#who wants to remind me to take my meds in the morning

[merrybloomwrites]

I Hear Them Calling (Chapter 4)

Story Summary: Alpha Harry Styles and omega Y/N Y/L/N meet under less than ideal circumstances. Overtime their paths will cross and they will be drawn to one another in ways they never expected.

Chapter Summary: After battling the symptoms of touch deprivation for weeks, Y/N sees Harry again in Chicago and he helps her deal with the worst of it.

Previous Chapters: Prologue ; Chapter 1 ; Chapter 2 ; Chapter 3

Word Count: 4.9k

Y/N POV

“You haven’t had a nightmare in 4 days?” Rachel asks.

“Nope!” You reply happily, taking a sip of your iced caramel latte. You and Rachel both have a free afternoon and decided to meet at a local cafe. You feel so much better than you had for the last few weeks that you felt confident to order a different drink. No tea that reminds you of Sarah, no hot chocolate that makes you think of Harry.

“And you’re not using those coping mechanisms you mentioned?”

“Haven’t needed them in days.”

“And you’re still not going to tell me what they were?” You blush at this question, embarrassed by the truth.

“No, that secret may come with me to the grave,” you joke.

Rachel looks at you, slightly worried and says, “It was safe right? You weren’t like, drugging yourself to sleep were you?”

“Oh God no!” You reply with a laugh. “Nothing like that, I swear.” Though you think to yourself that Harry’s scent in its direct form would probably be so delicious that it would act like a drug to you.

“Okay, I trust you,” Rachel says. “So, have you heard from Harry?”

You sigh, slightly disappointed by the answer you have to give. “Not since the night of the concert. I’m sure he’s been busy.”

“Maybe you should text him first.”

“And maybe you are out of your mind. No way. And before you say anything, it has nothing to do with the fact that I'm the girl or he’s the alpha or any of that sexist bullshit. It has everything to do with the fact that he’s Harry Styles.” You whisper the last part, aware that you’re in public and anyone around could hear the conversation.

“So what if he’s Harry Styles?”

“What would I even text him?”

“You could start with ‘Hi, how are you?’”

“Very funny. I mean, I guess I could. Maybe. I’ll give it a couple more days.”

“Waiting for him to leave the area?”

“Something like that,” you reply.

“Speaking of procrastinating things,” Rachel says teasingly, “have you called your doctor yet? To find out why that alpha knew you’re an omega even though you’re on suppressants and scent blockers?”

“Okay, that I did not procrastinate on. I called her but I can’t get an appointment until November.”

“Seriously?”

“Yea. I mean there aren’t a lot of doctors who specialize in omegas, so they’re always booked. Anyway, she said that my body has probably just developed a resistance to the pills. She’ll try to change my regimen after the appointment and told me to use the spray on neutralizers until then.”

“That sucks.”

“It does. I am so not looking forward to changing meds. It takes awhile to find the right combo and then there’ll be all new side effects. But it’ll be worth it.”

“I wish omegas didn’t have to hide who they are.”

“Me too. But that’s just how it is now.”

From there the conversation turns to lighter topics until you part ways to continue your day.

Another week passes and you still haven’t heard from Harry. On top of that the bad dreams come back, along with the restlessness, and chills. You’ve started using the old coping mechanisms again, which barely work this time around.

The morning after his final show in New York City, your social media is flooded with videos of him receiving his banner at Madison Square Garden. If there was any time to reach out to him, now was it. He said he wanted to be friends, right? A friend would absolutely congratulate him on this achievement.

It still takes you forever to type out the message, and ever longer to find the courage to press send. It’s nearly noon by the time you text Harry, “Congrats on the banner!”

It’s a simple sentence, just four words, and you still find a way to overthink everything for the two hours it takes Harry to reply. You’re taking a walk, grateful once again that you work on your own schedule and can take a break when you need one. And right now, you need one. Because you texted a celebrity and he still hasn’t answered and you for sure made a complete fool of yourself.

You stop dead in your tracks when your phone buzzes and Harry’s name appears on your screen.

From Harry Styles: Thank you! Can’t believe I got such an honor. How are you? What are you up to?

There’s a bench nearby and you sit to reread his message five times before replying.

To Harry Styles: You deserve it! I’m good, just out for a walk. How about you?

The next message comes in much faster.

From Harry Styles: I’ve been doing well. Took it easy this morning, currently enroute to Texas for the next shows.

You can’t help but feel disappointed that he’s no longer just a city away. You know it’s silly, but it was nice that he was so close by.

To Harry Styles: Enjoy Texas!

From Harry Styles: Thank you! Have you ever been?

To Harry Styles: Once, in college. Went to San Antonio with some friends.

From Harry Styles: That’s a great city, love the river walk there!

And so, you and Harry Styes became friends who text each other about random things. You talk throughout his flight to Texas, and sporadically over the next couple of weeks. It never gets very deep, all surface level conversations, but it’s nice. You feel like you’re getting to know the real him, and he’s getting to know who you are as well.

The texts from Harry are the high points. The low points are, unfortunately, very low. The hot chocolate, and roses, and forest smelling candles are no longer helping you. Bad dreams happen almost every night, you’re constantly cold, and there’s an itch under your skin that just won’t go away. The voice in the back of your brain is telling you it’s touch deprivation, but you refuse to admit that to yourself. You’ve never needed an alpha, and you refuse to depend on one now. So no, you do NOT have touch deprivation.

You’re checking your email, and you see that there are still spots open for a job training opportunity in Chicago. You rarely go to these, but it’s been a while, and you think maybe it would be good to go. There are always new types of data software, and you found the last two training courses you attended to be pretty informative.

Looking at the dates you notice the course is the following Thursday and Friday. In Chicago. You also notice that Harry will be doing shows there at the same time. You don’t admit that’s what seals the deal for you, but it totally is.

After registering and setting up your flight and hotel reservation you send a text to Harry. You casually mention that you’ll be in Chicago the following weekend. You’re surprised when your phone starts to ring, and Harry’s name is on the screen.

You answer the phone and he’s first to speak, saying, “You’re gonna be in Chicago?”

“I am!” you reply, matching his excitement.

“Can you come to my shows?”

“Which days are they again?” You ask this to try and seem like less of a stalker.

“I’ve got one Thursday, Friday and Saturday. You’re welcome to come to as many of those as you want,” he answers.

“I think Thursday is an all-day thing, so I won’t be able to come to that one. The training ends with dinner on Friday evening so I think I could make it just in time for the concert.”

“Ok great, and Saturday?”

“I am free all-day Saturday. My flight back home is Sunday afternoon.”

“Wonderful. I’ll have tickets for you for those two shows. That is, if you want to come of course.”

“Harry, I absolutely want to come.”

“Then the tickets are yours. All the details will come from Jada. I’d be a mess without that girl.”

“You paying her well?” you ask jokingly.

“She’s compensated handsomely, I promise,” he replies with a laugh.

“Happy to hear it.”

“I uhm- it sounds like you won’t be able to come before the show Friday, correct?”

“Unfortunately, no. I’ll probably get there right before you go on.”

“Forgive me if this sounds forward, but would you want to hang out after? It would have to be at the hotel, I can’t really be out in the city after a concert.”

“Totally understand that. And yea, I’d love to hang out after.”

“Great! I’m staying at the Nobu Hotel.”

You quickly look it up and see that your hotel is close by.

“No way!” you reply. “I’m at the Crowne Plaza like, two blocks away.”

“Well, that’s convenient. I’ll make sure there’s a car to take you to Nobu after the show Friday if that works for you?”

“Yea that would be great. I’d love to hang out!” You cringe, hoping that didn’t come off too strong.

“I’d love to hang out as well. Listen I have to go to sound check for tonight’s show. I’ll text you soon. And look out for the email from Jada, it’ll have all the info you need.”

***

Harry POV

“You’re extra happy today,” Elin says as Harry bounces around the venue smiling so big that both dimples are showing.

“I am!” He replies. “Thanks for noticing!”

“What’s got you in such a good mood?” Sarah asks. “Because it’s definitely not how this sound check is going.” She has a point there. No less than a dozen things have gone wrong since they started, leading them to take a break while the sound techs work out a few problems.

“Just talked to a friend who will be in town next week.”

“Oh I see,” Mitch says. “So Y/N will be here?”

“Yes, and she’ll be coming to the shows Friday and Saturday. I can’t wait to see her!”

