#the way i offered her my anxiety meds

[forsworned]

I don’t know who you were girl that I spoke to last night but you were so fucking brave for calling out for Barry after the panel, my heart goes out to you because I would’ve never done that ��😭😭 but thank you so telling me that you loved my sketch of Captain Price it was so fucking sweet

[secretsofafangirll]

oral fixation - m.s.

summary: matts girlfriend loves to have things in her mouth. when she gets home after a day of minor inconveniences, she seeks comfort from her boyfriend, in a rather, unconventional way.

warnings: oral (male receiving), praising, pet names (baby, sweetheart, etc.), soft!dom matt, sub!fem, talk of anxiety,

a/n: couple of things; one, the girl doesn't have a name so you can imagine whomever you'd like, two, i've started planning my Matt series...anyways, hope you guys like it! :)))

"A touch / From your real love / Is like heaven takin' the place of somethin' evil"

⏜︵♡︵⏜︵୨୧︵⏜︵♡︵⏜⏜︵♡︵⏜︵୨୧︵⏜︵♡︵⏜

For my entire life, I’ve loved having things in my mouth. 

When I was younger, it was impossible for my parents to get my thumb or my pacifier out of my mouth. The comfort that came from having the object resting in my mouth was too intense for me to leave behind. Behaviors like that followed me into childhood with things like gum or lollipops. In high school, I chewed copious amounts of gum, always had a pen or pencil in my mouth and played with my lips all the time. 

Naturally, when I managed to find myself a boyfriend, he became aware of my oral fixation in many ways. He would always notice how often I had things in my mouth or if I was biting my lips, he would offer me something else so I didn’t tear up the delicate skin. It got to a point where, if he and I were laying down together and one of his hands was unoccupied, I would simply reach down and grab his hand, bringing it to my mouth and wrapping my lips around one of his fingers and playing with it in my mouth. Of course Matt enjoyed this himself, but there were other ...situations, where this oral fixation benefitted him much more than putting a finger in my mouth. 

Matt also understood why I do what I do. Him and I both struggle with anxiety, and we both have for years. In high school, I was medicated for it and had a hard time getting through the day. However, I hated the way that the meds made me feel and I swore to my parents that I wasn’t going to take them anymore and that I’d find another way to cope. Matt copes with alone time and silence but I get more overstimulated than he does and when I do, all I want is to have something in my mouth and someone to touch. 

Which is why on days like these, anxiety ridden and insane days, I need my boyfriend and one of his extremities to rest between my lips. 

After several cars cutting me off on the road and almost hitting me on the way to the gym this morning, I was already slightly shaken up and worried for my safety. When I got to the gym, there was a man somewhat following me around, conveniently using all of the machines next to me. After that, I went to the grocery store in hopes that they had some grapes and snacks for me to feel better, they were out of seedless grapes which sent me into a frenzy about the way that the seeds feel in my mouth, and the self-checkout lanes were under renovation and I had to talk to the cashier to check out. 

I took shallow and quick breaths as I walked swiftly out to my car. I tossed the bag into the back seat and swung open the driver door. The second that I was enclosed in my car, in my space, I was able to calm myself down. Once I had myself under control, I started the car and drove home. When I arrived, I grabbed my things from the car and headed inside. I used my house key to unlock the front door, using my foot to close it behind me. I tossed my keys in the dish and heard Matt typing on the couch. 

“Hi baby,” He said without looking up. I didn’t respond because I just wanted to put the groceries I picked up away and sit with him. “Alright,” He said and continued typing away. 

I put the cold stuff in the refrigerator and the dry stuff in the pantry and cabinets before heading to his room to slide out my dirty and uncomfortable gym clothes and into one of his shirts. Once I was comfortable and the smell of his cologne filled my nostrils, I was finally ready to lay down next to him on the couch. 

“Sorry,” I murmured quietly, gently taking a seat next to him and pulling a blanket over my legs, curling into his side and latching onto one of his arms, “I just wanted to put those away so that I could sit with you.” 

I sat there looking for something of his to grab onto but his hands were occupied and I don’t think he’d appreciate it if I put anything else, if you know what I mean, in my mouth at the moment. I sighed quietly to myself and began to bite on my lips. 

“You don’t have to apologize,” He said, leaning over to kiss the top of my head. 

I continued my assault on my lips and I felt the skin tear and the metallic taste of my own blood rested on my tongue. When it started to hurt too bad to bite my lips, one of my hands found my mouth and I started to bite and suck on that instead, the other arm wrapping impossibly tighter around his. His elbow nudged my side and he looked over at me. 

“You doin’ okay?” He asked without looking away from his computer where he was replying to emails and taking notes in a Google Doc. I only hummed, unwilling to take my fingers out of my mouth. My lack of a real response, which I know he hated, made him finally look up at me. My eyes blinked guiltily at him when his brows went from furrowed to concerned, “Sweetheart,” He sighed and reached up to pull my hand away from my mouth. I flexed all of my muscles to keep it in my mouth but he tilted his head at me and pulled harder, his strength easily overpowering mine. 

“I’m sorry,” I sighed, relaxing my muscles and looking down my hands with guilt and embarrassment written all over my face. 

“Hey,” He said softly, reaching out to grab my jaw and gently pull my head up to look at him, “You don’t have to say sorry. There’s nothing to apologize for.” He shook his head and looked into my eyes for an explanation, “D’you have a bad day?” He asked and closed his computer screen ¾ of the way down. 

“Kind of,” I said, questioning in my tone, “I don’t even know. It’s just been, like, too much.” I tried to spit it out but I struggled to pin-point how, exactly, I felt. It was just too much.

“That’s okay, baby,” He cooed, “You want my hand?” My eyes widened in excitement and I nodded before correcting myself with a ‘Yes, please’. 

He brought his left forearm up to my mouth and I played with his long fingers trying to pick which one I wanted. I decided on the pointer first, but planned to use every finger but the pinky. He used his other hand to scroll through emails and business inquiries, also scrolling through pinterest to find inspiration for future videos. 

I, on the other hand, swirled my tongue mindlessly around his fingers, taking them all the way into my mouth and then back out, my saliva coating his fingers down the knuckle. Every so often, he would shift his hips slightly or clear his throat and scratch his neck. I knew how this was affecting him, but he also respected my needs more than his and wouldn’t want to make me uncomfortable. After close to twenty minutes had passed of my sucking on his fingers, he looked at the time on his computer and closed it all the way. He leaned back against the couch, his hand still in my mouth and he turned his head as it laid against the top of the couch and he watched me mindlessly play with his fingers. When I fully pulled off his middle finger alone, I pushed his ring finger to meet it and took them both fully into my mouth. He groaned and I snapped my eyes to meet him and worked my mouth around his fingers. 

“God, don’t fuckin’ look at me like that when you’ve got my fingers down your throat, honey,” He instructed gently, understanding of my rather fragile nature. I pulled off his fingers, letting my tongue teasingly drag across the length of them. 

“Sorry,” I swallowed to clear my throat and scooted closer to him. He reached across himself and wrapped his dry hand around my thigh and under my knee to pull me onto his lap. I squealed at the sudden movement but settled and nuzzled into his lap. 

“How many times are you gonna apologize, hm?” He questioned with a smile, tucking my hair behind my ears. 

“You know how I am, Matt,” I laughed and grabbed his wrists and put them on top of my thighs, encouraging him to tickle them. 

“Yeah, I do,” He smiled, “But that means that I know you’re gonna keep saying sorry until you feel better.” He accused me and I smiled like I’d been caught stealing, “What else do you need, baby?”

I blushed and looked down at my hands, “I don’t wanna-,”

“Oh, you’re gonna.” He said sternly. 

“I want you.”

“You have me.” He said and nudged my chin with his knuckle, “What do you need?”

“Need your cock,” I said quietly. 

“What was that?” He turned his ear toward me. 

“I need your cock, Matthew.” I said louder. 

“There she is.” He said and gently moved my thighs to allow me to sink to my knees in front of him. “See? Wasn’t that hard, no?” 

When I was comfortable at his feet, I worked to remove his belt and unbuckle his pants. He did the work of actually pushing them down. His hard cock sprung out of his pants and he hissed as the cool air penetrated the sensitive and tacky skin. His tip was lathered in a small amount of pre-cum and he pulsed and twitched slightly. I pouted at the sight for two reasons; one being that it made me want him in my mouth even more, and two, I felt bad for the state I’d put him in. 

“Matty,” I whined, tracing circles with the fingernails on his knees, “I didn’t know it was this bad. I’m sorry.” 

“If you say sorry one more time, all you’re getting is my fingers,” He tutted. My eyes widened in fear. 

“Okay, I’ll stop.” I promised and he smiled down at me. 

“Good girl.” 

I got to quick work pumping his cock in my hand to get him ready. His cock looked so big compared to my smaller hand. It didn’t even fit around the entire thing. He groaned and hissed at the stimulation, his breathing getting heavier and slightly more labored. Soon, I leaned down and gently licked the tip before wrapping my lips around the tip. Pleasure and comfort washed over me and I continued to sink my head down onto his dick. His hands gathered my hair in a make-shift ponytail on my head and he held my hair out of my face. He didn’t push my head down, he just simply aided me in my quest for comfort, which I was most definitely finding. 

“There you go baby,” He praised, “So fuckin’ good,” He whispered, more to himself than anyone else. 

I took his cock down my throat slowly, suppressing the slight gag reflex I still have, though it’s not too bad. I whined around his dick with comfort and need. 

“What baby?” He asked breathlessly, pulling me off him, “Why’re you whinin’? You got what you wanted, no?” 

“No!,” I protested, pushing his hands away, “I’m fine! I just love having you, s’all.” I explained with a smile before going back down on him. As I continued to work his cock, my body visibly relaxed and the sighs of content that left my mouth. Matt simply closed his eyes above me, opening them periodically to watch me take him down my throat. 

Matt started to get close, his hips becoming restless under me and his hands that were in my hair started to guide me down his cock faster. He moaned and whimpered as he grew closer and closer to the edge. 

“Oh fuck-,” He whimpered, “God, so good, baby. So close.”

His stutters and whimpers encouraged me to work with him faster, yet take my time on all of his sensitive bits. I relied on the relief that accompanied the weight of his cock on my tongue. I worked him until hips stuttered and bucked off the couch and he moaned my name and praises into the air.  

“Gonna cum, gonna cum, gonna cum.” He whispered, bucking his hips into my throat making me choke slightly but I didn’t care, “M Sorry. Fuck,” He whispered and then e shot his load down my throat. I felt the warm liquid hit the back of my throat and I swallowed it down. “Show me,” He demanded, once he caught his breath and he pulled me off him all the way. I stuck my tongue out to show him that I swallowed it and he smiled at me in response, lightly tapping my cheek with the hand that held my jaw. 

“Thank you,” I sighed, my throat somewhat sore. 

“No, thank you, my beautiful girl.” He leaned down and kissed me gently, rubbing my cheeks with his thumbs. When I pulled away, I bit the inside of my lip and looked into his eyes, silently yearning for more. His brows pinched together and his mouth opened slightly, “What, baby? Not enough?” I looked at him with a guilty smile and shook my head. 

“I just want more,” I said quietly. He opened his mouth to respond but as soon as he did, his laptop and phone dinged several times, he looked at his phone and saw what it was. 

“Look, sweetheart, I’ve got more work shit to do,” I groaned and sat back on my heels below him but he pressed a finger to my lips, “But, if you’d let me finish you impatient little baby,” he teased, “if you’re good and hold me without moving your tongue at all, you can stay where you are.” 

“Yes please. I promise I’ll be good,” I nodded my head and sat back up right. He nodded at me and grabbed everything he needed to continue working and I took him back into my mouth. I zoned out with him in my mouth but it was still exciting to be getting what I’d been craving all day and my tongue jerked against a few times. 

“Ah, ah,” He asked, “Settle, sweetheart. You promised me.” He directed and when I calmed down around his cock, his hand patted my head softly and he went back to typing away. 

//

a/n: i'd been working on this for about a week or so. hope you guys liked it!!

[copperbadge]

So the ADHD Handbook post struck a chord with a lot of people...

I don't think I have it in me to write the book I suggested, mainly because most of what I want to write about is variable by situation. I can't actually offer a magic formula for getting a good assessment, all I would be able to do is say "Here are the warning signs, here's my personal story, shit's just rough". Which I could do but it'd be basically an entire book of "shrug emoji". The best possible way would probably be to offer it as a workbook, like "Here is a page for you to record every communication with the clinic doing your testing. Here is a page for you to write down possible other approaches to getting your medication if the pharmacy is out." etc.

I do think I might write it as a novel of some kind. Possibly even a novel about someone writing a handbook, I haven't decided. I had a dream last night about the book, in which I saw a woman watching a revolution taking place in the distance, thinking, "This is not what I intended when I set out to write a self-help book." Baller way to start a novel, honestly.

Anyway there were several suggestions for books in the notes, so I thought I'd compile those here. I have read none of these, so I can't vouch for their contents, but I'm including what my readers said about them.

@blogquantumreality linked to How To ADHD by Jessica McCabe, who is a well-known ADHD youtuber (I haven't found her videos super helpful but they're also not aimed at me). @knitsinweirdplaces added "The last section of the How to ADHD book is literally called 'how to change the world' and exactly points out we can advocate for a more disability friendly world that traumatizes ADHDer less in the first place. It's the only book I've read that hits the balance of 'your brain has immutable challenges' and 'these strats may help' right. Bonus, it is inclusive of people who use adhd meds and those who don't/can't."

@theindefinitearticle mentioned "I read how to keep house while drowning recently and it's been much more practical for me in terms of actual usable advice." This book has also come up numerous times during National Clean Your Home Month as a helpful guide to cleaning.

@buginateacup said "The year I met my brain is the only one I've read that actually felt like it was making useful suggestions for living with ADHD."

@cabloom said "iampayingattention on Instagram wrote How Not To Fit In."

@grison-in-space said "Do you have any idea how over the top excited I was when I found I Overcame My Autism and All I Got Was This Lousy Anxiety Disorder?"

@doubleminorforroughing wrote "Please read Devon Price. He wants to tear it all down and I love it." I will add that I don't think I've read Laziness Does Not Exist but I have read Price's shortform work extensively and I think he's been very influential in rethinking how we frame laziness and productivity in relation to both work and neurodivergence, so I can second the recommendation.

[spncrscasey]

Mine (m.c.)

Fandom/Characters: Chicago Fire - Matt Casey x Fem!Reader, Sylvie Brett, Stella Kidd, Kelly Severide, Blake Gallo, Wallace Boden, Christopher Herrmann, Joe Cruz, Darren Ritter

Word Count: 3.5k

Summary: You and Matt Casey had been secretly dating for a while, and it had gone smoothly since you worked at different firehouses. However, you were offered a job at 51 which despite seeming like a great idea, only made everything complicated.

Warnings: hurt/comfort, a bit of angst, a bunch of fluff, pet names, mention of anxiety, protective matt, kissing, happy ending

a/n: my first fic!!!!! (on tumblr that is lol) i used to write a lot on another platforms but haven't written for fun in forever (other than for school, ew lol.) so i might be a bit rusty so just yk excuse that until i get back into my flow :) anyways i hope you guys like it <3

For the last three years, you've been working as a paramedic at Firehouse 20 alongside Violet Mikami. During that time, you've come to know Blake Gallo as a result of his on-and-off relationship with her. Although he's a great guy, what made him even greater is the person he introduced you to about a year ago— your boyfriend, Captain Matthew Casey of Firehouse 51.

Where could you possibly start? His mesmerizing, smile and his charming personality drew you in in an instant. You never realized how the occasional encounters, transformed into intimate late-night conversations. And before you knew it, those late-night talks grew into romantic dinners and memorable dates.

After months of both of you dancing around one another, he finally masked up the courage to ask you to be his girlfriend. Without a moment's hesitation, you instantly said yes.

Six months have passed since then. Both of you had mutually decided to keep it private for some time in order to prevent any interference with your jobs. The only individuals who had known were your respective Chiefs, just in case something happened.

Your Chief also knew you could handle a busier station such as 51. So, he had just offered you the vacant paramedic position that was left after Foster left for Med School.

Initially, you were excited about the offer because it meant working with your boyfriend. However, now you're uncertain about accepting it as you're not sure how he’d react. While you believe he'd be as thrilled as you are, there's this nagging feeling that it would complicate things.

So you decided to call him.

"Hey Matt," You said once he picked up.

"Hi babe, everything okay? You rarely call me during shift." He replied, voice laced with concern.

"Yeah, yeah, everything's fine." You assure him before nervously adding, "It's just... I have something to run by you...”

"Go ahead sweetheart, what's up?"

"You know how Foster left and ever since then there's been an open paramedic spot at 51 for a while now?"

He hums encouraging you to continue.

"Well, my Chief spoke to Boden and they both agreed that I could fill that spot if I wanted to."

"That's fantastic news!" He said excitedly. "Do you want to?"

