#all i want from cancers is for them to stop trying to guilt trip me and then we can be friends

[scientia-rex]

I also spend a lot of time trying to convince people to prevent problems, because prevention still works better than cures. Don't fucking smoke! I would instantly become the best doctor who ever lived if I could just convince all my patients to quit smoking. Avoid alcohol! Don't do meth! Don't do fentanyl! Things that are poisons will poison you in ways you understand, in the short term, but also ways you can't really understand until you've watched dozens of people die from it thirty years later, struggling to breathe from their COPD or weak and nauseated beyond bearing from their end-stage liver disease. I watched a man take 3 weeks in the ICU to die from what meth did to his heart. Your heart isn't meant to beat 145 times a minute for weeks on end. Your liver isn't meant to metabolize 5 shots of gin a day. You aren't going to be able to use denial and willpower to repair the damage your own habits did.

I drink a lot less now than I did before I went into medicine. Lot of different reasons, including that I'm older and more settled. But I can't look at it the same way I used to; I can't brush off as a "fun quirk" what I know is alcohol use on a level that risks withdrawal seizures if they were to suddenly stop, like some of my family members do, nervously asking me about their loved one's drinking when we're alone because beneath the jokes they know it's a problem.

If you're having more than one, maybe two drinks a day on average, over a long period of time, you are damaging your body in ways you don't understand. You're setting up a permanent heightened inflammatory state. Your heart cells don't like alcohol; Google "alcohol-induced cardiomyopathy." Your esophagus and stomach respond to incessant bathing in poison by first developing wounds and then cancer. Your liver, of course, doesn't like it. Your liver not only converts poisons to harmless substances you can excrete, it also makes your platelets, so your blood can clot. It makes albumin, a protein that's essentially for keeping water in your blood vessels and not letting it leach into your tissues. So people who are dying of liver failure are in pain and weak and tired and sad the whole fucking time! And the only solution, a liver transplant, will come with a lifetime of medication and specialist check-ups and the knowledge that if you fuck up and kill this liver, too, no one is going to be eager to give you another try.

I don't guilt-trip my alcoholic patients with liver disease. I don't guilt-trip my smokers with COPD. They chose to cope with substances for reasons, even if I disagree with their reasons, even if those reasons are opaque to me. They will suffer the natural consequences of those actions whether I guilt-trip them or not. I want them to continue to see me, I want them to be honest with me. Other people will lay enough guilt on them. And nothing I can say or do would ever compare to the physical and mental suffering that goes with those diseases.

But if you can prevent these diseases in yourself, prevent them. Quit smoking. Do it now. Your lungs are going to look better starting almost immediately, with positive changes continuing for many years. Drink less alcohol. Sure, it's fun, sure, it's a longstanding human tradition, but it is also unfortunately a straight up poison and your body knows that no matter how persuasively you argue about the obvious failure of Prohibition. You can't argue with a cell. You can't convince your kidneys that high blood pressure shouldn't damage them. They are a system; they do what they do; they existed long before prefrontal cortex existed to justify what we want to do but know to be harmful.



#the attending dr. kristophine

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for breaking up with my boyfriend shortly after his mom died?

This was over 10 years ago, but it still weighs on me often. I feel like a terrible person for it.

Me (15-19F) and my boyfriend (15-19M) who we'll call Dave had been dating for a little over four years. He was my first and to this day only boyfriend, and he was great. The only thing was that he regularly ignored my boundaries and would touch me or make me do things I wasn't comfortable with. If I didn't immediately agree or pushed his hands away, he would keep trying or guilt trip me until I gave in. It was never anything too bad, mostly just intimate touching and kissing, but it was enough that it made me extremely nervous to be around him. He also thought my shyness and anxiety were cute and would often joke that he would embarrass me in public by making out with me in front of my parents or that he was going to propose to me. Again, nothing bad, but he did a lot of things that made me deeply anxious just to get a "cute" reaction out of me, and it caused me a lot of stress to the point that sometimes I would get a sick stomach before going on dates. I ignored it though, because I loved him and I knew he loved me.

Then there was Dave's sister and friends at school. One of the girls, we'll call her Mary, was in love with Dave. But since he was dating me, she hated me, despite that she never met me because I had left for another highschool. This also meant that her friends and Dave's sister hated me. They stole my number from his phone and constantly sent me texts calling me terrible things and trying to threaten me into breaking up with Dave. I tried to reason with them and apologize if I had done anything to make them so angry but that only made it worse. Eventually I told Dave and his reaction seemed to imply he already knew, but he said he would do something about it. It stopped for a little while but went on for about a year before I guess they got tired of harassing me. Dave never said anything beyond "I'll do something" and I always wondered why he never comforted me or never said anything else. We were around seventeen at the time, maybe we were just stupid teenagers who were bad at communicating. But the year of stress around his sister and friends didn't help my anxiety around dating him.

During these four years, dates or phonecalls with Dave, which I had to tiptoe around because my dad didn't like him and didn't want me to date at all, became so stressful that I now realize it triggered anxiety attacks. I realized during the last year that I wanted to break up with him, but it was around that time that his mom, who had been diagnosed with cancer for several years, worsened. I felt I couldn't break up with him then because he had too much on his plate and I needed to support him. So I did, and when he called me to tell me she had died, I talked with him on the phone for hours, and I went to her funeral.

I don't remember how much time passed after that before I decided I had to break up with him. That time is a blur. It was several months, at least, I think, and a decision I finally made because I couldn't take the stress anymore. We were mostly long distance at that point, just starting college, and I'm ashamed to say that I broke up with him over email saying that long distance was too hard and that we didn't have as much in common anymore. I apologized and told him I would still like to be friends. He was sad about it but seemed okay, except between normal chats, he would ask me over and over again why we couldn't get back together and what he did wrong. In hindsight, I should have told him. But I was stupid, scared, and not as good as communication as I am now, so I doubled down on my reasoning, which wasn't a lie, but it was only a half truth. This went on and off for about a year until a friend at school told me I should block his number. I did. I feel bad about that too.

I don't regret breaking up with him, but sometimes I think about this and I feel like a complete monster for it anyway. I should have told him "no" more firmly when he would cross boundaries, and been more up front with how he made me feel. Maybe he just didn't know?

If I'm the asshole here, please be nice, but be honest. This guilt eats me alive some nights and I wonder if I should call him to tell him the truth and that I'm so sorry. I haven't dated anyone since because I'm scared I'll hurt them, too.

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

[phoenix-rising-starbird-one]

Can u write something phoenix x hangman?

Hello Anon. I can and I did. I wasn't sure if this was for Trick-Or-Treat but this turned into a Halloween-ish one-shot. A little angstier than I wanted but also fluffy and soft Jake. Also, I'm a huge fan of Toy Story, hence the costumes and title.

Every Hour We Spent Together, Lives Within My Heart

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Natasha "Phoenix" Trace, friendship (for now, might expand later on) Wordcount: 1,300ish Warnings: Mentions of illness, cancer, sick kids (I'm sorry), mentions of death, mentions of grieving, mentions of loss This will be cross-posted to my AO3! Also, I usually make my own mood boards, but if anyone wishes to make one for this, I'd love you forever.

“Come on, Phoenix. Please? Pretty please?” Natasha raises a ‘what the fuck’ brow. Hangman never asks nicely. Or beg for that matter! But here he stands, batting his lashes with his best impression of puppy dog eyes, and Natasha can’t help but snort. “Why don’t you ask Bob or Rooster?” She starts walking, trying to leave Jake in the dust, but he’s quick to fall into step with her.

“Bob’s on leave. And Rooster already signed up. So did Fanboy, Coyote, and Mav, by the way.” Natasha stops in her tracks and Jake nearly topples the both of them when he crashes into her body. “So why do you need my help?” Nat crosses her arms, raises a brow. “Because the more the better. Come on. It’s for a good cause.” Nat rolls her eyes and groans. “If I say no, you gonna guilt trip me until next year, aren’t you?” Jake grins in triumph even though Natasha hasn’t agreed yet. “God, you’re so obnoxious.” She shakes her head. “But… okay.” “Alright! Knew I could count on ya.” Jake waggles his brows, completely unbothered by the fact that Natasha flips him off when she leaves. “And no worries about the costume. I have everything ready for us. Just make sure to wear long jeans.” He calls out, laughs at Natasha’s very obvious and very grumpy “yeah, yeah”. And it’s not like Natasha is against this thing. In fact, she loves the idea. But the fact that it’s Hangman who reels her into this cause kind of makes her want to scream. Out of all people, why him? But what is done is done and two days later, she’s there, Jake already holding a bag out to her, along with a red hat with a white-corded brim. “Really?” “Yes, really.” Jake grins, already dressed in his costume, space boots and all. “Why do you get to be Buzz?” Nat quirks a brow and Jake laughs. “Because Jessie’s hat is too small for my head and red’s not my color.” Nat’s eyes might just get stuck from rolling them so often, but really, Jake isn’t making it easy with that all-knowing grin that matches his ego. “I’m not wearing the cow print chaps.” “The costume won’t be complete if you don’t.” Jake pouts and Nat rolls her eyes, again. “Remember, it’s for a good cause.” Jake reminds. He knows he’s won when Nat just grabs everything with a huffed breath. Again, Natasha loves the idea. But Jake? As in Lieutenant Jake ‘career is my actual middle name’ “Hangman” Seresin? Nat can’t help but wonder what’s in it for him. If he has ulterior motives. Or if it’s just a ploy to pick up women. But she is here now, changing in the locker room made available for the volunteers. And damn it! It is for a good cause! So she even braids her hair before she sets the red hat atop her head.

Nat takes a look in the mirror, shakes her head, mutters a “what the fuck” under her breath before her lips tick upwards. She’s gotta admit this: the costume is cute. And it evokes a type of nostalgia she thought long forgotten: childhood memories of owning a doll of the very character she’s dressed up as now, memories of yelling “yee-haw” and running around the living room with the doll on her shoulders. “Ready?” Jake smiles when Nat finally emerges from the women’s locker room and Nat does a double take. Usually, Jake’s face will split with his signature ear-to-ear grin, but right now, there’s something softer, something kinder, and Nat still doesn’t quite trust it all. “Why are you doing this?” She asks when they make their way inside the elevator. Jake pushes the button for the fifth floor and shrugs. “Can’t be an asshole all the time, right?” There’s something solemn in his voice but before Nat has a chance to ask more questions, the doors open, and then it’s all a bit of a blur. “More volunteers .” A nurse rushes towards Nat and shakes her hand. “Thank you so much for being here today. You have no idea what this means to the kids on this station since most can’t go trick-or-treating with their peers and all. I love your costume, by the way. Come. Come. Let me show you around. Please make sure to sanitize your hands before entering each room. Gosh… Jake, I mean you know the drill. He’ll show you which rooms require extra steps before entering them. Again, thank you so much. Your friends are already making their rounds…” Nat kind of feels like she’s been hit by a hurricane with how fast the nurse talks and walks, but she’s kind of thankful for the distraction, cause what does the nurse mean by ‘Jake knows the drill?’ “This is Jamie’s room. Jake, you know Jamie.” The little group stops in front of room 503, the blue door with a big glass panel closed for now. “How’s she doing?” Jake’s features have dropped to a seriousness Nat’s never seen on him before. Not even on deployments. “She’s doing well today. Much better than last time.” The nurse nods encouragingly. “I’ll let you guys get to it. I have to check on a few patients. If you need help at any point…” “Just push the button. I know the drill.” Jake reminds and the nurse smiles before she moves on to her next patient. Jake’s hand is already on the handle when he asks “Ready to meet Jamie?” His mouth ticks upward with a caring and somehow simultaneously mischievous smile, and Nat nods before he opens the door. “Well hello there, little lady. How you doin’ today?” “JAKE!”

And that’s how it goes all afternoon. Jake enters each room with a cheery “well hello there” and the kids scream his name. And for each child, Jake seems to have some sort of routine. With some, he reads. With others, he helps color in their favorite coloring books or plays their favorite board game. He listens to their stories. He tells them how brave they all are, how they’re heroes in his eyes. And with the littlest patients, Jake sings a lullaby or two. And Nat swears she feels her throat tighten a few times over, trying to swallow that damn lump inside and force back a tear or two. Who is this man and what has he done with Lieutenant Jake ‘career is my actual middle name’ Hangman Seresin? After, the lot of volunteers round out their day at the Hard Deck with drinks and a few games of pool and darts; and a song here and there, laughter in between. Penny’s gone all out with decorations this year, especially with the Jack-O-lanterns. Jack-o-lanterns line the path to the entrance. Jack-o-lanterns line the paths around. Jack-o-lanterns line the patio facing the ocean. And that’s where Nat finds Jake. Sitting on a chair, he’s nursing a beer, staring off into the distance. She startles the usually observant pilot, coaxing a chuckle from him when she sits down in a chair next to him, the red hat still on her head, a little more askew now. Jake knows Nat’s watching his face like she’s trying to find some kind of new truth, so he beats her to the chase and answers her question before she can ask by pulling his wallet from his jeans and handing Nat a small photograph. The edges are torn. Colors a tad bit faded from age. But depicted there, centered on two by three inches of photopaper, is a fairly young Jake, and in his arms another boy -maybe three years or so younger- with similar eyes and similar smile, but no hair, head as bare as a few of the children they’d visited today. “My little brother,” Jake confirms, his face graced with the softest and simultaneously saddest smile he’s ever shown. “He loved Toy Story.” And Jake doesn’t have to say much else. Nat understands now, understands the why.

So she lets Jake sit, lets him gaze out into the distance. It’s when Rooster pops his head out the back door to say “last round” that Nat moves from her seat, ready to head inside. And it’s then that Jake stops her gently with a hand on her wrist. “Thank you.” He whispers. “For tagging along. Made their day. And… mine.” Nat nods, sweeps a gentle hand across Jake’s forehead, places a soft kiss there after. “Next year, I’ll pick the costumes.” She smiles and Jake gently kisses the inside of her wrist. “Deal.” He whispers before he lets go. And just when Nat crosses the threshold inside the bar, she leans back, smirks. “I hope you like pink.”

#jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #natasha trace #natasha phoenix trace #glen powell #monica barbaro #writing #mine #my writing

[arkhamsrevenge]

I saw you wanted some requests and I've been thinking about this one for awhile. Imagine Dick Greyson discovering you smoking again, after being a few years sober, due to a mission going wrong

I got a little carried away. I hope you enjoy!

Worried Sober

You dragged the cancer stick from your mouth and blow out smoke. It's been 10 years since you've been sober, hell 10 years since you wanted a cigarette. It's cold tonight, actually it seemed a lot colder tonight than usual.

"Thought you didn't smoke anymore." You didn't have to turn around to know who it was.

"I don't. One time thing." You replied. Soon arms came into view. Dick Grayson, the first Robin, your first teammate and your first friend stood beside you. His face stayed blank but his eyes told another story. He was concerned, you didn't know if it was for you or Jason. "It's just to keep my mind off things for a second." You croaked and took another drag.

"He's fine." You're eyes flickered to Dick who was doing his best to try and convince you of that. For the past 2 hours that's all everyone's been saying and it's driving you crazy. They're acting so optimistic it's sickening. You grit you're teeth trying to stop yourself from snapping back. "Here, give me the-" Dick started to reach for your cigarette only to have you pull farther away from him. His face softened. "He's fine. I pr-"

"You can't promise me that. Don't promise me that." You growled, you're voice cracking slightly. You felt tears starting to form. "You promised me he'd be fine 15 years ago." Dick let his arm fall to his side. "You lied to me for 5 of those years. Telling me he was off somewhere in another country focusing on his education. That Bruce sent him to a very prestigious school you can't pronounce and Bruce has been giving you weekly updates that Jason's ok. When the whole fucking time he was DEAD! DEAD DICK! GONE. Why the fuck did you keep me hoping he'd come back?" The tears were falling free now. You're voice had gone completely horse. Dick's eyes lowered.

"I didn't know how to tell you he was gone." The first Robin whispered. "I didn't tell you he was dead to protect you. How do I tell someone who I see everyday that her best friend is dead?" You paused, tears still running down your face.

"Y/N, Jason's dead. He died in an explosion that the Joker rigged. That's how Dick." You could see the cogs turning in his head; trying to think what to say next.

"I'm sorry. I should have told you, but Jason wouldnt want you coping by falling back into old bad habits." You scoffed.

"I don't need your apology. I needed you to tell me the truth. You all got to mourn, I didn't. You all went through the 5 stages of grief, I never did. When Jason came back I acted mad at him because I thought he left for 5 years! And then, then, everyone was upset with me when I didn't want anything to do with you because you lied. Oh forgive Dick, he was mourning the loss of this brother. He did what he thought was best for you. All he wanted to do was protect you. I don't need anyone protecting me. I can't handle myself. That being said, dont you dare try to guilt trip me by using Jason. I dont give a fuck what anyone wants, it my fucking body. If I want to have a cigarette then fuck off and let me." You were breathing heavy by the time you finished your rant. Dick just stared at you.

"Feel better?" He asked. You're temper was beyond seething. Flicking the cigarette over the balcony, he pushed past him and walked back into the manner. You heard Dick running after you. "I'm sorry, ok? I just wanted to cut the tension. I'm not good in tense situations you know that." You continued to ignore him as you made your way to your room Alfred insited you stay in. You sat on your bed and dug through your bag looking for you pack of cigarettes.

"I took them." You're breath caught in your throat. You knew that voice, that deep gruff voice that haunted you for years. You felt frozen but somehow managed to turn around to face the man holding your cigarettes hostage. There in the doorway was Jason Todd, holding your pack if cigarettes in his scared up hands. Dick Grayson, the man you just screamed at for twenty minutes was leaning on Jason's shoulder with his elbow. You bit your cheek and slowly stood up making your way over to the mountain of a man. You had to crane you're neck to see him once you were close enough. You hadn't been this close to him in a month at least. Your heart was pulsing in your ears. Jason's brow furrowed with worry for a second making you think he can hear how fast your hearts racing. You look him over for a second, seeing if there are any visible injuries. He had a few scratches definitely some brusies and he's standing so he couldn't be in that much pain. Looking back into his once blue now green eyes, you reached for the pack of cigarettes only to have Jason pull them away. You reached again and he pulled away. Jason did this to you about three more times, a smirk forming on his face. "I thought you were asthmatic." Jason's deep voice rumbled in his chest. You grit your teeth.

"I am. Now give." You say trying to get your cigarette box, your were angry before and now your annoyed. You should be happy to see Jason alive and healthy. For fuck sake, you're the one who saved him from another deadly encounter. Jason was staking out one of Crane's warehouses and went in guns a blazing. If you hadn't been there with a mash carrying the antidote needed to reverse the affects, Jason would have gotten beat to death again the way Crane's goons were hitting him. But right in this moment you're so mad and upset with Dick for lying to you that all you wanted to do was smoke. You weren't hurting anyone else, just yourself.