“Aw, someone’s got a crush,” Pauli says.

Harry ignores the teasing from his band members and says, “Honestly I’ve been a bit worried about her. I’ve just had this feeling that keeps getting worse.”

“Why do you think it has to do with Y/N?” NyOh asks.

“I mean, I don’t know for sure. But we’ve talked on the phone a couple times, and she always sounds exhausted.”

“I’m sure she’s alright,” Sarah says reassuringly.

“I know, I just can’t help it.”

“I completely get that,” Sarah replies softly, looking towards her mate.

“Fixed it!” One of the sound techs calls out, effectively cutting off the conversation as Harry and the band get back to work.

***

Y/N POV

The next week passes in what feels like slow motion. Every hour drags on. Your apartment building hasn’t switched from air conditioning to heat yet, so you’re constantly wearing layers of warm clothes and burrowing under blankets. The itch under your skin only gets worse, spreading to new areas each day until there’s a maddening tingle throughout your whole body.

Amelia drops you off at the airport Wednesday afternoon. You know she can tell that something is wrong, but you don’t offer an explanation, so she doesn’t pry for details.

You put on your mask before walking into the terminal. It’s a habit leftover from the pandemic, and also a great way to block out the potential strange scents. Alphas and omegas might be rare, but there’s always a chance a few will be around in such a crowded place. You’re extra sensitive to smells at the moment due to the touch deprivation that you’ve finally admitted you have. But it’s mild. Totally manageable. Not a problem.

The plane ride and subsequent train trip and walk to the hotel is exhausting. You stop and grab some food on the way. After checking in you immediately eat your quick meal, take a hot shower, and crawl into bed.

You’re almost asleep when your phone digs with an incoming text. You’ve already texted your family and friends letting them know you’re at the hotel, so you’re annoyed that someone is interrupting your sleep.

That is, until you see who the message is from. Harry’s name pops up with a text asking if you made it safely to Chicago. You practically melt at how sweet it is that he’s checking in on you. You send a quick reply before immediately falling asleep.

The first day of the training session is typical- informative, but boring. Harry’s show is still going when you get back to the hotel, so you watch on a livestream. You’re still exhausted and fall asleep before it’s over.

Waking up the next morning is difficult. Your body feels heavy, like your bones are filled with lead. The chills seem worse than ever and you’re grateful you packed yourself a heavy sweater to wear that day. Not only is it warm, but it covers up the marks from where you’ve been scratching at the skin on your arms due to the incessant itching.

You have trouble concentrating on the training throughout the day. There was one alpha there, and he was somehow in every single session you attended. He didn’t have a bad scent per se, but his presence alone became overwhelming.

By the time the sessions are over, you feel exhausted. You debate skipping dinner altogether but know you at least need some food before you can start your walk to the United Center. The alpha, whose name you’ve learned is Andy, sits next to you at dinner. He seems nice enough, you don’t feel threatened by him, but you still want to finish dinner and get away from him as quickly as possible.

Once dessert is over you grab your bag, ready to escape. Andy stops you before you go, asking for your number. Without thinking you quickly say, “I have a boyfriend,” and hastily leave the restaurant.

You’re not far from the venue, only a few blocks away, and you’re so out of it that you barely notice where your legs are taking you. It only takes fifteen minutes to get there, but you’re on edge the whole time. Glancing at your watch you see that it’s just before 8PM, meaning Harry should still be backstage.

You’re tired, and dizzy, and a little fuzzy, but knowing you’re so close to seeing Harry again has you moving faster than you thought possible. You’ve even built up a slight sweat, and you feel warm for the first time in weeks causing you to roll up the sleeves of your sweater.

As you approach the building you hear your name being called. You turn to see Jada running up to you.

 “I didn’t think you’d be here so early! Glad I was talking to one of the security guards, you walked right past the entrance,” she says.

You smile as she hands you your VIP badge and leads you inside.

“Harry has a few minutes before he needs to finish getting ready. He’ll be glad you made it before he goes on, I know he’s been dying to see you,” Jada says, causing you to blush.

“Well, I can’t wait to see him either,” you reply.

She knocks on a door which opens a second later. The first person you see is Mitch, who gives you a hug as he says, “Hey kid, good to see you again.”

“You too!” you answer, somewhat surprised by the warm greeting.

Sarah’s there too, pulling you in to a hug next. The moment her arms wrap around your shoulders, you’re overcome with a wave of dizziness. Black spots flash in your vision and you blink rapidly to try and clear them.

“You okay, love?” she asks as she lets go and takes a step back.

After a couple deep breaths you answer, “I’m good. Practically ran here from dinner, still catching my breath I guess.”

Harry, who’s been quietly watching you quickly walks to the fridge and grabs a water bottle. You reach out your hand so he can pass it to you, and see his eyes focus on your arm. There’s no way he missed the angry red scratch marks there, but you immediately pull your sleeves back down to hide them anyway.

“Can we have a moment?” Harry asks, causing Mitch, Sarah, and Jada to promptly exit and close the door behind them. He motions to the couch, and you’re reminded of the last time the two of you were in his dressing room together.

Like the last time, you sit next to each other, but he seems to be giving you more space. This confuses you. If he’s so excited to see you, why didn’t he greet you with a hug like everyone else? And why is he so far away now? And why does he seem so serious instead of happy?

“Y/N, I have a question, and it’s kind of personal, but I’d like you to answer honestly,” he starts.

“Okay,” you reply, taken aback by this turn of events.

He’s quiet for a moment, seeming to think of exactly what he wants to ask. Finally, he settles on, “Where did those scratches come from?”

“My arms were itchy,” you reply. Not a lie, though probably not the full truth he’s looking for.

“And the dizziness? Cause I don’t think it was from your walk. You seemed fine until Sarah touched you. Until an alpha touched you.”

You know what he’s getting at. He’s no dummy. Just minutes after seeing you he’s figured out what you’ve been hiding for weeks. Hiding from everyone, including yourself.

He watches you, and you know he’s waiting for an answer. But you can’t think of one to give him. So, he continues, “Y/N, I think you have touch deprivation. Is that fair to say?”

You let out a shuddery breath and nod. “Yea, that’s fair to say.”

“It seems pretty severe.”

You finally decide to open up, saying, “It’s been getting worse the past couple weeks. I don’t think my meds are working anymore, and the soonest doctors appointment I could get still isn’t for a couple weeks.”

“I’m worried you’re close to a drop. Like, any minute now. Or that you’ll go under if I touch you. You realize that you were close with Sarah, right? That if you’d stayed in contact with her, or if she’d released any pheromones you’d be in a full drop right now?”

Part of you wants to snark back, yell at him for going full alpha male and acting like he knows your body better than you. But the problem is, he’s right. It’s been so long since the last time you dropped that you forgot what it’s like. You forgot what the signs are.

But now that he’s pointed out the obvious, you really start to feel it. He sees as you deflate, starting to fold in on yourself. His hand reaches out, wanting to comfort you in some way, but he can’t. He can’t risk sending you into a drop, not when he has a show to do in just twenty minutes.

“You’re right,” you finally say. “I didn’t realize it. I thought I was handling it, that I could make it to my doctor’s visit and get new soothers and I’d be okay. I just don’t know what to do if I don’t have meds that work.”

“I’d like to help you, if you’ll let me.”

You finally meet his eyes and see that he’s completely serious.

After a moment you nod and reply, “Okay.”

“Okay? You’ll let me help?”

“Yes. I don’t know what else to do. And uhm, I trust you. You’re a good person, Harry. A good alpha.”

He smiles at your words before glancing at the clock and saying, “I have to finish getting ready in a minute. I’d still like to hang out after the concert. I think it might be healthy for you to do a drop with me there, if you’re comfortable with that?”

“I mean, I don’t like dropping. It’s only happened to me twice before and I was alone each time, so they weren’t good experiences. But maybe it will be different if you’re there?”

“I can help you through it, if you’ll let me.”

“What would you do to help? Like, how do alphas help omegas through that?”

“It depends on what you consent to but ah, I would hold you, help you get the touch your omega needs. Most alphas will scent the omega. It lets them know that they’re not alone, that someone is there protecting them, keeping them safe while they can’t do so themselves. I’d also release calming pheromones to keep your omega relaxed.”