You sighed. "I do want to. I think it would be nice to work with you and the experience of working at a busier station? That would benefit me, by a lot. I’d be able to learn so much."

"Then what's there to run by me? This is your decision Y/N." Matt questioned.

"It's your house! I don't want to interfere with the little family you all have built and make things complicated considering we'd be working together while dating and what if they take it the wrong way thinking I only got the spot because I'm with you-"

"Hey! Y/N, sweetheart, breathe." He says cutting off your rambling, trying to calm you down.

"What?" you ask, voice exasperated.

"Baby, no one's going to think anything like that. You're an amazing paramedic and you earned your spot because you're good at your job. Also, no one knows that we're together so they won't suspect a thing. We don't even have to tell them yet if you don't want to.” He said reassuringly before continuing, “And you wouldn't be interfering with anything, I can assure you that we'd all love to have you at 51. This is completely your choice though, so whether you want to transfer over here or not, you have my full support, regardless of what you decide."

You smile at Matt's words. "Thank you." You pause for a moment before resuming happily, "Okay I'm going to go tell Chief that I'm accepting the position! I'll talk to you later Matt."

"That's my girl." He says smiling before hanging up.

You swiftly head to your Chief's office and let him know that you completed the transfer paperwork and are ready to begin at 51 as soon as possible. He nods, smiling, and assures you that he will push the request forward.

It was now Monday. Which also happened to be the same day you started your first shift as the new paramedic of Firehouse 51.

God were you nervous.

You had spoken to Matt multiple times and he continuously reassured you that you had no reason to feel anxious because everyone would adore you. So why were you still panicking?

Matt liked you, Gallo liked you, and so did Boden after the short interview you two had.

You had also heard a lot about each of them through Matt, and they all sounded like wonderful people. So the odds of your new coworkers welcoming you with open arms were pretty high.

Yet despite your best efforts, you couldn't shake the feeling of anxiety that was coursing through your veins, leaving you a nervous wreck.

You let out a sigh, trying to calm your nerves as you approached the Firehouse. You bumped into Gallo on the way which instantly relieved your worries. Seeing a familiar face put your mind at ease, melting your fears away, even if it’s only for a moment.

The two of you engaged in an easy conversation as you walked into the building together.

Upon entering, you spotted a table near the rigs with several individuals seated around it. Gallo eagerly ushered you towards them, quickly introducing everyone.

"Squad, this is Y/N Y/L/N, our new paramedic!" He said as you smiled, waving at them.

Gallo then pointed at a tan, blue-eyed man who was sitting at the head of the table. "That's Lieutenant Kelly Severide. Head of Squad and those are his Squad members."

He quickly got up and shook your hand. "Nice to meet you Y/L/N."

You recognized him now. He was Matt's best friend, they'd been through thick and thin together. It was sweet actually, finally getting to put a face to the name you've been hearing so much about.

Gallo took his time introducing you to the other members of Squad, all of whom greeted you with kindness and respect.

As he slipped into conversation with them, you took the opportunity to excuse yourself and find your partner, Sylvie Brett, who you’d be spending most of your time with.

She stood out easily, being one of only two women in the house. You spotted her in the kitchen, chatting with another girl who you figured must be Stella, Severide's girlfriend. Matt had spoken to you about how amazing they were as a couple, and it always made you happy to hear about them. With a deep breath, you made your way over to them.

"Hi!" You smiled. "I'm the new paramedic here working with... Sylvie Brett?" You ask unsurly, turning your head to glance at the blonde hoping you're right.

"Yes, that's me! Hi!" She answered enthusiastically, hugging you. Matt had mentioned how sweet she was but the embrace still caught you by surprise. Regardless, you hugged her back, accepting the kind gesture. Once you pulled away you waved at the other woman who smiled back at you, introducing herself as Stella Kidd.

After conversing with them for some time and getting to know one another, you headed off to the officer quarters with the hope of seeing your boyfriend.

Once you approached the office that was referred to Matt Casey, you knocked.

"Come in." You heard so you stepped inside, closing the door behind you.

"Hi baby," You said, smiling at him. He looked up from his desk, features softening as he noticed you.

"How's my favorite girl doing?" He asked standing up to give you a brief kiss on the cheek.

"I'm great! Everyone here is so nice and fun to talk to. They've all been so welcoming." You answered excitedly.

"See, I told you everyone would love you. What's there not to?" He asked rhetorically, making you smile as he placed his hands on your waist pulling you in closer. Matt's inability to keep his hands to himself never fails to make you laugh. It was all quickly forgotten though when he drew you in for a more passionate kiss when he noticed that there weren't any prying eyes on you.

As time passed, days turned into weeks, and before you knew it, you had seamlessly become a part of them. Each member of the group welcomed you with open arms, and it felt like you had found your place within the close-knit family they had formed at 51. It seemed like you had found a lasting bond and a sense of belonging with everyone there, envisioning a permanent future among them.

You became good friends with Sylvie and Stella, established a nice mentorship with Hermann, and created a sibling-like bond with Severide.

Most importantly though, to your knowledge, no one had suspected your relationship with Matt.

You wanted to say something, you really did. You didn't want him to think you were ashamed of being with him. But you didn't want the people you had grown so close to to think that you were only offered the position because of your relationship with him; even if you were confident that they weren't the type of people to believe that.

It was an ordinary day. You and Sylvie had just returned from responding to a call— nothing too serious, just tending to a man who had been cut by a broken mirror. Together with Sylvie, you bandaged him up and sent him to Med for stitches, wishing him a speedy recovery.

You were restocking the ambulance when Sylvie spoke up, "So, did you see the way that guy looked at you?"

You almost choked on your spit at her statement, not expecting it. "How did he look at me?"

"Oh c'mon- there were literally hearts in his eyes every time you spoke up while bandaging him!" She exclaimed a bit too loudly making you shush her.

"Who had hearts in his eyes?" Matt chimed in as he walked up to you and Brett, joining your conversation.

"No one," You say brushing him off but Sylvie interjects. "This guy we were helping earlier, he totally had the hots for our new paramedic over here." She said, nudging you with her arm in a teasing manner.

"Oh, did he?" Matt asked in a tone that sounded like he was joking but you could see the way his body tensed.

"It's whatever, nothing serious. It's not like I'm going to go on a date with him." You roll your eyes trying to dismiss the situation.

"You should!" Sylvie replies happily, "You're pretty and single. He wasn't bad on the eyes either, if you know what I mean. Go have some fun girl! Who knows, he could be the love of your life." She adds, winking.

Matt gave a half-hearted smile and walked away without acknowledging Brett, leaving her looking up in confusion. "What was that about?" She asked.

"No idea," You say shortly, despite knowing exactly what was going on.

Matthew Casey was jealous.

It was quite surprising because he had never shown signs of being the jealous type. In the past, if another man approached you in his presence, he would politely ask them to leave you alone, making it clear that you were already taken. Or he’d simply put his arm around you in a protective, not-so-friendly manner, letting everyone know that you were his. It never bothered you. You found it cute, actually.

But this? This was different. He had never acted this way, which concerned you.

After you were done restocking the ambo you made your way to his office, hoping to ease the tension.

You sighed as you knocked, hearing a quick come-in before stepping inside. You noticed he had his head buried in paperwork, not even acknowledging you as you came in.

"Matt, honey, what's wrong?" You asked, worried when he still didn't look up at you. You waited for a moment before continuing once he didn't reply, "Baby talk to me."

He sighs before finally looking into your eyes. His ocean blues never failed to make you weak in the knees. So intimidating but beautiful nevertheless.

"I don't want to keep this a secret any longer." He eventually replied, motioning between the two of you.

"I don't want to either but you know we can't."

"Why can't we?" He said, tone a bit sharp, causing you to flinch for a second.

"Because-" you were cut off by a knock on Matt's door making you straighten up.

"Sorry to interrupt, but there's someone here to see you Y/N." Said Severide as he poked his head into Casey's office letting you know before heading out.

You quickly glance at Matt sighing before leaving his office, silently apologizing. You hated leaving mid conversation but this could be important. You noticed him trailing behind you as you walked out but chose not to comment on it.

Once you were outside, you recognized him as the man you had sent to Med earlier. The same man who had 'the hots' for you apparently, according to Brett.

This was going to be a long conversation.

"Hello!" He said, way too ecstatic for someone who had just been discharged from a hospital.

"Hi there, how are you feeling?" You asked, keeping the conversation polite.

"Better thanks to you, you saved my life."

"Oh, you know, no big deal! Just doing my job."

"Well, I was hoping to take you out on a date as a way of saying thank you." He said with confidence, catching you off guard.

"I'm very flattered sir but you don't need to thank me, let alone take me out on a date. I'm happy to help, love what I do." You say, hoping that gets rid of him.

By now, you were fully aware that most of the members of the firehouse were watching the interaction occur from behind you. Hence why you were aiming to wrap it up as soon as possible.

"No, no, I insist. We'll have a great time together!" He pushes.

"Like I said, thanks for the offer but I'm going to have to decline. Feel better." You say, turning around.

Before you had a chance to walk away, he grabbed your wrist harshly. Pulling you backward, making you lose your balance, and almost causing you to fall.

"Woah woah woah-" "Back off!" You hear the men hurriedly interject pushing him away from you before Matt yells, in a tone that sends shivers down your spine. "Get your hands off of my paramedic before I call the authorities. You have no right to touch her, especially after she said no."

Boden hears the commotion and steps out of his office. "What's going on over here?"

"This man put his hands on Y/N after she rejected him Chief. He was just leaving though weren't, you?" Matt replies, glaring at the man making him quickly walk away.

The second that he was out of sight, everyone turned to you. Stella speaks up, "Are you okay?"

"Don't worry guys, I'm fine." You say looking around at all of them, reassuring them that you're okay. "Thanks for the help. I'm sure he won't be coming back any time soon, especially after the way Casey glared at him." You add chuckling, trying to lighten the tense atmosphere around you.

"You'd almost think you guys were dating with the way he attacked him to defend you," Severide commented casually, using a tone that sounded like he knew something. Which you decided to ignore for the time being.

At the mention of your boyfriend though, you looked up hoping to catch a glimpse of him but noticed he was nowhere to be found which alarmed you.

As the crowd dispersed and engaged in their own conversations, you discreetly slipped away and made your way to visit Matt in his quarters, marking this as your second visit there in the last half hour.

This time though, you didn't even bother knocking and simply walked in.

When he noticed it was you, he quickly stood up concerned, “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

“Oh, I'm alright. Don't worry, it was nothing I hadn't dealt with before in this line of duty, you know how men can be sometimes.” You answered, nonchalantly.

You both stayed quiet for a moment, not knowing what to say. Finally, you decided to break the silence, “I'm sorry, Matt. I don't want to argue with you, so if it'll make you happy, we can go tell them right now.”

He sighed, turning around in his chair to look at you, “Y/N, this isn't just up to me, we’re in this relationship together. We have to make decisions like these as a team. I love you and I want everyone to know that but if you're not taking this seriously and want to go on that date instead then-”

“No! This is serious to me Matt, I love you and you know that.” You cut him off before he's able to finish the sentence. “I have eyes for you and only you, no one else matters to me but you, Matthew Casey.” You add firmly, making sure he understands that.

“Then what’s the issue here?” He asks, tired of the constant back and forth you've been having today.

You sigh and sit down on the edge of his bed before replying, “I just- I've become so close to everyone here in the last few weeks and I don't want their opinion of me to change after they find out that you and I are together. I don't want them to think that I'm only here because of you.”

“Baby…” He says in a softer tone, getting out of his seat to come sit next to you.

You don't look at him once he's sat beside you, opting to look at the floor instead.

“Hey, look at me.” He gently says taking your hands in his, grabbing your attention.

You hum as you bring your eyes up to meet his.

When he's sure you're not going to look away, he starts speaking, “Listen to me, everyone here? They're the most amazing and supportive group of people you'll ever meet. They won't dare say anything of the sort because they'd be beyond happy for us. And if they slightly even think about it, I won't hesitate to go all ‘Captain’ on them.” He says, making you chuckle.

“Besides, I don't want idiots like that guy who can't take no for an answer, hurting you again for a nonexistent chance of taking you out.” He adds.

You lean forward, pressing your forehead against his, and after a moment passes, you mutter a simple, “Okay.”

“Okay?” Matt questions.

“Yeah, okay, let’s tell them.” You reply, nodding enthusiastically.

“I want everyone to know that this handsome man right here,” You say pointing at his chest with a teasing tone, “Is of the market and mine only.”

“Yeah?” He grins.

“Mhm,” You say with an even bigger smile, before leaning in to press your lips against his.

As your lips finally touch, a wave of stillness washes over you. It feels as though the entire world has come to a halt and all that exists is the shared connection between the two of you. At that moment, nothing else matters except for the feeling of his lips against yours.

His delicate hand caresses your face, making you smile into the kiss as you pull him in closer, wrapping your arms around his neck. There's no need to hide your love for each other anymore, allowing your affection for one another to be expressed freely without the fear of secrecy. The rush of emotion flowing through you is intoxicating and God, it is an exhilarating feeling, one that you had never felt before.

Before the kiss could progress any further, you heard cheering outside making you pull away. You glance out the window to understand what the fuss is about when you notice that the blinds were left open, meaning that all of 51 just saw you kissing Matt.

Your cheeks flush with warmth, causing you to bury your face in Matt's shoulder as he laughs at your reaction. He wraps his arm around you, pulling you closer in a tight embrace.

You look up at him, mouthing an ‘I love you,’

He whispers back, “I love you too.”

He quickly leans in for one more peck against your lips, before bracing himself for all the questions you're about to receive once you head outside.

“You guys were betting on us?” You asked amused, raising your eyebrows at the exchange of money happening right in front of your eyes.

“Well, what were we supposed to do!?” Cruz exclaimed defensively, earning a giggle from you.

“I mean, we all knew you guys were head over heels for each other, that was obvious. We just didn't realize you had been together prior to all of this.” Added Ritter, shrugging.

“I can speak for everyone though when I say that we are all very happy for you two.” Said Herrmann, making everyone nod in agreement.

As soon as the initial stage of shock died down, Stella and Sylvie rushed over to you, enveloping you in a group hug, requesting all the juicy details. While Kelly simply gave Matt a supportive pat on the back, smiling at his best friend.

Soon, the questions regarding your relationship began pouring in. Matt drew you closer, wrapping his arm around your waist as he answered each of them one by one. You rested your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes briefly, basking in the serenity.

And at last, you found yourself finally feeling at ease. Your family knew, and they were happy for you. Which is all you could ask for.

[moonstruckme]

And then I have one but idk which marauder to make it for so I’ll let you pick whoever you think it fits better. I have to take medicine for my OCD and anxiety but it’s embarrassing. So I’m like imagining who you pick staying the night with the reader and her skipping her medicine because she’s embarrassed but being off medicine messes you up. So clearly the reader would be alittle down and out of it so her friend asks her if she’s okay and if she took her medicine. Welllllll the marauder hears that and later that night when they are getting ready for bed he simply hands her a glass and asks her to take her medicine please and mentions how he wants all of her that includes the quirks, need for medicine, and need for comfort sometimes too.

I decided to make this part of the Sirius x Remus' roommate saga, hope that's alright! Thanks for requesting sweetheart <3

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5

cw: some symptoms of withdrawal, reader takes prescription meds

modern au

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 1.5k words

Apparently, even when Sirius gets you out of your flat for the weekend, Remus is still always in the middle of things. 

“I can’t believe you got him to watch New Girl,” Remus complains over speakerphone as you make yourself a cup of tea. Sirius had offered to do it for you, but you’d brushed him off, and he’d been too busy secretly delighting in how comfortable you are in his flat to argue further. “James and I have been trying to get him to watch the first episode for years.” 

“Mmm, you’ve got to start on season three to get people interested, then go back,” you tell him wisely. “I showed him my favorite episode, the one with…uh…”

You trail off, and Sirius looks at you over the top of the couch. There’s a dissatisfied pinch between your brows.

“The one with the spider?” Remus prompts knowingly. 

“Right.” You blink a couple of times, refocusing on your mug as you pour hot water in over the teabag. “That one.” 

“Well, the apartment is quiet without you, but I’m glad you’re having fun.” 

Sirius’ mouth curls as he waits for your response. Though he sometimes still gets jealous of the easy intimacy between you as roommates, he’s come to enjoy the entertainment value of your banter with Remus. The apartment’s just as quiet with me, you’ll say, or You don’t even want to know what kind of fun we’re having. 

But your gaze has gone distant, and after a few seconds, the reply doesn’t seem like it’s going to come. 

Sirius feels worry snake around his ribcage, a light but noticeable pressure. A few hours ago, you’d complained of a headache, and ever since then you’ve seemed in an odd headspace. You’re quieter than you’ve ever been around him, you claimed not to feel like lunch, and he’s caught you stumbling or losing track of your thoughts on more than a couple occaisions. He’d asked once if you’d wanted to go home, but you’d promised you were fine and Sirius didn’t want to push the issue. He loves having you here, he really does, but he hopes it’s nothing about being in his home that’s making you seem so…off. He’d compromised by suggesting you show him that show you’re always referencing (Remus and James were right, it actually is pretty good) in the hopes that a few hours of relaxation would help restore you to yourself, but you don’t seem to be feeling better. 