"Your lungs already have a hard time working, giving them smoke is only gonna make it worse." Jason said still keeping the box out of reach from you, who has resorted to jumping up to try and get the box. You swear he's just trying to embarrass or make you very aware of you size compared to him.

"Just. Give. Me. Them." You say jumping with each word. Suddenly, your chest tightened. You stopped jumping to try and catch your breath. You know this feeling, it's all to familiar for you. You were having an asthma attack. You needed to take your inhaler but your pride was refusing you to do so. "Fine. Take them." You try to hide that your out of breathe. "Leave." You knew they both weren't stupid, they were raised by the world's greatest detective. You wouldn't just conside like that without a reason. You try to take a deep breath but failed. You felt like you were breathing through a straw. Still you waited for Jason and Dick to leave, your vision was starting to go, the lack of oxygen was getting to you, making you head go fuzzy. The former Robins started you down as if waiting for you to break. "Leave." You repeated softly. Both men's eyes widened. Shit they knew. Your strained voice gave you away as did your knees when they buckled. Jason caught you fast and guided you to the ground while Dick pulled out your inhaler from his pocket. He held it up to your lips but still you kept them shut.

"Take the fucking inhaler!" Dick shouted panicked. Both men cursed themselves for not catching on sooner. Reluctantly, you opened you mouth and breathed in twice. Soon your chest unwound and you were breathing normally. All you energy had depleted. You had forgotten how shitty your asthma attacks made you feel. All three of you sat in silence for a bit. You became hyper aware that were basically laying on Jason. You felt yourself start to blush and started to pull yourself to you feet. Jason still guiding you until you were fully standing. Both men loomed at you as if they were waiting for you to break down or collapse again. Without a word you repacked your bag and zipped it up. You took a deep breath finally feeling it fully and started to head for the door. You slunk past Jason and Dick, making you way down the manner staircase wanting to leave.

"Where are you going?" Dick asked.

"Back to my apartment. Jason's back safe, I saw him, he looks fine, I'm going." You say not bothering to look back. You didn't want to look at their faces. Knowing Dick had your inhaler ready just incase confirmed he still cares. You were embarrassed by your put burst because of you worry for Jason and the fact that you had an asthma attack after the out burst try to get you cigarettes back after being 10 yeats sober was also making you embarrassed.

"Ms. L/N perhaps you can wait till tomorrow. I made turkey with mashed sweet potatoes and mixed vegetables." Your hand stays on the door handle, Alfred always makes you hesitant. "Mashed sweet potatoes with toasted marshmallows on top." You still stayed still. "And lemon cakes for dessert." Slowly you removed your hand from the door handle and turned back to Alfred who offered you a hand. "Just leave your bag by the door for now Ms. come have some dinner with everyone." You let the stap of your bag slide off your shoulder, you then placed it on the floor and took Alfred's hand. He beckond Dick and Jason who had remained on the stairwell trying to think of ways to keep you from leaving. Both men shared a glance and met you eyes again back cautiously making their way down the stairs. Alfred then lead everyone to the kitchen to enjoy an nice meal after quit a night. You sat down at the grand table, Jason and Dick took either side of you. Tim, Babs, Damien and Bruce had already beat you, Jason and Dick there. Everyone ate in a calming silence for a few minutes. You kept your eyes down but saw Jason and Dick sharing glances out of you peripheral vision. Finally you spoke.

"Throw them out for me, would ya?" You turned to Jason who nodded.

"What is Todd throwing out?" Damien asked.

"Just something rotten." Dick answered. You nodded in agreement and continued to eat. With the tension gone, everyone enjoyed their meal a little more relaxed.

#dick grayson imagine #jason todd x you #jason todd #jason todd imagine #jason todd x reader #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson

[lizziebears18]

So I'm pissed off for many reasons right now and they all are my parents.

1) My dad told me a few weeks ago we could get me a new phone because mine doesn't work abd he told me that weekend. Find"t happen. Last week he told me this weekend. Didn't happen and now it's Monday and he said he would after he got my mom from work at 4, but apparently was being all bitchy about me to my mom because I asked him at 2 to go (I asked at 1). Hopefully tomorrow, but who fucking knows at this point.

2) Both my parents always disregard my siblings medical issues until it's a big issue. My sibling just got over strep throat last week after having for over a week because "they seemed fine and I don't get why their staying home" said our dad. Also when they finally got meds, it had 30% amoxicillin which they are allergic to and our parents were just told watch them when they take it and make sure they feel ok. 20 minutes later their ichy and their throat feels weird. Parents did nothing and it luckily went away. Now they fucked up their finger and parents 2obt take them to the doctor so I'm left being a fucking doctor again and making and a splint from med tape and popsicle sticks. I even made a joke about "being 1 step from a med degree" because of how much I have to repair whatever issue my sibling has because I love them and actually take care of them.

3) Our mom broke my sibling ice pack from school and had whatever chemical leak on her and still decided to keep the ice pack.

4) I just so fucking sick of all the shit my dad says about me behind my back to my mom who then tells me about. But I know he's never cared about me ever. He's made it very clear that none of my opinions matter to him or that my well-being matters at all. He's a fucking control freak, but has given up on fighting me because I will just argue and yell. He also doesn't believe in mental health and thinks that I got all the "crazy" from my grandma that he hated right up until she first got cancer and has tried to use her against me even though she died 8 years ago. He says she wouldn't approve of LGBTQ+ people even though she was one of the only people that should me unconditional love.

5) My mom tried to guilt trip me and my sibling and when I tell her she doesn't even realise. She tries to make us feel bad and she always says that shes a bad parent because she's never around, but that's not what gets me. It's that fact she lets my dad say shit about me, she does nothing if anyone gets in a fight, she comes home from work and wants nothing to do with anyone. That's what gets me, not that she gone, but when she's here she wants nothing to do with us. At least that's what it feels like from inside my head. She's always shocked when she gets reminded that a lot of my issues came from my fucked up childhood. Constant fighting between my parents, me and my parents, my dad and grandma. It's was literally everyone that was close to me always fucking fighting. I have vivid memories of a fight between my dad and grandma and a fucking park while waiting for pizza and a girl scout event. I ended hiding on top a slide and one on the older girl helped calm me down, but I wouldn't talk to my family and they ended up having to get a family friend come and get me.

6) My grandpa. To start I've barley talked to him in 5-6 years it's at least once a year and that's about it. I'm not mad about that either because he did fucking try to replace my grandma after she died and still fucking acts like this lade is part of our family when all she did was try to act like she knew us. She took some of my grandma's shit and she took the grandpa that I used to have. I know people always say that to kids it does seem like someone replacing grandparents/parents, but she literally was. He moved states for her, he stopped going to my school events because she couldn't travel (2 hours AT MOST), stopped going to my birthdays, stopped doing holidays, and all the same to my sibling which hurts a lot too because they basically had grandparents until they were 5 and I did until around 13 because new bitch didn't try with them and did a little with me. But she did try with my only cousin on my moms side because he was still littler and would take her as his grandmother and my aunt didn't like my grandma so new grandmother to him is a lot better.

But no, years of trauma and being the primary care giver of my sibling is fine and I'll be okay. I'm going to leave this place for college (dream school) and then move out with my girlfriend and eventually my sibling will live with us to get their life together away from our parents like I wish I could do a lot sooner than I will be.I'll be happy in the future, but right now it isn't happening.

Rant over, thanks if you read all of it.

#familly issues #trauma #depresion #anxiety #i'm just trying my best #healing soon #rant

[dianewritesstuff]

Scenes from my past

Whiskey, lager, and one malt. He always loved to drink. He was as much a social drinker as he was consumed by the euphoria I imagine came with forgetting himself even for a second. I always wondered, How could he stand the taste of beer? How could he down an entire glass of cold whiskey and savour the burning rather than despise the lingering smell? I think now I understand, it must have been easier to focus on the burning pit rather than have his ears intruded by screeches and a scream-his slice of peace torn apart by an angry woman with an ever-present murderous glint in her eye.

A blue dress and a loaf of bread It was just after 9 pm, and the world had slowly started to slumber as all country homesteads do. I wasn't supposed to be out, I hated being outside. But I was delegated errands, and I had to offer my best charisma to see them through. He had been missing for about a week, But we had long given up worrying because we had come to understand. He was never really missing, just out there living differently. Through all the lavish spending, drinking, and swinging, he found a minute to purchase a pretty blue dress and a loaf of bread. After all, what kind of father never brings his precious child a present?

The soap in my eyes She never ever took responsibility for her part in every fight. If I ever showed an ounce of emotion amidst a fight, that could be weaponized to start a guilt trip. I hated having to serve as the referee, the judge, the commentator, and the executioner. So I decided to take a shower instead. I may have been doing a showering ritual to wash away the dirt of a long day or simply trying to hide in plain sight. There was scuffling and I knew at that moment, I could never wash the soap in my eyes fast enough. I was crying. I couldn't stop the quakes from rocking my body. Maybe it was the soap hurting my eyes, or maybe, my heart was finally bleeding through my eyes.

A song on the radio Peter Cetera is a genius. He made the one song that served as a peace anthem in my life. I don't care much for the whole song, only for the hazy memory of a discorded voice singing unabashedly, feminine laughter with a hint of embarrassment and innocent glee. And a twinkle in my eye while I wished we would be in this loop for eternity.

The screech of a chair, the smell of burning tires The dinner table is a battlefield. There are never any recesses given to nurse the wounds or refill ammunition. Words are exchanged, sending shots directed to the heart, and poisoning the bloodstream but I am caught right in the middle. I've got no armour to protect me from the harsh exchange, the food turns sour in my mouth until I can feel the bile rising. Before I can get up, a chair is sent flying by a hand that could choke and kill if it came in touch with human skin. Only seconds later, I can feel my heart reverberating in rhythm to the receding sound of the automobile riding away. I should be sad, but why am I glad instead?

A bargain for freedom This is a phone call I hate making. It always starts off the same, a carefully laid trap to lure them both. They never get the hang of it, do they? Deep breaths turn into a mantra, fingers fight to tear at something but I fight for control. It shall soon be over, and you can go back to ignoring festering cancer ripping the family apart. You don't need them anymore, I convince still. But my eyes never know when to hold steady, for I can feel the betrayal masked by the deafening silence of my heart breaking yet again. I should have invested in an elastic heart and a lab full of pain meds.

A Hail Mary Every day repeats like clockwork. Am I a fool for holding out hope this long? I've broken down every possible way from here to Sunday, pain is my comfort now. I want out. Misery loves company but I won't let it rule me much further. So I say live, or let go. Let this Hail Mary carve a new normal, a new path. I will see you on the other side, I am bruised but not broken. It will heal, that's my new mantra. ©️dianewritesstuff #Scenes from my past

#writerscreed #bleeding ink #sad poetry

[dutchforstrangers]

Weightless - a Yamato songfic one-shot

A/N: Gosh, I should be focusing on completing the last one and a half days for Digiweek 2021, but instead I’m here getting this idea out of my head. (While writing for Digiweek I came up with 8!! more WIPs to write in the future… @digiweek really sparked and boosted my creativity)

Last night I’d sent @tangledupblue this ask/message about this amazing Icelandic artist called Ásgeir. Really, his music is incredible and both soothing as ‘hitting’. The song I attached to the message is his newest release and after I had sent it, I found out the song is based on an experience the singer had and it’s so sad… I’ve been thinking about it before I fell asleep, in my dreams and when I woke up. It gave me all the Yamato inspiration I needed.

I always find myself having a hard time understanding the complex blonde, but in all honesty I have some serious things in common with the guy and he does remind me of both my best friend and boyfriend (hence why I always headcanon him to be a Cancer Sun regarding Zodiac)… So I try to understand this musician a bit better through my writings. And it’s sad and heartbreaking, but also… you have to find out for yourself. Keep in mind: I want all the best for all the Chosen Children and thus for Yama too! But this just wrote itself… Don't worry, it ends on a good note, kind of.

Characters: Yamato Ishida (background Ishida family, including Takeru)

Genre: Angst, hurt (without the comfort), family

Rating: T(+)… or maybe even M, I’m not sure

Wordcount: 1.476

Song used: Sunday drive – Ásgeir

!Trigger Warnings!: Angst, arguing, car accident, near death experience, blood

I usually say 'happy readings', but it’s a little inappropriate. So I’d say calm readings this time. Please stay safe everyone <3

xxx

Weightless

Yamato looked to the audience from where he stood on stage. Tonight was the release of his new EP full of original songs. He had decided to take the softer singer-songwriter turn with this one, instead of the sulky rock songs he usually wrote. They had already played three songs and now the fourth would come. He glanced over to his friends, his unknowing friends, giving them a small and careful smile. Then his eyes met Takeru’s, blue eyes meeting blue eyes. Yamato swallowed, then mouthed a sorry before taking his place behind the mic. His guitar playing bandmate taking his seat on the elevated stool next to him and the first chords filled the room.

Inhale.

Sunday drive

Memories flooded back.

Like we always used to do

In an attempt to safe their marriage, his parents had agreed on taking a trip to Shimane.

Park the car in the panoramic view

Stopping for a little break they parked the car on a hill with a panoramic view.

I stayed inside, while you photographed the lake

Young Yamato didn’t feel much for going outside, so he stayed inside of the car with his dad while his mother and little brother went outside to look at the lake and take some pictures.

After a little while his father grew impatient and left the car to go for a smoke. That frustrated his mother, turning her attention to his father to argue.

“You can’t just leave the car to smoke! Don’t be irresponsible, go back in!”

“I’m irresponsible? Look at yourself, leaving Takeru there all by himself!”

Yamato knew it were just words, he had heard them a thousand times by now. Each and every night he heard them scream, yell, bicker, argue. Yamato slumped back into his seat in the car, his eyes trying to find Takeru to make sure he was safe. Standing there with the camera in hand, still taking pictures, shielding himself from the arguing. All the while Yamato still heard the words his parents were throwing at each other.

He squeezed his eyes close, his mind going both dark and blank at the same time. His hands balling into fists, sending the tension into and through his whole body. He needed a distraction too, just like Takeru had his camera. So he unbuckled his seatbelt and crawled to the front of the car and into the driver’s seat.

Pretend to drive, I pulled the parking brake

Taking a seat, he placed his hands on the stirring wheel, pretending to drive. He tried to think what his parents did when they drove and he remembered them pulling the handle on his left. The arguing from his parents faded to the background, fully focused on the speed the car would make when he would be actual driving. He pulled the handle.

As he pulled the handle, Yamato felt the car starting to roll, still thinking it was part of his imagination. Though in reality the tires started to go round, making the car move forward towards the railing that divided the spectators from the lake.

Tires turn and slowly crush the ground

I still hear a terrifying sound

Luckily Takeru stood a little further from where the car would crush the rail. But Yamato could hear him screaming anyway. He had never heard his name like that, in the most agonizing way filled with an incredible amount of fear. Fear of losing him…

With the car still rolling towards the edge Yamato tried to search for help. His body was stuck in both the car and his body itself, frozen in the moment, in the middle from what was happening. In the rear view mirror he could see his father chasing the car, failing to reach it. He could see his mother rushing towards Takeru, running along with the car. As soon as she had reached the little blonde boy, making sure he was safe, her eyes turned towards Yamato in the car.

I search for help and meet my mother’s eyes

She stares back completely paralyzed

Their eyes locked, but instead of acting or moving towards him to help next, she was completely frozen in her place. Holding onto Takeru with dear life while the car with Yamato in it broke the rail. And the car started slipping down the hill.

In that one moment everything rushed in front of Yamato’s eyes like a movie of his own short life. Moments he wanted to hold on to, moments he wanted to forget as soon as he got the chance. The sun blinded his eyes, a bright light reflected by the lake flashing in front of his eyes. Even though he could feel the car slipping, rolling, falling and floating, he felt like he himself was standing still. Unable to move. Not wanting to move.

Felt like time was standing still

Sun was pouring on the hill

And I weightless in the air

His body surrendered to the weightlessness that came with the car crashing down due to the gravity. His weightlessness defying the gravity, it was the first time since a while he felt so free and light. The first time he could leave behind the heaviness present in his life. All while falling.

Floating far away from here

He turned his head, seeing his parents looking over the railing to the flying car. His parents fading away, the distance between himself and them getting larger and larger. He couldn’t quite tell if that was what he wanted, but for now he felt at peace with it. If it was among the possibilities, in that moment Yamato would have chosen to float on a little longer, not wanting to part from the weightlessness.

Closing his eyes he embraced the flying and floating a little longer…

… A dream that unfortunately couldn’t go on forever. As he opened his eyes and was met with the bright light of the sun again, he sighed. Weight had flowed back into his body, feeling heavy and present. He felt dizzy, his eyes scanning the car for an opening to get out.

Suddenly the wreck is lying flat

Pull myself through the shattered window glass

He could feel the sharpness of the shatters in his hands as he pulled himself out. Giving him the confirmation he could still feel pain, he was still alive. He felt his heart race.

By the speed of light all his thoughts came rushing back to him, pushing him down with both legs on the ground. Filling his head with the heaviness he so desperately tried to get rid of. No weightlessness anymore, only heaviness. In his head, in his body and in his heart.

An avalanche is running through my head

Body bruised and my clothes are painted red

At the same with the arriving from his thoughts, blood seeped down from his head. Barely able to stand anymore, he let himself fall on his knees, back to surrendering to the gravity. The heaviness consuming him. His body aching, his hands and clothes covered in both liquid and dried red. However the odd feeling of being freed lingered on in his whole being.

Holding on to that free feeling Yamato once again looked up to where he last saw his family. He could see his parents bicker as if they only cared about each other and their arguing and a sadness overflowed him. Then his eyes shifted to Takeru, tears streaming down his face, but his blonde hair colored golden by the touch of the sun.

Feelings of guilt towards his little brother overtook him. And as he followed the rays of light touching Takeru’s hair, his eyes now meeting the sky lit up by the sun, Yamato couldn’t shake the longing to that free feeling of weightlessness.

“Thank you,” he softly says into the mic after the last chords die down. It leaves the audience silent for a second, before a careful applause sounds. But Yamato doesn’t care, his eyes immediately scanning the audience like he scanned the car for an opening to escape back then. He’s met with his friends who watch him in awe.

Felt like time was standing still

Sun was pouring on the hill

And I’m weightless in the air

Floating far away from here

Then his eyes are met with Takeru’s, blue eyes meeting blue eyes. His own hair now golden from the stage light, while Takeru’s hair seems dark. He sees a single tear escaping his brother. Yamato reassuringly nods a single nod which Takeru answers with a small and gentle smile shaping his lips. Soon he is flooded with reassuring nudges, hands on his shoulders, side hugs and other positive touches Yamato is unable to give, the distance keeping the brothers apart.

But Yamato feels the reassurances from their friends through Takeru, for a tiny moment feeling the same weightlessness he so deeply desired.