“Okay. I’m okay with all of that. I’d like that,” you answer. Truthfully you’re a bit nervous. Harry Styles has just offered to hold you, to scent you for goodness sakes. That’s incredibly intimate. But you’ve felt so awful for weeks, and there are still weeks to go before you can get new soothers. And this is kind of a dream come true.

“Do you want to stay here for the concert? You can hang in here or go to the VIP box. Or you can head to the hotel now and take it easy if you’d like,” he says.

“I’ll stay in here if that’s alright,” you reply.

“It’s more than alright,” he answers. “And if at any point you want to get out of here just text Jada. She can arrange a ride back to my hotel and I’ll meet you there after the show. Or if you change your mind she can get you a ride back to your hotel too.”

“Thank you, Harry. For everything.”

“Of course. I know I don’t know you all that well, but I care about you. Anyway, I uhm, need to get dressed so I’m just gonna step into the bathroom for a moment.”

“I can go in the hall for a minute, get out of your way-”

“Nonsense. You’re not in the way. I’ll be right back.”

Harry finishes getting ready, and you make yourself comfortable on the couch. A couple of people come in, touching up his hair and make-up and before you know it he’s heading to the stage.

You watch on the screen in the room for the first few songs. After a while Jada joins you and you ask if you can watch from the VIP section for a bit. It goes well until Harry and the band take a break. You’d been so focused on the music that you were distracted from everything else around you.

But now all you can hear are all the other people, and it’s overwhelming. It becomes difficult to breathe, and you start to see dark spots once again.

You turn to Jada, and she immediately leads you back to the dressing room.

“Do you want to wait for Harry, or do you want to leave now?” she asks.

“I think I should go,” you reply.

“To your hotel, or his?”

“Harry’s, please.”

“Okay, wait here, I’ll get the car and come back for you in a minute.”

You sit back on the couch, seeking out Harry’s scent to calm you, but it’s barely noticeable.

Jada comes back and you follow her to the car. It’s a quiet ride to the hotel, and once there, she goes with you to the suite.

His room is on the top floor. It’s big, basically a full apartment, and you stay in what seems to be the living room. Jada sits on the couch with you, and you say, “I feel like you have more important things to do than babysit me.”

She laughs and says, “It’s not babysitting. I like hanging out with you. And you’re a priority to Harry. Which makes you a priority to me.”

The two of you lapse into a comfortable silence for a while until Jada’s phone buzzes. “Shows over,” she says. “Harry’s just getting changed and then he’ll be here soon. He said you can borrow some of his clothes if you want to get comfy.”

You hesitate and she adds, “I have no problem going through his stuff. I can grab you some clothes if you want.” You laugh at that and nod.

A short while later you’ve changed into a pair of Harry’s sweatpants, as well as a t-shirt and hoodie. They smell like him, and you shamelessly inhale the scent you’ve been craving for weeks. The suite door opens, and Harry walks in, looking incredibly cozy in his own pair of sweats.

“Thank you, Jada,” he says. “Get some rest, you’ve earned it.”

“Night guys,” she says as she leaves the room.

You’re left alone with Harry. It feels different, here in his hotel room, surrounded by his belongings, while you’re wearing his clothes.

“You left early,” he says.

���Sorry,” you reply.

“Don’t be. I’m just worried as to why you left.”

“I was just overwhelmed. Needed some quiet.”

“I understand. Y/N, are you ready for this? You still seem on the edge of a drop.”

“I’m ready.”

“And have you changed your mind about anything? Or is it okay if I hold and scent you through this?”

You pause for a moment, scared at how vulnerable you’re about to be. “I haven’t changed my mind. I want you to do that. I trust you.”

He takes a step towards you. “Thank you, for trusting me. We’ll probably be more comfortable in the bed.”

“Lead the way,” you say.

It’s awkward at first, the two of you sitting next to each other in his bed, backs resting against the headboard.

He turns to you and says, “Can I hold you now?”

You nod, and his arms wrap around you, pulling you until you’re tucked under his chin and resting against his chest.

Everything starts to get fuzzy, and you feel yourself losing consciousness. It’s an unsettling feeling, but you know that Harry is there to help you through this.

The last thing you hear before it all goes black is Harry calmly saying, “I’ve got you. Let go. It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.”

Harry can’t describe the helplessness he feels as you go limp in his arms. He doesn’t allow himself to stress, or panic, knowing that his emotions will impact you. Instead, he takes some calming breaths and thinks through everything he knows he needs to do in this situation.

He hears you whimper quietly as you start to shiver, and he doesn’t hesitate to soothe you. It takes some maneuvering, but soon you’re both laying down in the bed. He tucks his nose into your neck and begins to scent you, releasing calming pheromones until you relax.

It continues this way for the next couple of hours. Harry holds you, and scents you, his nose rubbing against the gland in your neck. During one moment when you seem particularly distressed he can’t help but place kisses there to soothe you faster.

Finally, you start to stir. It takes longer than Harry had anticipated, so he’s relieved when your eyes meet his after hours of being closed.

“Hey there,” he says with a soft smile.

“Hi,” you answer groggily. “How long?”

“Couple hours. Your inner omega needed the rest. Now you need some too. Go to sleep, I’ve got you.”

It’s the same words he said before you dropped. You wish you could hear that all the time. No one has cared for you before, not like this. It feels good, but you remind yourself not to get used to it. Still, you curl into his embrace, enjoying every moment of contact with Harry that you can get.

The next thing you know, it’s late morning. You’re still cuddling against Harry, and his deep breaths indicate he’s still sleeping.

You feel amazing. You’re nice and warm, your mind is clear, and the constant itch and restlessness are nonexistent. You’re extremely grateful, but at the same time, you’re annoyed that you need to depend on another person just to feel normal. But you don’t dwell on that. Because Harry is starting to stir next to you.

“Hey,” he says when your eyes meet his. “How do you feel? Sleep okay?” God, you could melt at the gravelly sound of his morning voice.

“I’m good. Feel better than I have in a long time. And according to that clock, I slept wonderfully.” The two of you laugh, seeing that it’s nearly noon.  

“I was hoping to treat you to a nice breakfast, but I guess I missed the window on that,” Harry says, continuing to laugh with you. “I do still have plenty of time before I need to be at the arena. Would you like to spend the afternoon with me exploring Chicago?”

“I’d love to,” you reply. His face breaks out in a huge smile before he leans down, once again running his nose along your scent gland. You go limp at the feeling, happily submitting to him.

You don’t think about the fact that this is temporary. That you leave to fly home tomorrow afternoon. That you’ll be without his alpha scent once again.

Instead, you think about the hours you have ahead of you, hours to spend with Harry. Nothing could be more perfect.  

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AN: Thank you so much for reading! This was one of the scenes I imagined when I first thought of the story and I'm so happy that it's finally shared with you all!

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#harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #wolfrry

[no-phrogs-in-hats]

Can I please have an imagine where the reader is the younger twin sister of Meredith Grey and ends up falling in love with Addison Montgomery. The two get together and keep it a secret for awhile (because your twin sister getting with your boyfriends ex wife is kinda weird). But one day the two are caught in an on-call room by everyone. A bit of angst with a lot of fluff please?

In the Shadows and Under the Sheets !!!Light NSFW!!!

Pairing: Addison Montgomery x fem!reader

Warnings: major mommy issues, secret relationship, brief on-call room sex hehe, light angst<3

A/N: first oneshot for McMommy Addison Montgomery hope you enjoy<3

As much as you loved your twin sister, part of you resented her. Your mother had encouraged her to go to med school. Your mother encouraged her to be a surgeon. Your mother encouraged her to be amazing, one of a kind, extraordinary. 

“You’d be more suited as a nurse,” she had said before you applied to every possible pre-med program in the country at seventeen. “Or maybe dermatology.”

Straight A’s since grade school, a perfect 1600 on your SAT, graduated Magna Cum Laude, and you’d only be fit as a nurse? Not that there’s anything wrong with that. Nurses are the backbone of the healthcare system. They leave and everything falls apart.

But to have your mother have so little faith in you–it hurt. It hurt more than you could possibly imagine. Maybe it was because you reminded her too much of your father–too soft, not hardcore enough for a surgeon. 

“Sometimes I wish I listened to my mom’s advice,” you mutter into the darkness of Addison’s bedroom. 

Addison, who lays beside you with her head on your chest, sits up. “What?”

