm being patient with me and thats what i needed right now.

"-my manager is a bitch and she was yelling at me. im tired and i don't wanna be mean but im so stressed out" i explained, it was more of a ramble with some words getting mixed together cause of the speed i was talking in.

"im so sorry" his arms wrapped around me, pulling me towards him, and rubbed my back while whispering comforting words to me, reassuring that everything will be all right.

"you should quit" he suggested i shook my head no, i couldn't quit it wasn't gonna work if i did my life would only get worse.

"no one should get treated that way especially you, you don't deserve that and it shouldn't have a toll on you. it's fucked up"

i draw back from the hug by a bit to see the sympathetic look on his face, he really felt bad for me and i know he couldn't wrap his head around why i wouldn't just quit if im being treated in such ways.

"it's not in my cards to just quit" he smiled unbeknownst of what he was thinking i reciprocated an awkward smile "I'll take care of you, you can move in with us" he stated it wasn't an offer he wanted me to do it.

"im not letting you do that" a humorless chuckle left my lips. chris wiped the tears that were left and kissed my forehead "yeah you will" he muttered giving me a endearing smile taking the glass of water off the night stand pressing the glass to my lips, i took a few sips then he put the glass back down and tucking me in.

"I'll come back in a few, i just need to talk with matt and nick real quick then take a shower and I'll be all yours for the rest of the day"

i nodded from where i was, snuggling into the blankets "love you y/n" he said on his way out even if he couldn't hear me i said it back.

[getyourdirtyhandsoffme]

SKZ Sub!Felix x Dom!FTM Reader

Summary: You are both roommates, you are stressed and need some relief and Felix being the best man he is, helps you by asking him for help.

Theme: Smut, is kinda short, comedy, fluff, kinda cringe

Warning: You don't have a bottom surgery however it is called a 'Dick'. Mentions of your dick being as Folds/Core but not as much. Practically Felix giving you a mighty good stress relief head and handjob. Kinda lazy but not...the grammar might be very bad. It's practically just Felix giving you oral, a handjob, and the end. You called him a good boy a few times. Hair pull and Head control (Felix receiving)

(This is all for fanfic, not real, yeah)

Author note: I finally made and posted something after all of these years...

please like, reblog, or/and comment on feedback etc

College was stressing you out; it was your junior year of college, and finals were coming up. You spend your days cramped in your room studying besides stepping out to get something to eat while your roommate, Felix, sits on the couch eating popcorn while watching his fifth movie, not bothered to notice your presence, not like you care anyway. 

You and Felix have been roommates for 2–3 years; technically, You both are best friends. You both thought living in an apartment together would be fun so you both did exactly that, sharing half of the money to pay the rent.  

He knew you were a transgender man when you first came out to him around your freshman year, giving him a heads up just in case he wanted to switch roommates; however, Felix stayed, not caring about gender, sexuality, etc. He was honestly chill with it, so you both got along right away, along with your hobbies and interests. 

You wasted your hours writing notes, reading, and not giving a single break, making you stressed and in need of relief. 

So, you pause the alarm as you lean back from your chair, staring at the ceiling, sighing from the headache that is making you rub circles on the sides of your forehead, hoping the ache can disappear. 

“I need to get laid.” You whispered to yourself as you looked down at your shorts, having the urge to just touch yourself—something to release the stress—so you did. You rubbed the lining of your boxers where your dick was feeling a bit of pleasure, filling your body and making you sigh.

It wasn’t much, it wasn’t enough; you needed more, but that’s all you got. You continued until Felix, the gentleman he is, barged into your room without even knocking as he stared at you in quite shock. 

You stopped what you were doing as you stared back, looking at him with a huge, concerned expression on your face.

“Felix, first of all...”

“I am so so so so sorry! It’s just that the movie I watched pissed me off, and I had to rant to someone, so I thought it was a good idea to rant it out to you since you are here and doing work, so I thought, ” Felix rambles while blushing furiously as he tries not to look at where your hand is placed. 

“Okay, Felix, first of all, please stop talking.” Felix immediately obeys, shutting his mouth as he just slowly blinks at you. 

“2nd, you should've knocked; you never know what I'm doing.” 

Felix frowns a bit as he looks to the side as he gets scolded by you.

“3rd, since you are here, I do need help.” Now that caught Felix's attention as he looked back at you, processing what you meant as he slowly turned red again.

“You want my help? I- uhh…” He stutters, causing you to just laugh at his sputtering.

“Come on, Felix, I know you want to at least touch me. Do you think I haven't noticed the way you looked at me or around my ex-lovers every time they kissed me? You bet you even wish you were them…”

“But better.” 

You looked at Felix as he stared at you, licking his lips.

“Yes, maybe. If you help me, that is... Unless you can’t prove it, then that's fine. I'll find another way.” 

Felix quickly shakes his head as he walks up to you, getting on his knees as he looks up at you for your permission to continue.

You nodded as you felt his hands reach through your shorts, pulling them down. He notices how wet you are from your boxers as he licks his lips one more time, his fingers teasing the lining of your dick, which causes you to shimmer in his touch.

“Come on, Felix, be a good boy for me. I’m desperate and in need of relief, you know that?” Felix blushes again at the pet name you have given him as he just nods, grabbing onto your boxers, pulling them down, and finally revealing your wet dick. 

Felix gulps as he brings back his fingers and starts touching around the wet folds, then to your sensitive dick from all of the rubbings you did. You moaned slightly, biting your lip as you stared down at the man, touching and touching.

His fingers rubbed your dick up and down, giving you a handjob. As his other hand moves his hair away, he gets ready to suck you off, but it keeps on coming back to the front, irritating the poor man.

So, being the nice roommate you are, you grabbed onto his hair and pulled back for him, almost taking control of his head. He moans from the stretch of his hair as he mumbles a ‘thank you’.

You felt his head leaning in from you, holding his hair in place, reaching through your dick, giving it a few kitty licks until he finally opened his mouth wider as he sucked your dick, making you moan, finally feeling the relief you needed. 

He was trying to multitask with his fingers rubbing your dick and his head giving you a good suck. 

His eyes were staring up at you, moaning from the pleasure that he was giving you, and he even felt himself getting confident from his actions, as he had never had sex before or something like this, so he was happy to see you enjoying it.

Your bottom hips move as you feel the sudden urge to take control of his head, wanting him to go faster, so you do. 

Firstly, you grip his hair, pulling his head back as his tongue was a bit out, staring at you confused, whimpering a bit from the loss of contact with his mouth to your dick.

You smiled as you leaned in, kissing his forehead and then his cheek, praising him for how good he was making him smile.

“Felix, do you mind letting me take control of your head?” Felix shakes his head. 

“No, darling, do you ever want, please?” You smiled as you pulled his head back to your dick, feeling his mouth already back into action as you kept his head in there, moving his head around for a bit.

“Just tap my thigh when you need a breather, alright?” 

His humming response vibrated through your core, making you moan slightly. 

“Fuck, you're so good at this, Felix. I almost feel like you are a natural, just for me. What good you are. 

He tapped your thigh for a breather. You pulled his head out to let him breathe as you noticed a bit of a wet spot on his sweatpants. 

You smirked, commenting on it, teasing him. "Oh, look, you even came untouched; how cute! Just from all of my praises. 

Felix looks away out of embarrassment.

“No need to be embarrassed; it’s cute, like I said. Now, let’s go back; I’m almost there.” Felix nodded as you pushed his head back in.

Felix sucked harder and faster, rubbing your dick at such a quick pace that you almost felt like you were in heaven. It was too good.

“Fuck, fuck~ Felix, I’m about to come!” You moaned as you tried to pull his head back, but he wouldn’t budge. He continued until you came. 

Felix pulled back a bit, as some of the substance was on his face. He licks around as he stares at the state you are in. 

You sighed, feeling your legs twitch a bit.

“Did I do good?” 

You nodded as you took the tissue that was on your desk and wiped its face off. 

“You did so well; I'm so proud of you. You are better than my exes.” You smiled as you gave him more kisses. “Thank you, Felix.”

“You’re welcome!”

[laswells-ashtray]

Okay, here me out on this. Gonna do this anonymously cause social anxiety is scary and I've never left an ask before, first time for everything I suppose. :')

I was randomly just watching the missions for MW3 cause I loved the concepts of some of them, just hated how most of it played out (Like how did Graves survive being blown up? Or how it felt like the story was rushed at points). Then I remembered the mission where Price got trapped in that silo thingy with the poisonous gas stuff that I cannot remember for the life of me what it is called (Think the mission was called Reactor,if you wanted to look it up if I don't explain it that well). Loved that mission cause to me it showed that Price wasn't this almighty powerful captain that doesn't get injured that badly compared to everyone else in 141.

Had a random thought of just the in-between part of when Price passed out to when he woke up on the helo. Was scrolling through the random posts and when I got to the one where Mac had met Price's team and stuff all I could think about was what if Gaz or Soap or anyone who's met Mac just tell Nik or Laswell to call for grandpa. I find it hilarious just the thought of Price's subordinates panicking over the fact that their captain, (and practically father figure sometimes due to how often he mother hens them), had inhaled poisonous gas then passed out and wanted help from someone who's known Price for years. Then cue Mac just showing up on base in Price's office or calling Price really late at night being like "You have 5 seconds to explain what happened and how in the world you got into that situation Mister. I do not care that you're a captain now I still hold seniority over you Price, I will pull that card you little shit." Cause despite the fact that Price was a pain in the ass when he was Mac's sergeant he still cares for the stubborn Brit's wellbeing.

Sorry if I started ranting, I love cod and finding the posts have made me do my happy stims. :) Especially reading the silly ones, always makes me feel better when having a bad day.

Made me get my glasses for this one, in a good way I'm just blind as shit. A little bit. Also never apologise for ranting, this is a safe place for ranting, rambling and threats of bodily harm but only if they're polite about it.