#digimon fanfiction by me #yamato ishida #takaishida siblings #takaishida family #takeru takaishi #matt ishida #tk takaishi #oh god what have i wrote... #tw: angst #tw: arguing #tw: car accident #tw: near death experience #tw: blood #trigger warning #angst #arguing #car accident #near death experience #blood #asgeir #sunday drive #songfic #digimon fanfiction #digimon

[whump-town]

A Cumbersome And Heavy Body

Chapter Three: I'm Treading For My life, Believe Me

Summary: Stubborn until the very end, Aaron Hotchner isn’t going to go down without a fight. It’s just getting hard to tell the difference between fighting them and fighting the cancer.

Word count:  6103

Author’s Note: I did listen, on repeat, to the Anastasia soundtrack while writing this. Which, you would think, would make this a rather happy chapter and if you thought that... how silly you will feel in a few moments. You can find the first chapter here! 

Warning: the subject of this fic is cancer and it’s treatment, cursing, maybe out of character (idk, man. hotch is weird) bonus: I’m 19 and a humanities major so obviously I don’t know anything about medicine so I’m doing my best out here

Not knowing how to think I scream aloud, begin to sink My legs and arms are broken down With envy for the solid ground

There is not a sound. Not a shiver. The floorboards do not moan lowly. No hinge gives its creaking complaint. The disturbance is a felt one. Something she feels right where her fourth rib meets her sternum. It has no name. Calling it instinct is superstitious. Claiming it as training or intuition is childish.

It has everything to do with love and fear.  And love and fear alone.

“Aaron?” The comforter he seems to be forever tangled has been kicked away in his fitful sleep. In the low light of the room, the hallway light seeping in, she can see his heaving chest. As though he has run a great deal, not lying supine on his bed. “Aaron, can you hear me?” Despite the bitter scent of sweat, she can’t tell what it is that draws her deeper into the room.

Slowly, his dark eyes open, breathing rasping out as he opens his mouth to answer but no sound leaves his pale lips.

Looking over her shoulder, only after looking and listening for a sign they’ve awoken Jack, does she enter the room. Shutting the door behind her, she stifles the room to darkness. She can’t even see the hand extended in front of her. Not that she needs it. The path of his room is simple.

Two steps in there is an outfit shed by the dresser on her right side. The pant leg extends out and if she doesn’t lift her foot, she’ll trip. Three more steps in and she needs to extend her hand just a fraction to feel the cool wooden bed frame. There she can pivot herself with its aid. Step high over the sweatshirt on the floor and she’s good. Well, mostly.

She gets tangled in the comforter he kicked off.

“Em--” he coughs, letting out an achy moan. “Emily?”

She gets to his nightstand and leans heavily on the old wood, catching her breath. The damn blanket was like fighting an octopus. “Right here,” she promises, knocking all kinds of shit to the floor as she fights her way to the lamp. It comes on with a click and they both wince at its sharpness. She’s got her eyes closed, trying to allow her pupils some small reprieve, when his hand wraps around her forearm. Cold clammy fingers wrapped around her wrist. “Hotch?”

The soft hazel of his eyes is unfamiliar. “I want to go home,” he rasps softly. His chest shutters with the effort the simple request has taken. The tears in his eyes slide down his cheeks without the guilt. He strikes her. Not with his palm open and hands roughened by callouses. He does not hit her or cause her to draw back with his words. By the look in his eyes. The confusion. The pain.

“Aaron--” Once and only once does she consider trying to convince him that he is exactly where he craves to be. Mouth open, the words pushing at her tongue, she decides that will only hurt them both. Softening the look on her face, she crouches down by his side. Taking a seat on the edge of his bed.

The rash on his chest has depended its angry red, it taunts her now as the glisten of his sweat across his pale skin. Every visit to the doctor promises that it’s not as bad as it looks. It causes him mild discomfort and nothing can be done. It is a product of the radiation. To heal the wound is futile. Stepping off a cliff to avoid a hill.

“You’re feverish,” she notes, moving the back of her palm against his forehead. To her surprise, he doesn’t pull away from her touch. Not even as her fingers draw against the sharp peak of his cheek bones. He lays, compliant, eyes foggy but on her. With a fond sigh, she observes, “dehydrated. You didn’t drink the water I gave you.”

When he speaks, he sounds much more like himself. The tone costs him more than it's worth. “My throat hurts.” Which is an awful excuse but it’s the truth and she knows it’s just another part of normal life falling away from her grasp. Today it is just water but tomorrow it is the hospital. It’s the central line and the saline and the tube they’re going to place in his stomach because he’s reaching the point of inabilities.

And it is never as simple as a sore throat.

She’s tired of seeing his blood so casually wiped from his pale skin. The bags under his eyes deepened to caverns and the lakes of tears in his eyes. There is nothing she can do. The mass of cancer can be cut out of his flesh but the cells could still multiply. Quite simply, there is nothing she can do for him. Except--

“Stay.”

He mistakes her movement for the path to leave. She’s just aiming to pull the comforter back over him.

“I--” They look at each other. She sees so much burning vulnerability. “I’ll stay,” she caves and with that promise she can reach down and pull the comforter back over his body.

Already, his eyes are dropping shut. “You can--” he coughs, his whole body jarred by the movement. “You can sit, Emily. I can keep my hands to myself.”

She rolls her eyes but sits down on the corner of the bed. She takes his hand, rubbing at his knuckles when he turns his head to cough. “Shut up,” comes her hesitation reply. It feels wrong, misplaces. She wants to slip into their innocent, normal tit-for-tat banter but he’s not up for it. It’s not what he needs or is even capable of.

“Please don’t just sit there and stare at me,” he rasps.

Her face flushes. She had been doing exactly that. “If I lay down, you better not try to cuddle me.”

He huffs at that but whatever he might have said is overshadowed by his deep, nasty sounding coughs.

She reaches

“Aaron?”

“Hmm?”

She gently moves her hand across the bed sheet until she finds his. Interlacing her fingers with his she manages, thickly, “please don’t die.” His head turns on his pillow and she can feel him looking at her but she keeps her eyes on the ceiling. After a long pause, her heart beating frantically the whole way, he simply squeezes her hand. Not a promise… just comfort. Sniffling she sits up and grabs some of the blanket, pulling it over her own bare legs. “Stop hogging the covers. You’re not the only who might want some.”

As she settles down, turning her back to him, she closes her eyes. Feeling the hot stream of her tears falling over her face. The last thing she hears before she falls asleep is his hoarse voice, full of tears of his own. “I’m so sorry Emily.”

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

“How are you?”

Radiation was early this morning. He’d been lying if he didn’t admit that he gave Emily hell about it. Which he does feel fairly guilty about but she got what she wanted to he’s not that sorry. For the first time, he let her come in with him. Mostly because he didn’t have the strength to get himself out of the car but if he doesn’t dwell on that thought too much then it’s okay.

But he also knows that Emily told Garcia about this morning. Briefly, no doubt, about him being an absolute pain in the ass. Mostly how he’d let her tie his shoes. How he’d limped, leaning heavily against the wall to the bathroom and losing the meager bit of breakfast he had. Whatever she knows, she wears on her face. The worried crinkle between her brows. The downward quirk of her pink sparkling lips.

She shouldn’t be here.

Despite the ear protection Dave had spent so much time finding, his ears still ache from the rattling from the radiation machine. Every nerve in his body agitated by hot fire packers digging further and deeper into his brain. The dancers with their little tacs glued to their shoes traveling along his skin. To his legs and then up his arms. And, yet, he pushes on.

As confidently as he can manage, he forces himself to focus his eyes on Garcia. Smiling through the haggard, involuntary sway of his body. “I’m okay, Garcia. No need to worry.”

But she can see how pale his skin has gotten over the last month. How the shadow of a beard across his cheeks makes him look sicker, weaker. She knows that he won’t like her attention but she craves for Aaron Hotchner. So, she finds herself looking at him longer, trying harder to see within him. To find her boss and not the ghost he’s left behind. “We… I love you, sir. You know that, right?” She hesitantly touches his hand and as much as she thought it would hurt to feel him recoil it hurts even worse when he doesn’t.

But he’s here, isn’t he? Is it not just like her stupidly brave boss to keep trying, to keep pushing?

Hotch’s hand trembles where she’s captured it in her own and as self-conscious as that makes him feel… he can’t pull away. All these shields, blocades he’s built around himself have been his destruction. He’s pushed them away until they no longer let him near without armor of their own. Always prepared to enter the cave and find a beast. But Garcia, merciful Garcia, still just sees him. It terrifies him but he just wants someone to disregard his wishes. To throw caution to the wind and hug him. Touch him.

“I know,” he manages. He smiles, clenching his teeth to refrain from showing or saying how much better he feels with her around.

She stands, leaving his side. “Just making sure,” she confirms. She turns, her hand on his shoulder, as she takes in the state of his house. Empty. Emily has been diligent with cleaning up after them. Hotch, too, when he can manage to stand long enough to wash the dishes.

She remembers, like a blow to the heart, that Emily has fallen behind on laundry. That had been the one chore Hotch was solidly keeping up on. Emily had seemed so positive about that, only a few weeks ago. Smiling as she reassured he was very adamant to let her anywhere near the laundry (and as she suspected, his underwear) so as long as he was managing to be his usual stubborn self things would be fine. They had been. But after the nose bleeds he’s not as strong. His appetite is gone and every week when they draw his blood the odds are slowly shifting out of his favor.

He’s anemic and they gave him a blood transfusion at the hospital after the nose bleed but it hasn’t helped. Now he takes iron supplements and a pill that smells horrible and tastes even worse. He can get over the pills. It’s just two more in the sea of things he takes. It’s the fact that he can’t lift anything. Years of training and rigorous training down the drain but his knees are like jelly and his arms like boiled noodles.

On top of all that, this morning they talked about starting chemotherapy in addition to the radiation. His cells aren’t responding. So, Emily’s thoughts have been elsewhere. Not on the laundry steadily building unwashed.

“I’m going to make myself useful,” she says, getting in a quick kiss before he can put up too much of a fight. She’s not sure if his lack of response is good or not. Either way, she tucks a blanket up around him. Smiling when he just looks up at her-- there’s a flash of Hotch in his exhausted eyes. He starts to fuss with her-- she doesn’t need to clean, that’s not why she’s here (which they really don’t need to argue about unless she wants to hash out how she’s really here to babysit him).

But he just sinks into the pillow behind his head. No fight.

“Please tell me if you need help,” she says as she walks away. He hums something under his breath but she knows he won’t. She’ll just have to listen for him.

The laundry really isn’t that bad.

Emily’s room is a mess but Emily is a bit of a mess herself so it’s not that surprising. She picks up minimally. Moving anything around too much will just make Emily flustered to have been caught. So, she just picks up the towels she sees and a few pairs of shirts and pants she knows Emily likes the most and heads to the laundry room. The washing machine and dryer are down the hall, pushed aside in a closet like space.

Tossing in what she’s gathered she goes back to Emily’s room-- she’s just wasting time so she doesn’t have to go into Hotch’s room. Picking up a discarded glass of water and a few water bottles. She makes note that if Emily isn’t back in time to throw their sheets and bed sets in the washing machine. It’s always nice to have clean bedsheets.

Looking at Emily’s room she realizes she has to venture to Hotch’s room now.

She comes to linger in the living room. “You doing okay?” She doesn't get a response but she can’t really see him so she moves closer. One of his legs is drawn up, resting against the couch and the other stretched out and over the arm of the couch. When she’d left him he’d still been sitting up, fighting to stay alert through their short conversation. It’s… nice to see him comfortable.

Without thinking, she reaches down and moves her hand through his hair. Trying her best not to react to the amount of grey she sees. He moves, shifting his face further into the couch. She fears she’s woken him but his eyelashes flutter for only a moment before he sighs and stills once again.

Sighing, she leaves him once again. Blindly hoping he’ll sleep for a while if she doesn’t bother him.

His room is… exactly as she expects it to be and, yet, not.

His bedspread is a dark green color, nearly emerald and surely something Jessica or one of the other’s picked out. There are pieces of him thrown through-out the room with the finest touches of someone else left behind. For example, the books that litter every surface is him. From his nightstand, to his dresser, to a few stacked on the floor. The nightstands are old and she feels a little sore work itself into her throat at the possibility that they are a set and were probably bought for him and Haley.

And now there’s only him.

There is a stuffed elephant and blanket on the floor on the other side of the bed. She wonders how frequently Jack sleeps with him. Probably more than normal now.

His room is neat. She tucks his comforter back where it should be. Placing a piece of paper in the book he’d left face down. There’s a single sock with colorful, swirling patterns. A shirt that looks very well loved tucked inside of a sweater of equal wear and tear. Clothes and homely things. Hotch things.

From down the hall she hears his muffled coughs and something hard hitting the wall.

“Sir!” She hurries from his room, letting the clothes in her hand hit the floor. It’s not hard to find him. His house has a familiar, simple layout. “Are you okay?” He’s standing in the hall, facing her. Shoulder pulled in, left arm around his chest, and the right blindly leading him along.

He nods, muffling his bone rattling coughs into his elbow. “Just…” he shakes his head. “Going to the bathroom.”

She looks over her shoulder, his room and bathroom are only a few steps away but… He doesn’t look like he’s going to get there without a little help. “Could…” she chews her lips into her mouth. “Would it be okay I help-- If you just leaned on me, a little bit? For my sanity?”

He nods, simply going where she moves him. It’s not hard to slip under him. Without heels, his height advantage is much more apparent. She looks down at the floor as she works his arm over her shoulders, smiling at the sight of his socks. Her own don’t match-- a homage to Reid but also because she knows it, secretly, drives Hotch crazy. But he’s wearing a pair of polka dot socks. Each one an extreme loud variation of every color you can think of.

“Nice socks, sir!”

It distracts him for a moment from the humiliation of needing both her and the wall to walk down the hall. He looks down at his socks-- socks that he and Emily had fought long and hard about this morning. He didn’t want to wear them. He’d needed normalcy. Craved it. He wanted plain black socks that would go unnoticed. But she had won and everyone saw him in his boxers and stupidly bright socks. It had put smiles on their faces too. Even Emily’s, though, she had tried to hide it behind her book.

“Emily’s doing,” he reassures her.

They can’t fit shoulder-to-shoulder into the room so she lets him lean against the doorframe and manage it on his own. Following closely behind. “Oh, of course,” she says smiling now she’s behind him and he can't see. Though, as soon as she’s done it she wishes he would see. To see her smile and know it’s at his expense and give her one of those scowls that have always just made her love him a little more.

But instead she sits on the corner of his bed and closes her eyes. Wincing and flinching as he gets sick.

Emily had been so… afraid when she left. Garcia hadn’t understood why. Even when the information Emily was throwing at her-- hurling words, meaningless words. Now… Now Garcia is cursed with Emily's same burden of knowing.

It had all come so quickly-- that the nose bleed had been because he was anemic and that they can’t get his red blood cell count back up. “Not to fret”, Emily had said thickly with sarcasm, his white blood cells are through the rough and the product of much anxiety. That the awful cough he has is from Radiation Pneumonitis and “not to worry” he’s on steroids that make him incredibly nauseous and a complete ass. The best part? It can scar his lungs!

All this information had come so quickly that Garcia hadn’t processed any of it.

Dave had called Garcia early this morning and asked if she needed anything to do. Normally, when he asks that sort of thing, he’s asking her over to do the grunt work of cooking-- rolling breads or kneading dough-- but today when she’d happily agreed he’d had something else in mind.

So, today, while Emily goes with Dave for a long lunch she’s staying with Hotch.

The original plan was just to leave him by himself. Dave had assumed that would be alright. Afterall, two days ago when Dave had last seen him, Hotch was very himself. Stubborn and grouchy when they tried to help him do anything-- even the normal sorts of things you do for people: hold the door, pass them a plate, ask if they want anything when you go to get yourself something, etc.

Having to explain how she couldn’t simply leave Hotch had… broken Emily just a little more. Keeping herself calm, collected as she explained that she was going out with Dave for a while and she’d make sure to bring him something back. Coffee or soup (anything so long as he’d agree to eat). She had cried as soon as she stood to walk to her room, lower lip quivering at just how easily he’d caved. He’d protested everything she did all morning and now just… submits. She’d sobbed in the shower.

He annoys her to no end. Her closest friend, the man she’d left behind to search for something more in London, was a basket case. Do not mistake that. Aaron Hotchner has to do everything himself. Independence is very important to him and she’s being forced to watch him give in. Too tired to fight.

Garcia had arrived a little sooner than expected and Emily had opened the door in a towel, her mascara from that morning smudged under her eyes. Before she could get out an apology, Garcia had already assured her she had plenty of time and that Garcia would go back out and tell Dave to cut the car and come in for a moment.

And Hotch…

He’d been asleep on the couch. Sitting up, nestled into the corner where Emily had left him.

“Hey, Pen?”

Garcia hadn’t even realized she’d been staring.

“He’s got a heating pad tucked against his side, will you warm it up?”

And she’d learned Hotch is prone to chills. That along with nine awful scars, Foyet had damaged his body's ability to regulate temperature and that radiation is being a bitch. So to ease the ache in his side, where Foyet had nicked a rib that won’t ever really heal, Emily just keeps a heating pad around. It keeps him warm.

The beast of knowledge.

“Garcia?”

She hates him. For a moment. Anger and impatient it eats her alive and that’s such an awful thing to have to feel about someone you love. Why can’t he be stronger? It leaves her body in a choked sound. How could she even let herself feel such contempt for the very man who always prides her for her brightness? Loves her no matter how much trouble she drags up? Goes out of his way to remind her to always be her bright silly self?

She stands from his bed and opens the bathroom door.

He looks ashamed and she hates that.

“Have I ever told you about the time Reid and I broke a coffee pot and hid it from you for a month?” she asks before he can apologize.

His Adam's apple bobs as he looks up at her. He’s still curled into himself, sitting on the edge of the bathtub. He feels weak, useless. He couldn't even find the strength to stand and pee. Then, on top of it all, she’d been right there on the other side of the door as he vomited. By now, this is not the first apology he’s been beaten to. Emily has this infallible way of sensing them coming and quickly changes the subject to something else.

It’s… strange to see Garica practice it too.

“Please tell me that was far too long ago to be worth fussing with you over?” he asks, trembling as he accepts the hand she offers.

She smiles and tuckers herself back against him, wrapping her arm around his hips. “Oh it was a while ago,” she assures him. “Like… Gideon long ago. He was just a baby--” she keeps talking no matter what. When he whispers that he needs a break at the doorway, a whole two steps later. Tells him how terrified they’d all been of him at some point in time. How that’s all rather silly because Aaron Hotchner is nothing but a big softy. And, believe it or not, it has always been Derek Morgan breaking that secret to the rookies. That he’s not as big and tough as he looks. That a good, warm batch of snickerdoodles will melt his big icy heart so quickly--

“How many people did you tell that to?” he asks.