“She–” you clear your throat. “She told me, before applying to med school, that I’d be better suited as a nurse–or in dermatology. That I’m too soft and that I wouldn’t make it as a surgeon.”

Addison brought a hand to your forehead, brushing aside stray hair. “You? Too soft?” When you nodded silently, she flashed a bitter-sweet smile. “Sweetheart…you are an amazing surgeon. Being soft isn’t a weakness. You need to have compassion and empathy if you’re going to be a doctor–especially if you do plan on going into pediatrics.”

The sound of your alarm startles you and press a reassuring kiss to Addison’s lips before getting out of bed and starting your morning routine.

__________

Addison sighed heavily as she scribbled down details of her most recent patient in their chart. You stare at her from afar, admiring the way her glasses sit, perched on the bridge of her nose, and the way she seems to drown out everything when she concentrates. How her skirt hugs her curves, how her hair is pinned up and exposing her neck…

“You seem stressed,” you murmur, standing beside Addison under the guise of discussing a case. 

She side-eyes you, trying to hold back a smile before going back to filling out her patient’s chart. “I’m…fine.”

“You sure about that?” you ask. “Because I have a very good way to help with stress and I think you’ll want to take me up on this offer…” You take the pen from her hand and grin, clicking it and placing it in the pocket of your white coat. “On-call room three. Five minutes.”

__________

You giggle as Addison presses kisses to your neck and removes your scrub top. You hold her close, running your hands up and down her body before unbuttoning her blouse and tossing it to the side.

“Still stressed?” you ask.

“I dunno,” she answers lowly. “If I am, do we get to continue?”

You laugh quietly, “We’d continue even if you weren’t stressed.”

Addison presses a firm kiss to your lips and you make your way down her body, placing soft, open-mouth kisses to her navel and nipping at her hips. You slowly drag her skirt down and continue with your kisses down her thighs as you toss it onto the floor.

You smile against her inner thigh and she jolts at your bites before letting out a soft moan. “God, you are gorgeous…”

She takes a deep breath and sighs as you get closer and closer to her aching core, “Don’t stop, please, don’t stop.”

You wrap your arms around her thighs to hold her still, and just as you were about to get started, the worst possible thing happened.

As the on-call room light turns on, you gasp and look up. “Meredith!”

She stands in the doorway with an awkward look on her face before shutting the door quickly. Climbing out of the bed quickly, you pull on your scrub top, “You didn’t lock the door, Addison?”

Before she gets a chance to respond, you rush out the door and find that Meredith is still there–waiting for you. “Mer, I–”

“No,” she says. “Don’t. You gave me crap for sleeping with an attending.”

“I know, and I’m s–”

“I’m not done. You gave me crap about sleeping with Derek and now you’re sleeping with his wife!” 

“Ex-wife,” you mumble. 

“It doesn’t matter!” she snaps. “You’re a hypocrite! How long has this been going on?”

You thought for a moment, counting back the months of seemingly harmless flirting and innocent touches before it turned into…not so innocent touches. “Um…a couple months.”

“I’m your sister! You were the first person I told after I got back together with Derek!” There was a moment’s silence between the pair of you before Meredith spoke up again. “Are you happy?” 

 “What?”

“Does…does she make you happy?” Meredith repeats.

“...Yes,” you respond. “Yeah, she does.”

“Okay…good.”

“Good.”

Answering a page, Meredith leaves you to your own devices and you return to the on-call room. You watch with a grin as Addison buttons up her blouse.

“What?” she says.

“Next time,” you smile, placing a soft kiss on her lips, “lock the damn door.”

#addison montgomery #kate walsh #greys anatomy #hurt/comfort #fluff #smut #fanfic #oneshot

[yandereforme]

Yandere Batfamily x chubby, sweet reader? But maybe they’re nurodivergent (adhd/ocd) and have a lot of trouble remembering things? It’s just so easy to forget things ya know? And sometimes, especially in Gotham I imagine, people take advantage of it. And poor reader won’t realize until it’s literally told to them or they overthink.

You are absolutely right! Forgetting things in Gotham like that is not a good idea, one of the reasons why the Waynes notice you. A sweet, innocent, forgetful girl in Gotham? You are bound to be taken advantage of, and I didn’t want that to happen to you. They had to protect you, even if it was from yourself.

I’m going to go with ADHD because that’s the one I know most about and can picture best. You’re always going to be with someone so the only sure you don’t forget things, and you can forget about leaving the house. The boys are pretty patient with you though. Dick wouldn’t mind explaining a question to you 15 times, because you keep forgetting the answer. Tim would put Post-it notes around the house, usually with little things to help you remember the day. if Jason hast to go away for a trip, he will call you throughout the day and talk to you, once in the morning, to outline the schedule, once around lunch to remind you of your schedule again, and once before dinner just to make sure you’re doing all right. Damian find another weakness, another reason he hast to protect you. It would be rare for Damian to leave your side, except for patrol, and even then he always make sure you’re safe.

Bruce on the other hand? I can see him being a bit more extreme. Bruce constantly checks in and always make sure you’re not alone because what if you forget to do some thing important? What if you forget to take your meds you forget to do something or, even forget where you are? No, no, you’re never really alone, and Bruce is one of the batfamily members who frequently checks the cameras.(they all do, but Bruce and Tim are more frequent, almost always having your feed up)

Sometimes though they are pretty thankful for your short memory. That way you don’t remember to question him about your friend who just disappeared, and they can pretend you did you didn’t have one. All of them have found your memory some useful or another, usually after punishing someone who tried to take ‘advantage of you’(befriend you). And all of them agree, your face when you’re confused is the cutest thing they all have ever seen.

I hope you like my response. It took me a while, due to outside stuff, but I am responding again! And, I’ll make sure to do bruce’s reaction in the Yanderes batfamily X neglected reader soon, I should have it done before the weekend.

#yandere #yandere batfam x reader #yandere batfamily #fem reader #adhd reader #asks

[lelengerine]

Hi! If your drabble event is still open, could I please request Jisung + college au + fluff/comfort? Jisung always looks so college boyfriend coded and he is kinda sensitive irl so I think he would fit perfectly as a thoughtful sweet boyfriend 😔❤️‍🩹 Thank you for your hard work!

https://x.com/502spidey/status/1641690274211459072?s=46&t=Tq9aSdZbZ4voR3kbqgerrw

warm, cozy, you

pairing | bf!jisung x reader

genre | sickening (somewhat literally) college au fluff, lots n lots of kisses, nicknames are used for jisung and y/n (jiji and bun respectively)

wc | 0.5k

notes | this is my first work with jisung here! thank u anon for sending in the req it was so cute i loved making this (hopefully its what ure looking for) as always, likes, rbs, and feedback are highly appreciated

this is part of my drabble req event here!

m.list

“jiii, could you not go to class just this once?” your groggy murmur tries luring your boyfriend away from his morning schedule, arms engulfing him in a comfortable bear hug. “it’s so cold, i don’t want you to leave.”

“bun, if i’m not going then who’s taking the class for the both of us today, hm? i’m attending just to make you notes. i know you get grumpy when you don’t understand things from the lecture.” a deep chuckle rises out of his chest as he brings a hand up to touch your forehead, “i don’t want to leave you while you’re sick either—” he states, now using the same hand to pat your head, “—but i’ll come back just as quickly as you could say… um… park jisung!”

“park jisung.” you frankly blurt out in response, as if trying to challenge his words from the get go, leaving the boy utterly flustered. “that’s- that’s not exactly what i meant…”

“i know, i’m just teasing you.” a soft smile makes it way up your face, and jisung softly presses his lips against yours.

the bashful display of affection has you feeling all warm inside, making you forget the fact you were feeling chilly just moments ago. though, it also made you forget about another thing— “jiji, you could get sick from that!” you yelp in place, pushing him away ever so slightly, leaving your boyfriend hanging on the abrupt kiss.

“i’ll just drop by the pharmacy for some more of your meds after class then.” he whines at the lost of contact with a sulky pout, lowering back down shortly after to pepper your skin with more dainty kisses, leaving you with no space to protest against his words.