Firstly, I know exactly what mission you're talking about because I can't get past the second juggernaut and had to rage quit because I was giving myself a stress headache.

Secondly. I've missed writing more Mac if only because I have to write so English-ly for everyone else.

When the door opens, John doesn't look up. He assumes it's Nikolai coming to check on him, Ghost popping his head in to call him a twat again or one of the sergeants asking how he's doing. He doesn't expect to see the same, worn soles of some battered old boots that he's been trying to convince Mac to get rid of for over ten years park themselves on his desk.

Nor does he expect to see Mac watching him, arms crossed over his chest, and a look of blatant fury on his face that makes the hair on the back of John's neck stand up.

His chest is still tight and there's a familiar ache in his throat, he's too old to be getting fucking gassed anymore. Whatever cancer he'll be riddled with in ten years is not worth it.

"Well?"

He isn't stupid enough to answer that, leaning forward with his elbows on the desk. If Mac didn't look ready to deck him, he'd likely be lecturing John about "uncooked joints on the table".

"Jus no gonnae say a fucking hing tae me? Dae a luk like a store dug?"

He groans and ignores the rattling behind his ribs, running a hand over his face as he prays that maybe, just maybe Mac will go easy on him.

"What have you been told?"

He doesn't bother asking "and by who?" because he doesn't want to be annoyed at any of them, and it was likely Kate.

"Ye inhaled a fuck ton ae somehin ye shouldnae 've and a hud to hear about it fae someday else."

He nods, looking at the older man wearily. "That's about it, didn't think you'd need a play-by-play."

Mac lowers his feet off of the edge of the desk and drags his chair closer to the desk with a grating scraping noise that makes john wince.

"Right, lad. Genuine question, are ye a fuckin tit?"

It appears to be just that, a genuine question if the way Mac is arching a brow at him means anything. The Scot doesn't allow him the opportunity to answer before talking again.

"Ye must be, cuz we both ken launchin heed first intae somethin filt wae somehin that mangles ye is some biblical arsehole-ity, John."

John briefly considers slamming his head on the desk. It'd do no good to explain that it was for the mission, Mac would probably just skelp him over the back of the head for implying that wasn't something the retiree already knew.

"You did worse back in the day."

MacMillan only narrows his eyes at him, clenching his hands into fists on his lap.

"Dae ye take me as a gid fuckin example wae these things, son?"

John shakes his head, staring down at the desk in front of him.

"Swear tae fuck, ye pull a stupid stunt like that again and a'll huv yer fucking knees wae a crowbar. Christ, is yer self-preservation that far oot the fuckin windae?"

That has John looking back up at him through narrowed eyes, everyone kept jumping down his throat about it as if they wouldn't have all done the same for the sake of a mission. It was part of the job.

Mac slams his hand down on the edge of the desk, irritation washing over his face in waves.

"Dinnae fuckin luk at me like that, crabbit wee git. A get tae rip intae ye fir stupid shite like this or did ye forget that? The fuckin heart attacks ye put me through fir years and ye huvnae changed a bit? Ye canne be dain that tae every, ye might act like an ignorant arse but ye've got folk aroon here that actually don't like the thought ae attending yer fuckin funeral, ye daft cunt."

Maybe the older man can see the exhaustion that's settled in John's bones, wearing him away from the inside out. Or maybe this is just how MacMillan felt years ago, it might just be an inherited trait that presents itself alongside the captain title.

"Get tae bed, son. We're talkin aboot this the morra. And tea wae lemon fir yer throat, ye sound like ye've been gargling shrapnel."

[jayjj7]

chapter 17. realization

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after receiving the news from haerin about your whereabouts, you get off the bed you’re on.

“shit!” the first step you take is into a bucket, your second step you take to try and balance yourself is supposed to be the floor but you step into another bucket knocking it over. this unbalance causes you to trip onto the floor with a loud crashing noise due to the…5..? buckets around the bed..?

you groan from the pain and that’s when you notice the throbbing headache you have but before you can get up from the floor, the door swings open.

“y/n?” danielle walks in with a first aid kit in hand. a panicked look is on her face as she expected you to be on her bed but instead are on the floor.

“oh my god y/n! are you okay? do you feel like throwing up? are you too hot? too cold? do you want-“ danielle rambles as she squats down to your height to help you lift yourself up from the floor. this is when you notice you’re not wearing your scrubs, you’re wearing a grey hoodie with black sweatpants. as hard as you try to remember, you don’t remember changing out of your scrubs. the last thing you can remember is being in danielle’s car.

“what? no dani i’m fine, seriously” you look up at danielle to see subtle eye bags on her face.

out of instinct you grab her face, tracing your thumb underneath her eye. “you didn’t sleep did you?”

“no i was so worried about you. come i made you breakfast” she brushes off the fact she didn’t sleep much last night way too quickly as she grabbed your hand to lead you out of her room.

danielle had served you some warm stew and scorching hot ginger tea. it was at this moment you realized how…orange…her hands were..?

“thank you dani i really appreciate it, you didn’t have to do all this really” you thank as you blow on your soup to cool it down.

“this is all my fault y/n i have to fix it” her voice is sad, probably exhausted because of how little sleep she got. danielle sits down next to you on her dinner table, tired, one arm is posted up supporting her head.

“no it’s not, don’t beat yourself up for that please” you look at her with a smile to try and cheer her up but her expression is serious.

danielle can only sigh, “i made a doctors appointment for you. it’s in a couple hours” she avoids eye contact, fidgeting with the zipper of her sweater.

“you what?” you drop your spoon in your soup.

“dani is hate the doctors” you whine, covering your face.

“but y/n, you’re a doctor?” danielle has genuine confusion painted on her face.

“but not for people!”

yes you’re veterinarian but you were always scared when you had your bi-yearly checkups at the doctors. ironic you became a vet knowing how anxious being near a hospital made you. there wasn’t anything that prompted you to be so scared of the doctors or anything, no bad experience as a kid, just a phobia.

so there you were: sitting in the waiting room, awaiting your name being called, danielle next to you, trying to call you down with pictures on her phone, explaining the story behind each picture. danielle’s almost motherly demeanor helped you ease up a bit, laughing quietly every once in a while. leaning your head on her shoulder and closing your eyes helped you feel grounded. that was until your name was called by a doctor who had walked out.

“y/n?” the doctor calls out after looking down at her clipboard.

suddenly your calm state was erased and anxiety filled your body as you froze. heat rising in your body, unsure if you should run away or not. thankfully danielle was there to assist you. she was the first to stand up and help you up by holding your hand and rubbing your back. she treated you as if you were unable to move properly but in reality you were just scared shitless.

as you and danielle walk up to the doctor to follow behind her, she interrupts.

“oh sorry only relatives are allowed to be let in with the patient” the doctor holds her hand hand in front of danielle as a ‘stop’ motion.

panicked at being left alone, you say the first thing to pop in your head to counter this obstacle.

“she’s my s-“

“i’m her wife” danielle smiles as she rubs your back.

“my mistake, come on in” the doctor instructs as she lets you both in. your face heating up as you follow the doctor into a room, danielle taking a hold of your hand.

taglist : [ @modanisgf @greenniee @milfcr @idkwhatim-doinghere101 @urwyf3 @flolio @imahallucination11 @pandafuriosa60 @kaypanaq @nnewjeansstuff @haerinkisser @brocoliisscared @starrynini05 @l-e-e-woso @kimminjiswife @herlv3r ] taglist is open !! comment to be added !

[jcollinswrites]

Something I have been curious about is Captain MCs war wound, specifically the eye one as I happen to pick this option often (...was born blind in an eye, not the same per se, but I find it fun to pick it), how bad is it?

What I mean is that the other injuries are places that others are less likely to notice, but we have the cane for knee smashed Captian, aye? Yet it feels like everyone isn't bothered by looking at one-eyed Captian? Not that I expect most of them to be, but it feels more like the Captian has a glass eye or the like? Not wrapping or a patch that would make one curious about it, you know?

So I was just curious at how the wound healed and its look, as an arrow too the eye feels like you'd lose at least the eyeball and that has its own complications, I really do love the story and I'm not like "how did Captian survive that?!?!?" I'm fully behind it, just I'm stuck thinking of the nature of the Captians wounds.

...if ah, you had already answered thos before hand I'm so sorry I rambled a bit here.

I imagine the injury took place in a way so that the arrow hit our captain from the side, like from the direction of their nose, it hit the surface of the eye, and stopped in the eye socket bone.

That eye is gone, but the captain usually refers to themselves as having "eyes" still, just because they got used to saying that. The injury wasn't as bad as if the arrow would have come from the front. The captain would have died of that for sure. Still, it damaged the tissue there, the nerves didn't heal properly, and it's giving the captain headaches to this day.

Other characters aren't overly curious about it because this is a pretty common sight around the country after the war. Many people have amputations and limb injuries, so it's not something that looks out of place right now. Also, the captain is quite well-known in Thebes, so people are used to seeing them without an eye. Most simply assume it's either from the war or the captain got it while doing their job as head of the Guard.

What's in the place of the missing eye is at the moment up to your headcanon. When I give players the option to choose their eye color, I will also include an extra choice for the one-eyed captain to pick if they have a patch, a fake eye, or maybe it's simply sewn shut.

Thanks for the message, it was a very good question! 🥰

[beyondthesefourwalls]

Remember You Even When I Don't (8)

Summary: A training accident, the doctor had told him. A nasty one that led him here, laying in a hospital bed with a splitting headache and an inability to remember the woman sitting beside him. What he did know, though, was that you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and you felt important to him. That, as it turns out, would become an understatement.