She shrugs, only the people that really needed it. “Do I have to give you a number if I make you some right now?”

He considers her offer. His stomach has settled a little and the smell alone would be divine. Plus, Emily had said he could pick dinner… what’s the possibility that she would cave to just letting him eat a cookie or two? He smiles, “I’d consider adequate reparation.”

“Wanna help?”

His smile falters just a bit. He can’t stand for that long and--

“We can make them at the table,” she adds, hastily.

And… he nods. Okay.

That’s how Dave and Emily find them an hour later.

Hotch is covered in flour and Garcia too. A good proper mess.

He’s wrapped in a blanket, the one from the couch, and leaning heavily on the arm propped up on the table. Smiling, content, as Garcia checks the cookies and reassures him that they need only a little bit longer. So that they come out right as the bottom is browning but not brown. ANd he nods his head like he understands when she says the point is to let them finish baking on the pan outside of the oven. That’s the secret to soft cookies.

Which, to him, just sounds like she’s saying she's going to feed slightly undercooked cookies but he’s eaten cookie dough raw for years. He’s never had salmonella but he did get cancer so obviously someone wasn’t warning him about the right things.

“What in the world did you two get into?”

“Cookies!” Garcia holds open the oven to show them. “If you wait just a moment they will be ready!” She places the dirty dishes into the sink. Throwing some water over them to make it easier to wash the dough off.

Emily raises an eyebrow at Hotch and he shrugs. She’s amused by the sight of him covered in flour and what more is to add but a submissive shrug. What can he say except he’s a softy who has always lacked the ability to tell them no?

“You didn’t let Hotch do the measuring did you?” Dave asks, stepping in and inspecting the damage done to the kitchen. Under his breath he continues, “you can tell he’s never been a math man. I’m convinced he doesn’t understand fractions.” Dave has cooked with him too many times. Hotch has never once successfully measured everything right in any dish. The amount of times one fourth has been mistaken as a half or an eighth of something rounded up to a third… it’s crazy.

Garcia glances at Hotch and he already knows exactly where she’d going-- “Well,” she admits, “I let him put the cinnamon in--”

Hotch groans from the table, a dramatic sigh as he closes his eyes and admits defeat.

“It wasn’t his fault!” It was. “There might just be a little bit too much cinnamon. It’s not a big deal!”

Aaron Hotchner brought to his knees by fractions.

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

When Hotch was in the second grade he got chickenpox from his next-door neighbor Michael. A very common thing given the time and the general mindset of “chickenpox parties”. It had been awful and itchy. His brain so ravished by the fever that he doesn’t remember a whole lot about the experience. Just that it had begun as a patch of dry skin under his right arm, perfectly wedged between two of his protruding ribs. That week of horrible fever and endless itching is the only time Hotch can ever recall his father being gentle.

He’d awoken once during that week, just after four and when his father typically arrived home, to the door shutting softly. His mother whispering to gather his father’s attention and diverge the man away from Hotch. Who, thanks to itching, had only just managed to fall asleep.

Halfway up the stairs, Hotch can remember waking up in his father’s arms. The man had shushed him softly, rocking him the way you might a child until Hotch had laid his head against his father’s chest and gone back to sleep. The gentleness of that action has haunted Hotch for years. Something he thinks about occasionally. Trying and failing to wrap his mind around something so out of character. So bizarre.

“Daddy,” Jack whines, he twists in his father’s lap. “You’re not watching, look!” His little finger demands Hotch’s attention, pointing to the TV. “Did you see it?” Jacks asks, sitting up to gauge Hotch’s reaction. “It was amazing, huh?”

Knowing his son, Hotch does try and get the boy out of the house as much as possible. Which means that lazy nights come far and rare in between. If he can, Hotch likes to take him to the park, museums, aquariums. Anything to keep his little mind crazed by the ideas of the world around him and actively engaged. Today… is not one of those days. There hasn’t been a lot of those days recently.

“The cancer is spreading--”

There’s a certain understandable science to the way that chickenpox works. They actually follow a pattern on the body when they spread. Hotch’s had curled from his left side to his right, working in the grooves of his ribs, and up his sternum.

A very similar pattern to the cancer spreading in his body.

Radiation is no longer enough.

He has two rounds of chemo and spends a lot of time thinking about what comes next. He’s going to get sicker. Weaker. Probably lose his hair. What will really be left of him when all is said and done?

Outside the rain comes down in buckets, thunder shaking the earth, but there’s nothing to the peace inside. Emily had gone around lighting candles, trying to soothe Jack in preparation for if the storm knocks out the electricity. Even if she’d managed to annoy him with her fluttering about, she’d been gentle and understanding. Making sure his shirt was buttoned to hide the deeply irritated skin on his chest.

She’s stronger than he is.

They are all.

“Asland,” Jack mumbles in amazement. He’s settled back down in Hotch’s lap, head on his thigh so Hotch can mindlessly play with his hair. Hotch can’t follow the plot of the simple movie but he’s seen it enough times to hum and mumble responses to Jack’s questions.

The Chronicles of Narnia. It’s Jack’s new favorite thing.

They’ve probably watched it now at least a dozen times.

Emily’s started having dreams about the movie.

No matter how many times he requests it though, she’ll still play it and Hotch will sit down and let Jack explain the plot again. Everytime, it ends with tears.

“I don’t understand why he has to leave,” Jack whimpers.

Hotch is struggling to fight with consciousness. Radiation leaves him haggard. Limbs seemingly attached by measly strings and joints that buckle with minimal weight. He’s got a rash up his chest that itches and burns a lot like that chickenpox rash. It’s normal, he’s assured, and they give him ointment to keep on it. Not to clear it up but rather to keep it from getting infected. Which… seems so practical if not normal. Mundane, really.

“Who?” Hotch rasps, forcing his eyes back open to squint at the TV.

Jack looks up at his father, tears streaming down his face. “Asland.” Over the course of the last few months, of course Jack can tell his father isn’t well. Everyone treats Jack like a thoughtless child, and he is child, but he’s not stupid. He knows why he has to sleep at Jessica’s and why, no matter how much Emily and Hotch make a point to only see him on Hotch’s “good” days, that his father is slowly withering away.

The thigh under Jack’s head used to be bigger. Tense with muscles not thin, almost to the bone. His father seemed to loom, towering over everything. Jack had thought him a king, a knight, a hero. Someone who, through the aches pains of it all rises triumphant and reigns on. Because his father has always been the best kind of person. Strong, vigilant, and forgiving. Surely… that would offer some forgiveness, no? An extra life in the bonus round or a break.

Hotch swallows thickly around the nausea knotting up in his throat. “Asland,” he repeats with a sigh. Right. Asland dies. They’re passed that point but he does die. For the greater good, a strategic move, but the sacrificial play none-the-less. “Sometimes,” Hotch lifts his head. “He was saving the other’s, Jack. He sacrificed himself.” He’s too tired to explain how the book was just a huge religious metaphor. “Sometimes people have to leave.”

Jack sniffles and wraps himself around Hotch’s stomach, burying his head closer. “Why?” he asks miserably.

Hotch doesn’t know. It’s never what you want but he doesn’t want to tell Jack about all of that. How at one point Jack and Haley had been the ones to leave Hotch reeling with that same question, despite logic dictating a clear answer. That Emily had done the same thing to him multiple times. Everyone on the team, really. He’s probably done it to them. If not already, then soon.

“I don’t know, buddy,” Hotch shakes his head. “I really don’t.” Jack nods his head, crying softly against Hotch. Hotch starts to rub Jack’s back, despite the ache in his limbs. “Listen…” Hotch clears his throat and Jack senses the turn in conversation. Jack sits up, looking, searching in Hotch’s eyes as he sniffles and wipes his face with the back of his hands. “I have to… We have to talk about something, buddy. About what’s been going on.”

Emily sits in the guest room and tries her best not to think about what’s going on in the living room. It was only a matter of time but… she couldn’t help but think maybe they could fix all this. It must be a matter of faulty testing. Surely, that must be the case. Hadn’t they already been through enough? Have they not lost enough?

Jessica sends her a text, Hotch isn’t answering his own phone.

Emily leaves her room, leaning out first just to see if they’re still talking. They’re not. The TV has been turned off, no sound.

Jack is curled into his father, clutching Hotch’s t-shirt in his little fist. Despite the dried tear tracks on his face, the boy looks at peace. His head tucked under Hotch’s chin and arms holding on tight, Hotch won’t be able to move without Jack noticing. Understandably, Jack has some apprehensions about his father leaving his sight.

“How’d he take the news,” Jessica asks. Her anger has melted, leaving her wilted in a puddle of emotions that she doesn’t even know where to begin to deal with. “I can’t--” she shakes her head. “I just can’t imagine it,” she whispers, glancing at Emily. “He’s so young,” she brushes her tears from her cheeks. “He can’t lose Aaron, too.”

She nods her head, she’s afraid to lose him as well. To be a child, though, living this as a reality that at any moment you might become an orphan… Jack’s only a child. He’s not even ten yet. What will he have to cling to? The cold nights come frequently and he’ll be alone. Surrounded by people but alone.

In London, there wasn’t a single moment she could step out and not get lost in crowds. It was the safest way to avoid detection. In those days, she’d clung to online Scrabble and read and rereading the letter Hotch had written her before she’d left. It was in the file with the other identities and money. While it had not been a technical element to the FBI’s idea of “everything” she might need it kept her alive.

On those cold night’s she’d curl into herself with her heating pad pressed against those old wounds and read his letter. Fingers ghosting over the ink and eyes taking in every detail. Where his hand wavered writing about Reid failing to cope. The stain of a tear beside Jack's name. Her favorite passage:

“I believe Ashley will try to leave the unit the next chance that she gets. You were her mentor and I’m afraid I have not offered her too much in claims to stake here. A part of me is partial to her staying. You were her mentor and she reflects that in the strangest moments. I hope she stays, I indulge myself in her rebellions against me. I think it reminds me of you.”

It never failed to make her smile. Take her back to the nights she’d drive home in a fit of rage or have arguments with her imaginations version of him in the shower. Cursing like a sailor but telling him how she really felt.

What will Jack cling to when Hotch is not here?

@laiba-the-person, @emily-hottie-prentiss, @unionjackpillow, @clockedstar, @baumarvel, @blakeprentiss, @qvid-pro-qvo, @aaron-hotchner187, @ssalavellan

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #cancer fic #tw cancer #tw hospital #aaron hotchner #penelope garcia #emily prentiss #jessica brooks #david rossi

[alwaysthinkingoutloud]

Hannibal Episode-by-Episode Meta/Analysis: Episode 5, Season 1 (Coquilles)

Episode opens with a scene where Will is sleepwalking on a road at night. Soon, it becomes visible that the stag is behind him. Will is under the influence of his darker side. His side which understands killers a bit too well, the same side that felt good doing it too… First, it looks like the stag is following Will, but then he stops walking and the stag pokes him a little to continue. So, Will is not the one in control; he is being driven, pushed by his inner malice unconsciously.

As it turns out, not only Hannibal’s continuous endeavors to uncover Will’s own darkness pay off -since what is driving Will in his sleepwalk is not only his own inner demons but Hannibal as well-, so does his effort to make Will believe that Jack is the sole responsible for his late unstable mind. In the beginning of the conversation, Will turns down every statement made by Hannibal that accuses Jack of overriding Will. However, he finds himself admitting to feeling overused by Jack, still refusing to demonize him though. Who knows, maybe it is because deep down he knows Jack is not the devil who offers him a bargain.

“If my body is walking around without my permission, you’d say that’s a loss of control?”  

asks Will, meaning he actually does not think that as a loss of control. I think there might be two different interpretations into that. One of them being, he does not think this as a loss of control because he knows that who is gaining that control is not somebody else, but his true, darker self. So, it can be termed as maybe a transfer of control, but not losing of it. Second option being, not being aware therefore not being responsible for his actions maybe a relief for him so he does not necessarily think of it as a loss of control, but maybe as voluntarily given-up control.

During the dinner hosted by Hannibal to Jack and Bella, “Human emotions are a gift from our animal ancestors. Cruelty is a gift humanity has given itself.” says Hannibal. In his own philosophy, sentimentality is animalistic and uncivilized, while cruelty is humane. It is also understandable for Jack that Dr. Lecter would call human emotions a gift, but not cruelty. So, it is surprising how the head of the behavioral science unit does not catch the small hints Hannibal throws his way. Because he does throw enough to suggest at least something. This one is of the rare most obvious remarks of Hannibal that reveals what is behind his person suit, yet it goes unnoticed.

Hannibal smells Bella and by doing that, her perfume brand is not the only thing he finds out about her. His reference to finding out about his teacher’s stomach cancer only by smell and giving Bella an obvious look, tell us that he knew about Bella’s cancer the second he smelled her just like he will understand Will’s encephalitis the second he smells him. Bella sees that too and most probably that is why she chooses to go to Hannibal for therapy. And surely, Hannibal is too curious to turn down a chance to have such insight about the personal and marital life of Jack.

When Will and Hannibal are together in his office, he continues bringing up the topic of Jack’s effect on Will. Will still stays in defense, but that is okay. Afterall, Hannibal is playing the long game. He does not need Will to agree with him right away. Eventually, he must have got through to Will that he lashed out at Jack in a next scene.

Later talking about the angel maker, Hannibal is telling Will that the angel maker’s ultimate motive may not be not getting caught, but surviving FBI long enough so that he can complete his own becoming. And that the angels he is making are just praying so neither FBI nor his cancer would take him before he is done. I think when Hannibal asked Will “Who prays over us when we sleep?”, what he actually asked was “Who’s got our backs when we are on the way to our becoming?”. I believe this to be a half-clear proposition of collaboration, a slight complaint of loneliness and more than those, a semi-romantic and oblique proposal of a monster.

When Will notices the stag (symbolizing his own dark side, along with other things) sculpture in Hannibal’s office, that is non-coincidentally also the same moment when Hannibal touches upon Will’s likeliness to the angel maker. Pointing out the difference between Will and the angel maker, Hannibal reminds him that his days are not numbered unlike the latter and therefore Will’s potential lays there to be discovered. When he smelled Will’s encephalitis though, he may have decided to give it a helping hand as well.

Although Will clearly tells Jack how mind-consuming it all is becoming for him and that he cannot take it anymore, Jack exhibits no concern for Will’s well-being, and he continues trying to guilt trip him. So, we have a Jack who does what he does to Will with zero worry about him in his mind, and we have a Hannibal who does what he does to Will with the ultimate goal of Will’s becoming. Again, Will’s POV-wise, Hannibal has never been the villain of this story for me.

As Will hallucinates, he admits to himself that he thinks he is one of those bad people the angel maker tried to angelize and that he does not think that the evil inside of him can be totally extracted. Another hint to suggest that his worsening mental state brings him closer to what Hannibal wants for him. So, just as all the previous killers that Will profiled show him a yet-undisclosed face of Hannibal, the angel maker teaches him the concept of becoming, which is all Hannibal ever wants for Will.

#hannibal #hannibal lecter #will #will graham #will and hannibal #hannibal and will #hannigram #brian fuller #nbc hannibal #hannibal meta #hannibal analysis #jack crawford #mads mikkelsen #hugh dancy #murder husbands #bella crawford #the stag #hannibal loves will #will loves hannibal #coquilles

[yoonia]

About Time // Part 18

Character: Jungkook x reader / Jimin x reader (feat. BTS)

↳ Type/Genre/words | Angst, Fluff, Alternate Universe (Time Travel!au/Time Leap!au, Soulmate!au), Mature/+18 only / 12k words

↳ Prompts | “What if you find your soulmate… at the wrong time?” - Lauren Kate, Passion

↳ Summary | Be careful for what you wish for, because you may never know how to deal with them once it comes true. What would you do when your wish for a second chance actually came true? But was it really a fulfilled wish? Too many questions lie when it actually happened. Were they real memories? Or perhaps a part of a past life? Was it only a dream all along? Will everything be different this time?

↳ Warnings | this chapter contains smut scenes: involving oral sex (f receiving), finger fucking (f receiving), explicit mature scene, mentions of cancer, (probably) inaccurate medical and law terms

↳ ⤎ Previous Chapter | Series Index: About Time | Next Chapter ⇢

Song Companion | Forgive Me - City & Colour

—First life. St. Vincent’s Hospital, year 2027—

Everything was a complete blur that night.

The sight of Jimin fainting right before my eyes and my screams for help still felt unreal. It still felt like I was dreaming and I was watching from far away as the nurses and the resident doctor came in to aid him. I barely remembered how I got back into my room, as the shock and the exhaustion from my late-night trip had also gotten me attached to a ventilator system by the end of all that drama so I could breathe easier. I almost didn’t remember having an attack, even if it felt like my whole chest was crushed by a loaded truck when I failed to breathe.

When I woke up two days after, as I found myself with a breathing mask covering my face, lying on the bed inside the ICU instead of my regular room, and finding my pissed off brother standing on the side of my bed, I knew that none of it was a dream.

“________,” Hoseok quickly rushed to my side when I tried to move and reaching up to pull the mask away. A few grunts escaped me when I tried to speak. “______, don’t!”

I stopped, looking at him with wide eyes. “What the hell were you thinking?” he began chastising me, his voice breaking down the more he spoke. “You should have known better than making a whole trip down the halls with your condition and without any observation. What were you trying to do?”

My hand fell to my side.

I wanted to ask him about what had happened. I wanted to ask about Jimin and how they had found me. But mostly, as I looked into his red-rimmed eyes, I wanted to apologise for making him worried. He had been swamped with cases to deal with in his office and for him to leave his work for me had only meant that things had gotten serious.

Hoseok reached for my hand and gripped tightly. “Don’t you ever do that to me again. You hear me?” I could not say anything with the mask on, so I did the next best thing and nodded my head. I had to shut my eyes when the small movement made my head spin.

“I know you’re worried about Jimin,” he added, surprising me when he brought him up before I could say anything. “But for now, let’s focus on you first. Take a good rest and recover so we can find out what happened, okay?”

Blinking away the tears in my eyes, I nodded my head once again. My head spun, and this time, I no longer fought it as I fell back to my long sleep.

It did not take only hours for me to wake up and recover as if nothing had happened, but days. I could not even process what day it was when they replaced my breathing mask with a smaller tube and cut me off from half of the machines they had activated since the night I was placed in the intensive care unit. All I knew was that I felt like a new person after having the longest sleep in my life, and even better when I found Jimin waiting next to me when I woke up.

I was still in the ICU. But that was not the only thing I noticed.

The curtain next to my bed was wide open, while the bed behind it was empty. Jimin was sitting between me and that bed, and attached to him were cables, linking him to the machines from that corner of the room.

He had been placed right beside me the whole time.