“there, that should keep you warm for the time being, don’t you think?” he pulls away, marveling at the sight of the flushed trance you were in because of him. “maybe…”

“hm? a simple maybe won’t do though?” jisung tilts his head, pondering for a brief moment before going into your shared bedroom to get something. “here, let me help you put it on.” he states, a familiar grey hoodie in the palm of his hand — it was the ragged one he would usually gravitate to when he was rushing to class. you once offered to replace it with a new one when you felt a small hole through the fabric that definitely wasn’t there before, yet he declined saying he just liked it that way.

his answer was simple, yet made you like the worn-down hoodie all the more like a little trinket.

with you busy with your thoughts, jisung easily slips the warm fabric onto your figure. it’s all warm, cozy, and even smells just like him — the feeling being enough to make you all drowsy again.

jisung cups your cheek as your head starts drooping a little, “you should go back to sleep now, i’ll really be back soon.”

“okay… promise?” you look up at him with pleading eyes and a faint smile, still holding onto the hope that he might just give in and stay in with you.

“don’t give me that look, bun. i promise i’ll come home quick.” he answers back playfully, returning the smile before watching you walk back into the bedroom before picking up his backpack for class and locking the front door after himself.

he should really come home as soon as he’s done with his errands, he reminds himself. after all, how could he leave your sickly self all alone without him acting as your teddy bear?

#lelengerine drabble event #jisung fluff #jisung angst #nct fluff #nct angst #nct dream fluff #nct dream angst #nct imagines #nct drabbles #nct dream imagines #nct dream drabbles

[rintarousgirl]

jjk characters as taylor swift love songs

PART ONE

a/n: these are all the adult characters that i chose, and the next part will be the current students!

suguru getou / invisible string

"hell was the journey, but it brought me to heaven"

there was a time in suguru's life where he thought he wouldn't be able to recover from the pressing darkness clouding his mind. waking up each day managed to be a chore, and staying awake was even harder. trying to remain strong and positive took too many tolls on him, and yet you came. you were a shine of gold light in his small rotting cottage, holding the piece of invisible string that tied your pinkies together. you gave him your honey-sweet smiles and looked up at him with those beautiful sparkling eyes that promised a future better than anything he could've wished for.

nanami kento / call it what you want

"you don't need to save me, but would you run away with me"

kento knew he'd live a desired life. an easy one. he worked his hours, got paid for his hours, got home and took his rest and the next day he'd repeated. you were unexpected, unplanned. you'd waltzed into his office job, holding coffees and smiling, and kento knew you were the person he wanted to live beside. even if it meant throwing away jujutsu society and everything he worked for. he'd take your hand, shoulder all your burdens, go out of his way to make sure your life was easy if it meant keeping you.

gojo satoru / daylight

“i don't wanna look at anything else now that I saw you, i don't wanna think of anything else now that I thought of you”

satoru knows he doesn’t have a lot of things in life. he’s the number one sorcerer, he can’t be selfish. but when it comes to you? there’s nothing he wants more but to be by your side. satoru would move heaven and earth to be with you. no elders, no curse could stop him. everyday he was graced by you, and he never wanted it to stop. you saved him. you kept him from the crooked path of corruption. you kept his heart full, healthy. in sickness and in health, as he’d call it. satoru vows that if theres ever a day he’s not with you, he must be dead.

choso / mine

“you made a rebel of a careless man's careful daughter, you are the best thing that's ever been mine”

choso knew better than to break your heart. he was smarter than that, he loved you more than that. he had to be careful, made sure your love was just as strong as his, before he could take you. he didn’t want any doubt, because he knows there are much better men out there, begging for your attention. but they couldn’t hold a dime to his love. they couldn’t treat you the way he could, worship you the way he could. his love was unmatched, and on top of that, you were his. “mine,” he’d whisper, and you’d hum. “yours,” you agree.

toji fushiguro / dress

“only bought this dress so you could take it off, take it off, carve your name into my bedpost, ‘cause I don't want you like a best friend”

toji knew it was wrong, he’d be stupid not to. he shouldn’t have let the pathetic maid from the zen’in clan follow him that night he escaped. you were dead weight. but toji still found himself draping his jacket over your shoulders when you shivered, and breathing hot air into your hands. he still found himself paying for your food, and buying you small things you mentioned in passing. he still found himself wrapped around you, his lips pressing against yours in the dark hours of the night. in the morning, it’d be fine. you’d be the pathetic person who followed him around all day. there would be no touches, no lingering glazes. he wouldn’t care for you like that, even though he desperately wanted to.

ieiri shoko / sparks fly

“my mind forgets to remind me you're a bad idea, you touch me once and it's really something”

shoko knows she isn’t perfect. she knows her sleep schedule is horrible, and that most of her attention is divided between med school and getting a new pack of cigs. but once she saw you, she couldn’t stop noticing you. your bright smiles, beautiful laughter. shoko wanted to be on the receiving end of all of it. she wanted to be the one who brightened up your day, and kissed your lips till you were breathless. even if she was the worst option, the option that couldn’t give you what you wanted. she wanted you, and that should make up for it right?

#rintarousgirl #fluff #sfw #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk #jjk gojo #jjk geto #jjk toji #jjk nanami #jjk shoko #shoko ieiri #shoko ieri x reader #getou suguru #getou suguru x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #nanami kento #nanami kento x reader #toji fushiguro #toji fushiguro x reader #toji x reader #shoko x reader #nanami x reader #gojo x reader #getou x reader #taylor swift

[anima-writer]

REQUEST: Can I have Jonah Marshall and Adam Murray (separately, if not then just Jonah)with a fem (or gn) s/o who has a weak immune system and gets sick often, and they have to take care of them? (Fluff please) Please & thank you!

Adam & Jonah taking care of a Reader who has weak immune system.

Summary: Adam & Jonah takes care of you while sick

Pairing[s]: Adam Murray × Reader AND Jonah Marshall × Reader, Plamantic

Warning[s]: none, just fluff

Word Count: 837

A/N: I kinda enjoy these types of requests because I also have a weak immune system. When the winter comes I just die for a whole 2 weeks.

Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry! I accidentally erased the request because I posted it by accident ):

Let's go do in this way: Winter finally arrived, everyone in Mandela was happy with the arrival of the season, because who doesn't like the beautiful cold with a good hot chocolate in the morning or even at night? Well, there will always be a contrarian, right? And that someone is you. Because of your low immunity, winter was one of the worst things for you. But don't worry! Because two amazing friends/boyfriends are here to help you get better, even if it takes up to a month!

Now let's see how each one will do to overcome from this occasion.

ADAM MURRAY—

Adam at first wouldn't be the type of person to get that close to you, like get in close for a hug or a kiss or something. He loves you but he's just trying to prevent himself from getting sick and he's also kinda right because he doesn't know how long you're going to be sick. Having two people sick would not be a nice thing for him.

To make up for the physical touch, he'd just get in quality time. He'll stay by your side when you're in pain, he'll hold your hand if you start complaining about how cold they are, and he'll always remind you to take your meds.

If you are the type of person who doesn't like taking medicine so much, Adam would insist a little and then he would give in and choose to make you a bean soup (if you love bean soup, pls kiss me and marry me), it might not turn out well but you were the one who chose not to take the medicine so you don't have nothing to say.

Adam will totally force you to try to go to sleep or just take a nap. Even if you don't want to, it's possible that Adam will take a baseball bat and hit you so you can go to sleep...haha, just kidding!! …At least-

I have a funny scenario where you and Adam ended up falling asleep on the couch next to each other while were watching something. You were sleeping on each other's shoulders and only the sound of the TV screeching would be heard and then Six appears watching this scene and decides to take a picture to tease you guys about it later.

After you get better, Adam tries to arrange a better day so you two can enjoy the winter like everyone else in Mandela's town. He'll make sure you're up for it!

Or if you don't like playing in the snow, then he'll find other ways for the two of you to enjoy the winter.

You kind of get to choose if you have any better ideas.

In short: Adam will be one of the best company if you end up sick and want some company. And, the best part, when you got better he promised to give you hugs and little kisses on your forehead.

JONAH MARSHALL—

Now Jonah…well, he's going to be a special case.

Still following the script, Jonah would help you feel better, remind you to take your meds and stuff. But, unlike Adam, he's going to be very carefree about being sick because he's going to be the one that even though he knows you're sick he still continues to hug you and give you a few kisses here and there. What? He just can't stand that long without touching you.

And when you complain about your cold hands? He sees this as a very good opportunity to continue to touch you. But he will hold your hands by the power of love, because he really didn't like how cold your hands were. It felt like you pulled them out of the freeze just now.