Even over the phone, Remus picks up on it too. “You alright?” 

“Mm?” You blink. “Oh, yeah.” There’s a forced cheer to your voice, and Sirius watches as you roll your shoulders as if bracing yourself. “I’m just a little tired, I guess.” 

Remus hums, the sound crackling through the speaker. “Did you take your medicine last night?” 

You take him off speaker. Sirius turns when your eyes dart towards where he’s sitting on the couch, taking the coward’s way out on instinct and pretending he wasn’t paying attention. 

“I’m fine,” you say quietly into the phone. Sirius can’t hear Remus well enough anymore to make out his response, but he recognizes the slow, coaxing inflection of his friend’s voice. Your own tone sharpens in contrast, though you sound heartbreakingly exhausted. “I’ve got it. Yep, thanks. See you tomorrow.” 

You blow on your tea as you join Sirius on the couch, not a trace of apprehension about you. He extends his arm invitingly, and you slot underneath it like it’s home. 

“I gather you two aren’t used to time apart,” he teases, trying to entice a smile from you. 

It works, albeit only slightly. The curve of your lips is minute, but he’ll take it. “We’re both homebodies,” you say simply. “We’ve grown too used to being around each other.” 

“His privilege and your curse,” Sirius laments, exaggerating his grunt when you elbow him in the ribs. “Fine, you’re both very lucky. I’m just glad I managed to snag you for one weekend.” When he aims a saccharine smile your way, he suspects you set your cheek on his shoulder as a ploy to hide your blush. It melts him regardless, like ice cream in the summertime. “Want to watch another episode, lovely girl?” 

He frowns when all that gets out of you is a hum, rubbing your bicep as he presses play. 

He manages to get some dinner into you by insisting you try takeaway from his favorite Thai place in the neighborhood, and you seem amenable to the idea of an early night, all but drooping over the sink as you brush your teeth. 

Sirius will never admit it, but his heart is pounding as he takes a glass down from above the kitchen sink, filling it with water. He hopes this isn’t a massive overreach. This thing between you is still relatively new, and the last thing he wants is to make your first stay at his place awkward for either of you, but he cares about you. From what Sirius can tell, you’ve withdrawn into what seems like an unhappy place inside your head, and he can’t just leave you there by yourself. 

He catches you just as you’re leaving the bathroom, passing you the glass of water as casually as he can, as if it's the most routine thing in the world, before taking your place at the sink. “Don’t forget your medicine,” he says softly, taking his toothbrush from beside yours in the cup.

For a moment, you’re quiet. Sirius squirts toothpaste onto his brush, trying his damndest not to look for your reaction in the mirror. 

“You heard Remus on the phone.” It’s almost a whisper. Nowhere close to a question.

“I didn’t mean to,” Sirius apologizes, glancing up at your reflection. You’re looking distant again, your gaze fixed somewhere to the left of his face. “I’m sorry if I heard something you didn’t want me to, but it’s…did you forget?” 

You take another long moment to reply. Sirius is careful to stay quiet, giving you space as you chew your lip, but when your eyes meet his in the mirror you look so crestfallen his heart nearly stops. “I didn’t forget,” you admit. “It’s just so embarrassing, I didn’t want you to know.” 

He can’t stay still anymore. His toothpaste drops with a wet smack into the bowl of the sink when he sets his toothbrush on the rim, and he’s got your hands in his in a second. “Sweetheart, what do you mean?” He keeps ahold of one of your hands, letting his other one coast up your arm to your shoulder, where his thumb massages your collarbone familiarly. “It’s not embarrassing. It’s just, it’s something you need to be yourself. Like…my sparkly doc martens, you know? Or Remus’ chocolate hoards.” 

Your laugh is brief, more a huffed exhale than anything, but Sirius grins at you nonetheless. His hand moves up to cup the back of your neck, thumb soothing over the edge of your jaw. 

“You know what I really like about you?” he asks. You don’t look inclined to answer, but your left brow flicks up as if to say Go on. “Everything.” 

You scoff, seeming lighter even as you pull away from grasp. “Shut up.” 

“No, really,” he insists, vying for your hand back. “Getting to know you, it’s been amazing. Every new thing I learn is just something more to like.” You finally stop fighting him, eyes wary as he grips you by the shoulders, keeping you in place. “I want to learn everything there is to know about you, whenever you’ll let me. And I know I can’t expect it all at once,” he says, voice dropping into a more sincere register, “but I want all of it, including the parts you think—wrongly, I might add—are embarrassing.” He gives your upper arms a light squeeze. “Got that, pretty girl?”

A light blush colors your cheeks, and Sirius grins. You’re getting harder to fluster these days, but he delights in making it happen whenever he can. “Okay,” you say, still a tad sheepish for his liking. He plants a kiss on your cheek. 

“Good. Now go get your meds. I don’t want you passing out during breakfast tomorrow because of withdrawal.” 

“That’s not how it works,” you snipe, but he hears the rattle of pills as you dig through your overnight bag. 

“Whatever,” he says breezily, picking up his toothbrush to put a new dollop of paste onto it. “I just can’t reckon with the idea that Remus still knows things about you I don’t. Shouldn’t I outrank him by now?” 

“You’ve had roommates,” you tell him, coming back into the bathroom with the glass of water half empty. “You’re really going to tell me that they don’t know more about you than I do right now?”

Sirius makes a noncommittal, muffled sound, pointing to his toothpaste-filled mouth as excuse not to answer. 

“Right,” you say drily. “Maybe we should call your pal Remus and see if he happens to recall.” 

Sirius has never spit so fast in his life. 

[halucynator]

YOU COULD'VE DIED!

So I had this request and I totally forgot about it and I'm so so so so so so so sorry lol

Pairing: Theodore Nott x fem!reader

Warnings: mentions of weight, anxiety attacks, eating disorder, reader has adhd, not proof read and my writing lol

Request: So the reader a long time ago like when she was eighth/9ish used to be on the bigger side before her adhd meds and then got really skinny and stuff and timeskip to sixth year her meds don’t really work aswelll so she starts getting an appetite that was usually suppressed and she quit quidditch last year because of stress and her biggest fear is secretly getting fat again and she starts to have so much anxiety about it

WARNING: I am in no way shaming any one in this text. You are beautiful the way you are. I'm just adhering to the request. I do not agree with anything horrible about weight or anything else you can think of that is in this text.

I'm also really really sorry if you go through eating disorders or something similar to what's mentioned in this text x stay strong xx you're not alone 💕

Most people have nightmares about psycho killers in white masks with a knife who are really crazily into fictional movies they try to make it reality. Most people have nightmares about falling from really high cliffs with jagged edges that could rip you in half quicker than the speed of the platform 9¾'s train. Most people have nightmares about burning in fires that could kill you probably faster than the Dursleys burnt Harry's hogwarts letters.

But not you. You had nightmares about gaining weight. About being the girl that you were when you were nine. You hated your ADHD but oh those adhd meds really helped you to stop being the obese person you were. You were disgusted by your younger self even though you shouldn't have been.

You sat in the Great Hall processing your nightmare. You knew you had a normal weight, probably even lower than healthy. And yet you looked around at all those pretty girls with effortless hourglass bodies and wished you could look like them. You knew you had a normal weight and yet your dreams, or perhaps nightmares, kept on taunting you about it.

Those thoughts clouded your mind. Filled your head. Over and over. And over. Until you felt like starving yourself. And you'd do that until you fainted and realised it's really unhealthy. But then it'd be too late and this vicious cycle continued until you felt like you couldn't do it anymore. Until you were sick of being yourself. Until you wished you were anyone but yourself. Until y-

"Hey y/n!" Theo greeted you as he entered the Great Hall. He was the first one there. After you of course. He grabbed a vanilla cupcake with strawberry icing and sprinkles for himself and a chocolate cupcake with chocolate icing for you.

"here I got you a chocolate cupcake with chocolate icing. Your favourite." Theo smiled as he passed it on to you.

Even though your heart wanted to accept it, your brain knew better.

"no I'm fine, really! Thanks so much though! I'm full" you replied. as if to reprimand you, your stomach rumbled.

"your stomach disagrees" he chuckled. "go on have it it's fine it's just a cupcake"

You knew he was trying to be a good friend. You knew he was looking out for you at yet it was so hard for you to suppress the urge to scream "just a cupcake? JUST A CUPCAKE?! well, I'll have you know that cupcake contains sugar and butter which stores in your body as fat so you wouldn't even suggest it unless you hated me" you obviously didn't say it out loud. You knew you were overreacting in your head.

"erm no thanks." You politely turned the offer of the cupcake down.

"Ya sure?" He asked one last time.

"yup." You replied.

"alright suit yourself" Blaise said as he leaned across the table to get the cupcake from your side.

You didn't have dinner that night and the couple of nights after either. You knew you should've. But you were so insecure about your weight you just couldn't. So you didn't. And you should've. You really should've.

Unfortunately for you, you realised that too late.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡*:☆

You woke up on a white bed. Where were you? You glanced around. There was no way. You were in a hospital bed. After Theo explained it to you, you realised what had happened. On your way to the dorm you had fainted due to the lack of food. You had no energy left in your body and it finally gave out. Theo had realised you had fainted and had carried you to the Madam Pomfrey's. He looked strangely cross at you.

"T-thanks" you replied to him.

"for what?" He said. "I couldn't save you."

"you kinda did" you said smiling at him.

He pulled something out of his pocket and handed it to you. It was a cookie.

Before you could say no, he cut you off.

"you are eating this cookie right now or I will never forgive myself for letting you starve yourself."

You reluctantly grabbed the cookie.

"you didn't make me starve myself. I did it to myself. It's not your fault." You replied as you broke a piece off the cookie.

"but why?" He asked.

"sorry?"

"why did you starve yourself"

"erm i well i had a nightmare I was gaining weight and I thought I was I had gained half a kilogram since last year and I just thought I'd look ugly and I just didn't want to not be liked by anyone!" there it was. The word vomit. The bundle of feelings inside of you all out to the one person you thought would be disgusted by you if you ever gained weight. The one person you loved.

"Woah! Slow down. No matter how many kilograms you put in you'll never be fat or ugly! I can't believe you let a nightmare lead you on! You can't have an unhealthy relationship with food!" He exclaimed.

"you're just saying that."

"I'm not just saying that. I mean it y/n. From the moment I laid eyes on you, I fell in love with you and a couple kilograms isn't gonna change that." He replied.

"Aw- wait you what?!" You asked realising what he just said.

"I thought it was obvious? I love you y/n. I always have" Theo said. "but I'm still cross at you for not eating food."

"ok ok I'm sorry." You replied.

"YOU COULD'VE DIED!" Pansy exclaimed bursting into the room.

"Jesus Christ Pansy! You almost gave me a heart attack!" You said shocked at her entrance.

But you knew her words were right. And so were Theo's. From that moment you tried to prevent yourself from starving yourself and with the support of Theo and all your friends it was that much more easy.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡*:☆

A/n: the ending kinda sucks lol sorry for the lateness of this x hope you liked it!!

Taglist: @m3ntallyunstable34 lmk if you want to be added to my taglist (through asks or you can message me x I'll always respond ❤️)

[freesia-writes]

Bad Batch Prompt Event #1

Much love to @arctrooper69 for making this official, and I can't wait to see what anyone else has written for these prompts! I'm gonna post the SFW part one here and NSFW part two over on @spicy-clones.

Hunter x F!Reader WORD COUNT 3000 my bad! Content: some basic medical descriptions, reader gets her butt smacked at 79s, and a wee bit o kissin. GONNA USE MY SEXY DIVIDERS WITH @pinkiemme's art since it's HUNTER! :D

“Seriously?” you sighed. “This again?”

“This is completely different than last time,” came the smooth reply, earning both a snort and an eyeroll from you. 

“It’s almost exactly the same.”

“Different arm.”

“Oh my gosh.” Your almost-laugh was overshadowed by concern and frustration as you made quick work of the injury and carefully wrapped the gauze around his bicep, trying not to pay too close attention to the gentle curves of the muscles and tendons, the light dusting of hair, the scars and bruises… You cleared your throat, shaking your head minutely and looking back up to his face. That wasn’t any better. His sharp eyes gazed steadily at you, framed by his distinctive nose and the strands of hair that brushed the sides of his face.

“Well thanks as always,” he said quietly, the hint of a rare smile touching the corner of his lips, which were almost always curved in the ghost of a frown from the burdens he carried. You tried to ignore the flutter in your chest, instead nodding and picking up your datapad abruptly to see what else was on the agenda for the Kamino medical bay that day. You looked back to him, offering a small smile and an honest exhortation.

“Take care of yourself, Hunter.”

* * * 

You were surprised to see him only a week later, stepping into line behind you in the mess hall with the rest of his squad. They were normally a boisterous bunch, but there seemed to be a heaviness upon them as they moved rather listlessly. Perhaps a mission gone awry, perhaps the regular wear and tear of being mere property in a seemingly endless war. You caught Hunter’s eye as he moved to the front of his group, setting his tray on the shelf beside yours as you slid down the food line. 

“You alright?” you asked softly, startling yourself with the gentleness and vulnerability in your own voice and cringing at the fact that you didn’t even lead with a “hello”. 

“Yeah,” he said automatically, his flat affect provoking more anxiety than you’d like. You left it at that, unable to stifle the simultaneous warmth and concern emanating from you. You didn’t know what it was about his mere presence, but he exuded both competence and compassion, intelligence and wit, and you perceived the weight of responsibility that hung over his head, both a gift and a curse of his engineered fate. 

You’d come to enjoy his med bay visits more and more, although it was never the ideal circumstances to meet. The elaborate fantasies you concocted as you drifted off to sleep were far more appealing, consisting of stargazing cuddles, fancy galas, coffee shop chats, and many other situations you’d want to share with him. As corny as it seemed, more than all of it, you simply wanted to know him, to know the inner workings of his mind, his joys and worries, the things that made him laugh, the way he liked his caf… It wasn’t the first time in your life that you’d harbored a crush for someone who was as unattainable as they were oblivious of your affections, so you settled to daydream and enjoy the times you did get to share. 

It helped that your occupation allowed you some quiet moments and gentle touches here and there. Although, perhaps “helped” was the wrong word. 

* * * 

“We need you in room 6 immediately,” crackled the voice on your commlink, and you set aside the instruments you’d been cleaning and adjusting, heading that way with urgency. When the door slid open, you felt a jolt of electricity run through your body at the sight of a hulking clone on the exam table, covered in dried blood and haphazardly-wrapped bandages. You knew who it was without seeing his face, which was almost entirely obscured, and before your emotions could catch up, you snapped into work mode.

“What are we dealing with?” you asked the others, who were moving in smooth synchronization to free his head and scan him head to toe. 

“CT-9903. Explosion and shrapnel, blunt force trauma, multiple lacerations…” your assistant reported, eyes flitting across the scanner screen.

“That’s gonna leave a mark,” your other colleague said, stuffing the wads of bandages into the garbage and pulling on a fresh set of gloves. 

“Let’s get to work,” you muttered. 

A few hours later, he was cleaned up and sleeping comfortably, one eye closed serenely beneath a spiral of neatly-wrapped gauze that covered the rest of his head. You slipped into the room and tapped the screens, confirming the notes your assistant had entered, then rested a hand on his broad forearm, watching his chest rise and fall and sending out all the comforting and healing vibes you could muster. 

“He seems alright,” came a smooth, low voice from behind you, making you jump and emit the tiniest squawk. You whirled around to see Hunter in a chair in the corner, reclining with his legs crossed out in front of him. He’d phrased it as a statement but the inflection of his voice indicated a question, and you exhaled in an attempt to regain your composure.

“First of all, hi. Next time, can you greet me when I come into the room instead of scaring the crap out of me?” you said, accompanied with a little laugh that sounded forced. 

“We’ll see,” he returned evenly, keeping his face straight despite your smirk.

“That’s an order, Sergeant,” you attempted, delighting in the slight spark in his eyes as he raised his eyebrows.

“Oh really,” he said, lowering his chin just enough to bring some hair across his forehead as he regarded you with a stare that you could have sworn held a hint of smolder. But perhaps you were seeing what you wanted to see. Your fingers twitched at your sides, yearning to stroke the tufts back from his face… and other stuff…

“Yeah, anyway…” you said suddenly, clearing your throat and turning businesslike all of a sudden. “He should be fine. We’ll run some more tests when he wakes up to check on his hearing. The lacerations should heal easily, and he was lucky enough to avoid any serious contusions, somehow. I don’t know what you all were doing out there but this guy needs a thicker helmet.”

“I’ll make sure to request that from the armory.”

“I’m sure they’ll be wildly helpful and accommodating.”

“Always.”

A silence fell for a moment, then he rose to his feet, stretching to his full height and picking up his backpack.  He slung it across his shoulders, along with the concerns and duties that awaited him, and gave you a cordial nod. 