How long had he been there? How long had he known that we were side by side this entire time?

And how long had he been awake?

The question ran like waves inside my head but no words came out. All I did was lay still on my bed, looking at his face as if he would disappear anytime I blinked my eyes. I did blink. He did not fade away like some imaginary figure appearing on my line of sight. Instead, he smiled and reached out for my hand.

His skin was ghostly pale and he looked terribly exhausted. But as I looked down on our entwined hands, I noticed that I was nearly just as pale as he was, as if the crimson shade of blood had left my skin while I was out.

“Hey,” he whispered, pulling my eyes back to him.

“Hey,” I answered with croaked voice, and he instantly reached out to help me drink. That was when I noticed something else. His hand was shaking as he held out the glass and straw for me to take.

“Good to see you looking better.”

“I was worried about you.”

Both of us spoke at the same time and we both chuckled. “Have you been watching me sleep?” I asked him, smiling when shades of pink returned to his cheeks.

“You know how much I love watching you sleep.”

I was still too weak to move around, but it did not stop me from resting sideways so I could take a better look at him. His words hit me hard inside my chest and I realised how much I missed him. Being apart from him was painful. More painful than I had ever thought it would be. And the thought of me losing him—

“I saw you that night,” I whispered when things began to come back. When I remembered what I saw. “Jimin—all that blood, what—” I choked out, while he tried to avoid looking into my eyes. “What is going on? Is there something you’re not telling me?”

“_________,” he started, only to stop himself and close his eyes.

“It wasn’t the first time I saw you coughing blood,” I said, the words came tumbling out of my lips when I suddenly remembered the night he fell after fighting with Jungkook. When I remembered the blood spilling out of his lips and how I kept finding bloody tissues once or twice when he was not looking. “It wasn’t just because of Jungkook’s attack, was it?”

“No, it wasn’t. But it had gotten worse after I got hit that night,” he finally admitted with remorse filling his words.

“What are you not telling me?” I asked him. Fear lacing my words.

I knew I would never like what he was going to say. I hated it even more to think that he couldn’t be honest with me. That he had been hiding something from me and I had failed to notice.

“I’ve told you everything that has been going on with me. You could have shared these things with me, Jimin. Or—is there any reason why you feel like you can’t talk to me about it?

“No, it’s not that,” he quickly explained. When I looked up to his face, there was some kind of guilt appearing in his gaze. “It’s just that—there is something that I haven’t been able to tell you, because I just wanted to be with you without anything shadowing us and you would chastise me for pushing myself too hard. And I can’t let you deal with my problem when you have so much to deal with.”

“What is it?”

“My condition has been getting worse for a while now,” he sighed. His shoulders sagging in defeat as he finally began to spill out everything he had kept to himself. “______, while you were out, I had my final test run.”

He tightened his grip on my hand and stared deeply into my eyes. There were no words spoken, yet the silence was enough to let me know that it was bad. Really bad. The way his jaw twitched and his eyes began to glisten with remorseful tears said it all.

“No,” I said to him, wishing that I could shut my ears so I would not hear anything. Shaking my head, I begged and hoped that he would not be saying things I knew he was trying to say, things I refused to accept. “Don’t say it—”

Jimin took both my hands in his when I began pulling away, refusing to believe that this was happening. “There is nothing they could do. It has spread too much, and—”

“No!” I leapt from the bed despite the pain in my body and wrapped my arms around him, holding him close. I always had this feeling that he was disappearing and that had been the reason why I had always kept him close, why I had always had the urge to touch him, to hold him, and now he was telling me that he really was going to disappear from my life, just when I finally began to love again. When I began to love him.

“I can’t lose you, Jimin. Tell me you’re not going to leave me.”

He wrapped his arms around me, holding me tighter against his chest while I felt his cheek pressing into my thinning hair. I could feel his soft breath falling on my neck, but he said nothing. He made no promises, knowing that he had no idea whether or not he would be able to fulfil them.

All he ever did was hold me, letting me feel his racing heartbeat to let me know that he was real, that he was still there at that moment to be with me and that he was holding to every bit of hope that was left for us.

When the next day arrived and the visiting hours were up, Jungkook finally came to see me.

I was still in the ICU for my final observation and it surprised me to see him being allowed inside, until I finally remembered—that he was still my husband.

The memory of our last conversation still left a bitter taste on my tongue and a tight feeling inside my chest. That was why I have failed to acknowledge the distraught look he carried, nor the dark bags under his eyes that would have let me know that he had not been taking care of himself like he should have been.

“It took you long enough to come out of your hiding and come back,” I said, keeping my voice steady. After meeting my brother-in-law, I knew that we needed to properly talk without fighting, without getting too emotional that we ended up hurting each other instead of getting all the answers we needed. The last thing I needed was getting all riled up and getting worse because of it when all I wanted was to get out of here.

Yet when he gave me no answers and had only stared at me with a longing gaze, I was reminded of all those times in the past when he would run away when we had a problem and how I would end up finding out where—or who—he was running to, and I just couldn’t help myself.

“Why did you come back, Jungkook?” I asked him, still keeping my voice calm even when my chest felt constricted. There was no denying that the pull between us was still there, though not as strong as how it used to be. But the hurt he caused me was also present, just as strongly as how it had always been. “Has the woman you chose as your distraction this time bore you to death already? Have you gotten enough of her that you sought for me again?”

My accusation caught him off guard that he visibly winced. I almost regretted ever saying something when the look of hurt and disappointment came out strongly in his eyes.

“There was no woman. I just—needed some time, and some space, to think clearly. Since I, obviously, can’t do that whenever I am near you. Not when it comes to losing you,” he finally said, stuttering a bit and had his voice cracking. “They called me when you got into ICU, the night you fainted. I tried to come here as fast as I could.”

I opened my mouth to speak. But he stopped me. His hands reached out to me, only to stop at the edge of the bed.

“But that’s not the only reason why I’m here,” he told me, keeping his eyes on me and his hands clutched on top of the cold sheets. “I’m here to make it right. I’m here to say that I’m sorry for everything I’ve put you through and for everything I said the last time we spoke. I came here to ask for your forgiveness. But most of all, to have your permission for me to stay.”

My jaw almost dropped to the floor at what he had just said to me.

“Are you serious?” I scoffed, though he gave me nothing, not even a change of expression. In fact, he gave me a look which said that he was nervous yet still determined to get what he wanted.

“Why are you doing this, Jungkook?” I asked him, genuinely wondering if he really was being such a hard-ass about letting me go. “Why are you only fighting now? There is nothing left here, Jungkook. I am nothing but a shell of the person you loved and married.”

When he said nothing, I kept on talking, letting all the words I had wanted to say since the day we last argued to come out so he could hear me out. “You have broken me. You left me broken into pieces again, and again, and left me behind to fix it on my own. So I kept fixing, and fixing, until there was nothing left to fix and I don’t even know who I was anymore other than a pile of dust you have left rotting on the ground.”

My tears fell as I spoke, but I held myself steady. I could see the hurt in his eyes which mirrored mine, regret coming out strongly as he did nothing but listen.

“The last time we talked, you asked me if I had chosen him, why I had chosen Jimin over you,” I said, my voice coming out as a whisper while his jaw twitched with emotions. “I’ve chosen to be with him because he didn’t come into my life to patch my broken pieces. He came into my life when he was just as broken as I was and since then he has been the one bringing me back to life. To love. So if you’re doing—whatever it is you are plotting to do to get me back, then the answer is no, Jungkook. There is no way for me to come back, because there is nothing left of my old self that had once loved you. That part of me is gone.”

Speaking up like that was exhausting that I wanted nothing more than to just slump back into the bed and to give in to sleep once more. But I braced myself, ready to face any argument that may come from him, knowing that he would never back down so easily.

But he surprised me once again when he released a deep sigh and his shoulder fell in defeat. Then I watched how his hands loosened up before he spoke.

“I know that. And you’re right. There is nothing for us to come back to,” he said, clenching his jaw as if those words were too painful to speak of. “But that doesn’t stop me from loving you and wanting to make things right for you.”

“Jungkook—”

Without giving me any chance to argue, he reached down to his briefcase and pulled out a folder. The familiar-looking folder which I had received from Hoseok and left for him to sign.

“That’s—that’s what I’ve been doing while I was away,” he told me as he handed the folder gently into my hands.

His hands were shaking and so did his breath when he began to explain.

“I have signed the papers and had the court finalise our divorce. I have also arranged everything to make it easier for you in the future. I’ve had arranged for our house to be sold so you can have enough funds for your treatments and enough savings so you could—” he choked out a sob and stopped to take a deep breath, “—so you could find a place to live in and move on. I wanted to leave the house for you, but I know it wouldn’t be right if you want a fresh start.”

His lips twitched and I could tell what he was meaning to say but couldn’t. He would never dare to say his name, but at least he was beginning to accept the fact that we could no longer be.

Jungkook looked into my eyes when he continued to speak, the determined look in his eyes returning to him with every word he said.

“I’ve let you down and made you feel lonely even when we were together. I have given you too much pain and all the burden to fight for both of us while I gave up on us so easily, while I was acting like a coward and would run away each time trouble gets in the way. I’m going to change that and make up for all of my mistakes.”

I was lost for words. This turn of event was completely unexpected. I was ready to fight when I had thought he would fight back harder. But I was wrong.

Then I was kept in more silence when he kept talking, finally letting me know what he really wanted from me.

“In exchange for—everything, I won’t be greedy to ask for more, only for your forgiveness and that you would let me be here to support you,” he said to me without ever looking away. The pain in his eyes was palpable and I could tell how hard it was for him to tell me all of this. But I was not ready to hear what he asked of me next.

“Even if I can’t have you in my life as my wife, at least let me be here for you. Allow me to stay by your side. As a friend.”

—Present life. Jimin’s Apartment, year 2017—

A comfortable warmth was enveloping me just as I was slowly waking up in the morning.

I could feel sunlight streaming through the windows, but that was not the one which had me feeling so pleasant and safe. An arm was wrapped around my middle, together with the strong chest that was pressed against me and the warm skin under my palm, I was completely engulfed by his comfort.

With a slow stretch to relax my tired limbs, my eyes began to flutter open. They were still heavy with sleep, but I could still see Jimin’s face right in front of me. We were lying side by side, facing each other, and he was already awakened. His eyes watching me closely, though his face gave nothing away to let me know what he was thinking.

“Have you been watching me sleeping?” I groggily asked him as I slowly shut my eyes again, still unwilling to wake up and walk away from this warmth. When he gave me no answer, I blinked my eyes open, still finding him staring at me the same way.

A moment passed, and his gaze softened. Then a lazy smile grew slowly on his face. “You know how much I love watching you sleep,” he whispered while brushing a finger up my cheek. “You always look so peaceful, so innocent, like one small touch could break you apart and you will disappear from me.”

Reaching up, I cupped my hand on his cheek and kissed his jaw. “I will never disappear from you, Jimin.”

I could never.

Unless you disappear from me first. Again.

Jimin’s eyes were downcast as I continued nipping at his jaw, holding myself back from reaching to his lips when I had just woken up. But then he looked up, looking straight into my eyes, taking in my expression before he lowered his head and captured my mouth in his.

It started as a gentle kiss at first, his lips moved languidly against mine, before he deepened it and it became a lazy make out session.

His tongue darted out and I could feel it grazing at the seam of my lips, so I parted them for him. He took the opportunity to taste my mouth, drinking me in, then he pushed himself up and shifted us both together until I was beneath him.

“I want you so bad,” he murmured against my lips, while my chest fluttered, as if there were a thousand butterflies flying inside me from how much I wanted him and knowing that he wanted me the same way.

“I want you too, Jimin,” I told him between each kiss we gave each other.

Jimin pressed his body on me as he slowly moved lower, his lips trailed down my jaw and my legs spread apart for him. His crotch had somehow ended right at the apex of my thighs and both of us shared a soft moan as we pressed against each other.

I had only been wearing an oversized shirt which he had gotten for me before I went to bed last night and a pair of flimsy cotton panties underneath to sleep. So right at that moment, as he pressed his lower region against mine, I could feel everything. Most of all, it was the hardness that had formed at his crotch and how it twitched as he brushed himself against my center that had gotten my whole body reacting to him, every nerve ending in my body coming awake instantly.

“Jimin—” I gasped out his name when I suddenly felt a pulse began to build up right at my center, exactly where his bulge was rubbing against. “I know I told you that I wanted to wait, but—” I groaned, stopping briefly only to spread my legs wider and pushed up against him, wanting to feel more. “What if I don’t want to wait anymore?”

My words must have ignited something in him because he released a low groan, the sound vibrated through his chest and I could feel his heartbeat pacing fast. “Don’t say things that are going to mess up my mind. It’s going to be a long day today and I won’t be seeing you until much later tonight,” he pleaded to me as he began kissing me harder.

“I’m just telling you the truth. I’m ready for more, Jimin,” I chuckled softly against his lips and he suddenly froze.

Jimin pulled himself away from me so he could look at my face. He watched me closely, his eyes searching for something on my face which might be able to tell him that I was probably joking. But whatever it was that he saw in my eyes had probably said things differently, because his jaw fell open and he carefully asked me,

“Are you serious?”

Nodding my head, I chewed on my lips and said, “Yes. I’ve been waiting for a long time, Jimin.”

Too long.

“I want you and I don’t want to wait any longer.”

Jimin’s eyes darkened and I could easily tell where his mind had gone to. I pressed my palm over his chest and felt his heartbeat, his breath was caught for a moment when our eyes met, still completely bewildered to hear my confession, but he was quick to shake himself out of it.

Leaning down, he captured my lips again. This time, the kiss grew instantly deeper and it held a promise as he pushed his tongue in, letting me suck him before he pulled out and bit my lips gently.

“Tonight,” he said to me as he pulled back, pressing his forehead against mine as he made his promise. The desire and the love coming from his eyes were clear when he looked at me. “Why don’t we go out, have a date with me tonight and we’ll see how things go from there.”

“Okay,” I immediately answered him without any second thought. Meanwhile, his eyes widened, clearly wasn’t expecting to have me agree so easily.

“Okay?” he asked me, still not sure that he was hearing me right. “Are you sure? Like—completely sure about this? I’m just making sure you’re not just saying this for me, or—”

Biting my lips just as I felt a smile growing on my face, I nodded to answer before he could continue rambling on. “I’ve never been more sure about anything else in my whole life,” I told him, cupping his face in my hands. “I want you,” I added, while I bucked my hips upward, brushing my heat against the covered bulge that had suddenly felt harder and heavier now after we started this talk.

The move I made earned a deep groan coming from him. “Great, I’m going to be thinking about this all day,” he whined as he buried his face on my neck.

“I’m sorry,” I chuckled.

“Don’t be,” he said, and I shuddered when I felt his lips pressing against the nape of my neck, kissing me at the most sensitive part of my skin. “Because I have a way to make sure that you will also be thinking of me the whole day,” he quickly added while kissing his way down my throat.

Gently, yet still somehow doing it feverishly, he trailed his kisses down my neck to the mounds of my breasts while his hands reached down. His palms ran down the curves of my body, feeling me up from my waist to my hips, before finding the hem of my shirt.

I had ditched my bra when I changed into my sleeping attire last night since I was already too exhausted and it was so hot, and now I was paying the price.

As Jimin bunched up the hem of my shirt, the fabric became tighter against my body. The shirt kept rubbing against my pert nipples, which had grown hard from the sultry kisses Jimin was giving me and from the heat that his touches had ignited on me. My nipples had grown so sensitive that I couldn’t help but release a series of moans into his mouth when he returned to kiss my lips again, my body kept shuddering as the delightful sparks of pleasure rushed up and down my body to each time my own shirt rubbed up against me.

Jimin slipped his hands under my shirt, stopping at my waist. Distracting me with his kisses, his lips kept sucking and nipping at mine, his hands caught the waistband of my panties and gently peeled them off of me.

He continued climbing down on me, lips trailing kisses down south over the shirt I was wearing, stopping briefly to take my covered nipples into his mouth, sucking on them one at a time while his hands worked on stripping my lower region.

Sitting back, he pulled away from me so he could roll my panties down my legs while watching my chest rising and falling. I caught him smiling, licking his lips as he looked down between my legs and climbed down to take his position between them.

Placing his hands on my knees, he looked up to me as he was spreading them wide for him. He licked his lips and lowered his head between my legs, never looking away even for a second as he did.

My clit throbbed against the morning air, the heat between my folds increased rapidly as he slowly moved his lips on the inside of my thighs, kissing and nipping the skin until I was shaking in his hold. His warm breath fell against my soaked folds once he was finally right there where I needed him the most. His lips grazed at my nether lips, kissing my folds before his tongue flicked across it, moving from my soaking slit and up to find my clit, making me gasp at the touch.

In one quick movement, he thrust his fingers inside of me, moving slowly and gently as he knew that I had never done this before. Not in this lifetime. His lips closed over my clit, sucking and licking, switching between each ministration until I was gasping with both pleasure and pain.

“Fuck, baby—you’re so wet,” he groaned against my core. “I can feel you getting tighter. Does this feel good, babe? Am I hurting you?”

I opened my mouth to answer, yet the only thing I could register to give him was a few cries. So I moved my head, shaking left and right over the pillows, letting him know that I was not in any kind of pain and begging him not to stop.

Judging from his deep chuckle, I knew that he understood what I wanted—no, needed. And his lips latched back on to me. “Good,” he murmured against my folds. “Because I want to make you come. I want to taste you on my tongue and have you think about how good it would be when I finally take you tonight.”

Removing his fingers, he replaced them with his warm tongue and entered my pulsing walls. He kept thrusting his tongue inside me while his nose kept rubbing against my clit. The friction he was making was mind-blowing and I was beginning to lose control. He must have sensed it, because he held me down, gripping the inside of my thighs to keep me spread apart for him while keeping me from kicking my legs around him.

As the pleasure kept rising, my muscles coiling tight at the center, he growled and pressed harder against my heat. He knew I was close and he was not going to stop until I finally reached it.

“Yes, that’s it, baby,” he groaned. I had my eyes closed and my body arched upward on the bed, my hands clutching tight at the sheets, and I could feel the heat of his gaze on me, watching me closely as I unraveled under his touch. Planting the heels of my foot into the bed, I rolled my hips against his mouth to chase it all, the rush that was climbing up my body so fiercely.

“Let go, baby. Let go for me.”

With one last thrust of his tongue and a circling motion made by his thumb around my clit, I finally exploded, being thrust not so gently over the edge until I released and erupted on his mouth and gentle fingers. My orgasm came so intensely, delightful sparks of pleasure rushing through my body like never before. I kept screaming out his name and continued rocking my hips against his mouth until the last remnants of my orgasm finally subsided.

Breathing hard, I laid there on the bed until Jimin began climbing his way up. I watched him as he licked and wiped his mouth clean from my release, a satisfied grin took over his face when he saw just how sated I was.