Words: 5.5K

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw/Reader (no use of y/n, so can be read as unnamed oc)

Warnings: angst, hospitals, memory loss, language, suggestive themes, smut

Notes: Please note the updated warnings. These next few chapters are a new stage of Bradley and Pumpkin growing back together, and while I'm very excited about it, I know it may not be for everyone. For everyone who sticks around, please continue to comment and reblog, and my inbox is always open! I love to talk about these two :)

This was inspired by a one shot by the lovely @roosterforme and would not exist without her assistance. If you haven't read any of her stuff, please check out her masterlist - you won't be disappointed! All of the thanks to her and @mak-32 for being the best cheerleaders and friends I could ask for!

-------

You’re working today. You hadn’t wanted to, but a local congresswoman you had requested an interview with months ago finally agreed to a conversation in her office, and Bradley wouldn’t let you pass it up. It was only for a few hours, but he finds himself missing you while you’re gone. 

This is the first time he had really been alone in the house for a long period of time since he got back from the hospital a month ago, and he didn’t quite know what to do with himself. He had tried to read a book, or get lost in a movie, but nothing had really kept his attention. He was laying on the couch, the news on the tv in the background, aimlessly scrolling through his phone. He hadn’t fully dove into all that it contained, and he figured now was the time to do it, even if you weren’t here to answer any questions that he might have. 

It’s interesting, seeing himself this way. Groupchats where he was an active participant, talking about parties or plans he has no recollection of, or discussing flight schedules for the week. He swaps Star Wars and Harry Potter trivia with Fanboy and gym regimes with Hangman and sends music back and forth with Coyote.  

When he opens the text thread he has with you, the only one pinned to the top of his messages, his breath catches at the last message received. 

 I love you so much. Please don’t leave me.

It was sent the day of his accident, and he knew by the time stamp that it was sent after the crash. You must have texted that to him while you were waiting for news on his condition, and not for the first time, he feels both guilt and gratitude go through him; he’s so sorry that he’s hurt you like this, but he’s so glad he’s here now. 

He scrolls for a while, reading you rambling to him about your work day and bouncing ideas for articles off of him, jumping from one topic to the next while you know he’s in the air or teaching a class so he doesn’t have his phone on him. Based on his responses that come later on, he knows he never minded the almost nonsensical messages. Even now, he finds it adorable and enjoys reading through them. There are conversations about dinner and what true crime documentary the two of you were going to watch that weekend. 

There’s a little bit of everything in these messages between the two of you, but his brow furrows when he gets to a point about a week before his accident. 

I’m on my way home, he had texted you, You better be ready for me, Pumpkin. 

He scrolls further up, trying to find the beginning of the conversation that led to that, and he almost wishes he wouldn’t have. 

You had texted him earlier that morning, when he barely must have left the house to go to base, a picture of you. There was a playful smirk on your lips, and you had what looked to be the cap from his formal dress whites perched crooked on your head. That in and of itself wasn’t what made his breath hitch, though. It was the fact that you were still in bed, your arm draped over your chest where he could see everything but everything, you hanging onto only a single shred of decency. 

Fly well today, Lieutenant Commander. 

It had descended into a day full of teasing from there, each message dirtier than the one before. Descriptions of what you wanted him to do to you and him warning you of what he would do when he got his hands on you. He feels flushed all over, but he keeps scrolling up. He bypasses recipes you wanted his opinion on and a reminder of what the Hulu password was, and eventually finds more pictures. Some are more risque than others, but all of them make him feel like the temperature in the room rose by multiple degrees. 

There’s a tickle in his brain again, and he finds himself closing the messaging app and going to his photo albums. There’s a locked album there, and he knows, he just knows what it’s going to contain. 

He shouldn’t. He knows that he shouldn’t. It feels like a strange invasion of privacy. But he’s wracking his mind to try and remember what the code would be to get into it anyway, and he curses when he gets it wrong first once, then a second time. He enters your birthday on the third attempt and groans out loud when he’s immediately met with the filthiest images he’s ever seen. 

It’s a whole gallery of you, or the two of you together, and Bradley can’t stop himself from looking. He bites his lip as he takes in the photos, his mind so overrun with thoughts of how fucking stunning you are that he can barely think straight at all. 

He stops at one in particular, clicking to enlarge it, and loses all thoughts entirely. Neither of your faces are in it, but he doesn’t need to guess that it’s the two of you. You’re sitting back against his chest, his ankles hooked over your legs, forcing them wide for him. He can see your nails biting into his thighs, but it’s his own hand that draws his attention. With the hand that’s not taking the selfie style photo, his fingers are gliding through the wetness gathered between your legs. You shine against the dark wedding band on his left land, one that’s noticeably absent from his finger now. He’s practically panting as he stares. 

He’s so hypnotized by the way the two of you look together that he doesn’t hear the garage door open or the sound of you walking into the house. 

“Baby?” 

Your voice makes him jump so high that his phone goes flying out of his hand, a curse leaving his lips. He scrambles to pick it up when he sees you reaching for it as well, and your eyebrows are raised high as you look at him in surprise. 

“Hey,” his voice cracks, higher pitched than normal, and he blushes. Your eyebrows raise a little bit higher. “Hi, sorry. Didn’t hear you come in.” 

“Are you okay?” 

“Yup,” he nods, faking a cough so he could try to clear his throat, his face flushed. “Totally fine.” 

It’s not difficult to see how skeptical you are, and it’s hard for him to maintain eye contact with you and not let his eyes flicker down your body now that he has an idea of what rests underneath the smart dress you wore. 

You eye him suspiciously, “Are you sure?”  

He contemplates for a moment, trying to figure out a way to get himself out of this conversation, because the longer you looked at him like that the hotter he became under the collar. He took a deep breath, nodding again. 

“I was looking at messages and pictures,” he says all in one breath, not liking the idea of completely lying to you. He rationalized that a different version of the truth was okay, even as the pictures flashed in his mind again. “Trying to see if anything jogged my memory.” 

You search his eyes, and he tries his best to appear innocent, willing the hardening in his jeans to go down before you took notice. He suspected you already might have from the hint of a blush on your cheeks. “Did it?” 

If he thought hard enough he swore he could almost feel you. Your back against his chest, how soft your inner thighs left. How warm your wetness felt against his fingers as he took you to the edge. 

“No,” he stutters out after a moment, shaking his head, his face burning, “nothing yet.” 

________

He finds himself rubbing his thumb against the fading tan line on his left ring finger, something he had seen you do time and time again. He hadn’t really wondered up until this point where his ring was, but ever since he saw the picture with it so clearly against your skin, he couldn’t get it out of his head. 

He’s helping you in the kitchen a few days later, mesmerized as always by how efficient and easy you made everything look. You roll your eyes when he comments on it.

“It’s cookies, Bradley. Nothing fancy.”

“But they’re from scratch. The dough isn’t pre-made. That’s fancy!” 

You laugh at him in response, shaking your head. You take the rings on your left hand off, sitting them beside the sink as you wash your hands before the two of you get started. It raises the subject back to the forefront of his mind. He had been desperate to ask you for the last few days, but hadn’t built up the courage to do it. But he can almost feel it on his finger now, can feel a ghost of your fingers as you slide it into place, and it’s suddenly more of a need to know. 

“Can I uh…can I ask you something?” 

“Of course.” 

“What happened to my wedding ring?” 

You pause from where you’re cracking an egg into the mixing bowl, your eyebrows raised high. You set it down gently, turning to face him. 

“Does it bother you…that I wear mine, still?” 

“No!” he insists, hating even the idea of you taking it off. “It doesn’t bother me at all. I promise. We just have never acknowledged mine? I know that I wear one - I remember wearing one, and I’ve seen it in pictures, too.” 

“You love your ring,” you tell him softly, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. 

“We don’t have to talk about it,” he says, not wanting to make you uncomfortable. But you give him a small smile, though he can see the pain in your eyes, and shake your head. 

“You don’t fly with it on,” you explain, “you tried, at first, but you had been flying so long without anything on your hands that you couldn’t get used to it being there when you were operating the controls.” 

He thinks for a moment and the words come to him slowly. “You were the one who told me to start taking it off when I fly.” 

“I was.” 

“Why?”

Your lips quirk and you shrug. “I’m more worried about you flying safely than wearing your ring at all times. You keep it in one of the pockets of your flight suit when you go up in the air now.” 

Of course you were more worried for him. He should have expected nothing less from you and the way you effortlessly care for him. He can also picture that, he thinks. It’s easy to imagine not wanting to be separated from the physical reminder that he belongs to you, so even if he couldn’t wear it, he’d at least have it on him, in the inner chest pocket right above his heart. 

“So..” He doesn’t quite know how to ask his question, but you must read it on his face. 

You twist your own ring on your finger in the way you always seemed to do to center yourself. Pain flashed across your face and Bradley knew you were remembering, too. “They uh..they had to cut your flight suit off, before you went into surgery. You weren’t breathing and were bleeding…” you cut yourself off, squeezing your eyes shut and shaking the visual from your head. “But it was still in your pocket. So. I have it.” 

He sets down the bag of chocolate chips he had been holding and walks the few steps to where you’re standing at the counter. When he holds his arms open, you don’t hesitate to step into them. He presses a kiss to the top of your head as he breathes in your scent. 

“I’m so sorry I put you through that,” he whispers into the strands of your hair, and he feels the way you squeeze him in response. 

“You’re okay now,” you speak into his chest, and he thinks he might feel you press a kiss there, directly over the spot where that inner pocket of his flight suit would be, where he kept you when he had no other choice. 

The two of you stand there wrapped up together for a long moment. When you lift your head, your eyes are glassy, but you give him a smile and a small kiss to his lips. 

Later, after the cookies have been made and devoured, you join him on the back porch. You had taken to sitting on the swing together and when you sit beside him tonight, he sees you rolling something between your fingers. His breath catches when he sees exactly what it is. You’re staring at it too, your gaze intense and pondering. He doesn’t speak, not quite knowing what to say. Eventually, you break out of your haze and meet his eyes. 

