#I'm not emotionally prepared for this episode | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

starlost97 · 3 months

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— melt.

summary: After seeing how heartbroken the families of the people who work for the department get when they die, you decided to not get involved with anyone. You didn't expect, however, to have that ice wall melted away by someone — Jay Halstead — in your own unit. And when Jay got hurt in one of the cases, you couldn't help but be mad at him, and it didn't take long for him to figure out the why.

keywords: fluff, personal favorite, kind of grumpy x sunshine trope, Jay Halstead is a smug bastard, gn!reader.

characters: Jay Halstead.

warnings: mention of near-death experience, swearing.

a/n: wrote this after episode 7 of the Percy Jackson series (hence the Asphodels mention) at 2AM. I was actually going to request that but I ended up wanting to write it myself! hope u like it :)

word count: 1,248.

requested?: no.

Grumpy, reserved, quiet. All words used to describe you. And they weren't really that mistaken.

There was a thick ice wall between you and the rest of the world. A wall that didn't allow you to build any deeper relationship with anyone. One that burned people with its overwhelming coldness.

A wall that you build it yourself a little over a month after entering the Chicago's Intelligence Unit. Specifically after you watched how destroyed a family felt after losing a relative who worked for the department.

You felt selfish for even thinking of getting emotionally involved with someone. What if something happened to you? To them? You would never forgive yourself. You'd be rooted in the Asphodels Meadows — trapped with your own regret for all eternity — if anything ever happened because of you.

Everything was going well with it. You weren't that happy, but you were happier than you would be if you carried all the guilt of putting a loved one in danger.

But you never could prepare yourself to the warmth of Jay Halstead.

How cheeky of you to fall in love with a sweet smile. But it was true. You felt pathetically helpless any time he laughed at your jokes and showed you his teeth.

It was bittersweet. His laugh sounded like heaven and it made your life a living hell. How could you not be selfish? How could you think of being a good person when he was so close to you?

You tried to rationalized it. Tried to think that he wasn't that good. That perfect. That it was just your love-starved brain romanticizing him to tempt you.

Which lead you to the mistake of getting to know him.

Everything got worse.

The attempt of hating his flaws turned out to realizing that his loyalty was too much for his own good. He would mindlessly die for you, without a second thought or regret. How intoxicating.

He was like a honey-flavored poison. The sweetest way to lose yourself forever.

And unfortunately, you tasted him. Not only that, but it was never enough. You couldn't get enough of him. He became everything.

So when he almost died during one of the cases because he risked himself a little too much to get information, you were mad.

"Will you tell me why you're not talking to me?" He asked you, leaning over your desk and tilting his head, letting out a sigh. "Come on, I could've died and you won't even talk to me?"

"It's exactly because of that." You murmured, annoyed, not looking at him.

"What? I didn't hear you." Jay said, getting closer.

"It's because of that!" You said, now louder. You two were alone in the office. You were finishing up some papers while Jay — who couldn't for the life of him be separated from you for more than a couple hours — made you company.

"You're not talking to me because I risked myself?" Jay asked, confused, watching as you got up from the chair and went to the break room.

"I'm not talking to you because you're irresponsible!" You answered, finally looking at him in the eyes. Your bodies facing one another.

"I did it for the case! We needed the info!" Jay argued and you groaned, massaging your temples.

"Oh, my God, you really don't understand, do you?" You brushed your hands against your face, trying to calm yourself down.

"No, I don't. You do things like that all the time, and usually is worse. But when I do it, I'm irresponsible?" He asked, frowning.

He looked at you, trying to understand what was wrong. You weren't like this. You didn't fight with people unless their actions harm the case. So what was happening?

It was when the realization hit.

You were worried.

"Detective," He called, flashing you that damned smile that you so desired to kiss. "are you mad because I could've died?"

"Wha- What? No!" You mumbled, taking a step back as he approached you.

"Oh, yeah?" He mumbles, smiling smugly at you. "Are you sure of that?" He asks, getting closer and closer.

"Y-Yes, I am! If you died, it would've been a loss for the team and all the time and money that they invested on you would go to waste and-" You gulped, feeling the cold wall against your back and watching as he trapped you, putting his arms on each side of your face. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing."

"Why are you looking at me like that?" You said, nervously pushing his chest, but not really wanting him to leave.