Then he leaned down, pressing his lips on me for a gentle kiss, while I breathlessly returned it only to taste myself in his tongue.

“You taste so sweet, baby. Just like cherries. I think I’ve found my new favourite dessert.,” he whispered against my lips, while his hands ran down my body, gently soothing me while my body was still shuddering and spasming after my climax.

I hummed softly against his lips, my heart was pounding hard but it was something that he said to me that left a painful pang inside my chest. “So—not like the cough syrup?” I asked him while looking into his eyes.

“No, nothing like that,” he chuckled and pulled back, looking down on me with his intense gaze when he added, “More like the sweetest dessert a guy could ever have. Like those cherry pies I like so much. I will never get over this taste. Ever.”

Reaching up to him, I placed a hand on the back of his neck and pulled him back in for a kiss. A deeper one, moulding our lips together while whispering to him, “I sure hope you won’t.”

—Present life. Blue Smoker’s Pub, year 2017—

[06.49 PM] To Jimin: Hey there, busy boy. Are we still on tonight?

[06.51 PM] From Jimin: Tonight? Oh, the date. Yes, of course.

[06.53 PM] To Jimin: What? Did you forget about me already? :(

[06.56 PM] From Jimin: Of course not, baby. How could I ever?

[06.57 PM] From Jimin: I can’t stop thinking about you

[06.58 PM] To Jimin: Me too

[06.59 PM] To Jimin: Miss you already :(

[07.01 PM] From Jimin: Miss you too. Are you on your way to see Tae?

[07.04 PM] To Jimin: Yeah. I’ll be waiting for you there. If that’s okay.

[07.06 PM] From Jimin: Good. I’ll be there to pick you up once you’re done. Just remember, tonight, you are mine.

“Let me guess. You must be texting my cousin.”

Startled, I snapped my head to see Jisoo in the driver’s seat, giving me a knowing smile as she glanced at my way while she continued driving.

“Is it really that obvious?” I asked her, making her laugh instead.

“It really is when you have that dreamy look in your eyes while you’re typing on the phone. And you barely raised your head to make sure you wouldn’t miss a thing. Tell me if there is any other time when you would normally reply to a message so quickly the way you do with Jimin.”

I chewed my lips, realising that she was absolutely right. I was not the type of person who would keep my phone in my hand 24/7, but I would always have a hard time looking away from the device when it had to do with Jimin.

“Sorry, I hope you don’t mind me being extra busy with your cousin,” I said to her with a grin.

Jisoo only shrugged. “It’s fine. I love seeing the two of you happy. You both mean a lot to me and it makes me happy when you guys are.”

“Awww, that’s so sweet of you,” I teased her while leaning my head against her shoulder and she laughed even harder.

“You better stop that right now before I drive this car into a tree!”

My head fell back as I laughed and I leaned back in my seat. “Is it weird to have your roommate dating your cousin though?”

Jisoo creased her eyebrows for a moment before shaking her head. “Not really. And it’s almost-ex-roommate, by the way. You’re practically never there,” she said before pouting playfully to tease me.

“Sorry about that, I never meant to leave you hanging all by yourself in the dorm room.”

“It’s fine,” she waved at me. “Since you’re halfway of moving in with Jimin, it makes me think about Jiwon’s offer of finding a place together.”

At the mention of Jisoo’s boyfriend, I watched how her eyes glimmered with excitement and suddenly felt happy for her. The two of them had been dating since forever. They met during freshman years, and Jiwon had done all he could to get her attention until the day she agreed to start seeing him. Not that he had any hard time to attract Jisoo in the first place. He had entered our university through a scholarship after he had won multiple lacrosse tournaments in high school, yet he never acted like other jocks or frat boys and had been taking his study so seriously that even I had started to admire the boy.

But he also moved fast.

Since he was done with the lifestyle he had gotten from living in his frat house, Jiwon had decided to step out of it and began his search for an apartment. The only problem was that he had persuaded Jisoo to move in with him. With me rarely being in the dorm, it gave him more reason to coax Jisoo into giving in.

“Have you given it a thought? About moving in?”

Jisoo sighed without looking away from the road. “I have. I know we’ve been dating for a while now but I still think it’s too early to do something like that and I’d feel like a freeloader if he pays for everything.”

I lifted my eyebrows. “Ah, so that’s why you insisted to come with me today for that part-time job interview.”

“Yep,” she grinned. “I figured if I could find a way to afford it, I won’t feel so guilty if I finally agree to move out of the dorm. Especially when he still insists on buying us a lodge instead of getting an apartment.”

Smiling to myself, I couldn’t help but agree with her. I knew I would feel the same if Jimin should ever bring up anything about living together, though thankfully, he hadn’t.

And the job interview I had just gotten out of really had nothing to do with making future plannings or saving up for anything serious like that. Not for me.

I was determined to take any chances that I could have to do everything that my past self had missed out on, and one of the things that I had found out about that part of me was the fact that I had never had a chance to enjoy college life the way I wanted. I could see myself partying in those memories, though it had somehow become something I didn’t miss. Finishing my studies at the university had become my first focus after knowing that it was my first failure. Then I found out that I had always wanted to have a part-time job to make me feel more independent than how I used to be then.

I had been doing small jobs since the second year, tutoring other students in my class and from the year below me between classes. But when Taehyung had told me that there was an opening at the coffee shop where he used to work at, I had to try and come for the interview. Then Jisoo tagged along after I told her about it, yet I didn’t exactly know why she suddenly became interested in finding side jobs until now.

The interview had lasted a bit longer than expected when the manager sat down with us to have a friendly chat to get to know us after the interview was over. Which was why I had Jisoo with me now, giving me a ride to the pub where I was supposed to meet Taehyung before my date with Jimin later.

My phone chimed as another message came in and I instantly looked down, hoping that it would be Jimin.

“Is it him again? Are you guys still texting even if you’re meeting up with him in about an hour?”

I chuckled. “No, it’s Taehyung. He texted to let me know that he’ll be a bit late,” I answered while I texted my response. Then my mind came back to Jimin and I couldn’t help but sigh. “I know I’ve spent so much time with Jimin but I can’t help but miss him already. And it’s only been a day without him.”

I had to resist placing a palm over my chest when I felt how true those words were. Jimin was right when he said that today was going to be a long day.

With both of us having classes the whole day, all packed with long lectures and assignments as it was almost time for finals, then added with Jimin’s dance practice at the end of the day and the interview, I had to go by the whole day without seeing him. Yet he had made good of his promise of giving me something to think about while we were apart. His kisses and the way he brought me to climax this morning still remained in my thoughts that I could barely focus on my lectures. Then each time I would let the thought of him stray away from my mind, he would be there to remind me of his presence through texts and calls, making sure that I wouldn’t run away before our date tonight.

Not that I ever could.

The only thing that I didn’t exactly expect to happen this night was that I would have to split my time tonight between seeing him and dealing with a few other things at the same time. I had made a promise to meet Taehyung right before the date, and while I was at it, I was going to meet the one other person who I probably shouldn’t be searching for after I had been avoiding him for weeks.

“Are you sure you don’t want to hang out with us for a while?” I asked Jisoo as she was dropping me off in front of the pub.

Shaking her head, Jisoo looked over at the digital clock showing up on her dashboard. “I should probably go now and pick-up Jiwon at his practice. The boy is expecting me and I know he’d skip dinner if I’m not there soon.”

Jisoo talked about his boyfriend’s clinginess while rolling her eyes, while I only laughed a little. “Alright then, say hi to your boyfriend for me.”

“And tell that cousin of mine to play nice or I’ll whoop his ass myself,” she said with a wink.

I stayed outside a while longer and watched her drive away until her headlights faded out in the streets before I walked into the pub. The place opened since 5 PM, serving dinner buffet early in the night before the drinking crowd would start coming in, and it was almost packed already when I got in.

I sent a quick text to Taehyung to tell him that I was already at the pub and told him to take his time. Then I looked around the pub as I looked for an empty seat, eyes searching through the crowd before stopping at the stage where one of the staff was setting things up for tonight’s musical performance.

The last time I met up with Taehyung was when I asked him to hand me the notes that he still had with him, added with a few tapes of our old conversations which he had recorded years ago when I was still in the hospital and later when I was recuperating. I had spent a few days digging through our chat logs and the diaries, only to find something interesting. And I couldn’t wait to show them all to him.

There was another reason why I asked him to come to the pub instead of meeting up someplace quiet. I wanted Taehyung to know about him. To be able to see that the person we had been talking about was real.

Although just as I finally stepped into the pub, I began to have doubts about my plans for tonight. I just realised then that I had no clue if Jungkook would be here tonight. I had no knowledge of his schedules and it had been a couple of weeks since I had last seen him.

But then, just as I was beginning to ask myself if I had completely lost my mind for wanting to see him, he suddenly appeared, as if fate answered my questions and doubts for me.

My heart started beating faster when I saw Jungkook stepping onto the stage. I watched him as he placed his acoustic guitar down and helped the staff with the other equipments while my legs were rooted on the spot, unable to decide whether I should stay or run away.

He still had yet to notice me there, watching, completely entranced at his movements for a moment before I snapped myself and began to walk further into the pub. I let him finish his work as I finally sat down on one of the empty booths not too far the stage. As I finally settled down on the seat, placing my bag of notes next to me, I looked back up to the stage to find him already looking at me. His eyes were wide, looking both surprised and amused for finding me there. Then his lips slowly formed into a lazy grin, and I began to question my decision of coming here.

A waitress came to my table, unknowingly coming to my rescue by distracting me from Jungkook. I took my time to order my drink, even though I could still feel the heat of his gaze on me. As the waitress made her way to the bar, I kept my eyes down, holding back the urge to raise my head so I could see him on the stage.

Except that he was no longer there.

I turned my eyes to look down o the floor, unwilling to let myself be caught searching for him, until I saw a pair of black boots stopping right beside me.

“Hey, didn’t expect to see you here tonight,” I heard his voice, and there was no way I could pretend I didn’t see him now that he was here.

Taking a deep breath, I finally looked up to him. The moment I saw his eyes, I was surprised to see the mixture of emotions he was showing me then. There was relief, sadness, and fear in his gaze, and another look which I couldn’t decipher before his gaze softened when it flickered to the empty seat in front of me.

“Can I sit with you?”

I nodded my head. “Sure.”

Jungkook licked his lips as he sat down, looking terribly nervous for a moment that he could barely meet my eyes. Neither of us made any move or effort to start talking, until the waitress returned with my order of drink, a glass of rum and coke, then the ice between us broke when Jungkook released a heavy breath when she walked away.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you,” he finally said, looking at me.

“So have I,” I said in return, biting my tongue when I expected him to call me out for disappearing. Though I couldn’t also tell if he had made any effort of trying to see me at the dorms either.

“About that day—” he started, and a hint of regret came over his eyes for a brief moment before he blinked and it was gone. “I shouldn’t have kissed you without warning. I must have surprised you. For that, I’m sorry. Although I’m not completely sorry that I did.”

“What do you mean?” I asked him, only to have him giving me a look which could hardly tell me what he was thinking about. So I decided to be blunt instead. “Why did you kiss me? And why did you run?”

Jungkook rubbed a hand over his face and took a deep breath. “Do you want to hear an honest answer?”

Do I? — I wondered.

I hesitated for a moment. As much as I would like to hear his reasons, how much would I know it wouldn’t be something that I never wished to hear?

“Yes,” I ended up saying. “Of course, I want to.”

Jungkook smiled and tilted his head a little. “I kissed you because I wanted to,” he simply said, as if it wasn’t a big deal at all. As if it was something that I should have known about already. “I’ve wanted to kiss you since the first day I saw you.”

I opened and closed my mouth, so caught off guard that I had nothing to say to that. My chest clenched from the way he was looking at me when he said those words, when the intensity of his gaze was pressuring me that I could hardly breathe.

“Then why did you run instead of saying anything?”

A glimpse of regret flashed through his gaze and he looked away, blinking his eyes until it vanished. “Because I wasn’t—I mean, I—” he stopped himself and exhaled a deep breath. “You were not the only one who was caught off guard.”

He turned to look at me again and gave me a rueful smile, a hint of sadness appearing in his eyes when he finally explained, “I ran because I was angry at myself and afraid, because it wasn’t meant to happen that way. I’ve pictured kissing you, telling you how I feel, and I have made an elaborate plan on doing it. But that day, when you spent the entire afternoon with me, when you were there, listening to all the things I shared with you—actually listened—and looking at me just like how I wanted you to look at me, I couldn’t resist it. I felt this pull that was so strong inside me that the only thing I wanted was to get closer, to touch you, to kiss you.”

His lips twisted into a tight smile and he leaned over the table. “I know you feel it too. Because there has to be a reason why—”

Once again, he stopped himself without explaining any further and left me wondering.

“I’m sorry,” he continued, still looking at me while a wave of emotions came flooding through his gaze. “I’m sorry that I kissed you and touched you without permission. I’m sorry for invading your personal space and for being such a jackass about it. That wasn’t supposed to happen. Not that way.”

Giving him a wry smile, I nodded and said, “In a way, you did apologise right before you ran away. So you’re pretty much forgiven on that part.”

Jungkook gave a sheepish smile at that, probably embarrassed at the memory of that day. “Thanks.”

A beat of silence came between us, and I looked away to pass the awkward moment growing on the table to glance at the first singer who was testing the microphone. She began playing a soft tune, a mellow song from the 90s which I had recognised as one of the regular songs that would always be requested by the pub’s patrons during nights like this one.

When I turned to look at Jungkook again, I found him still looking at me. Though it felt more as if he was looking through me with his deep penetrating gaze, searching for something beyond what he was seeing at the moment.

“I like you, ______. I really do. I felt it when we first met and it had never changed ever since,” he spoke softly over the song, sounding so sincere that it left me stunned and speechless. Especially when his face pinched with pain when he added, “I just didn’t think you’d have a boyfriend already when I found you.”

Again, he stole my words. I had no idea how to respond to that. “You’ve been a good friend, Jungkook,” was the only thing I could say, somehow earning a sad smile from him when he heard it.

“Really? How would you know that? We’ve only met a few times and talked for almost less, so how could you tell that I could be a good friend?”

I looked at him in the eyes and asked him in return, “Then tell me how could you tell that you like me that much even if we haven’t known each other for longer than what you had insinuated?”

For a moment, I was expecting to see him flustered for having me throwing his words back on him. What I didn’t expect to hear was hearing him saying his conviction so firmly,

“Because I do like you that much.”

The soft hum of the singer’s voice singing on the stage came between us when neither of us said a thing. The intensity of his gaze suddenly felt like it was too much for me to handle, while his words kept spinning in my head.

“I could be your friend. If that’s what you really want from me, or what you need me to be at this moment,” he finally spoke after a while, as if he was answering the unspoken questions I had in my head for me, surprising me with it.

But before I ever had a chance to breathe a sigh of relief, he quickly added, “But I’m not going to back down from trying.”

My jaw fell slack, and I lost my words yet again.

“And I will be here, always. So whenever you decide to let him go or when you finally realise that you and your sweet lover aren’t meant to be together, I’ll be there for you,” he said, growing more and more firm and emotional the more he spoke before stopping all so suddenly. His eyes moved away just as he was about to speak some more, flickering away from my face to look over my shoulder. He seemed surprised for the briefest of moments, a crease was formed on his eyebrows, before his gaze softened with recognition, which turned into a mix of confusion and anger.

They were all gone in a second when he looked at me again. “You’re staying for the show, right? I’ll be playing a song just for you. Enjoy your night, ______.”

He pushed himself off of his seat without waiting for my answer, only giving me one last promise before he walked away. “All I want for you is to be happy. And I’m the one who knows how to make sure of it.”

I was completely at lost for words, too stunned to react or to move that all I could do was watch his retreating back as he walked towards the backstage area. Everything around me felt like they were covered in a haze, the sounds became white noise while all movements stilled as my heartbeat continued to pound and my mind continued to reel over everything he just said to me. I was too lost in my shock that I didn’t notice someone coming into my booth until his voice startled me.

“Is that him?”

My head snapped around to find Taehyung standing right beside me. Only that he was not looking at me as he asked me the question. He was looking straight at Jungkook’s back until the sight of him disappeared, blending in with the crowd lounging around the stage.

“Yeah,” I muttered softly. “That’s him. That was Jungkook.”

“Were you talking to him just now?” he asked, still not looking at me. And now I was stunned at the hostility in his tone of voice as he regarded Jungkook, even when the guy was no longer on sight.

“I was. I just wanted to clear out some misunderstandings,” I told him, wincing when I couldn’t even believe my own words.

Taehyung said nothing for a while and only sighed. “Right,” he muttered, just as the tension on his body slowly dissipated. He finally turned to look at me then and took a seat, choosing a different chair from the one Jungkook had been sitting on.

I let him take his time to order drinks—an apple daiquiri for himself, since he had started to detest the taste of beer after having a beer meltdown during a party last semester, and a refill of rum and coke for me—while I took my time to settle down my thoughts. There was nothing I could do to wipe away the feeling that Jungkook had ignited in me through his words, from his solid promises and the look in his eyes when he bared himself for me.

“What did you talk about?” Taehyung spoke after taking a sip of his sweet drink, an odd choice for a male if a person didn’t know him as much as I did.

“Like I said, we were clearing out some misunderstanding,” I said, lifting my glass to hide my lips and stop myself from telling him about the confession that Jungkook had just thrown at me. Taehyung had already spent the last few weeks being mad at Jungkook after I had told him about the kiss. He didn’t need to know that Jungkook was thinking way more than just giving me a friendly kiss. “He’s different.”

“That’s not what I was asking. But who am I to judge a person I know nothing about?” Taehyung calmly said, though it still felt like a stab right to my chest.

For some reason, it got me feeling spiteful about it. Enough to turn things against him and asked, “Is he different?”

Taehyung raised his eyebrows. “Namjoon?” he questioned me, possibly already guessing that I was trying to put the spotlight on him so I could reign his anger down, and to stop him from making me feel guilty.

“I’m not sure yet. But you know what I think about these things. About fate. I know that you are the one re-living things. But it doesn’t mean I’m not going to change a few things myself,” he said with a low voice, looking down on his glass with wonder in his eyes. Then his lips twisted into a wry grin. “He’s still a hunk, though.”

His comment made me laugh and the tension between us faded.

Looking at my best friend, I suddenly felt glad that I had made a few changes in our lives already even from the very first beginning. I kept looking back to the memories I had of our past lives, our past relationship, and had been relieved that one of the first steps I took in order to make a difference and to fix things was to lay things out in the open.

In the past, Taehyung had been so selfless that he kept putting me first above himself. In order to protect me and my heart, he hid behind his imaginary closet and masked his own identity, which in the end, had led him to hide his problems away from me while I was dealing with mine. He kept his secrets so well, letting me dwell in my own life problems and be blinded to all the misery and pain that he had to go through while he was also fighting to protect me from getting hurt.