“You don’t have to put it back on,” you tell him, holding your hand out to him. His wedding band sits on your palm, shining against your skin. For a moment he sees you in white standing right in front of him, wildflowers in your hair.  

His fingertips brush yours when he takes it from you, admiring the piece of jewelry he wasn’t aware that he missed until it was back in his possession. 

“But it’s yours. I want - I want you to have it.”

He rolls it between his fingers, contemplating for a moment. He swallows, suddenly overcome with emotion he hadn’t seen coming and that tingling that’s starting to become familiar to him. You had picked it out yourself and he knows when he looks, he’ll see an engraving of your initials beside his. He was always so proud to be able to wear this, knowing that it symbolized being with you, a small way of telling anyone who saw it that he was lucky enough to be your husband. 

But he wasn’t him - not yet, not completely. Everyday brought him closer to thinking that he could be, though.

“Pumpkin, I…” he trailed off, not sure what to say. 

“Hey,” you murmur, cupping his cheek and turning his head to meet your eyes. You didn’t look mad, or upset, and you’re giving him the gentlest, kindest look anyone ever had. But your eyes didn’t hold pity or sympathy either - just a trust and love that he’s still not sure what he could have ever done to deserve. “Whenever you’re ready. And if you never are-” 

“I will be,” he cut you off; he wanted nothing more than to be ready. “I just…I still have something to prove to myself.” 

You nod, and Bradley leans forward to kiss you softly. He leaves his forehead pressed against yours when he pulls away, relishing in the calm you brought him. 

“I’ll get there,” he says, “I promise.” 

—------

He’s spent time alone, but he hasn’t spent time away from you with other people. He’s hesitant to accept the invite from Mav to visit the hanger he had here. But planes and his godfather had been a staple of Bradley’s childhood, an influence on his whole life, really. He had been cleared to drive earlier in the week, so that Saturday, he leaves early. He’s anxious at the thought of being away from you but he knows that the him from before wouldn’t have said no to the invitation and he was so determined to get back to who that was. And he knows that you have a life outside of taking care of him, too. You’re getting brunch with Nat and Coyote’s wife later and he knows you’re excited, even if you hung onto him a little bit longer than a normal hug when he said goodbye. You had made him promise that he would call you if he needed anything and the whole way to the desert, his fingers twitched, wanting to call you just to hear your voice. 

Mav greets him with a large smile and a tight hug, “I’m glad you could make it.” 

“Me too,” Bradley says. He means it, even if he does miss you already. He looks around the hanger, taking note of the few planes and motorcycles throughout the long stretch. It was a lot more than the collection he had when Bradley was 17. “What are we working on today?” 

Mav gives him his signature grin. “I want to show you something.” 

He follows him to the end of the hanger, where a large blue tarp is covering what can’t be anything but a plane. His godfather gestures to it. Bradley raises an eyebrow but walks up to it, grabbing hold of the tarp and yanking it back. Like he suspected, he’s greeted by a Cessna. It’s a classic 172 by the looks of it, a smaller four seater. It’s a sleek white in color with subtle burnt orange line work. Bradley whistles. It was beautiful in a way that only planes like this could be. 

“When’d you get this one?” 

Mav smirks, shaking his head. “I didn’t.” 

“What?” 

“Take a look at the other side.” He nods his head, urging Bradley forward. Confused and intrigued, he follows the instructions, walking around to the other side of the small plane. He gets what Mav was saying, then, and sucks in a breath. Right there emblazoned on the side, in an elegant script, was Pumpkin.

This wasn’t Mav’s plane; it was his. 

“You got her about six months ago,” he says softly when he joins him at his side. 

Bradley reaches up and runs his fingers over the name. It’s foggy, but he thinks he can remember now. He had always wanted to own his own plane since the first time his godfather took him up in one at 6 years old. It was always a pipedream, though. He was never in one place for long enough, and while he was generally good with saving money, it was a bigger purchase than he had ever made. But then the two of you got married and a permanent station here in California. Between both of your savings and what he still had of his parents life insurance, the funds were there. It was you who had made the suggestion of finally pulling the trigger, and it was him who had suggested a four seater instead of a two seater so that if the two of you ever had children, you could all fly together. You cried when he showed you the name he had painted on it. 

“Still needs some work done before she’s flyable. I thought maybe you’d want to work on it today.” 

An eager smile appears on his face and he nods, already peeling his jacket off and heading toward the toolbox. If Mav noticed that he didn’t need to instruct him on where it was, he didn’t comment on it. 

The two work in tandem for hours. It had only been six weeks since his accident, but he couldn’t recall a time since flight school that he had gone this long without being near a plane and it felt good doing so again. It’s easy, getting into the rhythm of twisting bolts and tinkering with the engine wires. He thinks it won’t be long until he can get this cleared to go in the air and he knows without a doubt that you’re going to be the first passenger. 

His phone buzzes in the early afternoon and he doesn’t hesitate to put down the wrench he was working with and dig it out of his jeans pocket. You had sent him a selfie earlier when you had gotten to brunch, sunglasses on and a bright smile on your face with a mimosa in your hand, and he hoped it was another picture. His eyebrows furrow when he sees it’s Phoenix calling him, instead. He picks up, bringing the phone to his ear. 

“Nat?” 

“Your wife got stung by a bee. We’re on our way to the hospital.” 

He can feel the dread as it settles over him. His heart beats faster in his chest. “What?” 

She sighs on the other line, and he can hear commotion in the background. “She’s severely allergic, Rooster. We sat outside at brunch and we didn’t even realize it happened at first. She didn’t have her epipen on her so we had to call an ambulance. She’s going to be fine, but you should get here anyway, okay?” 

He feels like he can barely breathe, like the room is closing in on him a little bit. Mav must notice the panic written all over him because he’s quick to come over and take the phone out of his hand, taking over the conversation. He can barely hear him over the roaring in his head. You were hurt. He knew you were extremely allergic to bees. That was something he had remembered. You were supposed to carry an epipen on you at all times. He can’t remember if you’d ever gotten stung when he was there. He can’t remember how bad it got if you ever were. But now you were in the back of an ambulance and on your way to a hospital and he could feel his fear all the way down to his bones. 

“Bradley, hey. Look at me.” 

Mav is in front of him, hands gripping his shoulders. He meets his eyes and tries to breathe, but all he can see is you, struggling to catch a breath and being loaded into the back of an ambulance. 

“I’ll drive, okay? Let’s go.” 

He follows him to the car, not really calculating anything other than the fact that he was almost an hour away from you and what if there was traffic and why didn’t you have your epipen on you? 

“She’s going to be okay.” 

“But-” 

“Phoenix said the paramedics administered epi as soon as they arrived, and it didn’t take them long to get to her. She was awake and was already breathing easier when they left for the hospital. Didn’t even need to use the sirens.” 

That doesn’t make him feel better. Not really. Knowing that trained professionals weren’t panicking must have meant that you were okay, but he knows how serious anaphylaxis is, too. 

He can’t reconcile everything that he’s feeling right now. He has never, ever felt like this before. The thought of something happening to you is scarier than any mission he had ever been on, any enemy he had encountered in the air. 

“Mav I can’t - I can’t lose her. I just got her.” 

“You aren’t going to.” 

Bradley doesn’t say anything, can’t think of a single thing to say, and instead buries his head in his hands from his spot in the passenger seat. You were going to be okay. You had to be okay. Because he may not remember everything about the two of you, but he did know for certain that if something ever happened to you, he would never, ever recover from it. 

He doesn’t wait for Mav once they get to the hospital, the older man opting to drop him off at the front before going to find parking. He’s practically sprinting as he goes through the emergency room doors and vaguely, he remembers you telling him about the time this happened before, when you took yourself to the hospital and ended up needing surgery. He can almost feel that panic now, and it makes what he’s already feeling worse. 

“Can I help-“

“I’m looking for my wife. She was brought in because of a bee sting-“

“Sir-“

“She’s really allergic and-“

“Sir!” The nurse behind the counter snaps, raising her voice over his to get through to him. “I need your wife’s name if I’m going to find her for you.”

Oh. Yes, he thinks, your name. They need your name. 

It’s the first time he’s said your full name, and your first and his last name feel so right coming off his tongue. But he can’t focus on that right now, giving all of his attention to the nurse who is typing so slowly. 

Before she can even hit enter, though, he hears his callsign echo behind him. He spins, heart racing with anxiety, and spots Nat making her way over to him. She gives the annoyed nurse a kind, charming smile as she grabs Bradley by the arm 

“Sorry about him, ma’am. I got him from here.”

She pulls him away without another word, heading toward the hallway off the packed waiting room. 

“Is she okay? Nat, is-“

“She’s fine, Rooster. Coming down from the adrenaline rush that the epinephrine gave her, but she’ll be okay.”

“What about-“

Nat stops in front of a closed door, lowering her voice. “Bradley. She’s okay.” 

He’s pushing past her before she even finishes, spotting you on the bed through the glass and half drawn curtain. You look so small amongst the crinkly white sheets, still in the clothes you wore to brunch. Your makeup is a bit smudged and your eyes are red and he hates to think that you were scared enough to start crying. You’re holding an oxygen mask in your hand at your side. 

“Hi baby.” Even your voice sounds more pitched. He’s quick to make it to your side. 

Your breathing is slightly elevated, and the heart monitor is beating a little bit faster than he thinks is normal. He grabs the hand holding the mask, placing it over your mouth to start providing you with the supplemental air again. You make a small sound of surprise, but take in a deep breath of it anyway before pushing his hand away. 

“I’m okay.”

But your hands are shaking and your eyes are wider than normal. The skin that he can see is splotchy with hives. 

He looks back at Nat, who is still hovering in the doorway, an eyebrow arched and a small smirk on her face. He ignores the look. “Can you grab a doctor?”

You protest from the bed, but Bradley doesn’t waiver. With a fond roll of her eyes, Nat disappears from view. 