“Thanks for taking care of him,” he said with genuine sincerity, regarding you with fondness as he stepped closer. Your heart skipped a beat and you felt frozen to the spot, mind racing with a million scenarios you’d envisioned that started out just like this. 

“Just doing my job… sir,” you said feebly, swallowing hard as he moved the tiniest bit nearer. You gazed at his eyes, brown at first glance but peppered with pale green and gray upon closer inspection. You could swear you felt the sparks flying between the two of you… until he spoke, shifting slightly to your side. 

“Gotta… head out…” he muttered, and you suddenly realized he had actually been trying to get past you. Flushed with hot embarrassment, you moved aside in a flash, turning away to hide your reddening cheeks. 

“Sorry, I didn’t sleep too much last night,” you explained quickly, trying not to stutter. “The old brain isn’t working quite so well today.”

“I’m glad you performed cranial surgery on Wrecker, then,” Hunter observed, and you buried your face in a hand.

“I mean, it wasn’t really surgery, but good point,” you laughed, thoroughly mortified now.

You didn’t see the pursed lips hiding his smile as he turned and disappeared out the door. 

* * * 

You were deeply saddened at first when you were transferred from the Kamino medical bay to the general medical center on Coruscant. But, as your fellow clone-obsessed friend reminded you, you would be able to go with her to 79s on your nights off, where you could enjoy the company of the types of men you’d come to prefer. It had been a hellish week, with too many patients and too few staff members, and you had worked yourself to the bone. It was as good a time as any to blow off some steam, so it took only a little urging from your friend for you to change into some going out clothes, fix up your hair a bit, and hit the town with her. 

Typically one for softness and gentleness, you felt an edge to yourself that night. Perhaps it was the build up of all of the frustrating situations at work, but whatever the cause, you didn’t feel like putting up with any kind of BS. So when the first trooper you walked past tried to smack your butt, you turned on him with the raging fury of a thousand suns and gave him a piece of your mind. Your friend stared at you, dumbfounded, and you heard some chuckles and comments from the crowd. Turning away before you melted into an apology, you stalked off to the corner booth you had left your stuff in.

“That was brutal,” a smoky voice said, and you were floored at the sight of Hunter sliding into the booth next to you. Your friend winked at you from where she stood at the bar, still flirting with a couple of troopers. You stared at him, speechless, and he held his hands up in surrender. “I’ll clear out if you’re going to chew me out like that guy. Just wanted to say hi. Haven’t seen you in the med bay in a while.“

“No, stay!“ You said, more eagerness in your voice than you would like to admit. “They transferred me here…”

“And you just had to get your clone fix?”

You blushed, palming your face before taking a long swig of your drink. It was a stiff one, and a fitting way to end your week. 

“Just kidding,” he continued, “We both know you just miss yelling at people.” 

“Oh, I’m such a yeller,” you rolled your eyes. You had never been anything but gentle and kind with him and the other patients. And he knew it.

Before long, you both found yourselves lost in conversation, and it felt as though your dreams were coming true. Details of his life and thoughts were flowing freely, well, as freely as possible considering the covert nature of most of his experiences, and the two of you settled into a comfortable rhythm as you nursed your drinks and regarded one another. You shared about your training days, mishaps and mayhem, and your goals for the future. He was happy to listen, answering questions but also content to simply sit. You didn’t want to admit just how much you were thrilled by the entire situation. 

“Refills?” You asked, gesturing to the empty glasses on the table. He nodded, but then followed you out of the booth. As the two of you leaned against the bar, waiting to be acknowledged, you tilted your head at him, feeling slightly emboldened for a moment, but it quickly melted when his eyes met yours.

“Yes?” He asked, a smirk on his own face. 

“Nothing.”

“Doesn’t look like nothing,” he teased. “Looks like you’ve got something you want to say.”

“Maybe there’s lots I want to say,” you clapped back, putting your hand on your hip. “But I don’t think I’m going to.” You gave him a sassy smile in an attempt to hide the complete and total whirlwind of thoughts raging for consideration within you. 

He took a step closer, coming into your personal space, and his hand that rested on the bar counter was dangerously close to your waist. You could almost feel his touch, without any contact being made at all. His eyes were dark beneath his brows, his sharp profile illuminated by the colorful lights all around, and your heart skipped a beat. 

“You sure?” he purred, a smug look on his face as though he knew the effect he had on you. “Nothing at all?”

“You’re the worst,” you stammered, dropping your chin and fixing your stair on the ground beside you.

“Yeah,” he conceded with a snort. “Well, you still like me.”

Your head flew up faster than a ship jumping into hyperspace, and you stared at him in utter shock as your stomach plunged. Your mouth fell open a little bit as you frantically searched for words, coming up with none and snapping it shut again. He shifted the tiniest fraction closer, looming over you now in a way that would be intimidating if your veins weren’t coursing with adrenaline and the sheer desire to grab his shirt and show him all that you couldn’t say. 

“Thought so,” he said with a satisfied rumble of laughter that made your knees weak.

“I don’t… I mean, I couldn’t…” You fumbled hopelessly, turning away a tiny bit as you grappled for any kind of response.

“Hey lady,” a clone voice said from behind you. “ This guy bothering you?” You turned around to see a trooper with his head closely shaved except for some intricate designs along the sides. He was standing tall, an inch or two over Hunter, and had a warm intensity to his gaze that showed genuine concern more than creepiness or bravado.

You looked back to Hunter, who was still leaning on the bar, relaxed and unbothered. He lifted his eyebrows at you, uncharacteristically playful, and said, “Well?”

“I’m fine, thank you,” you said to the blue-armored clone, who gave you a polite nod before leaving with one last suspicious glare at Hunter.

“So… you were saying?” Hunter poked, tilting his head at you and fanning the flame. Was he flirting? For real? Or just trying to make you flustered, for his own fun and entertainment? 

“Now you’re just being cruel,” you whined, and he laughed, an authentic, deep sound that made you swoon. 

“I would never.”

“Hunter, we’ve got to go,” a pert voice broke through your fantasy, and you turned to see a bespectacled man with a serious face standing beside Hunter, who looked at you with an unreadable expression as your heart sank and disappointment lay heavy over the two of you.

“Well. Hope I see you again,” he admitted, a wistful tone to his voice as he brushed his fingers across the back of your hand, sending a jolt of electricity through you, and dipped his head in goodbye before disappearing out the front door. 

You went home to your “personal massager” that night. 

* * * 

You were finishing the patient notes for the day as you bent over your screen at work, tapping away with diligence as you looked forward to freedom for the evening. It had been nearly a week since you’d seen Hunter at 79s, and you’d been kicking yourself for not speaking up more, or flirting more, or making a move, or something. You doubted your paths would cross again, as your friend shared that she’d only seen Clone Force 99 at the bar once before, and she was quite the regular. Bringing your thoughts back to the present, you groaned inwardly as your comm pinged with an incoming message, and you considered not looking at it to avoid any calls to stay late. But curiosity got the better of you, and you took a look at the screen. 

//18:42//-ENCRYPTED- {Chewed out any regs lately?}

Your mouth fell open, brow furrowed, as you studied the message. It wasn’t an internal memo, nor was it from any sort of source you’d seen before. It couldn't be… Could it? You smirked, curious to try something that might seem inconspicuous if it were, in fact, an error, but might be playful if it were him.

//18:43// - {Unfamiliar source number, identification needed.}

The response seemed to take ages.

//18:47//-ENCRYPTED- {Identification can be provided in the maintenance alleyway of the med center.}

You were embarrassed how quickly you got there. 

The door swung open into a long, narrow gap between the large hospital buildings, filled with random parts and trash chutes, and your heart leapt in your chest when you saw his gray and red armor.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, positively thrilled and unable to hide it.

“I… Well… I don’t know,” Hunter admitted with a chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. “I haven’t been able to get you off my mind since we had to leave… So I thought it might need some medical attention.” 

Now it was your turn to laugh, the sheer delight of it all cascading over you. “Oh, and a crusty alleyway seems like a very sterile environment.” He grinned, shaking his head, and you caught a glimpse of his own vulnerability, realizing that he, too, was fairly out of sorts when it came to smooth talk and flirtation. Somehow, that made you feel better, and all the regrets and “what ifs” of the last number of days began a relentless protest in your mind. “Well, let’s see what I can do,” you murmured, stepping closer to where he leaned against the wall. His eyebrows climbed up his head, giving away his utter surprise, and the sight gave you tingles. 

“I… ah…” he began, but you leaned into him a little, fueled by months of daydreams and a lifetime of self-loathing for all the opportunities you were too cowardly to take hold of. Plus, his sheepishness and his admission were all you’d needed to hear, and there was an undeniable affection in his eyes that melted you to the core. 

“Let’s see if we can help you out a bit?” you offered, simultaneously cringing and delighting at the complete and total ridiculousness of it all. But then he tilted his head and lifted a single, curled finger to your chin, tipping it up toward his face and sealing your fate as hopelessly enthralled. His dark eyes glittered with warmth and trepidation, and the next thing you knew, your lips were pressed against his, eyes closed, arms around his neck. 

It was so soft, so absolutely mind-blowingly perfect; your entire body was electrified as his own arms wrapped around you. You felt him exhale, his nose against your cheek, and you were overwhelmed with joy at his closeness, his vulnerability, his all-consuming presence that filled your senses. His body formed around yours, his mouth still gently nestled against your own, and you melted a little further into him, wishing that it would never end. 

When you finally did separate with a soft smack of the lips, you left your faces close, your eyes darting to his, which remained closed for an extra second before slowly opening with a relaxed warmth that had you feeling weak all over again. You couldn’t resist leaning your forehead against his own, reaching a hand up to caress his cheek for a moment before begrudgingly pulling back a bit. 

“Thank you,” you whispered lamely, and he exhaled through his nose.

“Thank you,” he echoed, sheepish and disarmed. 

“Please contact me anytime you need any sort of medical attention,” you continued, wrinkling your nose at just how terrible it all sounded, but he snickered, slowly releasing you with a nod.

“My job is quite harmful.”

Are you 18+? Interested in a smutty part two? Click here. ;)

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[acapelladitty]

something lost, something gained

Summary: After being snatched by human traffickers while exploring an abandoned schoolhouse, Lucy fights to survive as she waits for Cooper to find her. (3.9k words)

(warnings for: attempted sexual assault, biting, blood, face slapping, groping, violence, murder, aftercare, hurt/comfort, cooper trying his best in a bad situation)

Fic Masterlist

Link to AO3

Awaking with a languid groan, Lucy's eyes flittered open for only a moment before slamming shut again as a dull pain to her temple made her wince and gasp. Raising her right hand to press at the skin, she was surprised to find her left hand moving in tandem and her eyes snapped open as she realised that her hands were bound together.

Gazing down at the coarse rope which encircled her wrists, panic arose in Lucy's chest as she glanced around the small, cell-shaped room and immediately understood that she was not anywhere recognisable. It didn't even look like the same building she last remembered walking into.

"Cooper?" Calling out with a dry, uncomfortable voice, a sense of irritation laced the anxiety which rolled through her. "What the fudge? Why am I in here?"

The door to the cell creaked open and Lucy glanced up from her slumped position to see a man she did not recognise fill the doorway. He was very tall, head almost brushing the top of the door frame, with a mop of raggedy blonde hair hanging limply across his shoulders and something in the way he looked at her made her skin crawl with unspoken danger. An instinctive disgust which made her mouth tighten.

"Finally awake." The man spoke, his voice sharp, light and slightly pitched. "We were worried we'd done some real damage to your head there."

At his words, Lucy finished her earlier assessment as her fingers once again grazed the hard lump which had formed on her temple - the skin feeling raw and wounded under her fingertips. Dragging her fingertips away, she found them flecked with her own blood.

"Who are you?" She asked, wide eyes darting across the limited space. "Did Cooper put you up to this? Or my father?"

"Don't know who any of those people are but we saw you going into that old schoolhouse with a ghoul so we snuck in, waited for you to split, and gently smuggled you out."

Gently smuggled.

The wound on her head suggested otherwise.

"Why?" A reflex question, one Lucy didn't think she wanted the answer to as the blonde man took a small step in her direction to stare down at her with a lecherous smirk.

"Cause you're in our territory and you're ours now. Me and my buddies have a little side business going on and you're our latest catch." His gaze roving across her white tank top and blue pants, one of his hands settled on the visible bulge of his groin as he winked at her. "We take them, break them, and pass them on to be sold. 50/50 share. And, baby, let me tell you, you're gonna fetch us a pretty price."

The panic in her chest now clawing at her heart as she scrambled her back against the cool stone of the wall, Lucy felt sweat break out across her body as she took in his candid admission with open-mouthed horror.

"No. You can't-"

"Yeah. I can smell the vault on you so I know you probably aren't rolling with the same diseases as all the other cunts we pick up."

Flinching at the term, Lucy fell back into what she knew best as old defense mechanisms kicked in to protect her as best they could.

"Let me go and I'll get you whatever you need. Caps, meds, weapons. I know people who could hel-"

"You?" Laughing openly at her offer, the man steadied himself against the doorframe. "Maybe that bulky ghoul we saw you with could have worked some muscle for us but you haven't got shit we need. Well, aside from-"

His hand still groping sleazily against his bulge, the man stepped fully within the cell and kicked the door shut before him. An action which made Lucy jump as her body shuddered and tensed to the point of discomfort, sensing the danger and violence to come.

"You see, cunt. I'm much nicer than my two friends out there and I'm willing to cut you some slack. Wrap your lips around my cock and suck it like your life depended on it, and I'll tell the boys that you're willing to be a good girl for us. They'll even leave their nasty 'breaking in' toys at the door if they think you're gonna be a good girl."

As he spoke, his body inched closer towards Lucy and her fingers shook terribly as she struggled against the rope holding her wrists, vision quick to blur as genuine fear rocked through her body.

He's going to rape me. Repeated in her head like a cruel, merciless mantra. The elders had told them what rape was, explained that they needed consent to ensure that everyone in the vault was happy and able to share their bodies without problem. They knew, in the vault, they all knew what was okay and what wasn't.

"Cooper!" She hollered out, voice breaking on the second syllable as she attempted to back up against the wall enough to scramble to her feet. "Please, fudge, someone help!"

A memory rose, unbidden in her mind as Lucy rolled her back against the wall. Not long after her body had started to change, one of the elders, a slender old guy named Ernest, had caught her in the gardens. He had asked her questions about her changing body, questions that made her heart feel heavy in her chest as a sense of how wrong he made her feel forced her to back away from him.

He had moved to grab her, his hand wrenching her arm away from her chest when her father had appeared from nowhere. He had been causal in his greeting but even as a child, she had noticed how tight her dad's smile was and how quickly he ushered her back to her room so he could have a quick chat with him.

Ernest died soon after. One of the first to be lost to the latest famine as the crops failed due to an unknown blight. She hadn't questioned it then, too many good people had been lost, but now, in this moment where that same childish fear weighed heavily at her limbs, she wondered if her father had killed him for what he had tried to do.

Kicking out with her feet as the man dropped to his knees before her, his fingers were quick to lock around her ankles - pulling her free of the wall and stealing the breath from her lungs as her head collided with the floor.

"Please, no. Don't do this! No!"

"First times always the worst."

Flashing rotted teeth at her as he straddled her waist, his hands pinned her own roped palms to her stomach as he burrowed down into her space. His breath was awful, smelling foul and rancid, and it sparked a retch in Lucy's throat as she twisted her head to the side. His tongue trailed across her cheek, tasting the grime on her skin as he growled in her ear.

"Just gotta remember to be a good girl and-ARGH!" Breaking off into a pained scream, the man reared back as blood poured from his mouth to drip down on her tank top.

Spitting out the large portion of tongue she had ripped free with her teeth, Lucy used her attackers moment of stunned pain to knock him free of her body. Crawling on her knees, she almost made it to the door when a rough hand wrapped around her hair.

"Stupid cunt!" The words lisping due to his injury, the man's hand was like fire in her hair as he snatched at her scalp viciously. "Gonna break your fucking nose for that."

Yelling as her hands locked around a small shard of metal that lay by the closed door, the man's foot having accidentally knocked it within the cell as he entered, Lucy gripped it tight as she spun on her knees, digging the shard deep into the closest foot she could reach before pulling it free with a vicious twist.

A fresh cry of pain broke free of her attacker as he crashed to the ground, his hands tight around his foot while he snarled obscenities at her.

Fuelled by adrenaline, fear and rage, Lucy pounced on him like a cat, knocking his back flat to the floor as she stabbed the metal as roughly into his throat as she could. Memories of her fraudulent husband flashed before her eyes and she hollered a vicious snarl as she dragged the metal through his skin until the blood flowed and the gurgling of his throat ceased.

Breathing heavily, she stayed in that position until his glassy-eyed stare repulsed her, the scent of fresh blood making her heave anew. Body shaking and mind rattling, it was only when a new voice broke the silence that she jumped as though an electric bolt had fired across her spine.