That was the reason for our fallout, that I looked past his hurt because I was so engrossed in my own pain that I failed to see him through his secrets. The secrets that wouldn’t have been revealed until years later, when he found himself entangled in a jumbled mess caused by a certain someone. And that someone was the handsome, sweet-talking senior who Taehyung had been infatuated and had a relationship with in secret without ever having been able to tell me about it.

That was the first change I made. I confronted his secrets the same week I revealed my suspicion that I had woken up after living in the future. He probably wouldn’t have truly believed me if I didn’t expose him of his secrets then.

“Alright, enough talk about life-ruining, troublemaking males,” he said, giving out an exasperated sigh and turned his attention to the bag which I had placed on the empty seat beside me.

“So, what do we know about those?” he asked me, pointing on the stack of notebooks peeking from the top of my tote bag. “Still a bit weird to be talking about this in such a place. We’re supposed to be filling this table with glasses of drinks and bottles of beer instead of books. People will only have to take one look at us looking through these and wonder how the hell the pub has changed into a place for study groups.”

“The library was closed,” I said, raising my brows at him, before I then admitted, “And I wanted you to see him.”

Taehyung scoffed. “Fine. I’m looking. I don’t know what I’m looking at,” he looked around lazily without showing any interest to even try to find him.

“Taehyung,” I sighed.

“Forgive me for being a bit biased, ______. But your memories weren’t exactly all sunshine and rainbows when they came to that guy,” he said, before he stopped and made a face when he remembered something. “Well, not always.”

I nodded solemnly, and decided to change the topic once again since Jungkook was not on sight anyway. Not after he had left his seat earlier. “About the notebook—” I started, holding the tote bag down on the chair before I could begin showing the notes that I had brought with me.

“Don’t hate me on this—” I said cautiously while pointing a finger at him, “—but I tore up the pages.”

He looked at me incredulously and hissed, “You did what?”

I pulled one book out of the bag, showing him how I had torn apart the pages, rearranging it as how I thought they should look like. “I arranged them to show a proper timeline out of the memories and dreams that seemed to link to one another. This one is pretty much from what I remember of one lifetime. Taken from sometime in the past—or future, depends on how you’re seeing it.”

I pulled out another and placed it on the table. “This one is the second.”

“Wait—” Taehyung stopped, looking back and forth between the two notebooks and began to flip through the pages. His eyes widened when he saw what he had found. I knew that he could tell what this all meant but he asked anyway. “What are you trying to tell me?”

“That you were right,” I said. “This didn’t happen to me just once. Taehyung, I had gone through this a couple of times. Not just once, like I had thought before. These recurring dreams and jumbled memories didn’t come to me from one past lifetime. They’re different lifetimes, different periods—” I told him, before m voice few small, “—with almost the same outcome.”

For the next hour, we kept our head down, our backs hunching over the table as we flipped through the notebooks. I showed him everything that I had found during the late nights I spent putting all the pieces back together until every puzzle pieces that had once made no sense to us were finally falling into place.

Gathering up what I could find and remember, I told him everything that I knew had come from my true memories, all that came merely as dreams and failed hopes. I showed him everything that had happened to me. To us. And everything that I had lost.

“If I don’t play my cards right, I will lose him again,” I muttered softly, both to myself and to him, when on each and every piece of the memory I gathered had shown only one thing.

That no matter what I had done, no matter what path I had chosen, I would only have Jimin slipping away from me in the end.

“What are you planning to do now?”

“What can I do?” I whined, suddenly feeling desperate and helpless. “I’d like to believe that I have done something right but what could possibly guarantee that it will make any difference?”

Taehyung gritted his jaw as he looked back and forth between those notes and my face. He reached out, closing the book I was holding and looked straight into my eyes. “What do you want to do?”

“I want to do what’s right,” I answered him with a small voice. I suddenly felt as if there was a hole underneath my feet and there would be nothing to stop me from falling under, no matter what path I would choose. But then, I remembered Jimin’s smile, Jimin’s kisses, the way he made me feel safe and loved and how much my heart swelled and filled with warmth with just the thought of him. I pressed a palm over my chest, knowing that I could never survive to live a life without him. Not after what I had gone through.

“Just the thought of losing Jimin makes my chest hurt.”

Taehyung leaned forward, forcing me to look at him in the eyes. “Which one do you feel stronger—the love you have for him, or the fear of losing him?”

His words had me stunned, and I found myself unable to answer that all I could do was look at him in despair.

Just then, the sound of an acoustic guitar came on to the speaker, followed by the sweet voice that had my stomach churning and my heart beating in a way that hurt. I looked over to the stage, meeting Jungkook’s eyes as he began singing his tune—

’I’ll cross my heart and hope to die

Before I have the chance to lie

To you, my dear, who I wish no harm

But I know in the end this will turn out wrong

See I’ve been known to fall in love

But sometimes love just is not enough

And my heart will stray before too long

So please forgive me for when I sing this song’

Taehyung left the pub first before Jimin ever got here. Though he didn’t leave without giving me his last words—telling me to take my time and reminding me that perhaps the answer didn’t lie in the past, but in the present.

His words got me thinking deeper about our talk. So deep that it had me rooted in my seat long after we had cleared out the table from all the notes and Taehyung was probably long gone.

I was still in a daze when Jimin finally came, finding me still sitting there and looking at nothing when he wrapped an arm around me.

“Babe? Hey—” Jimin called me gently when I still didn’t respond to him. The moment I realised it, he had lowered his head and leaned closer, a concerned look covered his face when I met his eyes. “Is everything okay? I called your name and you didn’t even hear me.”

My eyes grew wide. “Oh—I’m sorry, I just,” I turned away, drinking the remaining drink to try and dislodge the thick lump that was growing in my throat. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you worried. I just spent an hour talking to Taehyung, and after having a long day, I think my mind went all over the place that I didn’t realise—”

“Hey,” he stopped me by tipping at my chin and laid a kiss on my cheek. Then a deep frown formed on his face as he took in the sight of me, noticing my rattled state before I even began feeling it. “It’s alright. Are you tired? Maybe we should just go home.”

“No!” I nearly jumped on his lap to stop him, but clutched the lapels of his jacket instead. His ability to catch on with my moods were both a blessing and a curse and I hated that he could see my agitation. “Please, don’t. I’ve been waiting all day to spend the night with you. I know that you’ve planned the night already and I’d hate to ruin it,” I pleaded with a pout. I really meant what I said. I had been expecting to go on this date with him and the last thing I wanted was to have my emotions getting in the way.

Jimin’s frown slowly turned into relief and he gave me a warm smile. “I’ve been waiting to be alone with you as well. And I’ve made plans for us that would make you happy. But we’ll only go if you really mean it and if you’re really okay,” he said, smiling as he leaned closer to me.

“I do mean it, Jimin,” I whispered to him as I met him halfway so he could gently kiss my lips, my hands clutching on his jacket to hold on tightly.

The moment our lips touched, my whole body melted into a puddle. Every sense in my body came alive, and even the shadows clouding my mind faded until everything else came clear. The kiss made me yearn for more that I pressed into him, returning his kiss until I could feel his smile growing against my lips. His tongue grazed at my upper lip and I let him in, my palm rested on his chest to feel his heartbeat and it coaxed me to give in to him further.

Yet I caught myself before the kiss grew too deep, as the rational part of me reminded me of where we were.

“Wow,” he breathed out as we pulled apart, pressing our foreheads together as we both took deep breaths. “Okay, then. I guess our date is still on, huh?” he chuckled. “Should we get out of here? The place is packed and we need to get going so we won’t be out too late.”

“Yeah,” I answered him breathlessly, still trying to reign my heart to stop beating so hard.

Jimin kissed my forehead one last time before he pulled me up from my seat. Hand in hand, we made our way out of the pub, slipping through the growing patrons who were dancing to the music and standing between tables until we finally made it to the front exit.

But then he suddenly stopped just before the exit, when somebody came into our path, blocking our way.

I looked up just as Jimin tightened his grip on my hand and pulled me back. His gaze looked murderous as he stared straight into our intruder, which was no other than Jungkook. Meanwhile, Jungkook only stood there, glancing briefly at me before he returned Jimin’s threatening gaze with his smug smile.

“So we meet again,” Jungkook said, crossing his arms over his chest. His eyes looked down to find our entangled hand and I could see it when his jaw twitched with anger. A glimpse of hurt and jealousy flashed through his gaze before he looked at Jimin and his fiery gaze returned.

Jimin forced a smile, but I could feel the tension rising between them as their gazes stayed firmly on each other. Even if I could not see it, I could feel by how Jimin was tightening his hold on my hand and how the tension came out rolling from his whole body. “And so we have,” he finally said to Jungkook, clenching his jaw briefly before he started to speak again. “It seems that no matter where I go, you will always come around and show up unannounced, getting in my way.”

What?

Jungkook sneered and stood tall in front of Jimin. “There’s where you’re wrong. She came to me. Maybe it’s time you realise that no matter what happens, she’ll bound to find me and there is nothing you could do to stop her from running back to me.”

I looked back and forth between Jungkook and Jimin, completely aghast at the sudden rise of aggression and hostility coming from them. And neither of them was showing any sign of backing down. Meanwhile, my throat was clogged, all words and reaction were stuck inside me as I was left questioning to myself,

What the hell is going on?

And what the hell did he mean by that?

—  © 2020 Yoonia, all rights reserved. reposting/modifying of any kind is not allowed. translations are not allowed.

#smutcentralnet #ksmutclub #btswriterscollective #btsbookclub #jungkook scenario #jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook x reader #jimin scenario #jimin fanfic #jimin smut #jimin fluff #jimin angst #jimin x reader #bts jimin #park jimin #bts scenario #bts fanfic #kpop scenario #kpop writing #kpop fanfic #bts smut #bts fluff #bts angst #bts x reader

[yandere-daydreams]

I feel like if anyone had Thoughts about this it’d be you but : zodiac signs as yandere ?

I have so many thoughts on this!!! I’m assuming anon wants to know about sun signs only, so that’s what I did! Keep in mind that literally every single one of these will be biased towards how I view the signs, so if you disgree then.... sorry!! (This post also might be a little long because there are. Twelve signs.)

-

Aries - Okokokok...... I would like to think..... an Aries would be a possessive, but in a very aggressive way?? Like if they’re jealous of one of your friends they will not hold back. If you wont get rid of them in your life, they’ll do it for you with little hesitation. I feel theyd be romantic and flirty, and refusing their advances just is Not an option. They’ll often lose their temper if you misbehave too much, and it wont take much to get them to that point. They’re very loud and headstrong, and will absolutely manipulate you into doing whatever they want. They aren’t very affectionate, but if you ask nicely enough they’ll begrudgingly cuddle with you (and secretly enjoy it but shhh) Their punishments: severe. Their amount of remorse: zero.

Taurus - Definitely a more submissive yandere!! Probably a delusional and when you disagree with them or tell them theyre wrong, that you don’t love them, they will probably cry so much and not speak to you for days at a time as opposed to physically punishing you. Will not get angry easily and will repress any anger they feel until one day they snap and go Crazy and break your legs or something. They will not take kindly to your nasty remarks or constant attempts to free yourself from their captivity, but they will generally react very passively because they love you and would never want to hurt you (unless they really had to, of course)!! 10/10 will make you nap with them. Constantly.

Gemini - They’re probably a little delusional, but also really obsessive and clingy!! They will force you to cuddle with them for HOURS AND HOURS and just... play with your hair... and babble about their day and the weather and whatever to keep you in their arms. It’s honestly pretty nice and relaxing, and perfect if you’re okay with lounging around all day. They’ll probably really half-ass everything too. Like yeah you’ll be in handcuffs, but if you really tried you’d probably be able to slip out of them because they didn’t bother getting ones that actually fit. Also, everytime you lash out at them they will completely brush it off and deflect everything. They will just pull you into their lap and coddle you until you’ve calmed down and stopped saying such ridiculous things to them. Will also make really dumb jokes in conversations they have with you, and you will have to laugh no matter how awful they are. I mean, unless you want to be punished (read: cuddled) more.

Cancer - A soft yandere, baby!! They will pamper the HELL out of you. They will deck your room out with the nicest furniture, get you the /softest/ handcuffs on the market, bake you your favorite desserts, the whole nine yards!! They will comfort you when you cry about your situation, but will refuse to acknowledge that they are the reason your crying. Very delusional and very manipulative, will guilt trip you into being nice to them. Very powerful puppy dog eyes. 10/10 will kiss you on the forehead and apologize for every bad thing they’ve ever had to do to you.

Leo - They were probably the popular kid in school and you probably had a massive crush on them. When u finally managed to get their attention they never stopped paying attention to you. The next thing you knew, you were locked in their attic. They are very ambitious, and once they had their eyes set on you, no one was going to get in their way. Very possessive, will cut off all of your friends for you and be very jealous!! When the roles are reversed, though, and you get jealous of their friends, it’s fine baby!! There’s nothing to be jealous of!! ^3^ Will probably spoil you a little bit, but only if you havent pissed them off recently. If you’re mean to them they will take it so personally and be so dramatic about it!!

“Can you say something to me it’s been three days.”

“I thought my voice was annoying you >:T”

“Oh my god-“

Virgo - Protective protective protective!! Will lock you in a room with absolutely no furniture with sharp corners or anything you could hurt yourself on. An actual perfectionist, will put makeup on you, do your hair so there isn’t a single strand out of place, and dress you in color coordinated outfits ONLY. Will literally take the best care of you, but it’s overbearing how much they worry about your safety all. The. Time. You will more than likely never leave the house without them, and never without at least SPF 50 sunscreen on. Will attempt to be your personal therapist, but has never properly processed and emotion before, so... they aren’t very effective. If you attempt to escape, they will punish you severely.

“Ayo I sure wish I wasn’t HERE right now ahaha sure wish I was HOME and not with YOU.”

“Oh? Ahahaha okay!” *literally breaks your fucking toes* “See! You have to stay with me!! You could get hurt much worse than this in the outside world, you have to be more careful!! :)”

Libra - Probably protective and obsessive to a certain extent. Will probably be really sympathetic?? But like in a “I cant let you go I’m sorry the world is bad and scary and I don’t want you getting hurt.” kinda way. They would want to give you a little bit of freedom, though, so they’ll let you go out with your friends occasionally, but they’ll be VERY cautious and, well, protective of you. They are very understanding and give you lenient punishments when you push them over the edge and theyre ‘forced’ to punish you, but will not comfort you afterwards to compensate for the lack of severity of their punishments. Balance, baby!

Scorpio - An obsessive for sure. Literally IN LOVE WITH YOU. Will instagram stalk you, your family, your friends, your neighbor’s dogs, ANYONE that has ever been in contact with you. They already know everything about you when they finally execute their plan to kidnap you. They’re very attractive and strong willed and will put you in your place with no hesitation, but afterwards will attempt to kiss it better because they feel sorta bad. They just want you to love them!! They crave so much attention constantly, and will want to cuddle with you and be close to you at all times. You will have to be an excellent liar, because they will be able to call you on your bullshit so easily!! They will absolutely not tolerate any lying, so it’s better to justbe honest with them, even if you think it will make them mad. 10/10 will probably stare at you for hours on end without saying a single word and then watch you sleep. All lovingly, of course.

Sagittarius - P o s s e s s i v e. Can and will beat the shit out of anyone that touches you and will beat the shit out of you if you mention someone other than them to teach you a lesson. They have very bad commitment issues because they’re afraid of the people they love leaving them, and they overcompensate for it a lot. Probably actually a little bit out of their mind beyond the whole “I have my love interest locked in my basement” thing. Will give you the bare minimum amount of the things you need to survive and will deprive you of food and water for days at a time if you say something a little too nasty to them. Is really good at saying the right things to talk you down when you’re upset after a punishment or something. Very good at making you laugh as much as you hate to admit it!! 10/10 will probably turn to sensory deprivation if all else fails just because they’re sadistic like that.

Capricorn - Very responsible, planned a lot for your arrival. Very smart, rational, and protective, they have a plan for literally any situation thrown their way. They’re very fragile but they project it all onto you, and as a result they take very good care of you. They’re kinda intimidating but actually very sweet, and they love you more than they love themself. Probably rich because they’re really good at saving money, and they’ll spoil you with every cent they have. Bossy, and if you choose to ignore what they tell you to do they will make your life miserable for the next few days. Again, they’re very serious looking and intimidating, but they have a playful and carefree side that only really comes out around you!! They love you a whole lot, and make that very clear through the gifts they give you constantly.

Aquarius - Hear me out. Remember that tsundere yandere post Daydreams made? That’s Aquarius. They are very mean and nasty!!! A true goblin, honestly. They’re totally head over heels in love with you, but they’ll make you work to earn that love, even though you didn’t ask for it. You want attention?

“Haha nerd, why would I come cuddle you?? That’s like... weird... You’re gross!!”

Do they hate you, or do they want to marry you and ride off into the sunset with you? You’ll never know, because they wont ever let you get close enough to them to figure out what goes on inside that crazy head of theirs. Overall will probably treat you well, if you’re okay with the constant bullying and berating that you’ll get from them daily, that is.

Pisces - Soft like Cancer, but obsessive like Scorpio!! Has very strong feelings for you, but doesn’t know how to manage them in a healthy way. They want you all to themself, and the only way they know how to keep you in their life is by taking you. Very manipulative and delusional.

“Haha fancy seeing you here babe!”

“I am locked in your basement and I have been for the past seven months-“

“Crazy how we just keep running into eachother! Are you, like, obsessed with me or something?”

Like Virgo, they’ll try to be your personal therapist, but Pisces is actually good at it. You can never hide how you’re feeling from them, because if they pick up even the slightest difference in your tone of voice they will dig through their brain for any possible event that could have taken place to make your mood shift even the slightest bit. Crazy, but in a very loving and wholesome way. 10/10 would take a bullet for you!!

#this took me way longer than it should have #pls appreciate it #astrology people interact #which is your favorite!! #guess which signs i hate the most LOL #guess which sign is mine too :) #astrology #yandere astrology #yandere #yandere zodiacs #zodiac #yandere zodiac #yanderecore #yandere imagine #yandere drabble #piss goblin speaks

[izzielizzie]

can u do a oneshot where Maeve goes to Luis after she hears that she doesn't have cancer and she apologizes and they start dating or something?

Yes! Here you go! This is after when Maeve gets tested and before she gets her results back.

I knock on the door of the open frame of Contigo’s open door. It’s nearly ten at night, and I know the café is closing, but I need to talk to someone very specific. Someone who’s currently mopping the floor. 

“We’re closed, sorry. We open at eleven tomorrow... but you already knew that,” Luis says as he turns to look at me. His face hardens and even though I don’t blame him, it still hurts. 