Jonah would happily get him to give you the meds but what if you're the type of person who doesn't like to take meds? Well, I'm sorry because Jonah is going to shove the medicine down to your throat. It's for your own good, please don't be mad at him :(

But he has a reason for forcing you to take medicine: he doesn't know how to cook. (I feel like Jonah is the kind of person who could burn the own ramen noodles) If he could he would make you a really nice soup but, just in case, it's better him stay away from the kitchen…do you want a bottle of water? Please accept-

You know what would be funny? If Jonah got sick because he had too much physical contact with you…haha! It's just a joke really....or is it not—

He actually got sick a few days later.

…Look on the bright side! You two can now stay in the comfort of your bed together, trying to keep each other warm, without interruptions! Yay free cuddles!

In short: Jonah, kinda, isn't one of the best options for when you're sick but he tries to make you happy when your mood gets low so...yeah, he tried his best.

#the mandela catalogue #the mandela catalogue x reader #tmc x reader #adam murray x reader #jonah marshall x reader #adam murray #jonah marshall #it can be seem as platonic as romantic #mandela catalogue x reader

[lildude200]

FINALLY MADE THE AU'S (FLUFF ADDITION)

my first time making and au.. dont judge me

MY MARBLE HORNETS AU

My Tim/Masky fluff au

Timothy's au:

Tim loves when you show affection to him he may not act like it but he adores it.

Tim’s way of showing love is gifting or just being around you. He never had much love as a kid so he loves to have you to show him any type of love.

He’s also scared of spiders :,D so he’ll have you kill it or get it out of the room or he’ll act overly dramatic if it's the smallest spider.

He also refuses to take his meds so every morning it is like fighting a child to brush their teeth but instead you tackle him and force him to take them.

He may be the shortest out of the marble hornets cast but he give the warmest hugs/cuddles he will hold you close and make sure you're warm.

When Tim gets drunk on date nights or just a night you guys drink he gets very depressed thinking about his past as you normally comfort him and let him cry and some of the time he goes and curls up on the bed waiting for you to come to bed.

My Brian/Hoodie fluff au

Brian’s au

Brian is like a dog, he will follow you and love you no matter what.

Brian is the one who will buy you things no matter the price (basically your sugar daddy)

He is the best cuddler out of all the marble hornets cast. His 6 '4 self wraps his arms around you and holds you close and never lets you go.

He also reminds you to take meds or brush your teeth or eat whatever your struggling with he’ll help remind you to do what needs to be done.

One thing this man loves is food. If you talk about going out he chooses all you can eat or the golden caral down the road or in town.

He’s also the guy that wakes up very early.

My au or Jay Merrick

Jay Merrick au

Jay is the kind of guy that loves to record memories. He always has his camera like it's his life support.

The way he shows his love is by taking you out on picnics or surprising you with food or something you wanted in his budget.

He always rants to you about how he always wanted to do the film but he hated how everything took a wrong turn and he just doesn't know who’s fault it is.

He’s not much of a cuddler but he pretty much cradles you and carries you around like a baby.

He also cooks for you even if you say you want to cook he’ll make up an excuse to cook for you no matter how many times you guys argue.

He also loves animals anytime you guys visit tim seth or alex he has to pet there animals mostly time service cat they are the sweetest and jay loves them to death but he convinces you to get pets constantly but you're unsure because of the small apartment.

My au of Alex Kralie 

Alex Kralie au

He is the sassiest boyfriend you have ever had, He will have the smartest mouth you've ever heard.

He is such a comedian he makes jokes about anything.

His way of showing love is bullying, He always makes fun of you but in a loving way.

You and Alex went from enemies to lovers.

He also loves reading. Both You and Alex + Tim normally go to the library with you and you all make fun of the books you guys pick out.

He is a cuddler but he’s the one that will pick you up and wwe slam you onto the bed and kiss your face as he cuddles you.

(TIM READS SMUTT YOU READ WHATEVER YOU READ AND ALEX READS ABOUT URBAN LEGENDS)

#marble hornets #mh tim #brian thomas #Marble hornets headcannons #marble hornets au #alex kralie #jay merrick

[cuddlepilefics]

Hi, it's me who wrote salembutnotthecat about writing a sickfic for The Rose fandom. So, my prompt is: Woosung getting carsick when going home after working the whole day recording a song in the studio. He decided to take a taxi to go home (Inspired by the actual situation when he got drank, took a taxi and had to stop it as soon as arriving on the Hannam Bridge. He got off and threw up everywhere.) but this time he gets sick not because of drinking but maybe he ate something wrong or got a fever. He gets too exhausted to drive so he takes a taxi instead... I just have this idea but you can alter the details in any way that is comfortable for you to write! If you haven't listened to The Rose yet, please give them a listen. They're amazing! Thank you so much. :)

Hannam Bridge

Prompts: Motion sick + professionalism failure + visibly ill + totally drained @monthofsick

TW: emeto, real person fiction

I have listened to The Rose and so far, my favorite song is "Sorry", "Red" following close on #2

Fandom: The Rose

Sickie: Woosung

No one’s POV.:

Woosung had already been exhausted when his alarm went off that morning. It felt like he hadn’t slept a wink but he knew that he had a full day ahead of him and couldn’t afford to roll over once more. His head throbbed when he set up, making him wince. Maybe a nice, hot morning coffee would ease his headache though it might not be the best idea to have one, considering he had to record a new song today. Woosung didn’t really feel hungry for breakfast, so he only got himself a cup of coffee, sleepily sipping the hot drink as he read over the lyrics on his phone. Before heading out, he knocked back a painkiller to soothe his headache, knowing he wasn’t supposed to take it on an empty stomach but he couldn’t bring himself to eat anything.

It was a decision, Woosung soon came to regret. His stomach was in knots but at least, the headache had improved a little. He’d spent the next few hours practicing the song and record it after lunch, so he could still hope his stomach would settle down till then because right now, there was no way the microphone wouldn’t pick up the rumbles. The other members all had their individual schedules today, which was usually fine but right now, Woosung wished he wouldn’t be alone but that couldn’t be helped. At least, Dojoon had texted, asking if they wanted to grab lunch together, since they both had their breaks scheduled at the same time. Woosung couldn’t imagine forcing any food into his stomach but maybe that was exactly what he needed to do to help it settle if the problem was coffee and medicine on an empty stomach.

By the time lunchtime rolled around, Woosung felt defeated. He didn’t like the way his voice sounded on the new song and didn’t know how he was going to record it later but decided that was a problem for his future-self to figure out. Dojoon frowned when the other plopped into the seat opposite him. “You good?”, he asked the leader, who tiredly rested his aching head in his hands. Woosung nodded but admitted: “Tired as hell and I have a headache.” – “Mhm, you’re pretty pale”, Dojoon commented. In his opinion, his friend looked visibly sick but he didn’t want to call him out. “Drank some coffee and had some pain meds this morning on an empty stomach, so it’s been a little unsettled all morning”, the older sighed, his stomach growling as if in confirmation, “I’ll just order some plain rice to calm it down and repent for my coffee-sin.” That made Dojoon laugh and although he felt so unwell, Woosung was glad he had gone out for lunch.

The rice had done little to settled the singer’s stomach, sitting heavily as he made his way to the studio. After getting set up, Woosung put on his headphones and winced at the pressure they applied on his head. Had the booth always been this stuffy? No matter how uncomfortable it was, he reminded himself to act professional and tried his hardest to do well as they started to record but it was hard. Every inhalation threatened to make his stomach cramp up and with his shallow breathing, his voice came out flat and forced. “Stop straining, your voice sounds forced”, came the producers voice over the speaker. Woosung nodded and gave a thumbs-up to show he had understood the instructions. That didn’t mean he’d manage to change anything about it though.

Somehow, today didn’t seem to be his day, Woosung acknowledged when the producer asked what was up because he usually did so much better. They agreed to take a five minute break during which he sipped some water and tried to quieten his racing mind screaming at him to be more professional. His hands trembled when he got behind the mic once again, the pressure mounting to do better. Woosung started to sweat but he didn’t know whether it was the stress or the lack of ventilation in the recording booth, that was already making him feel a little lightheaded.