"Fuck, Petey. She's killed Owen."

Rolling off the corpse, Lucy was quick to take her earlier position - her stained fingers clutching the metal shard as her back pressed against the wall once more.

"Owen was always a dipshit. We'll be better off without him." The taller of the two newcomers added.

Looking just as filthy as the first guy, Lucy's eyes were wild as she pointed the metal at each of them in turn.

"L-let me go. I'll do the same to you." She stuttered, a sinking feeling of despair making her skin feel cold and clammy. "I've killed people before and you'll be next."

Glancing between themselves, both men burst out into a cruel laughter and their movements were quick as they descended on her. Fingers already trembling, it was easy for them to wrestle the metal from her hands and pin her to the floor; their much larger bodies easily holding her knees apart as they pressed them to the floor with their own legs.

Rough hands fished inside her tank top and Lucy found herself unable to do much but bare her teeth and fight off a sob as her chest was pulled free of her bra; breasts spilling over the fabric as matching grunts of approval escaped her attackers.

"They'll do nicely. Fuck, might not even sell this one, what do you think?" The one named Petey asked, his free hand gripping at her chin painfully as he tilted her head to the side in a crude inspection.

Cupping her left breast as though weighing it in his hand, the other man flashed a yellow smile at her.

"Could play with her for a few weeks without going to the others. Would you like that? A few weeks with us and then a ten minute walk up north to meet the rest of the boys?"

Refusing to answer as a fat tear rolled free of her eye, Lucy chose to remain quiet and not give them anything as she struggled in vain.

"You owe us for you did to Owen." The second man continued, his face an open leer as he released her jaw. "So I'm gonna fuck you and then Petey is gonna fuck you and then we're both gonna fuck you. Then you're gonna open those pretty lips wide for-"

"No."

A sharp hand collided with the side of Lucy's face, the blow catching her across the mouth and bursting her lip open in an instant as the taste of copper flooded her mouth.

"Not asking, cunt."

Their hands were all over her, one set fondling her breasts while the other pulled at the hem of her tank top to expose her stomach. They were everywhere and the feeling of them, hot and heavy atop her body, made her feel sick - her throat constricting and panicking as her breaths came short and fast.

The vague sound of the door slamming open touched at her senses but it felt so far off that she didn't think much of it until all hell broke loose.

A fresh splatter of blood sprayed across her face, the sensation matching by a booming gunshot which made her ears ring in the small space as the taller of the two, Petey, collapsed dead atop her - a hole leaking blood and brains from the front of his forehead to her exposed chest.

In shock, both Lucy and the remaining man stared at the corpse for a second before Lucy felt half the weight on her body disappear as the final attacker was pulled free. Her eyes unfocused and blurred with tears, she saw the flash of familiar, tattered leather which hurled her would-be attacker against the wall.

Sounds of exertion were quickly followed by a fresh death gurgle as Cooper's knife flashed in his hand for only a second before being drawn across her attackers throat; the arterial spray swiftly coating Cooper's clothed chest as he let go of his prey and allowed the fresh body to drop to the floor.

Not trusting her eyes, Lucy tilted her head back and cast her gaze to the dingy ceiling as her thoughs spiralled into a messy haze.

After a moment, Cooper's face swam in her vision and the close sight of him sparked a myriad of emotions within her; shock giving way to genuine relief before settling on fear as she took in the genuine fury which blazed in his stark white eyes as they darted across her battered face and disjointed clothing.

He wasn't angry with her, she knew that, but the sheer rage which rolled from his coiled frame made her want to curl into a ball and hide away from it. He smelled of leather and blood, the scent of fresh violence making her nose twitch as the corpses of her attackers lay motionless, crowding the floor of her cell.

"S'alright, I got you, sweetie." Cooper's hands were firm but gentle as he wrapped them around her shoulders, hoisting her enough that she were able to lean against the wall in a sitting position.

Despite everything, his voice was like a balm and she relaxed into his touch as her trembling fingers were gripped within his own - his knife glinting once more as he quickly severed her bindings and let the rope fall to the floor. In an instant, her knees snapped to her chest as her arms looped around them, her body curling in on itself as a wave of nausea made her throat feel tight.

Still on his haunches before her, Cooper studied her for a solid moment before matching her position as he leaned against the opposite wall, his legs outstretched and his back straight against the cool stone.

"Fix yourself, darlin'. I'd offer but I don't think you want another monsters hands on you before the day's out."

Keeping her knees tight, Lucy brought trembling fingers to her chest - her relief at being saved having made her forget about her state of undress - and she tucked her breasts away back into the off-white bra with a lifeless motion, the skin feeling sensitive and sore due to their abuse. Made decent, her arms were quick to loop around her knees once more, her chin sitting atop her knees as a gloomy, far-off expression graced her features.

"Did they-" A half question which Cooper quickly thought better of as he abandoned ship and adjusted it on the fly. "You okay?" It was a quiet ask, the words so low that Lucy knew she could ignore them if she wanted to.

"No," she stuttered, feeling weary despite the adrenaline which still pulsed in her veins, "but I have to be because what else is there. So I have to be."

Making a small noise of agreement in his chest, Cooper's gaze rose to the ceiling as he plucked his hat from his head and dropped it to the floor by his open lap.

"That you do, darlin'. Nothing else for it."

They sat in silence for a bit, the only slightly pained sounds coming from Lucy's throat as she adjusted to the various aches which afflicted her body. Her face was the worst as her temple throbbed like a bitch and her burst lip felt huge and ugly against her mouth. The bodies forever doomed to lay in messy piles, Lucy's eyes ghosted over them and settled on the growing patches of blood which each steadily leaked to the cell floor.

"You killed them all?" She said, already knowing the answer and unsure why she even asked.

"Not all of them. One of them was already dead when I got here and I'd recognise the teeth marks in that hunk of ripped tongue anywhere." Despite the guarded nature of his tone, there was a spark of warmth as he flashed his, well, her, finger at her, and Lucy swore she heard the slightest hint of pride leaking through. "You did good, sweetheart. You fought like a hellcat and you didn't let them win."

"Didn't win." Lucy mumbled miserly. "You did."

"Oh, I have no doubt you would have gotten them both in the end. They might have taken a few strips from you, but that fire in your belly would have scorched them dry."

Mouth upturning at the praise as she fought off the urge to cry, Lucy swiped at her eyes with the back of her hands as her breathing quickly grew erratic.

"All these bullshit lessons you've put me through and it still wasnt enough." She blurted out with a desperate gasp. "They're evil. I hate it here. I hate their cruelty. I hate their hurting. I hate-"

Finally unable to hold back the swell of emotion which threatened her, Lucy broke off on the final word as a heaving sob replaced any chance she had of cohesive speech. It was something raw and unfiltered, mourning the loss of some part of herself that would never be returned as she was forced to mold herself into a creature of violence and hate just to survive in their world.

Cooper, to his credit, let her cry without any false sympathies or interference. His face lacked any judgement, the hole in his face flexing slightly as he inhaled and exhaled steadily, eyes never shifting from Lucy's sobbing frame. Something difficult to pin down flashed through his gaze as though a multitude of possible outcomes were pushing at his thoughts.

After some internal debate, a grunt slipped free of Cooper's lips as he leaned across the short space and pulled at Lucy's shoulder.

So lost in her own misery, Lucy didn't fight the pressure of his strong hand as he pulled her to the side, dropping her to the floor in such a way that her head pressed against the upper part of his legs as she faced away from him. It did nothing to stop her tears, but it did give her something to lean on as he immediately retracted his hand to fold his arms fully across his chest.

Cooper's thighs were like unyielding steel beneath her head, giving Lucy something solid to pin her senses on as she fought to quell the quiver of her lip and the shudders which continued to wrack her body. Their journey had been hard and the hunt for her father was a disaster of interference and dead trails of information.

This was just the latest set-back in a long list of utter shit.

Offering her no other physical support, unsure if it would cause her to act out or break down further, Cooper waited until her breathing was a little more even before speaking again.

"Be sad." He paused, allowing the rare piece of advice to sit heavily in the air between them. "Be angry. Feel that fire in your gut burn so hot that you get the fear it's gonna burst free and raze everything around you to the ground. Hell, curse the day your momma brought you into the world if that's how you feel. But don't break."

Stopping once again, Cooper felt a rare moment of genuine pity for the woman as he glanced down at her. Lucy Maclean, who foolishly tried to choose peace in a peaceless world, still had a lot of learning to do when it came to the way that same world worked.

He could only show her so much, some lessons had to be learned the hard way, and if she could take them, then he would do his part to keep her whole.

"Whatever they do to you, survive it. Skulk off, lick your wounds, come back stronger. Get that revenge your blood sings for." Speaking as much to himself as her, Cooper allowed her a peek into his own thoughts, an insight he knew she wouldn't fully understand quite yet. "Never let them break you. Better off dead than broken in this world."

Gathering herself enough to shakily speak, Lucy gripped Cooper's knee with clawing fingers as she clung to him like a lifeline.

"There's more of them. Ten minutes up north. That's who they were- who they were going to sell me to."

"More side-tracking bullshit." Cooper sighed but his voice grew more contemplative as his gravelled tones mused on her words. "That said, been a while since I hunted down some proper vermin. No bounty. No rules. Might be fun to let loose for once."

He let the idea hang in the air, curious if she was hinting at what he suspected she was.

"You coming with me?"

"Yeah."

Unseen by the shaking Lucy, a pleased smile split Cooper's lips as he glanced down at her steady answer.

It wasn't often he took on a companion, far less one that he'd actually indulge, but the odd woman intrigued him with the hypocrisy of her very existence. A vaultie with a edge, naive blood screaming out for wrongs to be righted just like his own as she fought alongside him like a harpy.

It did help that they both wanted her dear old daddy strung up like the traitor he were.

But revenge would see her right.

She was owed a debt by those who had tried to take her, a debt of honor, and he would see that she avenged it in a glorious explosion of violence that would help keep her nightmares at bay as they would leave no doubt that the beasts responsible were well put down and unable to haunt her.

By gun or by knife, she would get at least that.

He had seen the broken ones. The ones used and abused by so many across the wastelands that they gave up everything and became husks even more devoid of humanity than the ghouls who lost the battle and went feral. It was a fate worse than the many deaths he'd experienced in his time.

No one deserved that.

Especially not Lucy Maclean.

His hand ghosting over her head, fingers only an inch away from her fine head of mousy hair, Cooper tilted his head to the side as he took her exhausted frame in.

"Sleep for now, vaultie. Time for this little killer to save her strength. So take it for what it is and when you wake, we'll see about righting some of the wrongs that happened here."

Feeling more safe with the violent ghoul who had shown her the new reality of her world than any other of the awful creatures she had met since leaving her vault, Lucy's eyes fluttered close as his voice washed over her and exhaustion claimed her before she could do anything to muse on that odd feeling of safety.

Links to the rest of the series:

Part 1

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

[inhurtandincomfort]

A Night to Regret

CW: Kidnapping, abusive relationship

Part 2 / masterlist

“Hey babe,” Kieran answered his phone with a grin, “Yeah, I’m on my way back now. Guess what? I’ve got a job!” 

“Really? That’s amazing!” He pulled it back from his ear as Abigail squealed, “What is it?” 

“It’s a short film, an original horror I think. I don’t know all the details, Kate said she’d email them to me first thing Monday. It’s a student film, but they’ve done quite a few popular ones.” 

“You know what this means? Celebration! We should invite Mike and Lisa, I’ll see if Cameron’s free too, and Jaysen, though I think he’s busy…”

Kieran laughed softly, “Is that really necessary? I was thinking we could just have a quiet night in, just the two of us.”  

“We do that all the time! Come on, we haven’t had a get together in ages. It’ll be fun. We’ll order pizza, and if you pick up some drinks on your way home… ooh, make sure you get some of that beer I like.”  “Since when did this become about you?” 

“I’ll pay for everything!” 

He smiled even though she couldn’t see it. “I got it, don’t worry. You order some pizzas, I’ll be home soon. I love you.” 

“Love you!”

Kieran slid his phone into his pocket, making a u-turn to head towards their favoured liquor store. He shivered, hugging himself as he walked down the quiet street. Strange, to be so quiet on a Saturday evening; it was freezing, he reasoned. It wasn’t that late, but the sun set early this time of year and a starless sky made the frigid air seem bleak. Still, deserted streets always held an eerie feeling. Though they weren’t completely empty, he only saw an occasional passerby in thick coats, scarves weaved around their faces. Man, he should have brought a scarf; his lips were probably turning blue. 

A small, childish part of him wished he had stayed talking with Abigail. Past every alley, every covered stranger, a chill crept up his spine that had nothing to do with the weather. He considered calling her back. She was probably calling their friends though. You’re worrying over nothing, he scolded himself. He was a grown-ass man, he could handle walking down a street himself, the same route he’d taken many times before. Alone. In the dark. 

Abigail kept telling him he should ask his doctor about anxiety meds. Maybe she was right. 

He was relieved when he made it to the store, offering him a brief respite. There was only one other customer who seemed to be studying two bottles intently. Kieran made his purchase, making easy small talk with the grizzled cashier trying to ignore his stomach twisting in knots.

He rubbed his hands together in an attempt to get warm, an awkward motion carrying bags of glass bottles. He hummed to himself as he walked, a cheesy romance he hoped would stave off anxious thoughts. He glanced behind. A couple of men were trailing at a steady pace, scarves concealing their faces. He turned back to face forward, his pace quickening just slightly. People are allowed to walk behind you, Kieran. He told himself firmly. Learning to face your fears is an important part of recovery. Don’t let anxiety control you. 

…But he’d also been taught to follow his instincts. What was he supposed to do when every gut feeling told him to run? 

He considered stopping to let them pass. Would that just make him seem suspicious? It would probably be weird. Home wasn’t far, he’d be there soon. A black car with tinted windows was parked up ahead. Had it ever been there before? He shook his head. Paranoid. He’s just paranoid. Lukas had always said so. It was hardly an unusual car, it’s no surprise he’d never noticed it. And people were allowed to visit.

Still, as he got closer his shoulders hunched, blood rushing in his ears. His stomach cramped, tightening painfully as every signal in his body rang wrong, wrong, wrong. Something was wrong. He halted in his tracks, willing himself to move, his body frozen as his mind raced, every alarm bell screaming go back, go back, danger danger dangerdanger-

A heavy weight slung around his shoulders drawing him in. He opened his mouth to yell, a gloved hand silencing him. Something hard pressed into his back, small and rounded and fuck, this wasn’t happening, this couldn’t be happening-

“Don’t make a sound,” A gruff voice whispered, a voice that didn’t sound natural. They were trying to disguise it. “Come with us quietly, and there won’t be any problems.” 

Kieran nodded numbly, his heart hammering against his chest. With a small nudge from whoever stood behind, with a gun did they have a gun please say that’s not a gun he was bundled into the black car where someone was already waiting to drive away. Two men sat either side of him, blocking every exit.

“Head down,” One commanded, shoving his head to his knees before he even had a chance to do so himself. His shopping bag was placed by their feet. They’d probably take the drinks for themselves. They took his phone too, along with his wallet leaving him with no form of identification. 

“Who are you?” Kieran dared to ask, his voice trembling. “Where are we going?”

“Shut up.” 

They were going to kill him. Oh god, he was going to be murdered, his body thrown in a woods somewhere or a lake or burned and oh god. Would they ever find him? Would his mother get to bury him? What about Abi, would she blame herself? How long would it take her to grow concerned? Was she already pacing around anxiously, wringing her hands, waiting for him to come home?

When they were out of city limits, they pushed him to the floor, wrapping cloth around his eyes, binding his wrists and ankles with duct tape which they also placed over his mouth. They must have driven for miles. He was transferred to another vehicle at some point, open conversations taking place in a language he couldn’t understand. Occasionally they’d rip the tape off to pour water down his throat. He fell asleep at one point, he thought. It was all a haze, fuzzy memories leaving him unable to distinguish what’s real and what is fake. 

Next thing he knew he was being roughly dragged outside, mud staining his clothes as  he was thrown to the floor. 

“Good to see you again, Angel.” 

Kieran stilled, every hair on his neck stood on end, his heart leapt to his throat. He thought it might just stop. 

“What? Cat got your tongue?” Lukas jeered, his honeyed voice washed over Kieran like acid. The blindfold was yanked off his face, letting him look up to a man he wished he’d forgotten. 

Calloused fingers cupped his cheek tenderly, bronze eyes filled with such gentle warmth met his own. He used to melt under that same gaze, putty in his hands. He would have done anything to please him, debased himself in so many ways just to see those soft eyes look at him once more. 

Now they just filled him with fear. 

“It’s been so long, hasn’t it Angel? Were you afraid you wouldn't see me again? I was beside myself. I couldn’t close my eyes without seeing your face, haunting me like an enthralling ghost. I didn’t know what to do, I was so lost without you.” Lukas grabbed Kierans face in both hands, leaning in so close their noses almost touched, staring deep into his eyes in a way that made his skin crawl. This couldn’t be happening. This had to be some horrible nightmare, he was gone, he got out, he fled across half the country just to be safe and it wasn’t enough. He wanted to scream, wanted to yell, wanted to kick and scratch and do anything that would get him out of here, anything to never be trapped with this monster again. 