“Bradley. Sweetheart.” You grip his wrist, trying to get him to focus on you. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m fine.”

“You’re in the emergency room because you went into anaphylactic shock. You are not fine.” 

“But I am,” you insist, smiling softly at him, even as your body trembles as it works to burn through the adrenaline that was injected into it, “medicine worked just fine.” 

The door slides open before he can respond, an attending doctor who looks like he’s been up for longer than is healthy and in wrinkled green scrubs introducing himself as he walks in.

“Is she okay?” Bradley demands immediately, and the tired man looks startled for a moment at how abrupt the question was. Bradley stares at him, his eyes wide and unblinking as he waits for the answer. His heart is still pounding in his chest. He feels you tangle one of your hands with one of his and he squeezes back when he feels the pressure from you. He knows you’re trying to reassure him. 

“And you are…?” 

“I’m her husband,” he answers easily, the words falling off his tongue like he had said them a thousand times before. You suck in a small breath and tighten your grip on his hand again. 

“Ah,” the doctor hums, flipping through the chart he’s holding. Bradley wonders if all non-military hospitals move this slowly or if it was just because of how anxious he is at this moment, but he really, really needs him to answer his question. 

“Is she okay?” he repeats. 

“Bradley,” you murmur, but he keeps his eyes trained on the man in the scrubs and white coat. 

“She responded well to the epinephrine that was administered by the paramedics who brought her in,” he finally says, looking up from the chart and taking a step toward your side. He stops when he sees that Bradley doesn’t move an inch. He sighs, switching direction to go to your other side instead. “How are you feeling Mrs. Bradshaw?”

You answer his questions as they come, Bradley paying rapt attention the whole time. Your throat doesn’t feel tight anymore. You aren’t lightheaded, but you do feel a little shortness of breath. You feel jittery - wired, almost. You’re both assured that it’s completely normal as the drug works its way out of your system. They can give you something to try and calm you down, and they want you to stay for a few hours to make sure you don’t go back into the allergic reaction once the epinephrine has worn off. The thought makes his blood run cold. 

“Should she stay overnight?” he asks, but the doctor shakes his head no. 

“The standard observation timeslot should be just fine, Mr. Bradshaw. But we’ll make sure you both know what to look out for when you leave.” 

He walks out without saying much else. Bradley feels you tug on his hand, his name leaving your lips in a whisper. He meets your gaze and he watches as your eyes soften even more. 

“Sit down, honey.” 

He listens to you, dragging the chair beside your bed as close as possible. He rests his elbows on the mattress beside you, holding your hand tightly between both of his. 

“I’m okay,” you repeat again.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your fingers and taking a deep breath. “I…this really scared me.” 

“I’m sorry for scaring you,” you say softly, running your thumb over one of the hands holding yours, soothing the skin and helping his racing heart. Your touch is like magic to him, providing an almost instant calm that he desperately needed. Guilt curled in his stomach, knowing that even now, you’re the one helping him. 

“I should be the one comforting you, not the other way around.” 

“We comfort each other, baby. That’s how this works.” 

“Why didn’t you have your epipen on you, Pumpkin? Don’t you normally carry it?” he asks quietly, a touch of urgency still in his tone. He couldn’t stop thinking about what would have happened if you were alone and this happened, with no one around to call 911. He could have lost you, all over a silly little bee sting, and he can’t wrap his mind around that. He just got you. He had had you, he knew. But he was just getting you back. 

“I switched bags this morning and forgot to take it out of the pocket of the old one, I guess. I haven’t had to use one since college. I forget about it, sometimes.” 

He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes and trying to rid himself of the worst case scenarios. He’s the one that normally reminds you to always have it on you, he thinks. He vaguely recalls having a spare in the glove compartment of the Bronco, and in the drawer in the kitchen and maybe one in the bedroom, too. 

Not for the first time, he curses his memory and the accident that took it from him. 

When he opens his eyes, his look is intense, “Never again, okay?” 

“Okay,” you say, but Bradley shakes his head. 

“No. Promise me. Please?”

Your lips part and you stare at him for a long moment. His gaze never waivers from yours. He needs you to listen to him. To hear him. 

“I promise,” you finally whisper. 

He rises from the chair, pressing a kiss to your lips. He keeps his forehead against yours, breathing you in. 

“Will you lay with me?” You ask quietly, shy in a way reminiscent of when you asked him to say I love you on the porch all those weeks ago. He hates that you felt you even needed to ask. 

With no hesitation, he maneuvered himself into the small bed beside you. He kisses your forehead once, twice, three times, holding you as tightly as he could. Your body still gave the occasional tremble but they had lessened now, your breaths coming a little bit easier, and he felt the tightness in his chest ease. 

“Sorry for being a mess,” he whispers into your hair. 

“Don’t,” you whisper back, and he feels you shake your head from where it’s tucked into his chest. “It means you care.”

The words are there, right on the tip of his tongue, but he can’t say them, not yet or here. You deserve more than a frantic hospital room confession.

-------

Part Nine :: Series Masterlist :: Main Masterlist

Notes: I hope you liked this one! We're nearing the end, but I think everyone is really going to like the next chapter. Would love to hear any thoughts you may have :)

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[squinch-depraved]

I think I speak for everyone when I say OML YOUR WRITING IS *chefs kiss*

Hint hint maybe some soft smut about reader with a chronic illness flare up with cscoop?

thank uuuu this req has my heart as a disabled cscoop girlie so i hope i did it justice for you sorry it's a shorter one i hope u enjoy

you were used to your flare-ups by now- at least, as used to them as you could be- but they always managed to worry your boyfriend. cooper had made it a habit to keep an eye on you, watching for signs that you were going to have a bad day. he knew it was going to be a rough one when you started squinting more and more after you had your lunch, clocking the developing migraine and bringing you whatever you needed without being asked. at first, you questioned the pillows and blankets he brought you, not realizing yourself why he was being so helpful, but soon you were grateful for the comfort when the headache began to feel like it was going to split your skull open. you mumbled feeble thanks to him as he drew the curtains and turned off all the lights, wincing at the sound of your voice reverberating through your bones.

"'s bad, coop," you whimpered tearfully.

"i know, baby," he replied, stroking your forehead. "is there anything at all you think could help? i'm here for whatever you need, i promise." his voice was thick with worry.

you sat for a moment, thinking, before you spoke. "i need a distraction that's not loud, bright, or anything like that. i don't know what it could be, but just... something else to focus on would make it easier," you rambled.

cooper puzzled through your words for a few minutes, still gently caressing your face, before he lit up with an idea and climbed under the blanket with you. he lined himself up between your legs and mumbled, "like this?" the sound was muffled by the comforter and you nodded at first, forgetting he couldn't see you with his face down by your core.

"yeah, that works. just, hurry up, please, i need you," you begged him, eyes screwed tightly shut in an attempt to deal with the pain. everything was spinning around you; you were unbelievably dizzy- until he pulled your pants and underwear off and began pressing open mouthed kisses directly to your cunt, then everything stabilized slightly. it was funny how he always made you unsteady when you felt fine, but the second you were feeling sick, the only thing that made it better was him.

cooper's tongue began swirling even faster on your clit, falling into a steady rhythm that he could keep going with for as long as he needed to. his fingers worked inside you at the same time, providing a welcome distraction from the pounding in your head. you just relaxed and let him feast on you, concentrating on the feeling of his sloppy mouth against you.

soon, what felt like hours later, the migraine was manageable, and you reached down to tug on his hair, letting him know. he responded by changing it up and eating you a little rougher, this time with the intent of making you cum. he was still gentle, but now it was more passionate, and you could hear him moaning quietly as he devoured you.

you clamped your thighs around his head when you got close, smothering him (much to his enjoyment) and keeping him trapped there until you came on his face. even then you held him for a few moments before releasing your grip on him and smiling when he popped up from under the blanket.

"feelin' any better?" he panted, eyes full of love.

you nodded and pulled him to your chest, hugging him tightly. "for now. might need you to do that again later, though, who know..." you joked.

he chuckled and pressed a kiss to your collarbone. "i'm down for whatever you need," he promised. "can i lay on you or do you need me to get off?"

"stay, please, the weight is helping," you answered. cooper just collapsed onto your chest, and soon he was snoring quietly. the noise was comforting, and you were able to fall asleep a bit after him.

[catscidr]

im sorry i know i should be writing reqs but i just can’t stop thinking about slightly creepy office au coworker dottore...... im horn

you have a boring 9-5 job, trying to find joy in the mundane, else you go crazy. waking up to birds chirping outside of your bedroom window, the tasty to-go coffee and breakfast sandwich you always get in the morning, and your coworker greeting your still-sleepy self when you step into the office. always one to gossip, she’d motion for you to hurry up and sit at your cubicle so she can gush about whatever rumor was currently roaming the building. 

“have you seen zandik lately? his temper is worse than usual! think he just got broken up with or something? honestly, i see why his partner would call things off, it seems like he’s always prioritizing work over people...” you take a long sip of your coffee, relishing in the newfound energy that flooded your system. it takes you a minute to process your coworker’s claim. 

“how do you know he was even in a relationship in the first place?” you ask, scoffing in amusement at how fast her brain seemed to work; it was almost impressive, really. “well, he’s handsome, for one. and he’s loaded! i don’t understand how he can afford such a nice car with a salary like ours,” she sulks as she finishes her rambling. you take the opportunity to finish your food, setting your half-empty cup down to start prepping your workspace. 