“Hi,” I whisper, looking down at my sneakers and clutching the strap of my messenger bag. 

“We’re closed, Maeve.” Even at this incredibly awkward moment, I can’t help but notice that he says my name with a slight accent that makes my heart skip a beat.

I twist the strap tightly in my hands. “I know. I just...”

“You just what?” Luis is leaning heavily on his mop, and he already looks like he doesn’t care for what I have to say.

“I think I’m dying,” I blurt out before I can think about whether I should have lead with that or not. 

“What?” Luis looks stricken.

“I’m sorry I shouldn’t have started with that.” I was an idiot. I can’t explain my entire medical history to Luis and not sound like I’m guilt tripping him into forgiving me. Luis is looking at me with an expression I can’t decipher. “You know what, this is pointless I’m sorry Luis I just- I shouldn’t have come. Have a good night.”

I spin on my heel and I’m about to walk out of the door when I hear something crash. I pause for a moment, just long enough for Luis to lunge forward and grab my forearm. “Wait, Maeve. Please wait.”

I turn around. “Yeah?”

I bite my lip hard to keep from crying as Luis’s eyes scan my face. After what feels like forever he speaks. “Come into the kitchen. You need some cookies. And a wet towel.”

“A wet towel?”

“Yeah. For your bleeding lip.” Luis holds out his hand and I take it. He tugs gently, leading me into the kitchen. It’s all scrubbed down and shining, and eerily quiet.

“Let me fix your lip and then you can tell me what you were going to tell me.”

“Aren’t you mad at me?” I ask as he puts his hands on my sides and gently lifts me onto a counter. 

“Yes. But also no.”

“Thanks for the answer.”

“Any time.” Luis runs a clean towel under the sink for a second and presses it against my lip. “Hold that until it stops bleeding.”

“Thanks,” I say again, my voice muffled. I press my hand against the towel as I watch him plate some alfajores. 

“Want some coffee?” Luis is holding the coffee pot over a mug, a steady stream of what must be freezing liquid  pouring out of the spout.

Since I can’t smile I crinkle my eyes at him. “My sleep schedule is bad enough as it is.”

“Mine too,” he says, drinking what must be half the mug in one gulp. I giggle a little. 

He turns and runs his hand through his hair before he hands me a cookie. I gently pull the towel from my lip and I’m pleased to find that it has stopped bleeding. Thank goodness, I’ve had enough with blood. I take the cookie with a half thankful, half apologetic smile. 

“Okay Maevey, can we start from the beginning?”

“Yeah. Sure.” 

Luis stands in front of me, and he looks so cute that it’s hard to think. “Any day now Maeve.”

“Yeah, yeah.” I pull my bag over my head and I miss its weight instantly. Lately, I’ve been craving a hug (something that never really happens), and since I’ve pushed away everyone who cares about me, I’ve been kind of lost. I take a deep breath, gather my hair in a bun, and then let it drop. Luis’s face softens.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” He looks kind of guilty, which makes me feel awkward because I’m the one who should feel guilty. This entire night is confusing the heck out of me and not for the first time, I’m wishing that I’d just gone home and climbed into bed. 

I’m tempted to take the out that Luis is clearly giving me. He doesn’t hate me. I’m too pathetic to be hated, and if I try hard enough, he’ll forgive me eventually. But I look up into his deep brown eyes and the truth is, I don’t want eventually. I want one thing in my life to be good, and I’ve been an idiot to not realize that Luis is probably the best thing to ever happen to me. So I start talking.

To his credit, Luis doesn’t say a single word as I tell him about how I had cancer when I was seven, and wasn’t cancer free until I was fourteen. I tell him about all the symptoms that come with a relapse and that most of those symptoms have been popping up. And - this is the hardest part - I tell him that I push people away when I’m scared that I’ll hurt them. And that he’s the last person I’d want to hurt. I end with a truth that has slowly been creeping up on me:

“I’ve been leaning on this crutch I guess. I know people will forgive me because I had cancer, but I’m tired of it. I never learned how to deal with my emotions other than to avoid them, and I want to get better at that Luis. I need to get better at that.”

I look up to meet his eyes and he smiles at me a little. “I knew all that Maevey.”

I do a doubletake. “You did?”

“Phoebe told me after you yelled at me.”

God of course she did. If I wasn’t so thrilled at the fact that Luis is smiling at me, I would march straight over to Phoebe’s apartment and either yell at her for interfering or buy her a coffee. I’m not sure which. 

“So you don’t hate me? I mean, I’m so, so sorry. I hated myself for what I said the moment I said it. You’re not shallow. You’re so brilliant. You’re kind, and funny, and really good with kids. Did you know that’s adorable, by the way? And I really like you. Like, like like you... so...” I trail off, out of steam and out of words. Luis is smirking at me. “What?” I demand.

He just shakes his head and reaches forward, his hands in my hair as he tilts my head up to kiss me. It’s short and sweet and I melt into him as he pulls away. “Maevey, you might not know this, but falling in love with you was the best decision I ever made. And I’m really glad you told me about your cancer. I can’t pretend I understand what you go through, but I want you to know that I’ll always listen to you. Just as long as you won’t push me away.”

I cross my heart in the childish gesture Bronwyn and I share. “I won’t ever push you away again Luis. I promise.”

“Good. In that case, will you be my girlfriend?”

“Even if I am possibly dying?”

“Even then.”

I grin like a fool. “Of course.”

Luis pulls me into a hug, and I stay there for god-knows how long, just enjoying the feeling of his arms around me. 

#maeve x luis #izzielizzie's fics

[crazybagelbitch]

Part 2 duh 😂😭

“You know, this whole having wine on the beach thing would be a hell of a lot more relaxing if all of our friends weren’t trying to track us down and kill us.”

“I told Hen we’d be back in three days,” Maddie shrugs.

“And she just... accepted that?” Chimney asks skeptically, raising an eyebrow at his new beach day companion.

“Oh, hell no,” Maddie shakes her head, “but maybe it’ll keep her and Athena from calling in the SWAT team to come looking for us.

“I shouldn’t have brought you with me,” he sighs, feeling awfully guilty for dragging her into this whole mess. He had known his friends would be... upset, to put it mildly, when he disappeared for a bit... but the anger was supposed to be directed solely at him. But then Maddie had showed up at his door, demanding to join, and Hen and Bobby were already on their way to try and stop him...

It was just meant to be him. Taking some time alone, as he deserved to be, to sort his head out. To decide if he could ever let go of all of his guilt regarding “Jason” and Shannon or if he’d never be able to show his face in LA ever again.

“I wasn’t going to let you go alone. Didn’t give you a choice. Would’ve followed your car.”

“What about work?” he tries, as if she hadn’t thought about that and it’ll suddenly send her rushing back to LA.

“Have tomorrow off, will call Sue for two more days off in the morning. She’ll give ‘em to me, easily, has been telling me I could’ve taken much more time off after, well, you know... but hey, what about work for you?”

“Got a fill-in captain. Nice thing about being the boss is that I didn’t have to let anyone on the team know I was putting in for a little vacation time.”

“Vacation. Right. That’s why you were rapidly packing a bag, leaving a note for Hen, and trying to escape from LA without telling them.”

“Hey, you got a road trip out of it. That’s kind of vacation-like.”

Maddie bites her lip as she nods, because that’s kind of fair. The five and a half hour drive to the San Francisco Bay area had been nice-- she had missed him and hadn’t seen him in over a month-- talking and singing along to the radio and laughing. But it wasn’t completely care free, of course, because Chimney had been planning on running away from her, from everyone, and he still hadn’t really explained why.

“Why San Francisco? Why the beaches here? There’s plenty closer to LA,” she starts, hoping that’s a fairly subtle, innocuous way to get him talking.

He’s quiet at first, just shaking his head, when she huffs and decides to lay hers in his lap, looking up at him with big sad eyes she knows he has a hard time resisting.

“My mom,” he finally sighs, “we went here, did this whole getting away trip over to the bay when she was first diagnosed with cancer. She said it would be nice, to just... take a moment, just the two of us, relax a bit before the craziness of all the cancer treatments started. It was for her, too, of course, but... wasn’t until I got older, after she was already gone that I realized it was one of the kindest things she’d ever done for me.”

“How so?” Maddie whispers, bringing her hand to rest under his chin.

“A nice, beautiful, peaceful memory to have, before she got weaker and weaker, in case she never got better and I never got to see her strong, physically at least, again,” he sighs, tears shining in his eyes, “and I didn’t ever get, too.”

“So what’s happening now?” Maddie asks, wiping a tear from his cheek with the pad of her thumb.

“What?” he asks, brow furrowed.

“She took you here during the calm during the storm,” Maddie murmurs, and Chimney kinda wants to curse her name under his breath for reading him so well, “and you came back here, as bittersweet as it might be, probably for the same reason. So what’s the storm now?”

“The storm now,” he starts, voice trembling and barely loud enough for her to hear, “is that Shannon is dead, and that you almost died, and that I don’t know if I can bare to stay in LA and look at any of you in the eye ever again. The storm, I guess, is having to say goodbye to everyone.”

“Well, I’m not going to let you do that, baby.”

“And why not?”

“Because I love you, and you have nothing to be sorry about,” she sighs, “that brain of yours, it’s absolutely brilliant, but sometimes it’s so mean to you.”

“Maddie--”

“Let’s just enjoy the view for a bit, okay? Watch the ocean-- we can talk about that more later, and we will, I just-- you came here for a little peace. So let’s have it.”

“Okay,” he nods, smiling down at her a bit, “let’s have it.”

[datleggy]

A hazing you say, to you say, do tell us more please.

oh839ruef it is 6am and im still drunk from the nite before so forgive this mess but u asked for it >:]

TK hasn’t been sleeping well at all; just a bunch of restless nights in a row, all of these thoughts keeping him awake.

Thoughts of his ex boyfriend—almost fiance’—thoughts of his father’s diagnosis—what would he do without him in his life?—and of course, those pesky little thoughts called addiction, which never really leave his subconscious, not even on the good days…

He ends up falling asleep in one of the trucks when he’s supposed to be cleaning, but God, he can’t help himself, he’s exhausted and the cushions are so warm and inviting.

Only minutes later Judd and Marjan come across TK, who’s sleeping soundly, (for the first time in over a week, though they wouldn’t know that) instead of doing his work, and the conniving begins!

They call Paul and the probie over.

“This is team building,” Judd tells Paul, when he asks, not for the first time, if they really think this is the best idea. “A little hazing never hurt nobody.”

Marjan, who’s grinning from ear to ear, agrees wholeheartedly. “Yeah, c’mon! Hurry up with the hose probie!” 

One moment TKs resting peacefully and the next he’s being forcibly dragged out of the rig, giant arms wrapped around him so tight it’s impossible for a half awake TK to wiggle his way out of them.

“Wakey wakey sleepy head!”

He barely has time to react when he’s suddenly being hosed, the water pressure enough to fully wake him. Coughing now and struggling against whoever is holding him still, TK only manages to break free when another set of strong hands grab hold of his shoulders and pull him away from the harsh spray of water hitting his face and chest.

“That’s enough, you guys tryna’ drown him?” Paul shakes his head, grimacing as he looks down at the kid in his arms. TK is soaked through and through.

TK coughs into the crook of his arm, gasping for air. When he finally looks up at the rest of the crew, Judd is expecting some kind of animosity, but what they get instead, is a mischievous grin, “You guys know payback’s a bitch, right?”

Matteo instantly drops the dripping hose like it’s on fire and tries to defend his actions. “They made me do it!”

Marjan huffs, putting away the phone she’d been using to record the whole thing up until now, glaring at the probie. “Scaredy cat.” then she turns around and points the finger at Judd, grinning. “Anyway, it was all his idea.”

Judd raises a brow at her, acting betrayed. “No loyalty, huh?”

Paul pats TKs wet shoulder and sighs, “I tried to stop them, if that’s any consolation.”

TK coughs again, rubbing at his chest, “I mean, a little warning woulda’ been nice.”

Paul raises his hands, “Hey man, you might be canoodling with a cop, but I’m no snitch.”

TK is less than thrilled by all the teasing ‘Oooh’s’ and ‘Aaah’s’ that follow Paul’s comment. “Yeah yeah,” TK’s cut off by another cough. And then another, and another. And after a few more coughs TK realizes he can’t stop, his chest tight, and fuck.

He remembers being six and suffering from asthma up until the age of ten, maybe.

But it’s been over a decade now since his last attack, this can’t be that, can it?

“Hey man, you alright?” Judd reaches for TK, a hand on his shoulder, brows knitted in concern.

TK continues his coughing fit, but manages to shake his head no. The air around him feels thin and his chest is starting to hurt.

Judd blinks, “Shit, you’re not pullin’ my leg, are ya’?” He looks to Matteo, who’s standing there looking about as petrified as he feels at the moment, “Something’s wrong, get Captain Blake, quick!” he orders.

Probie wastes no time, practically tripping over his own two feet in his haste.

Paul helps Judd get TK into a sitting position on the floor, guiding him with gentle but firm hands. “TK, look at me, just shake your head yes or no, do you have asthma?”

TK gasps for air between his bouts of coughing, he shakes his head no but realizes that’s not completely true, “When,” he pauses to cough, wincing and clutching at his chest, “When I was little.” he admits.

Marjan curses. “I’m gonna’ get Cap.” She’s not sure what that’s gonna’ do—she doubts Owen has a spare inhaler from when his kid had asthma over ten years ago, handy on him—but she’s seen the way the two interact, if nothing else, the older mans’ presence will help TK feel a bit less panicked.

Both Captains get there at almost the same time, one after the other, both bending at the knee to get face to face with the young firefighter.

Owen doesn’t have to ask what’s wrong, when he sees his son, because the scene is all too familiar, though it’s been years since the last time it happened. “It’s an asthma attack.” he tells Blake, “He hasn’t had one since he was ten.”

Blake nods, already digging into her kit for a rescue inhaler. “TK, open up, I need you to take two puffs, breathe in slowly for five seconds and try to hold your breath for ten, it’ll help the medicine get into your lungs, can you do that for me?”

TK nods anxiously, letting her press down on the inhaler. He tries to do as he’s told but ends up coughing up the puffs before they can be fully absorbed. “S-sorry.” he can’t catch his breath and the wheezing is only getting worse.

“It’s ok, you’re gonna’ be ok, let’s try it again.” Blake helps him a second time, with Captain Strand now behind TK, rubbing up and down his back encouragingly. “Ready? Slow breath TK, slow breath, c’mon.”

This time TK is able to hold his breath long enough that he can feel the albuterol taking effect on his lungs. Dizzy with relief and beyond exhausted by the exertion, TK nearly falls backwards.

Thankfully Owen is there to catch him, wrapping his arms around the kid carefully and breathing out his own sigh of relief. “Jesus TK.” That’s another gray hair for the books.

TK pats the arm around him, “I’m good.” he assures his dad, though it comes out breathy and short. But he is fine now, just tired, and frankly, embarrassed about having an asthma attack of all things, in front of the entire crew. He tries to get up on his own two feet but the moment he’s standing upright another dizzy spell hits him and if not for Judd who steps in to support him, he’d have ended up right back down on the floor again. “Thanks.”

Judd looks down at him, guilt etched onto his features. “Don’t thank me, Christ kid, I’m the reason all this happened. Shit.”

“What did happen?” Owen asks, looking like a disappointed dad as he stares at his team, all of whom are looking down in shame.

TK rolls his eyes, though it’s hard to act like it was no big deal when he’s still holding onto Judd like a day old calf who just can’t seem to get his legs under him yet. “Dad, it was nothing, it’s not their fault, I—” he doesn’t want to admit the truth. That it’s all the nights of little to no sleep for over a week now that exasperated his asthma, and that the hazing thing only helped push it that little bit over the edge.

“It was my fault.” Judd cuts in, seeing the look of conflict on TK’s face. “I thought a little hazing wouldn’t hurt, but it was stupid as hell and childish and it nearly got TK killed.” he turns to the younger man in his arms. “I’m so sorry man, that was reckless—”

Marjan interrupts, squeezing TK’s shoulder from the side. “It wasn’t just Judd, I ran with it too, I’m sorry TK.”

Paul and Matteo take responsibility too, gathering around TK to apologize.

Though the Captain is grateful that the crew are seemingly handling this among themselves, he still feels the need to say something. “Hazing is for college fraternities and has no place in the work place, and I hope this is the first and last time we need to have this conversation, do I make myself clear?”

This is followed by a chorus of guilty little “Yes Captain”’s.

Hours later, when everything has calmed down and most everyone is in their own bunk, getting ready for bed, TK finds himself in the kitchen, making himself a pot of coffee.

Paul joins him as he’s about to take his first sip. “Nuh uh.” Paul snatches the cup away and pours it down the drain. “That is not what you need.”

TK would be offended if he had the energy, but as it is, he’s just too tired. All that comes out is a faint, “Hey, that was mine.” and it comes out whiny.

“I’m making you some tea.”

TK huffs. “I wanted coffee.”

Paul clears his throat, already boiling the water. “You know…if you ever need to talk, we’re all here for you.”

TK looks away, biting his bottom lip. “I’m fine.”

“If you say so. I just think you need reminding that it’s ok not to be fine sometimes, and it’s even more ok to talk to someone about it, even if all the other person can offer is an ear to listen.” he goes about preparing the tea, throwing in a spoonful of honey for good measure.

TK takes the warm mug, grumbling about his coffee all the while. After a few sips he looks up at Paul, who’s sitting on the stool with his own cup of tea. “I um, it’s not a big thing, I just haven’t really been sleeping. It’s just…” he knows his dad hasn’t told too many people about his cancer yet, and he doesn’t want to go spilling the beans. “It’s a lot on my mind lately, that’s all. And then last week my ex sent me this stupid text telling me I still had some clothes at his place, if I wanted to go pick them up—what the hell am I supposed to say to that? It’s been over three months, why now?”

Paul shakes his head, sipping his tea. “That asshole.”

TK lets out a surprised laugh at the amount of righteous anger in Paul’s voice on his behalf. “Right?!”

They spend a good hour just talking—mostly shit about his ex, and then shit about some of Paul’s exes, and then about life in general—and before he knows it, TK’s downed his entire cup of tea and his head is laying on his arms on the countertop, and his eyelids are so heavy he can barely keep them open.

He hears voices above him, but they’re quiet voices, “Hey big guy, wanna’ help me get him to bed?”

“Yeah, I got sleepin’ beauty.” he can’t mistake that Texan drawl for anyone else but Judd, and soon he feels himself being lifted into a pair of strong arms, and he knows he should be embarrassed to be carried off like this, but he’s too tired to really care and Judd’s surprisingly gentle.

He’s laid to bed and for the first time in a long time, he sleeps soundly throughout the night.

#ask #anon #911 lonestar #fic #this was inspired by a string of awesome TK has asthma fics i read the other day iyuwrfhiuebgkdfj