But his limbs were bound, his mouth stuffed full of cloth. Even if they weren’t, he wasn’t sure he was capable of it. He’d never fought back then. He hadn’t changed at all, not really. He was still the same meek figure he’d been back then. 

“You should never have left me Angel,” Lukas breathed, his breath hot on his face. “You’ll never leave me again.”

If you enjoyed please consider reblogging, it really helps the reach and lets others enjoy it too!

Being kidnapped by your abusive ex is bad enough - even worse is Lukas needs to make money. How will he do that? Hurting his Angel on camera, of course <3

[heartbeat-eras]

A 1st For Friends

I've met a bunch of awesome through Tumblr. We connect over the love of hearts, but there are a few that you that I have more in common with. This is the heart of one of those people.

She slid into my DM's, not many females do, but we hit it off straight away. We bonded over our ADHD and how our stories were so similar. We shared the joys of meds (not) and RSD. But there was something about her heart that when she sent me recordings...without telling me I knew how she was feeling. My brain recognised the rhythms.. ones I had heard many times before in my own chest. That racing wasn't excitement...it was fight or flight nerves and that heart was gearing up for a battle. And that one was exhaustion, trying its best to slow down, but not being able to. It was great to be so in tune with someone so similar and amazing to have a new friend that just got me.

So where does this heart recording come from? Well...we all know that my heart is an attention hoe. She was feeling game but was too nervous to post herself, so I offered. This recording is actually the first one she sent me. I remember her being both so excited and nervous. Us ADHDers don't have slow hearts... we take stimulants, are mostly living with some sort of anxiety at all times, we're empaths and I feel like that makes our hearts more reactive... I remember the first time I posted my heart was beating so hard I thought it was going rip through my chest.. hearing this rec reminded me of that. The fear and the excitement and the adrenaline making her beat so hard it was the perfect way for her heart to say "Hello".

So I hope you enjoy her beats, I think they are just like mine... except no split.

[in1-nutshell]

Hello! Can I ask G1 Ratchet, Wheeljack and Ironhide with accustomed to not communicating deeply with anyone, but kind reader? It's like too afraid to trust anyone because he's afraid for own heart. Reader finds a comfortable place next to the Autobots and is like... Imbued with sincere trust? Good relationships and real involvement? Even in Wheeljack's experiments xD

Sorry if this is weird/blurry! Thank you for your work, inspiration to you and all the best! 💖

(Feel free to change/ignore, everything is ok!)

The little anxiety ball meets some Bots, what can go wrong?

Hope you enjoy!

Human Buddy who's anxious yet trusting with Ratchet, Ironhide, and Wheeljack

SFW, Platonic, Human reader

G1

This little ball of anxiety met the Autobots through Carly.

Carly wanted her friend to meet the Bots and potentially get them to out of their comfort zone a bit.

She knew that Buddy had a bit of a hard time making friends, so she thought this would be a good way for them to gain new ones.

What better way than letting them get to know the Autobots.

Buddy agreed to this if Carly bought them ice cream floats for the next month if things went south.

Carly still counts it as a win.

She had already recruited the help, she knew this was going to end well.

Ratchet

Carly and Buddy walking into the med bay.

Ratchet is by his tools cleaning them.

“Buddy, I’d like you to meet Ratchet. Ratchet this is Buddy.”--Carly

Ratchet turns and kneels.

Buddy shifts a bit.

“Hello there. Carly tells me your name is Buddy, right?”--Ratchet

Buddy nods but has a small smile on their face.

Ratchet can almost feel the anxiety rolling off them when they come into the med bay.

He tries to appear as nonthreatening as possible to calm the poor thing.

The medic offers to show Buddy around the med bay to ease some tension.

Within a couple minutes, Buddy becomes comfortable with Ratchet and just stays by his side for the rest of the day.

Ratchet is a bit surprised on this switch.

Buddy went from being afraid of breathing the same air as him to sitting comfortably on his shoulder in a couple of minutes.

Carly did give him the heads up about Buddy’s behavior, but he didn’t expect it to be this fast.

He does his best to explain what he is doing whenever Buddy asks him questions.

By the end of the day Buddy is fully comfortable with Ratchet and can’t wait to come back to see him.

Buddy doing their best to hug Ratchet’s pede.

“I’ll come back soon Ratchet.”--Buddy

Ratchet chuckling a bit patting Buddy’s head.

“Sure kid. I’ll be here when you come over.”--Ratchet

Ironhide

Carly and Buddy walk to the main room where Ironhide is looking at the screen.

“Ironhide! We’re here!”--Carly

Ironhide looks down towards Carly and Buddy.

He steps forward and a bit loudly.

“Heya Carly. And you must be Buddy!”--Ironhide

Buddy quinces a bit.

Ironhide looks at Carly who makes the ‘quieter tone’ motion with her hands.

“My apologizes Buddy, I can be a bit loud sometimes.”--Ironhide

Ironhide offers a digit to shake.

Buddy looks at him with a small smile and shakes his digit.

Ironhide knows Carly asked beforehand to try and connect with Buddy and so that’s what he does.

This is his mission now.

He gives them a tour around the base.

Ironhide doesn’t mind if they want to walk by his side or if they want to perch on his shoulder.

He is a bit shocked in how comfortable Buddy becomes around him after a few short minutes.

Carly did say that their trust was very easily earned if the person or in this case bot was good.

While walking around he might slip a few stories here and there to fill any awkward silences.

Buddy in return tells him some stories of their own.

By the time Buddy has to go he can see some sadness in their eyes.

He reassures them that they can come back anytime and maybe continue the stories or go on another walk.

Buddy hugs Ironhide’s digit in goodbye as they get into Carly’s car.

Buddy waves at him.

“Bye Ironhide! Thank you for the stories!”--Buddy

Ironhide waves back.

“See ya latter Buddy!”--Ironhide

Wheeljack

“And this is the lab—Wheeljack!”--Carly

Wheeljack turns towards the sound of Carly’s voice.

He is half covered in soot with a blowtorch in on servo.

“Hey Carly! And…oh is that, Buddy? I thought we were going to meet next week?”--Wheeljack

“It is next week Wheeljack.”--carly

“Oops! Hold on a nanosecond.”--Wheeljack

Wheeljack grabs a rag and manages to get rid of most of the soot and places the blow torch down before kneeling to greet Buddy.

“Nice ta meet ya Buddy! Carly’s talked about ya!”--Wheeljack

Buddy motions to the side of their head.

“You gotta a bit of fire on your fin.”--Buddy

Wheeljack quickly swats it before chuckling a bit.

Buddy chuckles a bit too.

Buddy, as nervous as they were, was a bit curious and asked him what he was doing.

Wheeljack is a bit excited that someone finally asked and takes Buddy into his servos and walks to the lab.

Through the explaining and off topic things the two talk, Buddy soon began asking if there was something they could do to help him with his experiment.

So, things could go a lot smoother in the lab.

Wheeljack now has a best human friend.

The two don’t reappear from the lab until it’s time for Buddy to go.

The two aren’t too sad when they have to go their separate ways. They already made plans to meet soon.

Wheeljack giving Buddy a little box.

“Something for you to remember me by.”--Wheeljack

Buddy hugs the box before hugging his pede.

“Thank you! Thank you Wheeljack! See you next week!”--Buddy

Wheeljack patting Buddy on the head before Buddy goes to Carly.

“What did Wheeljack give you?”--Carly

“Rocket shoes.”--Buddy

“…What?”--Carly

[ijustmissyouraccenths]

Hold My Hand

Where y/n is scared of flying and the stranger in the seat next to her offers some help.

Word Count: 1,993

Warnings: Planes, Anxiety

JFK was a whirlwind of noise and motion, a blur of tired travelers, rolling suitcases, and endless overhead announcements crackling through the speakers. Y/N tightened her grip on the handle of her suitcase, her pulse thrumming beneath her skin. She hated this part. Airports always made her anxious—too many moving parts, too many chances for something to go wrong. And flying? That was even worse.

She exhaled slowly, adjusting the strap of her bag as she inched forward in the check-in line. It was just a flight. Just a few hours in the air. And then she’d be in Italy, far away from everything she’d been trying to escape.

Her friend had insisted she come, practically begging her to book the ticket.

“You need this, love. Just get on the plane.”

Easier said than done.

She reached the counter, handed over her passport with slightly shaky fingers, and forced a polite smile as the agent processed her check-in. A few minutes later, she had her boarding pass in hand and one less thing to worry about. But the tightness in her chest didn’t ease.

A familiar, comforting scent drifted through the air—coffee. Warm, rich, slightly burnt in the way only airport coffee could be. She turned toward the kiosk tucked near the terminal entrance, weaving through the crowd, her suitcase rolling behind her.

A hot drink would help. Something to ground her.

After ordering, she wrapped her hands around the paper cup, letting the heat seep into her palms. She took a careful sip, the bitter taste settling her, just a little.

Y/N settled into a chair near her gate, her coffee resting on the seat beside her. The caffeine wasn’t doing much to settle her nerves, but at least the warmth in her hands gave her something to focus on. She sighed, setting her suitcase between her feet before digging through her bag, fingers fumbling past tangled headphones and crumpled receipts until she found what she was looking for, her medication.

She popped the cap off the small bottle of anti-nausea pills first, dry-swallowing one before reaching for her anxiety meds. Flying always made her feel sick, and the anxiety only made it worse. She wasn’t taking any chances today.

The terminal buzzed around her business travelers typing furiously on laptops, families wrangling restless children, couples leaning into quiet conversations. It was a world in motion, but Y/N felt stuck, waiting.

She glanced up at the departures board. Still time before boarding. She had no intention of rushing to get on the plane. She never did. The sooner she boarded, the longer she’d have to sit in that cramped space, feeling every bit of turbulence, every shift in altitude. Instead, she’d wait until the final group, boarding only when she absolutely had to.

She took another sip of her coffee, exhaling slowly. Just a few more minutes. Then she’d be in the air on her way to Italy. 

Y/N pulled out her phone, her fingers hesitating over the screen before she finally typed out a message.

“At the airport, waiting to board.”

She paused, then added, “Trying not to freak out.”

The message sent, and she took another sip of her coffee, tapping her fingers against the cup while she waited for a response. It didn’t take long.

“You’re doing great. It’s going to be okay. Just think about how good it’ll feel when you land. I’ll be waiting for you!”

She let out a slow breath, some of the tightness in her chest easing. Her friend always knew what to say, always had a way of grounding her even from miles away.

“I hope so,” she typed back before locking her phone and setting it in her lap.

One step at a time.

The final boarding group was announced, and Y/N let out a quiet sigh before standing, gripping the handle of her suitcase. This was the part she hated most walking onto the plane, finding her seat, and forcing herself to settle in for the long flight ahead. She rolled her luggage behind her, moving through the jet bridge, the artificial air-conditioning doing little to cool the anxious heat creeping up her spine.

When she stepped onto the plane, she was met with the usual cramped rows and the hum of quiet conversations. It was full, every overhead bin seemingly packed to capacity, every seat occupied. She checked her boarding pass again, even though she already knew where she was going, middle of the plane, window seat.

As she made her way down the aisle, dodging stray elbows and outstretched legs, her stomach twisted. Long-haul flights were bad enough, but sitting next to a stranger for hours on end only made her more uneasy.

She finally reached her row and glanced at the seat beside hers, her breath catching for a moment.

A man sat there, his posture relaxed, one hand resting on his thigh while the other scrolled idly through his phone. Brown curls fell slightly over his forehead, and tattoos peeked out from beneath the sleeves of his sweater. He was dressed casually, a soft knit fabric over jeans but there was something familiar about him.

As soon as she stopped beside the row, the man looked up from his phone and, without hesitation, stood from his seat.

“Need help with that?” he asked, gesturing toward her carry-on.

Y/N hesitated for only a second before nodding. “Yeah, that’d be great. Thanks.”

He took the bag from her with ease, lifting it into the overhead compartment and securing it before stepping back, giving her space to settle in. As she reached for her seatbelt, he spoke again.

“Do you want the aisle seat instead?” His voice was calm, casual. “I don’t mind switching.”

She glanced at him, caught off guard by the offer.

“I just figured,” he continued, “if you prefer it, I’m happy to swap.”

Her fingers tightened around the armrest for a second before she finally admitted, “Flying makes me nervous. Maybe sitting in the aisle would be better.”

He nodded without hesitation. “Yeah, of course.”

Without another word, he stepped aside, letting her slide into the aisle seat before taking the window for himself. As she buckled in, she took a slow, steady breath.

At least now, if the anxiety became too much, she had an easy way out.

Once they were settled, he turned to her with an easy smile, offering his hand.

“I’m Harry,” he said.

Y/N already knew that. She had recognized him the second she saw him—his face was too familiar, whether from his days in One Direction or the countless photos of him that circulated online. But she didn’t acknowledge it. He was just another passenger on a plane, and she had no energy to make a big deal out of it.

She took his hand briefly, shaking it. “Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you, Y/N,” he said, his voice warm, effortlessly charming.

She nodded, managing a small smile before turning her attention to the seatbelt in her lap, tightening it around her waist. The plane wasn’t even moving yet, but the nerves were already creeping in.

The overhead voice crackled through the cabin, announcing that the doors were now closed and the flight would be departing soon. Y/N’s stomach twisted. There was no turning back now.

She exhaled slowly and fidgeted with her fingers in her lap, rubbing her thumb over the edge of her nail. The familiar hum of the engines grew louder, and she could already feel her heart racing.

Needing a distraction, she reached into her bag and pulled out her book, flipping it open to where she had left off. She gripped it tightly, her knuckles pale as she focused on the words, trying to lose herself in the story.

From the corner of his eye, Harry noticed the way she took deep, measured breaths, the way her fingers tensed around the pages. He shifted slightly in his seat before turning toward her.

“That any good?” he asked, nodding toward the book in her hands.

Y/N blinked, her eyes darting to his. It took her a second to process his question.

“Oh,” she said, glancing down at the cover. “Yeah. It’s just a rom-com. Kind of cheesy, but in a good way.”

“Cheesy in a good way,” he repeated with a small smile. “That’s promising. What’s it about?”

Just as she opened her mouth to explain, the plane began to move, rolling slowly away from the gate. Her fingers clenched around the book a little tighter, her heartbeat quickening as she felt the shift beneath her.

She focused on Harry instead, forcing herself to speak, to explain the ridiculous but charming plot of the book. And as she did, as his interested expression encouraged her to keep talking, the plane turned onto the runway, speeding up for takeoff.

As the plane picked up speed, Y/N felt her words start to stumble, her thoughts tangling as she tried to explain the book’s plot. Her voice wavered, and she let out a small, frustrated sigh, gripping the armrest instead.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, shaking her head. “I’m just–God, I hate this part.”

Harry glanced at her hands, noticing how tightly she was clutching the seat. Without hesitation, he spoke, his voice calm and steady.

“This might be weird,” he said, tilting his head slightly, “but if you need to squeeze my hand, you can.”

Y/N looked at him, uncertain for a moment. He wasn’t making a big deal out of it, wasn’t looking at her with pity—just an easy, open offer.

She swallowed, hesitating for only a second before reaching out and gripping his hand. His skin was warm, his fingers steady as she squeezed, holding on as the plane lifted off the ground.

He didn’t flinch or pull away. Instead, he gave her hand a small, reassuring squeeze back, grounding her just enough to get through those first few seconds of flight.

Y/N kept her grip on Harry’s hand as the plane tilted upward, her stomach lurching with the ascent. She squeezed her eyes shut, inhaling deeply through her nose, counting the seconds until the worst of it was over.

Harry didn’t say anything, didn’t rush her or try to distract her with empty reassurances. He just let her hold on, his thumb brushing against the back of her hand in an absent, soothing motion.

After what felt like forever, the plane finally leveled out, the pressure in her chest easing slightly. She let out a long breath and slowly opened her eyes, realizing then just how tightly she had been holding his hand. Embarrassed, she quickly let go, pressing her palms against her lap.

“Sorry,” she muttered, shaking her head. “I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s alright,” Harry interrupted, offering a small, knowing smile. “Really. I don’t mind.”

Y/N exhaled, feeling her shoulders relax for the first time since she stepped onto the plane. She glanced out the window, where the world below was now nothing but clouds, soft and endless. The worst part was over.

She turned back to him, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Thanks for that. I just… I really hate flying.”

“Yeah, I kinda picked up on that,” he teased lightly. “But you did good.”

She huffed out a small laugh, finally allowing herself to relax into her seat. She picked up her book again, running her fingers over the edges of the pages, but before she could open it, Harry spoke again.

“So, tell me more about this ‘cheesy but in a good way’ book of yours.”

Y/N glanced at him, surprised, but his expression was genuine, his body still turned slightly toward her like he actually wanted to hear about it.