“inheritance? or he’s crazy good at managing money,” you suggest. just as you thought your coworker was about to drop the topic, she perks up and slams her hand on her desk a tad bit too loudly. “oh! or maybe he works a second job? y’know, the cost of living is getting pretty high, so maybe he has a 5-9 on top of working here!” 

someone shoots her a look that says “it’s still early, lower your voice”, and she grins at them awkwardly before turning to look at you with a smile that rivals someone that just uncovered the cure to a deadly disease. 

you pause your typing, fingertips resting idly on the mechanical keyboard. “why do you care about what he’s up to, anyways? usually you avoid talking about zandik or any of the higher-ups because you know they’ll probably get us in trouble,” you point out, your shoulder getting hit as soon as the words leave your mouth. giggling lightly at how dramatic her reaction was, you turn your attention from your computer to your coworker. you’re met with a petrified expression and uncomfortable body language along with the lack of natural light behind you. 

“and why, pray tell, are we gossiping about my foul mood?” someone says from behind you, though you could recognize its owner anywhere. your blood runs cold— the warmth from your morning coffee having vanished from your body, not a single trace left in the presence of the office’s most intimidating employee (arguably). your coworker flashes him a wide, albeit shaky smile, and shakes her head a bit too quickly for it to be considered normal. 

“n-not gossiping! we’re just concerned for your health! right?” she says your name, nudging your foot from underneath the desk. you don’t have time to decide whether you want to detach yourself from your predicament or to go along with her bullshit because zandik bends down to your level, flashing a smile that doesn’t quite reach his dull eyes as he speaks for you. “then avoid spreading rumors about my personal life, it gives me a headache,” he murmurs quietly.  

you’d catch the unspoken threat in his voice if you weren’t so flustered. he was so close you could smell his cologne— musky sandalwood that made your head spin, losing whatever train of thought you had just seconds ago. “s-sorry,” you’re the one that apologizes since your coworker was frozen in fear, looking more like a deer facing headlights than an office worker. 

zandik’s lips stretch wider, vermillion eyes narrowing at her before flickering over to you. you immediately look away, suddenly now noticing the sheer lack of space between you two. if what you were doing before was unprofessional, then this was beating it by a landslide. although you couldn't help but wish that he bent down to your level more often. though, at the same time, he looked good looking down at you…

he stays like this for a few more uncomfortable seconds before straightening his back and walking away, no words spoken between the three of you. your coworker exhales a breath she had been holding in, and turns to face her desk in silence. 

you're left with a rapidly beating heart and the need to take a bathroom break even though you just clocked in not even ten minutes ago.

[agent-barnes40]

Sick

13th Doctor & Reader (Platonic)

The Fam + Dan & Reader (Platonic)

The Doctor knows someone in Team TARDIS is sick, and she'll figure it out. She always does.

Sort of a sequel to Escape and yes, I'm pretty sure I have a cold. The ending is abrupt but with Escape, it was an abrupt ending as well.

TW: contagious illness talk

-

The Doctor knew someone was sick, she usually could tell. She is a Doctor after all, well not really a doctor but she could be one if she needed to and right now she really needed to be one. The TARDIS had alerted her that one of the humans on the ship was sick and she couldn't really figure out who, so she implemented a down week, where she could keep an eye on everyone.

Right now, Yaz and Ryan were doing their own things in their rooms while Dan and Graham were busy watching shows in the TARDIS theater room. You were curled up in your room, probably sleeping or reading in bed. The TARDIS always tracked where everyone was, including The Doctor.

The Doctor knocked on Yaz’s door, a subconscious tap of four, and she grimaced a small bit but smiled when Yaz tossed the door open. “Is the sick week almost over?”

“No, one of you guys are still sick and I was hoping it’d be over by now but it’s still sticking. I was just coming to check on you, see if you started having any symptoms.” The Doctor quickly explained, her hands moving quicker than her words were. She had pressed her hands against Yaz’s forehead and then stilled.

A loud sneeze echoed down the corridor and then a croaky voice echoed “Sorry.”

Yaz laughed softly. “Think we found your patient, Doc.”

The Doctor laughed as well, turning to look down the hallway. "You get settled back into whatever you were doing, Yaz. I'll take care of them."

Yaz laughed again, a whole new burst of noise. "Yeah, yeah, cause your The Doctor."

The Doctor never expected to see you around the corner, she had abandoned Yaz at her door so she could hunt down her patient. You had been bundled up in a blanket, one Graham had gotten you when The TARDIS had accidentally lost your blanket. The Doctor looked you over, barely giving you time to register who was touching you. Her hands were pressing on your forehead, and then checking your lymph nodes.

You smiled and just stared at her, leaning into her colder hands. "Hi Doc."

The Doctor smiled softly and looked at you fully. "How are you feeling?"

"Cold, and warm and hot, all at the same time." You mumbled and she nodded.

"Yeah, you have a cold. Lets get you back to your room. Don't want you spreading this around the TARDIS." The Doctor said, pulling her hands away and you whined softly.

The Doctor wrapped an arm around your waist, to help direct you to your room. "I was heading to the kitchen, I wanted to get food."

The Doctor nodded, and turned the two of you back around. "I'll bring you some soup, okay?"

You nodded and leaned on her. "Can you have anyone else make the soup? Your a bad cook."

She laughed softly and nodded. The Doctor turned to open your door after a while and led you inside. You had a tight grip on her as she led you to your bed, and got you sat down on it. Her hands immediately grabbing the top comforter to wrap it around you. "How's the body aches?"

"Horrendous. My spine literally feels like its been operated on. My shoulders hurt too." You complained and lied down as The Doctor pushed on your shoulders just a tiny bit to have you lie down.

"Can I can scan you? Make sure you don't have anything else going on aside from the cold." The Doctor asked, hands already moving to pull out her sonic from her jacket.

You nodded against the pillows, eyes closing as you listened to her start to scan you with the sonic.

"Hmm, looks like your running a low grade fever, somewhat dehydrated. Do you have a headache? Never mind. You can answer that later." The Doctor rambled for a minute and then leaned over you and tucked you in.

"Stay here. The TARDIS will absolutely alert me if you even think of getting up." The Doctor ordered and you opened your eyes to stare up at her.

"Of course, Doc. I'll always listen to you." You mumbled out and smiled at the grin that appeared on her face.

The Doctor pressed a kiss to her hand and then pressed her hand onto your forehead. "I'll be right back, okay kiddo?"

~

The Doctor was surprised to see Graham and Dan arguing over what soup was the best for a sick person and watched them from the door way for a minute. "You two are acting like two dad's right now."

Graham looked over, shaking his head softly. "Grace usually made Ryan soup when he didn't feel good, so I wanted to make the same one for the kid and well-"

"I'm forty-two! I'm not nearly old enough to be a dad!" Dan complained and The Doctor grinned.

"Old enough to be their dad. Graham, why don't you make Grace's soup recipe and Dan, you can help me find a tray." The Doctor delegated quickly, kneeling down to dig through a cabinet to find said tray.

"Why are we looking for a tray?" Dan asked, immediately kneeling next to her to help her.

"I don't want them to eat alone, so I'll go and eat with them." The Doctor said.

"We could all sit and eat together? Might help them feel a bit better, not being cooped up in a room with just you." Graham pointed out, starting on grabbing supplies for the soup.

"You all could get sick and its an Earth common cold. I don't want to have an entire ship of patients." The Doctor said, looking over at Graham.

Dan was still digging through the cupboard when Yaz entered the room. She leaned on the door frame as she watched the older people move around the kitchen. "Soup for dinner?"

Graham turned to look over at her. "Yeah, Grace used to make this for Ryan."

[vampzzi]

CONNECTION (01) — HOBIE BROWN

cw : swearing, vague suggestive content but nothing heavy, vampire reader, short n sweet introduction to a series, a more modern environment / setting, not proofread

authors note : I hate having bad physical health, I be disappearing so quick without a word and I apologize

YOU’RE JUST A PERSON..who lives in a big city, a really big city of Brooklyn New York. You are an worker at a lingerie shop on the block, while you work this small side job you’re also in college studying to become a chef. You’ve always wanted to pursue a career in the culinary field ever since you were given the opportunity to take a course in middle school. This was your dream job that you’d work hard to achieve to live.

“Hey, hey!! bestie!!” your friend was waving her hand infront of your face as you jolted and hit your knee under the table as you hissed out and put your elbow on the counter. “what..” you said as your other hand was coming down to rub down at your knee that was stinging. Your co-owner, Millie looked at you a little concerned before putting her hand on your shoulder with an sympathetic face. “Didn’t mean to scary ya but you were zoning out and we’re on the clock!” How long had you been zoning out for? 5 minutes? 25 minutes maybe even 30??

“Sorry, I’ve just been so lost in thought lately. It’s been a little bit draining lately” Millie’s hands rubbed your shoulder “it’s alright, I completely understand. It’s just apart of becoming an adult and taking on a bunch of responsibilities at once.” too many responsibilities, you already miss the good days were you’d be laying in your bed, stacked up with snacks and watching your favorite YouTuber not having to worry about what you’re gonna eat tonight, how you’re getting home or if you payed your rent. Did you pay your rent??

See, what you mean? So many responsibilities that come with being an adult that you’re not ready for but you just gotta stuck it up and push through. You’re lost in this bit city with no one by your side family or romantic wise to help you. The thought stresses you out as you’re not even listening to Millie as she rambles. You just dismiss her as you begin to get up and walk around the store help. Would that be a good idea with being so light headed?? No, you should just handle the register for now.

It’s a simple task, check things out, bag them and check the person out. You could do that, your body was draining itself as you dragged your “dead” body to the register as you pushed the little door thing open and closed it. You looked dead and felt dead, it was hard to hear and that headache was getting worse. Was it time to feed? You shouldn’t be this hungry at this hour, it’s only 10am. It’s only been an hour or two since you’ve got to work. You don’t know what time it is really but all you know is this headache might kill you.

…business is slow today, which is unusual. It makes you wonder if the open sign is even turnt the right way but a customer or two come in and you let out a sigh of relief. Your own loneliness and thoughts would have mushed your brain and let them roam through your head any longer.

Your head snapped up as you watched closely as the customers or couple looked at lingerie.