"Like what?"

"Like that! Staring at my lips! Stop it!"

"Or what?" He asked, smugly.

Your breath got stuck in your throat, and as the seconds went by, he got closer. His forehead was soon touching yours, and his smile only grew bigger.

"Looks just like a dream I had." He said, putting his hand on your chin. "It ended very well. "

You didn't answer right away, trying to process your thoughts. You wanted to give a good answer, something that would make him go away — even though you didn't really want that —, but a wave of curiosity hit you with the revelation that he dreamt of you.

"How so?" Your voice was almost inaudible.

"I got to do more than just kiss you." He whispered, as if telling a secret. "But I think that just being able to kiss you would already make me the luckiest man on earth."

Your gaze fell to his lips, and just the thought of kissing them got you nervous. Your heartbeat rapidly beating against your chest, and for a moment he thought that he could feel it too.

But it was actually his own.

"Please," He asked. It could be mistaken for a beg, but the smug look on his face said otherwise. "detective."

"I thought…" You were breathless. Your nervousness didn't let you speak properly, but still, for some reason, you knew exactly what to say.

"Say it."

"I thought you were a man of action," You breathed out. "detective."

He smiled.

His hands — painfully — slowly went to the nape of your neck, holding it as he pressed his lips against yours, devouring it slowly, torturing you with it.

The kiss was the epitome of breathtaking. His lips moved slow and tenderly against yours, savouring you like it was his last meal.

He could live the rest of his life devoting himself to kissing you. How could it taste so sweet?

Jay wasn't much of a religious man, and he was even farther of believing in Greek gods. But as he felt your body against his and your sweet kiss on his lips, he was sure that you must be Aphrodite's work.

Masterpiece, actually.

His hands traveled around your body, feeling your curves, trying to memorize it so he didn't feel so sad when they weren't against his fingertips — even though that he knew it would be his life's biggest torment.

And he got a taste of it when he had to part himself from your lips.

"What were you saying, baby?" He asked, with a smug smile on his face.

"Fuck you, Jay Halstead." You said before kissing him again, feeling his smile melt against your mouth as your fingers intertwined his hair.

"You wish." He mumbled against your lips, lifting you up by your thighs and wrapping them around his waist.

Jay warmth was definitely more than enough to melt the ice wall away.

#chicago pd #jay halstead x reader #jay halstead #jay halstead x you #jay halstead x y/n #jay halstead x gn!reader #fluff #jay halstead fluff

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waitmyturtles · 3 months

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Last Twilight, episode 12: final reflections

Wow. It took me all of this past weekend to process this finale, notwithstanding the usual life craziness that has dogged me lately.

Let me preface this whole thing by saying that I'm confused by what I watched. I'd say that, overall -- I actually quite liked this series, and I especially, absolutely ADORED JimmySea, Namtan, and Mark, and their acting. JimmySea kicked major ass, and I really hope they get another big and complicated show to chew on.

I also want to say that between episodes 11 and 12, I felt that I saw uncharacteristic editing clunkiness from Aof Noppharnach and his team that left a lot of necessary emotional and ethical processing on the cutting room floor. I think that's what's ultimately making me feel uneasy about the process of watching this, but -- funnily enough, I'm not nearly as "angry" about the ending as I was with other bad shows that fell apart in their last quarter recently. It was obvious that MhokDay were going to get together.

But I needed to walk a few more steps with them on their journey to that end.

Before I got my eyes on the finale, a few reactions on social media, from Tumblr to Twitter gave me the case of the jibbles. Namely: that the story of Last Twilight would have worked better if Day had stayed blind through the end.

I wasn't really understanding how that construction could work without walking through some sort of ethical minefield.

Now that I've seen the finale -- especially that infamous 4/4 segment -- I understand better what those arguments were saying.

Yet, I'm still dogged by a kind of ethical confusion here. And maybe that was one of the points of this finale, another one of Aof Noppharnach's perhaps now-famous-or-infamous emotionally inconclusive endings.

To me, there are two ethical potholes that this show stumbled on:

1) The ethics WITHIN the fictional piece itself for a character to not depict the process of considering the various fates he might face vis à vis a potentially reversible impairment, and

2) The ethics of a REAL audience ultimately wanting a different outcome for a fictional character to NOT have an impairment reversed.