Hours later, Woosung was finally done. No, he wasn’t satisfied at all with the way it had turned out but his throat hurt and his head throbbed, so he knew it wouldn’t get any better if they kept at it longer. Besides, he felt guilty for how long he was keeping the producer just because he couldn’t get his lines right. He had completely failed at being professional. The producer didn’t seem to be all that upset though, far more understanding than Woosung would’ve expected. While he packed up his belongings, the other even went to get him some tea from the break room, telling him to get home safely.

Too tired to drive himself home, Woosung called for a taxi and sat outside, sipping his tea. Getting some fresh air seemed to help temporarily and he weakly collapsed into the backseat, voice scratchy as he told the driver the address. If Woosung had felt like the recording booth had been stuffy, the car was a wholly different level. Within only a couple of minutes, he was sweating buckets, his stomach churning with every turn of the road. Of course, getting carsick would be the cherry on top of his already shitty day. Dreading the weird, fluttery feeling in his stomach, Woosung clutched his empty paper cup. He hoped he’d make it home without getting sick to his stomach, his throat already sore from singing all day.

They had just pulled onto Hannam bridge when Woosung’s stomach took a turn for the worse and he begged the driver to pull over, already gagging over the paper cup in his hand. For a moment, he got caught in his seatbelt as he tried to get out of the taxi but managed to free himself before pitching forward, the tea he had just finished splattering onto the pavement. Stumbling to the side of the bridge, Woosung clutched the railing and tried to brace himself against the dizziness. The next heave had him bent at the waist, acid burning his throat. His heart was racing as he retched up another bitter wave and struggled to inhale afterwards, his stomach immediately lurching again.

Woosung was glad that his hood had slipped forward over the upper half of his face when he had first bent over. Hopefully it’d conceal his identity because the thought of fans recognizing and watching him in such a pitiful state was enough to make his stomach turn. On the list of things he had hoped to never have to experience, getting sick in public was pretty far up. At least, it was already dark, so he could convince himself of his anonymity. That was the only comfort he found as his throat strained with dry heaves, body too exhausted to get anything else up.

Even when the heaves slowly tapered off, Woosung couldn’t bring himself to let go of the hand rail, his head spinning as his heart kept beating out of his chest. It was hard to imagine getting back into the stuffy taxi but he knew he didn’t really have a choice, since he didn’t want to waste the driver’s time and also because he truly wanted to curl up in his bed and be miserable in the privacy of his room. Staggering back to the taxi, Woosung gulped and forced in a shaky breath.

When he plopped back into his seat, he found a plastic bag and a bottle of water there, the driver sympathetically offering him a mint, which he gladly accepted, the taste on his tongue keeping the nausea at an all time high. Woosung dropped his head in his hands, totally drained. He could feel his blood pulsing in his head and it was only now, that he noticed how his cheeks had become damp with tears. His flushed cheeks felt hot against his hands and by now, he was pretty certain that he was running a temperature. There was no way his day could go so wrong if he wasn’t sick.

Woosung didn’t have the energy to check though, already glad that he managed to drag himself from the taxi to the safety of his own bathroom, where he promptly found himself retching up a mouthful of bile from the exertion of having to get upstairs. Merely rinsing his mouth and using some mouthwash, Woosung splashed some cold water on his feverishly flushed skin before stumbling to his room and crashing on his bed. In his haze, he only just remembered typing a message to their manager. The words barely coherent and with lots of typos, it was obvious how miserable he felt, already falling asleep with his phone in his hand as soon as he had hit sent.

#fanfic #fanfiction #sickfic #sick #emeto #tw emeto #tw rpf #novemetober #the rose

[yesbutmakeitgay]

Once Upon A Time I Used To Know A Girl

Chapter 7

Carol Danvers x Reader

Masterlist | This work's masterlist | AO3

Summary: Kamala tries a different approach to your recovery, you begin to work things out on your own.

Angst, Slow Burn, Amnesia.

Word count: 821

When All You Told Me I Know By Heart

Your sleep is interrupted by the pungent smell of ethanol and latex mixed with the unmistakable scent of blood, the room is pitch black. You hear someone open the door desperately and yell, "Hurry up, we can't hold The Captain back much longer." But, after a sharp pain in your neck, it all fades away.

Kamala stays up all night thinking of what you said about hearing Jessica’s voice and remembering the relationship you had with her.

At first she doesn’t completely believe it, maybe you did just meet up with her because you wanted to hire her, but the more she considers it the more it makes sense. You wouldn’t have just gone out to meet her if she was a complete stranger, you seemed to recall enough about her when you woke up to know that was a bad idea.

Kamala begins to wonder what would happen if you were to be exposed to something of Carol’s, seeing her face was definitely out of the question, but what if you heard her speak, would it have the same effect as it did with Jessica? She has to give it a try, so now, she’s gotta find a recording of Carol’s voice.

It is still early in the morning when Kamala sneaks into Fury’s office, "Lose something?" he says to her, seeing that she had no intentions of greeting him.

Kamala is startled, she was hoping he wouldn’t be there yet, "Hey, hi, hello, how are you?" she stumbles on her words as she stops her movements.

"Depends what you’re here for."

She gives him a big, innocent smile, "I was hoping I could borrow some audio files."

"Of what?" Fury already doesn’t like what he’s hearing.

"Anything of Carol’s?"

Fury is quick to deduce the girl’s intentions, "You can’t do that."

"Come on, just let me try!" she pleads.

"You’re gonna get my ass kicked."

"I promise I won’t say anything I just wanna see if she can recognize it," Fury shakes his head in strong disapproval, "We've all been tiptoeing around this and it's certainly not helping, she’s gonna figure it out on her own sooner or later."

"I already sent a strongly worded letter to Miss Jones."

"Like she will care," she scoffs, "listen, if you don’t give it to me I’m gonna find one elsewhere, at least if it comes from you, you will know what it is." It’s a threat.

Fury thinks about it for a moment, "Fine," he complies.

Kamala leaves Fury’s office with the file she wanted and goes to your room. When she enters she sees you’re still in bed which is a little odd, "Good morning," she says softly.

"Hey," you respond, wincing in pain.

"Is it your head?" you nod, "Did you take your meds?" you nod again.

"You think I can take another one?"

"I wouldn’t," she replies, her features are full of empathy, "it’s a very strong dose."

"You’re probably right, I guess I’ll just tough it out."

"I have something that might cheer you up." You look up at her, intrigued, "I found this," she pulls out her S.A.B.E.R. tablet, "I was thinking maybe it can help you remember some things." She tries to sound nonchalant.

You sit up in your bed, "Let’s see." She hands you the device displaying a big play button, you tap it and an audio begins.

It’s a soft, captivating voice that says, "Higher, further, faster." You stare at the screen, dumbfounded, Kamala looks at you expectantly. You graze your finger over the button, considering if you should play it again.

"Together," you whisper. The girl is amazed, her plan worked. "Monica used to say that," Kamala’s hopes go down, "but that’s not Monica," you think out loud.

"Do you know who it is?" She gives it one more try.

"No." You wince again, suddenly reminded of your awful headache. Your brain doesn’t linger too much on the audio after that, too preoccupied by the nightmare that woke you up, "Did you ever call Monica 'Captain?'" You ask out of the blue.

"Never seriously, I tried to help her find a codename, but she never wanted one."

"I don’t remember ever calling her 'Captain.'"

"I don’t think you did, either." She’s unsure what you’re aiming for, but she can see the cogs in your brain turning.

"Did I ever work with Steve?" Your question comes out of left field, Kamala does a quick search on her tablet.

"Doesn’t seem like it, what’s going on?" she finally asks.

"Was my partner a Captain, then?"

"What makes you say that?" she asks anxiously.

"I’ll take it as a yes."

"I didn’t say 'yes,'" she responds almost immediately.

"That’s the thing with you, you’re very quick to say 'no,' but you’re never quite able to say 'yes.'" You’re not really angry, you’re just tired of knowing they’re keeping her from you.

Chapter 8

Tell me all your thoughts!

Tags: @graniairish @carols-photonblast @thelittleliars @prplepeony

Let me know if you wanna be tagged :)

#carol danvers #carol danvers x reader #captain marvel #captain marvel x reader #carol danvers angst #kamala khan #valkyrie

[addictedtosickfics]

My boyfriend caught his first cold in our relationship

My boyfriend went to a wedding on Friday and came home with a hoarse voice from all the singing and screaming.

On Saturday, his throat was just still a little sore, but that's normal after screaming every song you know.