“You’d look great in this honey” the male pointed at the set as he made a camera angle with this fingers as the girl just giggled and blushed. “Ohh stop, you.”

“Ohh stop, youuu” you mocked her as you were behind the counter. Playing with the buttons of the register, you had been single for the longest and that also drove you crazy. A lot of things drove you crazy.

The couple continued to explore in the store and finally picked up a set as you couldn’t make out what they were saying but they were heading your way “Um, excuse me?” Eyes locked with hers as you put your elbows on the corner ready to snap into your fake work persona. “Hello, how may I help you?”

“I was wondering if you guys have this set, the uh- “blonde 4 hearts” set in a size Medium or is it only for the petite sizes?” Blonde 4 hearts was a rather popular set and you’d have to check back with Millie on the stock to see if their was anything left of that set. “I’ll check in the back and see if we have anything” a small smile on your face as she smiled back.

“Milleeee” feet making their way to the back as you slightly stumbled from the dizziness. “Do we have a size Medium for the set “blonde 4 hearts”.

“All sold out, you know that set is popular.” Millie chuckled as you shook your head. “Gonna have to the break news to the couple up front then.” You playfully rolled your eyes and wished your farewell to the Millie as you walked back to the front and unfortunately had to the bad news to the couple.

“Bad news, due to high demand with this set we’re out of stock with any sizes but those. But we get a new stock every 1-2 weeks depending on when our supplies come in. If you want I can get your contact info and give you a call when it’s back in stock?” The lady looked disappointed but a ”sparkle” in her eyes appeared when you mentioned it being back in stock.

“I’d love that. My name is Luna Moore, my number is xxx-xxx-xxxx and my email is mooremoon@gmail.com. You took note of everything in the system as you smiled at her. “We’ll give you a call back when it’s back in stock, you have a nice day.” The lady replied back with a kind gesture of “you too” and she was off.

Now, you needed Millie.

“F-Fuck, hey…” Millie said as your teeth sunk into her skin as you drunk her blood. Her shirt unbuttoned and hanging off her arms as you held her onto her waist, feeding on her. Millie was one of your closer friends even if she was a co-worker and she allowed you to do things like this. She counted like it was a blood donation, which it kinda is that. Her blood was sweet and dark in red. It was healthy. Which made her your number 1 to turn to when it time to feed.

Teeth leaving her skin as you licked your lips and a string of thank you left your mouth. As she was buttoning her shirt up “it’s not problem, you’re my best friend. My weird best friend” you smiled at that. Fangs viable and tongue visibly red from the blood. Up and off your feet and wetting a paper towel as you returned to her and rubbed the excess blood over the mark with pressure as you discarded the paper towel.

“What were you gonna tell me earlier before I started feeding on you.” Millie stretched as she sat in the chair, before getting her phone off the table. “I found a dating app, it’s called “hookship” it’s basically a place where you can hook up or find potential long lasting partners. Even short term. “I don’t know Mill..”

“I’m not one for the dating apps, there’s some many creeps and weirdos online” and what you said was the truth, you never knew who you could trust online and Millie could understand that point but you really needed someone. “Just give it a try, please.”

“Maybe, it might be different right?”

You stared at your phone at 2:42 AM at the welcome sign. Eyeing the “make an account button” is this really a good idea? Are you this desperate? You weren’t ugly or anything that you HAD to use a dating app. But this could be a new experience for you, this would take a lot of thought and tonight wasn’t the night for this.

You’d click your phone off and lay your head down on your pillow. You’d have a clear idea tomorrow, maybe.

taglist ; @remuslupinsno1slut

[alone-on-takodana]

@lastdaysofwar Day two (I am behind) - Languages

K-Science

Feat. Bickering, some language, smoking and gratuitous Welsh

Everyone collects something. Mako collects postcards, and covers the wall in her quarters above her bed in them. Sunsets, cherry blossom, beaches and city skylines hiding the cold steel beneath. 

Herc Hansen, slightly predictably, collects beer mats and bottle tops. His wall is similarly decorated, together with an Australian flag and a pinned up rugby shirt. 

Dr Geiszler, as it turns out when they finally stop snarling at each other and start talking like grownups, collects languages. 

The drift has had the inconvenient side effect of giving Hermann terrible headaches when they fight, as though his own brain is being rattled. Besides, it feels more than a little odd to have fragments of Newt's memories, likes, dislikes, hopes and fears floating around in his conscious mind with no context. It's no good. He is going to be forced to get to know his walking disaster of a lab partner. 

As it turns out, they have more than a little in common. They discuss their Alma maters, their parents, music, film, sport (Hermann doesn't know an awful lot about music or sport, but he's happy to let Newt ramble on as he works), anything which will take the edge off their possible impending doom. Hermann talks a little about his collection of pipes, clay, wood, China, some painted or beautifully carved, tucked away in a drawer back in his room. 

‘I never knew you smoked? You seemed way too much of a hardass for anything like that’

‘I used to. Cigarettes, though. But, you know, asthma, and getting around is enough of a struggle, so I gave up when I was twenty five’ Hermann says cooly ‘And I'm only a hardass when you're being an inconsiderate jerk’

‘What because of a little mess? Dude, you really gotta learn to relax sometimes and - ah!‘ Newt, who has defensively gone up at least two octaves in tone, grasps his temple at a sudden sharp pain, an invisible screwdriver though the eyeball. ‘Motherfucker. Do you get those headaches too?’

Hermann nods ‘I don't think the drift likes us fighting. Or rather, our brains don't. So perhaps we should try and get along? I'm…’ This is almost as painful as the headaches, but only almost ‘I'm sorry I said you were a joke, Doctor’

‘Man, you really gotta drop the Doctor thing. Newt is fine, I swear. Please.’

‘Alright’ Hermann grumbles ‘Anyway…we were talking about our collections, I believe’

‘Oh, yeah! It's like, I used to have a bunch of action figures, star wars, Godzilla, Ghostbusters, that kinda thing, yknow?’ Newt gestures broadly with a scalpel, pushing his headlamp out of the way and making all his hair stick up alarmingly. 

‘I've never watched the second two, but I’m familiar’ Hermann feels a smile tug at one corner of his long mouth. 

‘Okay, first off we gotta do something about that -’ Newt ticks off on an index finger ‘And second, well, it's not like I could pack all that stuff up every single time I moved, right? Cos that was a bunch of times, like, from Germany to California and then I was in New York for like, ten minutes, and Berlin, Hong Kong, and like, everywhere, I guess.’

‘Seems a little sad though, not having anything of home, or any of the places you've studied’

‘Yeah, but that's the genius part, it's all up here’ He taps his temple, and grins

‘Well, I suppose you've always got the memories and-’

‘Nah, well, yeah - but not what I meant. I kinda like to learn something everywhere I go. Everywhere I've taught, or studied, or worked, I try and learn a language. Getting kinda good at it now’

‘Interesting. What happens if you go somewhere where you already speak the language?’

‘Then I pick a wild card’

‘Why?’

‘I dunno, man, why does anyone do anything? Did you never learn anything just because it was fun? To keep your mind busy?’

‘I preferred to keep myself sharp for my work.’

‘I guess, I think it sorta makes me a bit sharper, having something that's not work to think about’

‘How many are you on now?’

‘How many what?’

‘Languages’

‘Oh uh - I didn't really stop to count.’ He pauses for a moment, looking up at the rusting steel ceiling as he thinks. He's actually sort of gormlessly handsome when he looks off into the distance like that, Hermann muses to himself with a small smile. 

‘Ten, I think, those ones are fluent. And like, mostly fluent in five more. So, English and German, obviously, Spanish, Russian, Mandarin, Japanese, Thai, Arabic, and the two wild card ones were Swahili and Welsh’

‘Welsh?’

‘Yeah. It was kinda fun at the time’

‘Have you even been to Wales?’

‘No, never.’

‘Are you going to? ‘

‘I dunno, maybe? Why, do you wanna come with me, after we kick thousands of tonnes of Kaijuu ass back into the breach?’ He says, with a winning smile

‘If we live through it, maybe - wait. Hold on just a moment, if, can I-?’ Hermann is looking at him wild eyed, like he's just had an idea

‘Gonna have to be a little more specific than that, man, use your words-’

‘Wyt ti'n siarad cymraeg? Dyn ni’n siarad cymraeg?’ Hermann looks sort of confused and vaguely horrified as his mouth forms the words

‘Ydw.’ Newt grins broadly ‘Woah. I mean your pronunciation is a little off but like…yeah, man, you can speak Welsh too now. Perks of the drift, I guess. You probably also know how to crochet now.’

‘I'm sure that'll be wonderfully useful in my work. In contrast you now know where the mop is and how to clean the lab after yourself-’

‘I already did, man, come on, you can't say some of the stuff you got from this big sexy brain isn't at least kind of cool’

Hermann rolls his eyes ‘I'm sure I'll find a use for it one day. But in the meantime, have you eaten anything today? Because the non stop thinking about spicy noodles isn't me’

‘I mean, no, that's gonna take a little bit to get comfy with. Wanna have lunch with me maybe?’

‘You know, Newt, that might actually be nice.’

[ladykailitha]

All My Roads Lead Back to You Part 16

Hello! Sorry I missed posting yesterday but I had a horrible tension headache from sleeping on my neck wrong and I was pretty much out from the moment I got home until I went to bed at 10pm.

I forgot to link it on the last chapter, but this is the song that I listened to nonstop while writing part 15. Somebody New by The Struts.

Steve is on the road to recovery but I think I’ve got a couple more chapters to go before we reach the end.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4  Part 5 Part 6  Part 7 Part 8  Part 9  Part 10  Part 11  Part 12  Part 13  Part 14  Part 15    

***

Monday morning came and the kids were back at school.

“Damn it,” Kenny said. “I was so sure that was going to work.” He poked at his food with a growl.