TL;DR — I don’t think Last Twilight spent enough time having Day consider the permanence or impermanence of the various fates he faced, including permanent blindness. I don’t think the characters, and as such, the audience, spent enough time understanding that a corneal transplant was always going to be Day’s endgame.

Last Twilight was marketed as a show focused on disability, on a man going blind in a society that prioritizes the able-bodied, and how he would adjust to his disability, and of course (this being GMMTV), his falling in love. As fans, we were prepared to receive a whole show about a character with a disability, not as a side pairing, à la Heart and Li Ming in Moonlight Chicken.

It so happened that Day's visual impairment was corneal deterioration -- a condition that could lead to permanent blindness, and thus qualify him for a corneal transplant.

What I'm struggling with is the crux of the ethical dilemma that this show was ALWAYS going to have to deal with: that a corneal impairment of the kind that Day experienced, in the prime of his life, could very well be reversed with surgery, a surgery that has tremendous success rates.

As such -- as we got that clarification in drips throughout the series -- this show was actually not ONLY going to be about the newfound adjustment of a recently-impaired man to an ableist society. It was ALWAYS going to have this door of ANOTHER major change, the reversal of the impairment, just slightly cracked open. I'm not sure that I, as a viewer, was fully prepared for this, even as Night and Mae Mhon spoke about "eye donations" as givens in the middle of the series. I believe the show needed to be much louder, earlier, about the "hope" that Day could "go back" to "living a normal life," instead of framing the high majority of the show around his adjustments to his impairment.

As we went through Day's adjustment to life outside of his room, I believe we needed to hear, FROM DAY HIMSELF, that a corneal transplant was a conclusion that HE believed in, that HE wanted. A failure of this series was that we unfortunately only heard that from his family members, leaving us to only ASSUME that the conclusion of the reversal of his impairment was ALSO Day's intention.

For a story that was very much about an individual's developing agency and self-advocacy: I believe I needed to hear from Day himself that he was good and ready for the final surgery. I only assume that was the case, as I saw his own body and mind in the hospital. But I believe, for dramatic success, that I could have used a basic, "I'm ready," from him, to make segment 4/4 more complete and contextual, against the story of adjustment and resilience we had so far seen before then.

And what a story of adjustment and resilience we had gotten, as Day had established a full career for himself, without Mhok next to him, during one of the time jumps of episode 12.

For my sake, as I process what I watched this weekend, I want to come to grips with what I thought were the major themes of this show, and see if I can come to some sort of sensible conclusion about what happened here.

This show was focused on:

1) the romance between Day and Mhok, 2) Mhok's caretaking and companionship being the lever to help Day out of his room and back into the world from which he had retreated after the onset of his visual impairment, 3) Day slowly learning how to function again in a society that prioritizes the able-bodied vis à vis his visual impairment, 4) Day learning how to self-advocate for himself in the face of those who condescend to him and/or keep him trapped in compassion bias postures,

and more that I'm sure I'm missing, but those are the themes that resonated the most with me.

I think the general feeling on Tumblr is that, save for the romance, that themes 3 and 4 were contradicted out of existence in the face of the sudden flip to the surgery of segment 4/4.

I think not hearing from Day himself that he was ready and willing for the surgery was a lost moment. I don't believe Day was ever acting as if he would choose anything else OTHER than surgery throughout the series. BUT, AT THE SAME TIME: what we had watched prior to 4/4 was his story of adjustment.

My biggest ethical concern here, vis à vis the audience reactions that I've read, is that NO ONE -- in fiction or in real life -- owes me a story of heroism. If there is an individual who has been impaired since birth, or is dealing with a degenerative condition later in their life, and has the opportunity to address or reverse the condition, who am I to say that that individual SHOULD NOT address their condition?

For me, this is huge. I believe this is a huge ethical dilemma that Last Twilight ultimately does not face. I wish this series had been much more centered, earlier on, about the utter REALITY that Day could have his condition reversed by surgery, in words he'd say himself, rather than assumptions made for him, on behalf of his family, who.... I presume were established to be some sort of legal conservators for him, as Mhon continued to be the one to receive eye donation text messages.

(I concede that I don't know if this is a more common set-up for disabled individuals in Thailand, as I would assume in the States, that Day himself would have been the one to receive that message directly.)