She hesitated for only a moment before finally cracking a small smile. “Alright. So, it’s about these two people who used to be best friends, but then they had this falling out and—”

And just like that, the flight didn’t seem quite as long anymore.

[mistydeyes]

therapy pt. ii; treatment and pharmacotherapy

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FIRST read part i here! olivia (@lundenloves) covers the initial therapy portion beautifully and i cannot emphasize how good the characterization of simon is!!

summary: Reeling from the myriad of questions posed by the therapist, Simon is now sent to the second process of therapy: treatment and meds.

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader

warnings: swearing, medical terminology + medications, mentions of depression/anxiety/ptsd

a/n: i finally got around to this! this has been in the works since the summer and tbh I fell off with it but olivia's amazing part + pharmacy school rotations really invigorated this back up! hope you enjoy :)

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

As Simon exited the stuffy office, he felt defeated. He wanted to escape the confines of the base and forget about all the information he had offered willingly. He hesitated as he eyed the corridor with a glowing red exit sign at the end of it. As if he was thinking aloud, Kaufman’s voice echoed in the hallway.

“The medical wing is the other way,” she called with a laugh, sickly rebounding in the sterile, empty hallway. With balled fists, Simon made the journey to his next destination.

Similar to this morning, the soldiers avoided his gaze and hastily stepped out of his way as he continued. The halls were filled with the sounds of his heavy boots as he saw the large sign signifying the medical wing. He could feel his fist tighten as he reached the closed door. “Captain Blake Isley,” he muttered as he looked at the golden lettering of the plaque. With a moment’s hesitation, he pounded on the wood with three resounding knocks that echoed in the hallway.

“Enter!” he could hear the captain command from the other side of the door. He gripped the cold door knob before entering the sterile office. He blinked slowly and adjusted to the harsh overhead light.

He stood in the cold environment, noting the various bookshelves of medical literature and some certificates displayed on the wall. Captain Isley sat behind a desk, a stack of files in front of her. Simon silently cursed, why did it always have to be a woman?

“You can sit down, Simon,” she replied without glancing up, “I’ll be with you in a moment.” Simon sat himself at one of the two chairs in front of her desk. He almost preferred this over the therapist’s office. First, it was cold and he revealed in the atmosphere. He also enjoyed her lack of interest in his case. Hopefully, he would get some time back and still be able to return to his gym routine.

However, as she pulled out his large case file and typed furiously at her computer, he knew this would be as long as his previous appointment. “Alright,” she said as she looked at him, “let’s get the basics out of the way.” She moved her mouse and he assumed his file was on the screen.

“Can you confirm your height and weight?” Isley asked and Simon couldn’t help but scoff. “Shouldn’t that be in my file there, Captain?” he questioned. “Just confirm for me, Simon,” she replied, “and you can drop the formalities, I’m fine with Doctor.” Simon smiled slightly at her contradiction. “1.93 meters and 100 kilos last I remember,” he replied curtly and she nodded as she continued.

“Great,” she replied sarcastically, “now for the fun stuff.” She pulled out a file that appeared to be his medical and pharmacy records. “I’ll go through these 1 by 1 and you just need to let me know if you’re still taking them,” she said before going line by line.

“Paracetamol?” “Yes, regularly.” Simon settled down in the chair. His frequent visits to the infirmary and pharmacy would make this list a long one. She nodded before moving her finger down to the next line.

“Lemborexant?” He took a moment to think about what that one looked like before he replied. “The sleep one?” “Yes, looks like it’s for your insomnia,” she said, looking down at the manila file. “Mostly when I’m back on base or leave.”

“How about Metaxalone?” “Only on leave.” To this, she raised an eyebrow as she looked up. “You don’t take it regularly?” “No, who wants to take something four times a day.” Simon couldn’t help but feel defensive. That one was the size of a horse pill and it was meant to help with some muscle pain. Despite the relief, he would always leave it behind on long missions. He could work through some pain if it meant that he didn’t have to take cover and swallow another pill.

“Vitamin D?” “When, I remember.” Simon secretly hated this one. It smelled overly like a fish market and he had an entire lecture from his general practitioner to get more sun and to stop wearing his mask.

“Calcium carbonate?” she continued to question and Simon stopped for a moment. “I’m not the doctor here,” he said in a sarcastic tone, “what are those?” She pursed her lips before replying. “TUMS, Simon, do you take TUMS?” “When I need to,” he said and sat back in his chair.

“Alright, and I’ll skip past your other lovely pharmaceuticals as it looks like they correlate to your hospital stays.” Thank god, this session would turn into another fucking hour based on his last few visits.

“You must be a field day at the pharmacy,” she joked and Simon let out a semblance of a laugh. She rifled through some papers in her desk before she spoke again. “Looks like you have some history with fluoxetine, any thoughts?”

He remembered taking it before he enlisted. It was a small, green, and white capsule meant to help with all of his shit. He hated the constant schedule and the sight of these things, eventually deciding to stop it in basic.

“Hated them,” he replied without any further comments. “Why is that?” she asked, taking a moment to look up at him. “The schedule was a nuisance,” he said plainly and she sighed. “That’s a common complaint but looks like you have a schedule now, Simon.” He nodded in response before she looked back down at her papers.

“Simon, have you ever heard of venlafaxine and risperidone?” she questioned. “Never heard of ‘em” he responded and he leaned forward as she handed him a few papers.

The two papers had the two unfamiliar drug names listed on top along with a slew of information. His eyes flickered around at terms like “post-traumatic stress disorder” and “depression.” She cleared her throat before continuing. “I’ll give you the basics and you can read that in your free time,” she stated and he put the papers in his lap.

“Venlafaxine is generally used for treatment of depression and other mood disorders,” Isley began to say and he couldn’t believe he was being prescribed an antidepressant again. “But I’m going to therapy,” he interjected and it sounded more harsh than he had intended. “Think of this as going hand in hand with that,” she stated with a sudden tone of optimism, “they both benefit one another.” He nodded in feigned agreement as it was no use fighting against it.

“Now you’ll want to take these around the same time every day,” she continued and he groaned at the consistent schedule. Just another thing to add to his routine. “You should see improvements in about two weeks but don’t be surprised if it takes a little longer,” she advised and he continued to demonstrate he was listening.

“Alright, now for the other one,” Isley said as she looked at her notes. “Alright, so we’re also starting you on Risperidone,” she stated, “now this also treats mood disorders similar to venlafaxine.” She looked at him as if he should be writing these down but he just continued to nod and attempt to remember the key notes.

“Take this as well once a day around the same time,” she advised and continued with her lecture, “better yet you can take both of them at the same time so you don’t forget!” She took a moment to look over the papers before looking up at him again. “You’ve been quiet, Simon,” she observed and he hated the sudden shift of attention back on him. “Any questions?” she inquired as she stuffed the papers back into his file.

“None, Captain,” he responded flatly, wanting to exit this mini-medication lecture. She raised an eyebrow at him and he coughed out, “Sorry, doctor.” Isley sighed before folding her hands on the table. “Then you’re all set, I’ll have your scripts sent down to the pharmacy.” With that Simon, pushed back the seat and walked towards the door. Just as he was about to exit, the doctor had one last thing to say.

“Oh and Simon, watch your alcohol with this,” Isley spoke and he turned to her, “one drink will feel like five.” He laughed slightly, at least there were some benefits to this new addition to his routine.

The pharmacy was Simon’s final stop of the day. He looked at the analog clock on the wall, 16:00. God, this day was turning out to be a tour of the entire base and all he wanted to do was head to the gym. He stood in the queue and impatiently tapped his boot on the ground. The last thing he needed was this line. But it moved at a snail’s pace as the pharmacist ran around and typed occasionally into the monitor.

Simon was looking down at his phone when he felt someone bump his arm. He looked up and saw Gaz smiling up at him. “Fancy seeing you here,” he chuckled and Simon rolled his eyes. He nodded in response and hoped Gaz would just leave. “Long day?” he continued to question and Simon grunted, trying his best to make minimal conversation. “You can say that,” he muttered and Gaz finally caught on to Simon’s attitude. “Well, I’ll see you around Lieutenant,” he replied before walking off with his bag in hand.

Finally, Simon had reached the front of the queue. He looked back at the clock, half past the hour. “Rushing off somewhere, Simon?” the pharmacist asked and he looked back at her. “No Captain, it’s just been a long day,” he breathed out and she returned a reassuring smile. As Isley postulated, Simon frequented the pharmacy on a monthly basis. She knew him by name and went to pull up his file.

“Got a few new ones, I see,” she replied and Simon nodded in response. “Let me go see if those are ready.” Simon waited as he saw the pharmacist walk to the bins and search for his bag. “Here we go!” she smiled and opened the bag to count out the medication bottles. “Alright, so I have your three here,” she replied, “it’s a shame you aren’t due for your others so I’ll be seeing you next month.” Fucking wonderful, he thought, just another visit to this side of the base.

Before she handed it to him, she took another look at the bag. “Did Isley talk to you about alcohol with these?” she questioned as she looked up at him. Simon met her gaze and nodded. “Got her lecture, Captain,” he replied and she took a deep breath. “Okay good, you got a hefty cocktail here Simon but you didn’t hear it from Pharmacy,” she winked.

As he went to go take the bag, she pulled bag. “Anything else, Captain?” he grumbled, he just wanted his stupid medication that she was forfeiting. “One more thing, but did Isley talk about the fentanyl lollipops you are deployed with?” she questioned yet again. Simon remembered the newest edition to his med-pack, a set of white lollies that contained fentanyl for any injury on the field. “Yeah, got those a while ago,” she hummed as he confirmed her suspicions.

“I’ll make a note here and notify your team but you cannot take those,” she warned, “under any circumstances, you cannot be given those.” He raised an eyebrow at the odd instruction. “What will I die, Captain?” he expressed with doubt. She laughed slightly before replying. “That, or a seizure,” she mused, “or you might just shit your ass out.” It was Simon’s turn to laugh and he waved at her as he exited the pharmacy.

“I’ll be sure to tell Mactavish when I call him, I just know he would find that funny,” she called out and Simon felt his lips curve into a smile. As he held the rattling pill bottles in hand, he tried his best to figure out where to fit it into his routine. No time was ideal but he guessed the morning would suffice. He would need to get a goddamn calendar at the amount of things he was supposed to remember.

Just as he walked back to his quarters, your name popped up on his phone. “Hope you’re doing well :)” you wrote, almost as if you could tell he was having a shit day. Out of therapy sessions, he found value in one thing she focused on. He would be doing this, the therapy and the pills, for you. Not for him or Price or his teammates, he’ll be doing this for you.

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

[sequinsmile-x]

ok look, I am petty to my CORE. It runs in my veins. No blood. Just pettiness, diet coke and anxiety meds.

So...I'm writing a fic where Elizabeth judges Emily based on her life choices. Inspired by a rude anon that i'm still mad about 24 hours later.

It *might* go up tonight, if not it will be Friday as I am out after work tomorrow.

Snippet below the cut!

“I have a good life.” 

“I never said you didn’t,” Elizabeth says, “I only said I’d hoped for better for you.”

It seems ridiculous. Absurd in a way that makes her laugh, because she can’t imagine how life could be better. She knows that if she’d made different choices, if she’d taken Clyde up on his offer of a job and a new life she would have enjoyed it. She would have been fulfilled and happy but it would have been different to what she had now. Another life she’d now never know, something she couldn’t compare to the life she did have because it didn’t exist and never had. She had no regrets, could never regret even for a second choosing this over anything else. It was her life. Her beautiful, ordinary, life. 

[212-apricity]

1999, part four - final part!

oh my gosh. final part and what a surprise, she's a long one again💀💀ive loved writing this silly little series so so much and i love all of you very very much🫶🏽🫶🏽🫶🏽please give me requests on what to write next bc my mind is completely blank rn, all i can think of is the cold war and bolsheviks from my history revison and i dont think they would make v good fics🤡🤡

lmk what you think of this part and your fav moments, enjoy!!

warnings: tiny angst, mostly fluff, swearing

conrad fisher masterlist

masterlist

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conrad’s pov

Since Y/n is unable to hold a phone herself, I'm tasked with a lot, but I didn't fully realize the worry of her family until she had me working through each task with her.

No wonder she’s overwhelmed. The number of texts from Laurel, Mom, Belly, Jere and Steven she has to sift through in a given hour would drive anyone insane.

Or maybe I'm just going crazy by sitting this close to her. The smell of her coconut soap is permanently ingrained into my memory as she sits flush against me, pointing at different texts with her uninjured hand.

I can tell her nerves grow stronger as the Uber near the hospital.

Her knees bounce up and down as she dictates message after message I need to send, confusing me more and more with every word.

The work doesn't stop there. After we check in, a nurse hands us a clipboard filled with pages of information that need to be filled out. Y/n stares at it like it might catch on fire at any moment.

"Here." I pass it to her.

Her eyes shift toward the exit. "Will you help me please? I can't write like this." Her voice drops to a barely audible whisper.

"Okay. Tell me your answers and I'll write them down."

Her throat bobs as she scans the first line. It takes her far longer than necessary to read the first question.

"Do you mind reading the questions aloud for me? I'm too stressed to concentrate right now." Her overcompensating smile irritates me.

"Are you sure? Some of the questions are probably personal."

Don't be a dick. Just do what she says.

"I don't care.”

The rigid way she sits in her chair says the complete opposite.

She seems to be one minute away from breaking down, so I concede. I sigh as I grab the pen and get started on the first question. The paperwork doesn't take us as long as I anticipated, so Y/n and I sit together in silence. She stares at the exit longingly.

The way her eyes dart around the room as she gnaws on her bottom lip makes me feel merciful enough to save her from the anxiety eating her up inside.

“If it's any consolation, I hate hospitals too."

Her head swings toward the direction of my voice.

"Yeah?"

I nod. "Haven't been to one since…"

"I know." she says as she sees my chest heaves as I remember the millions of times we’ve been here before.

I keep my eyes focused on the soundless television playing in one corner.

Her good hand clasps onto mine and gives it a squeeze. I'm grateful she understands me enough not to ask any other questions. The idea of offering another raw part of myself feels like a betrayal of the years I've spent carefully developing a certain kind of persona.

"I hate them too." Her voice cracks.

"Why?"

She stares down at her swollen hand. “My dad…” She pauses, and I give her hand a reassuring squeeze like she gave me. "Let's just say mom ended up in the ER a couple of times for being clumsy."

I take a deep breath to stave off the anger bubbling beneath the surface. "And did you have issues with being clumsy?" If she says yes, I swear to God two men will end up floating in the Chicago River tonight.

She shakes her head rather aggressively. "No. No." My rapid heart rate can be heard through my ears. "If you were, you can tell me." While I can't promise I won't do anything about it, I can promise to make him hurt. A lot. With sulfuric acid or something, those pre-med studies are starting to come in handy now.

The overwhelming sense of protectiveness hits me hard, and I don't shy away from it. There is nothing I hate more than men who use their fists against innocent women and children.

"It never got to that point. Suze made sure of it." she says with a small smile.

"How?"

"She caught onto the signs and interfered before things got bad. Used her savings from my grandpa's life insurance policy to help Mom get a divorce and start a new life." A tear slips down her face, and I can't stand the sight of it.

I brush it away with the pad of my thumb, but the damp trail still lingers. A driving force inside of me wants to erase the sad look on her face. "Did her plan also happen to include a jug of sulfuric acid?"

She forces out a laugh. "I think concrete shoes were more in style back then."

I fake shudder. "Remind me to never make mom angry again."

"Forget her, you'd have to deal with me." She holds up her injured hand like a war trophy.

"I'm absolutely terrified."

"Miss Y/n?" a nurse calls out.

Y/n doesn't move at the sound of her name.

"That's you." I place my hand on her thigh and give it a squeeze.

She sucks in a deep breath as she stares down at my hand.

Her chair nearly tumbles behind her as she bolts out of the seat, throwing her one good hand up in the air. "I'm here!"

The nurse leads us through the emergency room bay.

Individual beds line the wall, each area divided by a paper curtain.

The empty bed meant for Y/n is unacceptable. Between the person retching behind one partition and the individual on the other side hacking up their lung, I refuse to let her be seen here.

"I'd like my…my friend, to be taken care of in a private suite," I speak up. I know I sound snotty right now but honestly, I’ll be damned if I let her already horrible hospital experience get any worse.

The nurse grimaces as her gaze licks across my body. "This is a hospital. Not the Ritz. Take a seat and wait for the doctor like everyone else."

Y/n hops on the bed without any complaint, and I'm tempted to grab her and go elsewhere. The nurse doesn't seem the least bit bothered by all the noise happening around us as she checks Y/n’s vitals and asks some routine questions.

Y/n answers each one while chewing her bottom lip raw. This atmosphere couldn't put anyone at ease, least of all her.

The nurse hangs the clipboard at the foot of the bed, and I decide to try again.

"I'll pay whatever it takes to have her seen somewhere quieter. Money is no object."