Mandy put her arm around him. “I’m not so sure it didn’t.”

Three pairs of eyes turned her direction in interest.

“Now,” she started, hands in the air, “most of what I got is from snippets of conversation that I happened to hear because my dad is H-man’s and Miss Thing’s dads confidant.”

They all nodded.

“But from what it sounded like,” she said, playing with her hands as she fought for the right words, “is that they admitted having romantic feelings for each other, but that Mr Harrington didn’t feel ready to commit to a new relationship having been physically and emotional destroyed by the last one.”

All the eyes turned to Edie. She gulped.

“We really don’t talk about it,” she murmured. “But yeah, after my dad’s last break up, he got really low. I–I don’t know how low, I was only ten and he hid a lot from me because I was just a kid, but I know he had to spend a couple months in a special hospital afterwards.”

“I’m sorry, love,” Mandy said putting an arm around her friend and rubbing her shoulder. “Was this when you had to spend a couple months at our house.”

Edie nodded. “I just want Dad to be happy. Whatever that looks like. But I really think that looks like Mr Munson.”

Harri nodded. “But I appreciate your dad having the foresight to stop and say not yet. Not no. Not never. Not even let’s trying knowing I’m not in a good space. That takes a lot of strength. I admire him for that.”

Everyone nodded.

“So you’re idea worked,” Edie said. “After a fashion. We know they love each other. We know they want to be together. It’s just going to take time. And that’s better than the sword of Damocles hanging over our heads.”

She grabbed her soda. “Three cheers to Kenny!”

Mandy and Harri raised their sodas too. “Three cheers to Kenny!”

*

Eddie’s choice for lunch that week was his place. He shrugged when Steve asked.

“I didn’t feel like going out this week,” was his only explanation.

As they sat at the small breakfast table Steve could feel himself relax.

Eddie smiled at him slyly as he chewed on a bit of food.

Steve looked up at him in confusion. “What?”

“I got to thinking about it after you told me about your troubles with eating that you never relaxed when we went out to eat.”

Steve frowned and looked down at his plate. He had nearly finished it without thinking. “I didn’t realize that.”

“You’re always worried about being judged about what you’re eating and how much,” Eddie explained further. “You even did it at that big celebration dinner with Jeff and them. And when Harri and I would eat over there, Edie was always scrutinizing everything you ate. Were you counting the amount of bites you were taking?”

Steve blushed but he nodded. “I know how many bites it takes for me to feel full and eat exactly that many.”

Eddie raised his chin at him. “How many bites did you take today?” He nodded to Steve’s plate.

Steve opened his mouth to answer, but closed it when he realized he didn’t know. “How?”

“I keep you interested by talking,” Eddie said. “You tend to forget to count and eat more when I ramble. So I weaponized it.”

Steve looked down at his plate and then up at Eddie. “Thank you.”

Eddie smiled sweetly at him. “This is a bandaid for the real problem, but it’s a start. You need to start making a diary of when you get intrusive thoughts about your eating and then share that with your therapist. Or hell get a new one. One you can trust with your eating because to me it looks like you don’t.”

Steve furrowed his brow. He trusted Dr Rushing, didn’t he? But the more he thought about it the more he realized that he didn’t. He had been there when Steve had his breakdown and Steve never quite trusted the doctor not use that against him.

“Oh.” He looked up at Eddie, his lips quivering. “How did you know?”

Eddie tilted his head and leaned forward. “It was something you said on Saturday that tipped me off.”

Steve thought back but he couldn’t land on anything that would have told him that he didn’t trust his therapist.

“You had been with this doctor for five years,” Eddie said softly. “And while grief and illness aren’t linear, you weren’t better, Stevie.”

Steve’s head reared back. “Oh my god. You’re right. It’s not about getting over what Andy did. It’s about not having the tools to form new relationships. And you’re right, I don’t have those.”

Eddie nodded. “I don’t know enough about eating disorders or any of that shit, but I do know something about therapy. Having been taking it for the last twenty years.”

“Twenty years?” Steve asked, his eyes almost bulging out of his head. “That’s a long time.”

Eddie nodded. “Jay wanted me to get it before Harri was born. Screaming yourself awake after just putting a baby down for bed isn’t conducive to a happy life. For anyone involved.”

“I couldn’t trust the therapists Dr Owens sent us to,” Steve admitted. “I always thought that they would report anything and everything right back to him. I guess that’s why I never really trusted Dr Rushing, my current therapist, I mean.” He looked down at the table as he fought to control his breathing. “I just don’t trust any of them. What if they decided that the Upside Down was a delusion and they put me away? They’d give Edie back to Addison. I couldn’t do that. I can’t.”

Eddie put his fork down and really looked at Steve. He leaned down and tilted his head so he could Steve to look back at him. “How long have you been holding that in, sweetheart?”

Steve jerked back like he even forgot that Eddie was there. “I don’t know. Too long, I guess.”

Eddie pulled out his wallet and got out a small card. “I don’t know if Dr Kegler does eating disorders or whatever, but give her a call. She can at least refer you to someone who can help you.”

Steve took the card from Eddie and looked at it. “Dr Olivia Kegler, licensed therapist and psychologist?”

“She’s really helped me,” Eddie explained. “Not just with the Upside Down but with Jay’s death too.”

“Is she–is she read in?” Steve asked timidly, looking back down at the card.

Eddie nodded. “But Owens hates her, and that’s says a lot, I think.”

Steve looked up and murmured, “Because she doesn’t tell him anything?”

Eddie shrugged. “No idea, but I really like her, Stevie. Just give her a try, okay?”

Steve nodded. What was there to lose, really?

*

When Steve got home he made some phone calls and set up an appointment with Dr Kegler.

It wasn’t until after his first appointment with her that he made a decision. He talked it over with Eddie and he agreed. It was time.

Steve made dinner for the four of them like what was becoming their norm. Eddie made dessert.

Which was when the two teenagers cottoned on that this wasn’t a regular dinner.

“After talking to my new therapist and discussing it with Eddie,” Steve began, “it’s time we told you the truth about what happened in Hawkins twenty years ago.”

Eddie slammed a great big manila folder on the table between them. “I wasn’t there for the first few years, but I noticed things before then.”

Steve took a deep breath and then began to tell his story, the whole time Eddie would show them document after picture after statement showing them proof that Steve wasn’t lying to them.

And then they got to Chrissy’s death and Steve let Eddie take over. He even let him fill the kids in with stuff he wasn’t there for, but was told about later in the hospital.

“So the feral dogs and crazy bats story was a lie?” Edie asked after they were done.

Steve shook his head. “No. They were feral and they were dogs. Just not the kind you were familiar with. Same with the crazy bats. We didn’t know what else to call them. Uncle Dusty named most of them, tying them to their D&D game. But I would never lie to you.”

“Hence all the times you said you couldn’t tell us, huh?” Harri asked quietly. “You would rather have us mad at you for not being able to tell us then to lie and have it hurt us later.”

Steve and Eddie nodded.

“The hardest thing was making sure not to talk about it when you were around,” Steve murmured to Edie. “I hated not being able to tell you, but it was properly scary stuff.”

“You could have told me sooner,” Harri protested. “Dustin and them were all eleven or twelve when this started. You could have told me years ago.”

Steve laughed. “Yeah? You tell that to his face then,” he said harshly. “Tell him he was old enough to brave nightmares and phobias for years due to the Upside Down. Tell Will or Lucas or even Jane that they were old enough for the horrors they faced. If they’re feeling nice, they might just laugh in your face.”

Harri looked down at his hands and hunched his shoulders. Eddie stood up and came around to where Harri was seated.

“You weren’t mature enough to handle Papa passing away, Harri-bear,” he said gently. “I know you’re only saying this because you feel I deliberately kept this from you, but that’s not it at all. Okay?”

Steve closed his eyes and opened them slowly. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I was your age when I faced my first real horror and I wouldn’t wish that on either of you.”

Harri nodded.

Steve looked over at his daughter, tilting his head. “What’s on your mind, Miss Thing?”

“Just piecing together little things you’ve said over the years, I guess.”

Steve nodded. “What’s the picture like in your head?”

Edie straightened up and said with a smile. “You are far too normal for what you went through, Jesus Christ!”

Steve and Eddie laughed. Just threw their heads back and laughed.

“I’m really not,” Steve said once he caught his breath. “My neuroses have neuroses, honey.”

Eddie chuckled. “He is the most down to earth of the Party, but in no way is your dad normal.”

“Does Uncle Jeff know?” Harri asked.

Eddie shook his head. “Neither does Uncle Gareth.”

“We’ve both made and kept friends that don’t know about the Upside Down,” Steve explained. “But most the people we’re closest to do, though.”

Harri nodded. “I’m sorry about my comment about Dustin, that wasn’t fair.”

“This wasn’t something we wanted,” Steve said gently. “In fact if we could have had adults we trusted, we wouldn’t have had to do it at all. But we kept being dragged back in over and over again against our will. I think out of all of us, the three that suffered the most was Will, Jane, and your dad.”

“Because of the town freaking out, right?” Edie asked. “For Mr Munson?”

Steve nodded. “He was the only one to faced actual persecution for this shit. And I got tortured by fucking Russians.”

“Yeah...” Eddie said, “I’m still pissed off at the government for not going to war over the torture of kids.”

“Their justification was that technically I was an adult because I was eighteen.”

“Robin wasn’t,” Eddie bit out. “And you can’t tell they wouldn’t have tried to torture Dustin or Erica if they had managed to catch them.”

They talked a little bit more about what they had gone through and how they thought that now that their kids were going to be going into their senior year of school that it would be a good time to finally come clean.

It was a lot of things to process and they were so proud of them for understanding.

It wasn’t going to be an easy road, but Steve smiled at the thought of sharing the burden with them all.

***

Part 17  Part 18  Epilogue

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