For this show to have seemed emotionally and artistically complete: I needed to hear from Day himself that surgery was an endgame that he was banking his hopes on. I also needed to understand, much more statistically clearly vis à vis the show, of the absolute risks that Day faced towards having permanent blindness for the rest of his life. Because the show ALSO needed to focus on the establishment of the romance between Mhok and Day, we missed out on the show taking time to explain to us, the viewers, of the absolute risks that Day faced in any of these scenarios -- and thus, we would have had MUCH more context into the nuances of the resilience that Day needed to establish for himself as he re-adjusted to society, with his numerous fates lying before him.

I'm going to borrow the words of @hallowpen in their final review here, to say that this show at the end needed much more "breathing room." I think @hallowpen is so right in saying it like this, because these two factors that I just laid out, geez -- the first 7/8ths of the series being about Day's social adjustment against the utter suddenness of the successful surgery and his sudden jump back to what's been translated as his "normal life" -- just clash so tonally. (I do wonder if we're getting as nuanced a translation on "normal" as we could be.)

I think this is about the most confused final review of a show that I've written. There is an ethical heaviness to all of this that's weighing on me, that I think I still need time to comb through.

I also feel that I simply do not know enough, by way of my lack of cultural competency into how Thai society approaches issues of public and private health, if Day’s unseen choice to get the surgery would have been a given among majority Thai audiences, AND that majority Thai audiences would not have asked for the kind of internal debates that I think the show could have used.

I feel thrilled that Day can see Poomjai/Mee, after making that wish in episode 11.

But I think, if this show was about a journey for someone to learn how to successfully advocate for his own agency -- that, at the very end, I needed to see that agency exercised, by him, to get to the part of the reversal of the impairment that I assumed he wanted.

Again: Day doesn't owe me his story of heroism. If fiction doesn't want to give me that, from a character with a recent impairment, I don't have the right to ask for it.

But the missing bits of artistry to get me, the viewer, to only an assumption, has led me to surprising ethical places, that will leave me wondering about what happened in this series for a long time.

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macravishedbymactavish · 11 months

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Comforting Them Headcanons (TF141 + Alex x GN! Reader)

Can these even be considered headcanons when they're unorganized drabbles in a HC design? We're blurring the lines and inventing new things today apparently

TW: Lots of angst, the guys are dealing with a lot emotionally (very closed off about it though), suggestions of some depressive episode symptoms, some mentions of arguing and one injury while cooking.

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Captain John Price

Just a heads up, he's taking this one pretty hard the text from Kate read, a couple days before John would be returning home. Your heart sunk reading the words, mind immediately planning and preparing for when he arrived.

After so many years of marriage, homecomings following deployment went from a grand guesture (ie. Hugging you tight and spinning you softly as he whispered about how much he missed you) to more intimate moments hidden away from wandering eyes.

Maybe that was just the two of you getting older.

Ultimately you decided to play things by ear, follow his lead and love him a little more. Hold him a little tighter. Kiss him a little longer.

The first thing you noticed when he came home was the bags that formed under his eyes, and the pain hidden deep within. Despite the horrors he saw, the moments replaying in his mind, the decisions his soul screamed at him to change...

He still smiled at you, eyes lighting up as he pressed a loving, deep kiss to your lips. Pulling you tight into his chest, a small reminder of why he was fighting so hard to make the world a bit of a better place.

You noticed he was quieter over the next couple of days, wrapping up paperwork and administrative tasks before taking time for just you and him. This wouldn't normally be cause for alarm; he's done this every time since forming the task force. What really concerned you though?

How he holed himself in his office, spending most hours of the day hidden away.

You knew better than to be here. His office, his space. The threshold being the physical divide between head and heart. Work and play. Tactical and tactful.

Yet, there you stand. Watching him lean over his desk, worry lines creasing his forehead, shoulders shaking slightly.

The physical divide between past and present.

"Love..." You started softly, watching his muscles tense up immediately. "I'm coming in" you declared, feet moving a moment after when he didn't protest.

Soft footfalls and heavy breathing filled the room as you made your way over to what was currently the shell of a man. A hand resting softly between his shoulder blades, you felt the muscles tense, shake, release, then repeat. He was holding back.