The nurse only replies by shutting the paper curtain in my face.

Y/n laughs while I stare at the curtain, dumbfounded to be treated like this.

"You find this funny?"

She nods, her eyes alight for the first time all night. "Did you see her face when you said money is no object? I think if she didn't put the clipboard away, she would have slapped your face with it."

"It's not my fault she isn't accustomed to how things are done in the real world."

"Wake up baby. You're living in the real world." She waves around our room.

"It's terrifying." I say, looking away so she couldn’t see the blush that appeared on my face at the nickname.

"Come here. I'II make it better." Y/n pats the bed.

Doubtful, but I'm a glutton for giving her what she wants lately. Paper crinkles as I sit next to her. I take up most of the bed, giving her little room to get away from me. My thigh brushes against hers. She tries to scoot away, but there isn't enough space.

“Isn’t this cozy?" she quips.

I give her a small smile before she asks, “Hey! Let me see your tattoo.”

God I’d forgotten all about them. I move the collar of my shirt to show the two small ivy leaves we’d gotten. She gasps and gently touches my skin, “Oh my gosh it’s so pretty Connie.” she stares at it for a moment before I ask to see hers.

She lifts up her shirt on the side, exposing her ribcage and the two matching leaves.

“I can’t believe you agreed to get a Taylor Swift referenced tattoo with me Con.” she says as I admire the tattoo for a bit.

I smile until saying, “Hey I might be quiet and mopey but at least I have good taste in music.”

She softly smiles at me before eyeing the IV bag with horror before checking out the exit.

"What’s wrong?”

She leans closer to me and whispers, "Is now a bad time to admit I pass out whenever someone tries to stick a needle in me?"

My lips lift at the corners. I don't know why I find the idea hilarious, given her ability to watch eight consecutive hours of true crime documentaries without so much as flinching.

"You're afraid of needles?"

She sputters. "No. I'm not afraid. It just happens to be a bodily reaction I can't control."

“That's good then because the nurse needs to set you up with that IV when she comes back."

“No! Don't tell me that! I thought she was one of the good ones.”

I nod, pressing my lips together to prevent myself from laughing.

"She lied to me!" She bolts from the seat and would have tripped over her own heels if I didn't reach out and catch her.

*Careful." I place her back on the bed and decide to stand guard in case she gets any ideas to flee the scene.

Her eyes fit from me to the gap between two curtains, as if she is thinking how she can get past me.

"I'm joking.”

She scans my face for the truth before she slaps my shoulder with her good hand. "Asshole! I believed you!"

Laughter explodes out of me like a bomb, stunning her.

“Did you just laugh?”

"No."

“Yes." Someone calls out from the other side of the curtain.

“Now, do you mind shutting up? Some of us are trying to get some sleep over here after having our stomach pumped."

Fuck this place and the people in here. "We're leaving."

"Not so fast. You can't leave before I check you out." The doctor strolls in and points at the bed with his clipboard.

Y/n remains tight-lipped as the doctor checks her chart. He asks her some questions about how she got hurt, all while staring me up and down like I'm the person she was trying to injure. She is taken away for a few scans, and my breathing doesn't return to normal until the nurse brings her back.

That should be my first sign that things are getting out of hand on my end. I'm inching closer to an emotional minefield without any kind of map, only one wrong step away from exploding.

The doctor checks the scans. "It looks like you have a boxer's fracture."

Her face brightens. "That sounds badass."

I glare at her. "Calm down, Muhammad Ali. I wouldn't count today as a victory by any means."

The doctor's eyes lighten. "Next time, avoid any initial contact on the fourth and fifth knuckles."

"Please don't encourage her."

The doctor shakes his head with a laugh before giving Y/n a detailed set of instructions regarding the healing time. I'm skeptical about the whole visit and, given the setting, doubtful about the level of care. I'll be damned if Y/n sustains permanent injuries because of Dean. My chest tightens at the idea.

“Great Thanks, Doc!" She hops off the bed, but I hold my arm out, stopping her

"I’d like a second opinion." The command bursts out of me without any rhyme or reason. Deep down, I know a boxer's fracture isn't the worst thing that could have happened. But things aren't right in my head where Y/n is concerned. At least not anymore.

Both of the doctor's eyebrows arch. "For a small fracture?"

"Don't mind him. He tends to be a bit overbearing." She shoots me a look as if I'm the crazy one out of the two of us.

"Okay..." the doctor says.

Maybe I am losing it because why else would I care?

You hate it when she cries.

You wouldn't mind murdering someone who hurt her.

You took her to the hospital even though you despise them with every fibre of your being.

The signs all point to one thing: our situation is quickly crumbling, and I'm the only one to blame.

Y/n interrupts my thoughts. "I'll be sure to wear the brace for a few weeks and avoid any kind of activities that could aggravate the injury."

"Perfect. And don't forget to schedule a follow-up visit with your physician. "The doctor gives me one last look before handing Y/n the discharge paperwork. "Nice meeting you."

"Will you help me with this?" She holds out the clipboard with her left hand as the doctor leaves.

I grab it from her and fill it out.

She checks the time on her phone. "Well, at least that didn't take as long as I thought it would. I'm sure you're dying to get back home."

That's the scary thing. I didn't think about anything or anyone once during our entire time here because making sure she was taken care of was my only concern. I've spent the past seventeen years of my life thinking solely about my future, and all it took was one girl to make me completely forget about my responsibilities for a few hours.

As if that doesn't scare me enough, it only takes one glance at her makeshift brace to make my blood burn hot under my skin. I know exactly why her injury angers me more than anything else.

It's the same reason I feel the urge to push Jere away from her whenever he gets too close or the way I unexplainably need to see her whenever she is out of my sight for longer than a few hours.

You’re in love with her.

Fuck.

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y/n’s pov

We’re in an Uber on the way home, sitting in comfortable silence until Conrad breaks it.

“Why’d you get with Dean anyway?” My stomach doubles over.

Comfortable silence is so overrated.

I sigh. I’ve been dreading this question for ages now.

“I don’t know.” I answer vaguely.

Conrad gives me a puzzled look, “What do you mean you don't know? You must’ve had a reason.”

His restlessness gets me more agitated.

“I don’t know Conrad. I don’t know why I got with him, I don’t know why I was waiting on you for so long either.” I look out the window as the car stops in front of the house.

“What? What do you mean?” he says as I get out the car and speed up to the front door, taking the keys out of my pocket and refusing to carry on with this conversation anymore.

Conrad keeps yelling after me as he follows me upstairs to my room, both of us trying to ignore everyone else who joined Conrad and are trying to ask their own questions.

I slam my door shut and collapse on my bed hearing Conrad trying to calm everyone down and telling them everything that's happened until he asks them all to give me some space for now.

I cry in the silence as I hear everyone leaving from outside the door until it opens.

“Hey.”

Steven. Thank God.

“Steve…” I say sniffling.

He looks at me with a sad smile before sitting on the bed with me and taking me in his arms.

“Con told us everything,” he says after a few minutes of holding me, “did you really get a boxer's fracture?”

I laugh in tears before showing him my hand and saying, “You should see the other guy.”

Steven and I laugh together before going back to the silence as he hugs me.

“He really cares about you, you know.”

“No he doesn’t. He hates me. I yelled at him and now I’m crying here on my bed like an idiot.”

“Did he say anything to you?” Steven looks down at me.

I shake my head before saying, “He asked why I got with Dean.”

“Oh. That’s not too bad.”

“No it’s not.”

“Then why are you so upset?”

“Because I’ve been waiting for Conrad for so long and I’m just sick and tired of always being there to help him get over his breakups when he’d be so much better off with me. I know I sound selfish and none of my reasons are justified but I just thought that after everything we’ve been through together, he’d maybe like me just a little bit.”

Steven hugs me again and softly says, “He does.”

After that almost everyone but Conrad came in to check up on me and make sure I was okay, making me feel even more guilty about being all emotional like this. It’s not until Susannah’s holding me and whispering sweet nothings that my eyes start to feel heavy.

I think I fell asleep after that, I don’t remember much except waking up to the sun shining its very unwelcome face in my eyes.

I step out of my room after freshening up and I’m about to make my way to the kitchen for food until I’m stopped by something in the hallway.

Or should I say someone.

“Conrad,” I bend down and stroke his hair out of his face, “Conrad wake up.” I say gently.

He stirs for a minute before sitting up and taking my hands in his.

“Have you been out here all night?” I ask.

“Yes.” he says in a raspy voice.

God that voice would make my knees give out if I wasn’t already on the floor with him.

“Why?”

“I need to talk to you.”

I sigh before he interrupts me, “Listen, I heard everything you said to Steven last night and I know I shouldn’t have and I was eavesdropping but I’m sorry it was by accident. And I know I don’t deserve any more of your time…I’ve already wasted a lot of it but just hear me out for ten minutes.”

“No.” I try to get out of his grasp.

“Stop fighting and give me ten minutes.”

“No way.”

“Nine then.”

“Five.”

“Eight and a half.”

“Six.”

“Seven.”

I pause, knowing that he won’t let me go anywhere before I hear him out.

“You don’t deserve seven seconds, let alone seven minutes of my time.”

“How about seven words then?”

I laugh. “I’d like to see you try.”

“I am falling in love with you.”

I blink up at him. Either I am still sleeping or I must have not heard him correctly because there is no way Conrad Fisher just admitted that he is falling in love with me.

Absolutely no fucking way.

Right?

I squeeze my eyes shut as if that can erase the words from my memory.

"You're joking.

"I'm not."

"This is just another part of your game." I try to push him away, but he doesn't budge.

"It stopped being a game for me a long time ago."

"You're lying."

His brows pull together. "Ask me why I hate when people touch my bookshelf."

"Are you serious right now? What does that have to do with any of this?" I think back to his bookshelf he won’t let any of the others go near but loves to let me organise and re-organise each year.

"Because I did it for you."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"I read somewhere online that organising objects like books and things is good for people with anxiety, because then they can feel in control of something and know exactly what to expect especially if things are the same as they've predicted all the time. You love reading too, so I changed it. Bought all the books you like to read so that you’d stay and read with me more often. I forced everyone else out of my room and especially away from that bookshelf. All because I wanted to help you."

Emotions clog my throat, preventing my ability to reply.

What can I possibly say that could compare to that?

Conrad doesn't give me an option as he continues. "Want to know why I kept this plant you got me?" he says pointing to the small green cactus with “Don’t be a prick” written on the pot that we could see looking into his room from the hallway.

I nod.

"Because it was the first time someone got me a present that made me laugh."

If hearts could melt into puddles, mine would be liquified right about now.

I take a deep breath.

Remember what he did.

“Con that doesn't change anything you still ignored me for a whole year. Every time I tried to call you or text you, you’d just leave me on read or decline, and now you’re telling me you love me? Who does that?"

"Someone who doesn't understand the first thing about loving someone, but is willing to try if you give me a chance."

"You want me to give you a chance after everything? Do you think I'm stupid?"

He winces, and a bit of my anger fades away at his vulnerability.

"Intelligence has nothing to do with this."

"Easy for you to say when you're not the one who feels like a fool."

"Really? Because based on your reaction today, I'm feeling pretty damn foolish for ever admitting that I'm falling in love with you." He gets up off the floor, leaving me feeling chilled to the bone.

"Con..." I reach out, but he takes a step back.

My eyes sting from his rejection. It hurts.

“I’m not asking you to love me back. I don't expect that and I'm not sure if I ever will because I'm the furthest thing for lovable. I'm selfish, and rude, and don't know the first thing about being in a proper relationship with someone. But that doesn't mean I’m not willing to try for you if you let me."

How am I supposed to be angry at him when he thinks he is unlovable?

A pain rips through my chest at the thought of him talking about himself this way.

I get up off the floor and walk straight into his chest. His arms quickly wrap themselves around my waist, holding me even tighter.

"Just because you make selfish choices doesn't mean you're a selfish person. At least not completely."

This boy had been there for Belly, Steven, me and Jere for years without any kind of payback, especially when Susannah was going through her cancer and despite feeling an immense amount of pain himself, he shoved all his emotions aside so that he could be there for us. For me. If that isn't a selfless sacrifice, I don't know what is.

"Your logic is half-baked at best."

"So is yours, seeing as you called yourself unlovable."

His body tenses. "I'm stating facts."

"I don't know what bullshit your father told you over the years, but it's not true. Your brother loves you."

"He’s obligated to."

"No one is obligated to love someone else. Blood or not."

He takes a deep breath. "You're right."

I smile up at him. "I could get used to hearing those words."

He reaches up and cups my cheek. "Give me a chance and I'll tell you them every single day."

I sigh and look away. "I don't know.”

"Tell me what's stopping you."

"You don't do relationships."

“Good thing our feelings lead us here rather than our minds, and mine are willing to try then."

I avoid his penetrating gaze. "What if my feelings are telling me to run?”

“It's cute you think you can outrun me, but I'll give you a head start just to make things interesting." he smiles down at me.

"Do you always have an answer for everything?"

"Not for the one that matters most." The way he looks at me stirs up something deep inside of me.

Longing. I want to give him a chance, regardless of the potential fallout.

You might get hurt.

I might, but I might miss out on something special because I’m too afraid of the what ifs. I'm done being that person. Even if it means getting hurt, I'd rather try and fail than never try at all.

I stand on the tips of my toes and press my lips against his.

He holds me tight against his chest, as if he is afraid of letting me go.

I pull away, only to clasp onto his chin. "This could be a disaster, but I'm willing to try."

He shuts me up by pushing his lips against mine, sealing our new deal. The way he kisses me is different than any time before. He cups my face with the palms of his hands as his lips mold against mine, teasing me until I feel dizzy. His thumb brushes across my cheek back and forth, and heat rushes down my spine straight to my belly. He makes me feel cherished. Protected.

Loved in a way that makes me never want to come back down to reality.

I could spend forever being kissed like this and still feel like it isn't enough. While Conrad might not be the best with words, his kiss says it all.

He is falling in love with me. And I’m falling in love with him. No translation necessary.

                ༝ ˚ ｡⋆ 𓇼 ⋆｡ ˚ ༝༝ ˚ ｡⋆ 𓇼 ⋆｡ ˚ ༝༝ ˚ ｡⋆ 𓇼 ⋆｡ ˚ ༝༝ ˚ ｡⋆ 𓇼 ⋆｡ ˚ ༝

ahh i cant believe its finished omg😔💔...

anyways, onto the next one😍🙏

again please lmk what you think of this and please give me requests on what to do next!!

[iplaywithstring]

Part of chronic illness that healthy, able bodied people really can't grasp is the tenuous relationship we have with medical professionals.

My current Dr is wonderful. Lovely woman. Very open, has never had any push back over any concern I've brought up. We met when I was teaching a knitting class. I feel comfortable with her, both personally and as a doctor.

I still have a ton of anxiety every time I make an appointment.

I worry that it's something serious. I worry it's something minor and I'm wasting her time. I worry that she's going to brush me off - even though she never has.

Today, I had a sebaceous cyst drained - I was pretty sure that's what it was when I went in, but she confirmed it and offered to drain it an no big deal. I felt so awkward getting it taken care of. She also warned me it would be a little painful - didn't hurt at all. I updated her on my frozen shoulder (it's improved so much! Almost full range of motion and very little pain!). Told her my mom had been diagnosed with celiacs - she offered to run my tests again (it's been 10 years) but expected they'd be inconclusive/negative again as I've been avoiding wheat for over a decade at this point, but I needed my yearly bloodwork done anyway so why not (and she reminded me a negative test doesn't mean I don't have it, just that they can't detect it, and it's not worth it to go back on wheat to confirm at this point). I asked about a repeat ultrasound of a cyst on my ovary (it was 3.6 cm in 2018 and I've been having pain in that area again) and she agreed it was a good idea to take a look at.

There was nothing negative in the appointment at all, and I still feel like I want to cry about it.

And I understand everyone has a certain amount of medical anxiety - I remember what it was like before I was sick - but this is different. So much of my quality of life and my day-to-day functioning is dependant on this woman. What if she thinks I don't need one of my medications anymore? What if she disagrees about my level of pain and sees no need for pain management or further testing (like the ultrasound)?

My relationship with my body is messed up - in some ways I am too aware of things, and in other ways, I don't notice/acknowledge problems because it's just always been like that. If she hadn't believed me about my wrists aching I wouldn't know about my hypermobility in my hands. If she didn't take my word for it how drained and worn out I am, I wouldn't have meds that allow me to function with ME/CFS (stimulants in the past, cymbalta currently). I didn't realize how bad my pain was until it was managed better. I never know day to day what I am going to be capable of or how limited I will be.

I have had Drs in the past who did not take me seriously. I lived with debilitating pain for years because a Dr took a clear MRI as "no signs of endometriosis". I've been dismissed as fat and lazy and accused of drug seeking (when I was specifically asking about pain management that did not include opioids). I am so thankful I was able to access a new doctor - not everyone has that opportunity!

but even with these ideal circumstances, it's still hard, and exhausting, and emotional. and that's something that most people in my life will just not understand.