Pulling in a shaky breath after a few moments of silence, he whispered: "thank you for the concern, darling. But don't stress yourself over me. I'll be fine"

Rubbing soft circles overtop his t-shirt, a silent check in. You're not okay, my sweet love. Are you?

You weren't convinced. Not in the slightest.

Continuing to rub your hand across the expanse of his back, you felt the shakiness return. You could see the storm waging behind his eyes. Hand sliding fully across his shoulder, dipping to wrap around his middle you held him; determined not to let him get lost at sea. Lips pressed against the top of his head as you felt his body shake with silent sobs.

"Tell me every terrible thing you ever did, and let me love you anyway" you whispered to him, voice breaking as you pressed a loving kiss to his hair.

Sobs now wracking his shoulders, you sat there silently. Holding tightly onto him as he felt every emotion he needed to, whispering soft details about what haunted him every so often.

Calming down, he moved from your embrace to stand up. Pulling you against his chest properly as he mumbled a soft I love you so much

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

It was supposed to be a beautiful night, exploring his hometown. Wandering the streets, admiring how beautiful everything looked lit up under the street lights.

"This was my favourite resturaunt for so many years" he chuckled, eyes scanning over the menu. Giving you his recommendations at your request as you felt your heart fill. He had been smiling all day, excited to be showing you off to everyone he knows. To show you the people and places that made him who he is today.

The two of you fell into easy conversation throughout your meal. Discussing his favourite memories from eating here, to where he wanted to show you next.

Fingers intertwined, stomachs and hearts full, arms swinging obnoxiously as you walked down the street. Your eyes wide as he pointed out buildings, mentioning which shops used to be there. Or which shops he promised to show you in the morning.

His demeanor shifted entirely about halfway throughout your journey. Something, or somewhere leaving a bad taste in his mouth.

Except, his body language didn't translate that very well. Leaving you confused and concerned as to why he was suddenly closed off and only speaking when you asked questions.

Even then his responses were short and seemingly disinterested.

You debated the entire walk back to his flat on whether you should mention it. The pain feeding on the unknown pushed you to gently ask:

"What's going on?" A few minutes after you two made it inside. He shrugged the question off, assuring you it was nothing as he went to the bedroom to change and likely shower.

One could argue that what you did next was selfish, un-needed. Pure unfiltered emotion that came out before your mind could filter the words.

"Are you sure? Because it doesn't seem like nothing" you intended for the sentence to portray your concern, not for frustration to take over and spark an argument.

He stopped, shoulders tensing before he turned his head. Glancing at you from the corner of his eye.

"You'll never understand" he started with a sarcastic chuckle. You went to defend your point, admit you won't know unless he let's you in and tells you.

"You'll never fucking understand!" He snapped, turning to face you now. Angry tears streaking down his face as his lip quivered. Pain twisting into his features as he stood in front of you.

Guilty. Angry. Hurt. Helpless

"No, you're right" you were fighting tears of your own now. Partially due to the shock, and pain of his outburst; though you knew he wasn't doing this intentionally. "I'll never know the true extent of your work, Kyle. But fucking hell, give me a chance to help. Or at least try!"

Both of you standing, closed off as you processed your emotions. Chose your next words wisely before letting your high strung emotions make accusations and digs you'd never be able to take back.

Staring ahead, unfocused as tears ran down his face. Breathing heavily as the weight of his mind came crashing down. "Just go" he muttered, causing the reasonable side of you to falter. Being replaced by loving rage as you snapped:

"Tell me every terrible thing you've ever done, and let me love you anyway!" The words were said through light sobs. Your heart ached for him, wishing to ease his mind of the darkness, to erase what broke his kind hearted soul.

"Let me love you" you whispered pathetically, a feeling of relief washing over you when he caught your mouth in a kiss.

A silent sign that he was willing to at least try.

John "Soap" Mactavish

For most people, it was tough to see past the positive, lighthearted exterior. Anything remotely negative being washed away with a smirk and joke. While an acquired taste, everyone had to admit he did boost morale.

You however, saw right through it. Having the privilege and luck of being loved by Johnny for the last 3 years gave you a different view. You had the privilege of seeing the raw and real sides of his soul.

You could tell the difference between when he was volunteering out of duty, or out of recklessness. The natural and artificial light that would shine behind his eyes. When he was truly happy vs when he put up a front to hide the barricades he built over his heart.

Your intuition when it came to his mind was never 100%, the only person (well, thing) that had clear insight to what was going through his mind was the journal he kept close by. You knew it held everything from doodles and drawings, to battle plans he was trying to memorize, all the way to pages he wouldn't show anyone. Filled with memories and screams that kept him awake at night.

Which is why you would willingly break the kneecaps of anyone who came remotely close to trying to sneak a peek.

Right as the team returned, you noticed he wasn't himself. Despite still smiling and taking the piss out of Simon, he was pulling back emotionally. Putting distance between himself and the world.

"You know, at some stage teasing Ghost like that is going to become more dangerous than the actual mission" you joked, holding your arms out to him for a hug when he was close enough.

Happily obliging, he pulled you tight. Rocking your bodies back and forth slightly as his eyes closed. Letting his muscles relax and mind shut off for a second.

He was home.

Walking out from your shower that night, your brows immediately furrowed when you noticed one very alarming detail:

The journal hadn't moved an inch.

As mentioned before, for anyone else this would have been normal. But for Johnny? It was an extension of his being. He'd normally sit for hours the first night after a mission, getting the stress and exhaustion out of his system. Translating everything he couldn't say into marks on a page.

You didn't mention it, but the concern kept growing when 3, 4 then 5 days passed and it still wasn't touched. There was no way he was using it and placing it delicately back into the exact position every time. Especially when he had a habit of tossing it gently to the side, or onto the nightstand the entire time you've known him.

It was at lunch a week after his return when the realization hit you, his sudden aversion to using his one tried and true coping mechanism. His free (well, cheap) therapy as he called it once.

He would have to face whatever happened on this mission every single time he opened the book. A journal filled with too many memories that he isn't willing to give up just yet.

You forgot your lunch and appetite quite quickly after putting things together in your head. Determined to quietly help your boyfriend through whatever he was trying to fight on his own. A fight without any weapons at that.

A new, cheap journal you bought from one of the stores 5 or so minutes from base. With a small note in your handwriting in the front cover:

Tell me every terrible thing you've ever done, and let me love you anyway.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

To anyone else, they wouldn't have noticed anything wrong. Just Ghost being....well, Ghost.

You, however started noticing the small details:

The way he got quieter, becoming more distanced from conversations and others. The way he would hold you, but not pull you as tight as he normally did. Sleeping for longer and longer.

The sleeping in during the day was the major giveaway that he was currently dealing with something below the surface.

Simon couldn't argue that sleeping until your body felt rested, and spending a lazy day in bed (especially with someone you love) wasn't a blessing all in its own. Life's simple pleasures he would whisper on these days, holding you tight as he pressed soft kisses across your face and lips.

Sleeping in hours past your normal almost every day off, however? Barely being able to wake up to your alarms? Red flag.

Despite your concern, and the heartache these episodes would bring; you knew better than to corner the man. Than to try and dissect what he was feeling before he was ready to. He's gotten a lot better at letting you in once he's on the other side of this. Especially in the last few years.

So you waited, you supported him from an arms length. Ensuring he ate, shifting your sleep schedule to spend a few minutes in the morning with him. Holding him a bit tighter at night and during hugs. Passively reminding him of all the things you love about him, about your relationship.

He once told you the small things you did brought him back to the present. Reminded him that there were some good things in his life; even when his mind tried blinding him to this.

When all he could see was the failures, the losses, the obvious signs he missed in the moment.

This episode lasted longer than any before, causing your concern and his guilt to grow. Despite all the assurance from yourself and his friends -- he still beat himself up for closing off so badly. Everyone has their demons, don't need to be reminded of them every time I walk into a room.

He tried opening up a few times, to let you know what burdens he was carrying. None of these alleviated the heaviness on his heart -- if anything they caused his walls to thicken and rise.

It was one night, the two of you getting ready for bed. Rain pouring down against the roof as you slid under the covers.

He softly apologized again, promising that he was trying to open up to anyone. That he had a personal debrief about the last mission with John today. Eyes meeting yours, guilt finding forgiveness. Terror finding patience. Love finding love.

"When you're ready..." You started, shifting closer and cuddling into his side. Fingers intertwining with his over his chest. His heart beating below the skin. "Tell me every terrible thing you've ever done, and let me love you anyway"

Alex Keller

He was laying on the bed, mindlessly scrolling his phone. One arm behind his head as he laid, staring at the screen with half lidded eyes.

"You look bored" you commented, busying yourself with putting clean laundry away. Glancing up when you didn't hear a response, watching him shrug at your comment.

It had been a little over 2 months since he returned from his latest mission; past the catching up phase, not quite in the savour every moment while we have it phase. There was a sense of normalcy for the last week, minus the subtle changes in his behaviour.

You've never seen him lay bored and occupy his thoughts with meaningless activities, at least not to this extent. All week if it wasn't his phone, it was a controller with a game he wasn't totally interested in. He would always write this off with this week just being "a lazy week"

For most people, this is a totally valid point. Lazy days, lazy weeks especially for someone with such a high stress lifestyle should be a godsend. A moment to be cherished.

Except Alex wasn't most people -- he would take a lazy day at most (which would still be filled with something remotely productive). He liked knowing his actions made some form of difference, he loved seeing progress.

So to spend the last week lounging on the couch or bed passing time with nothing to show for it was concerning at the least.

"We could repaint the cupboards later this afternoon, like we've been talking about forever" you offered, moving around the room.

"If you want to, sure. What are you thinking?" He responded half heartedly; causing your eyebrow to raise. Glancing up, watching him scroll for a couple more seconds before meeting your gaze. "What's going on?"

You dropped your eyes to avoid his gaze for a second, contemplating whether or not it was worth mentioning. Maybe you were in fact reading too far into this, and he was taking time to recoup before being sent out again. But it never hurts to ask...right?

"I could be asking you the same thing" You countered, moving to sit on the corner of the bed. Eyes scanning over his features -- feigned confusion glazing over what was really going on.

"If this is about the cupboards, we can do that today if you want. We'll go grab supplies, I'll drive" he shrugged with a light chuckle, phone still in hand.

"It's not about cupboards, or reno projects. You're not yourself lately" you whispered, watching some pain and guilt start to surface.

"It's...." he paused, hand rubbing over the lower half of his face before continuing "it's nothing you need to worry about. You'll be the first to know if there is" he crawled off the bed, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head before leaving the room.

It wasn't until later that afternoon that the conversation came back up. He busied himself with cooking supper, while you sat atop the counter keeping him company. Debating the plot points to the movie you two had watched a few nights prior.

In the moment, you convinced yourself you read too far into his recent actions (or lack thereof). The current interaction was natural, normal for the two of you. Laughter filtering through your heated exclamations about how the other person was wrong.

Until a call came through on his phone, you caught a glance of the name before he grabbed the device. Quietly answering the call as he left the room; the concern creeping back into your chest as you picked up making supper.

You were focused in on the task at hand, not hearing him walk into the room a few minutes later.

"That's my job, you know" he teased, hands on your waist as you jumped in surprise. Somehow pressing your forearm into the edge of the hot pan.

Cursing, you jerked your arm back. Nerves screaming as you felt yourself being guided to the sink. Soft repeated apologies being whispered above you as his hands brought your arm under the lukewarm water.

Body relaxing from the initial shock, you listened as the apologies didn't stop. The guilt and pain in his words as he took the blame for the minor accident.

"Hey, hey" you cut in softly, turning to look up at him. "Stop, you don't need to apologize. These things happen, I wasn't paying attention. This is on me"

Despite your words, he was visibly distraught. Looking at you like he just drop kicked your puppy. This wasn't about the burn.

"Talk to me" you whispered, one hand sliding over his back as the other cupped his cheek. "What's going on in that mind of yours?"

Eyes shifting between your face as the floor, he shook his head. Far too much for him to dump onto you...

"You don't want to know. Lots of horrible things, but I'll get through it. I'll figure it out" he promised, pressing a shaky kiss to your hairline. Body shaking with silent sobs at your next words:

"What if I want to know?" Arms sliding fully around him, pulling him tight as you shifted to rest your forehead against his chest.

"Tell me every terrible thing you thing you've ever done, and let me love you anyway" you whispered, voice muffled by the fabric of his shirt as he held you tightly against him.

Taglist: @bloodonmyhands-1221 @bowtruckleninja @v1naco

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