When I came over on Sunday, he greeted me with a hug and almost instantly told me that he was going to be chewing gum a lot that day because his throat hurt. I told him that was fine, of course. Though I did think it was weird that his throat still hurt on Sunday afternoon when the wedding was Friday night.

The day was normal, but when we were winding down for the night, I asked him if he wanted me to stay over. Because even at that point when he was pretty sure it was just from using his voice too much, he still didn't feel great.

He said that he wanted me to stay over and that he would call out of work tomorrow. And he was glad he called out because he got a horrible night's sleep. He got up once to take some ibuprofen, and then we cuddled for a bit when he returned. He slept very fitfully and got up another time to get a spoon of honey because the meds did nothing for him.

When morning came, I woke up alone in bed, which is not entirely unusual because he gets up much earlier than me, but that morning I didnt hear him doing anything upstairs.

I got up and went to the living room and to my surprise he's laying cuddled up on the couch. And he was passed tf out.

So I refilled his water bottle, laid down on the other side of the couch, and watched tiktoks on silent until he woke up.

He woke up dazed and I asked him why he went to the couch as I switched the blanket he was using to a comfier one from bed. And he said that he didn't mean to fall asleep up there. He just woke up, went upstairs and decided he was going to be awake. But he eventually sat down on the couch and fell asleep again.

We cuddled for a little while before I told him I was going to run to town to get breakfast for us.

I ended up picking us up some donuts, but I got him some cough drops and a chamomile mint tea from caribou as well.

When I got back, he was much more awake. We ate our food. His voice was just as bad as the night before, if not worse, but now he was also sniffly.

He took a hot shower after we ate. I sat on the couch again, but I could hear him coughing from the shower, and my heart just ached for him.

The rest of the day was filled with cuddles, movies, sniffles, and nose blows (which he mostly excused himself to the bathroom to do, unfortunately)

The few times he did blow his nose in front of me was with a paper towel when we were eating lunch. His blows were always very soft and he almost always pinched his nose from the middle of his bridge down in a swiping motion that was really rough on his nose because he was using paper towel.

It left his nose so cute and red though. A few other things of note are that sometime after lunch, he decided to take his temperature, and he had a low-grade fever. And for those of you who like it (me included) the night I stayed over, he said out loud that he "might be getting sick" and then when his dad called him the next morning to ask why he wasn't at work (life360) he told him that he was sick.

Also, he knows about my kink, but I honestly think he forgets about it sometimes and I don't know if I should really remind him right now haha.

But yeah I'll post again if anything happens when I go over today. No sneezing yet, just absolutely adorable fluff

#snzblr #snz blog #snz kink #snzfucker #coldfucker #sick #sneeze #sicknario #caretaking #snznario #boyfriend fluff #boyfriend sick

[kyleraynermybeloved]

Wedding Day

Pairing: Mickey 'Fanboy' Garcia x NavySEAL!Reader Summary: Your wedding day arrives and as usual there’s bound to be some playful banter with those you love. Warnings: None, tooth rotting fluff. Word Count: 903 A/N: It's my birthday and I wanted to post this fun little drabble as a gift to y'all! Hope you enjoy! TWAHF Masterlist

To say you were nervous would be a complete understatement. The nerves kept you up much later than you would have liked, keeping you groggy for the better half of the morning.

You were just glad you had Mickey’s mom to help you get prepared. Once you were finished you looked at her through the mirror as she hugged you from behind, smiling with tears in her eyes. “You look breathtaking. Just as kind and beautiful as the shy little girl Mickey had been excited to bring home for the first time.”

Your dress was gorgeous, beyond anything you’ve ever dreamed of with the beautiful necklace she had gifted you in the morning.. It was a family heirloom that’s been passed down for generations, usually to the first married woman of the family. With Mickey being the oldest of two siblings and his younger sister not planning on getting engaged any time soon, it went to you, no matter how much you declined.

A few tears slipped as you hugged her tighter to you. “Thank you so much for everything. I don’t think I’d be where I am now without you or the family, you mean the world to me.”

The remaining hour went by in a flash. The venue was decorated with an assortment of fairy lights, giving it an ethereal glow. You both had invited a handful of people, a few family members and your closest friends, wanting to have a small wedding. Mickey was beaming with joy while trying to contain his crying as you both said your vows, you were no better. His best man and best friend Reuben had subtly handed you both tissues causing your heart to soar as you thought about your now husband having wonderful people in his life that cared deeply for him.

Your first kiss shared as husband and wife had completely swept you off your feet, your friends and family cheered loudly with a few hoots and hollers coming from the back. You were so enraptured by the kiss you didn’t realize Mickey had swept you up and carried you towards the reception area. The group had followed heading to their seats as all the food was being served.

“How are you feeling, Mrs. Garcia?” Mickey beamed at you.

“Absolutely in love, Mr. Garcia.” Winking at him, you leaned over and gave him a peck. It was so easy to get lost in each other. After all, you two had practice since you were five. You had a whole life together and were ready for more, greedily taking what you could get.

“You two are so sickly cute it’s disgustingly endearing. Remind me to nausea meds when I’m around the both of you,” Reuben teased you both. He was sitting at the table next to Mickey, shoving food in his mouth with a grin.

“Oh, I second that. It was bad enough I was forced to see her read the novels he sent her but now I have to see them interact in person.” Casey, your best friend who was your maid of honor chuckled. She sipped on her drink next to you with her date on the other side hiding a laugh with her hand.

“Hey, I wasn’t that bad. And those letters were sweet.” You grumbled under your breath causing the whole table to laugh. In all honesty, you were down bad.

She raised an eyebrow at you, “Need I remind you of the events leading to your callsign, Wraith?” She had got you there, not even your loving husband knew about that.

“Nope!” You squeaked, cheeks turning a dark crimson color. Reuben gave a questioning look to Mickey who shrugged back. He knew of your callsign, just not the story of how it came to you.

“Now you have to tell us. You can’t expect us not to bite the bait you’ve just thrown at us.”

Casey opened her mouth to speak but stopped at the look you gave her, instead she shrugged. “Sorry. Lips are sealed.”

“How wonderful,” you replied dryly, shaking your head at her. The others protested, wanting to hear the story that managed to ruffle your feathers. “I promise it’s nothing too interesting. She’s just making it out to seem like more than it really is.”

“I beg to differ,” Casey said behind her glass, smirking at you from the memory but relented in the end. It wasn’t everyday she got to tease you endlessly which had been payback for all the times you’ve done it to her. But she knew her limits and didn’t plan on crossing that line lest it fall back on her.

Reuben perked up at the exchange, “You’re not getting out of it that easily, I will expect an explanation some time in the future. As for now, go have your first dance you two lovebirds.” He and Casey had all but pushed you and Mickey out of your seats towards the makeshift dance floor. 

Giggling at their antics you grabbed Mickey’s hand in yours pulling yourself into his embrace as the music played after the announcement of your first dance. 

Finally having a moment to yourselves without any interruptions before the rest of the party joins you.

You looked up at him, completely love-struck, eyes shining with emotion. “I love you, Mr. Garcia.”

“I love you more, Mrs. Garcia.” He smiles, leaning down and pulls you into a kiss.

#kyleraynermybeloved #mickey fanboy garcia #mickey garcia #fanboy #fanboy drabble #mickey garcia drabble #mickey garcia x reader #fanboy x reader #mickey garcia x navyseal!reader #fanboy x navyseal!reader #the wraith and her fan

[sheetsonfire]

Old Flames Can Still Burn You | Part 1

Fandom: Chicago Med / Chicago PD

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Reader

Genre: Angst, drama, romance

Warnings: Descriptions of past domestic abuse, emotional manipulation, blackmail, panic attacks

Word Count: 3494

Prompt From @afro-hispwriter: Ava Bekker is from Reader's past, now together with Jay Halstead they must face the return of everything Reader wanted to escape from.

A/N: I don't know if this is darker than expected, but I hope you enjoy it all the same!

-

You cradled your coffee in your hands, letting the radiating heat warm up cold fingers as you sat on the bench outside the hospital. You were bundled in your hat and coat, sitting next to Natalie and April as they chattered away about Owen’s new pre-school and what Noah had been like as a toddler. The giggles from the two women made you smile - it felt good to be among friends, with a job you cherished.

As had become a tradition since Connor’s arrival, he would buy his friends' lunch at least once a month if not more often - today was one of those occasions. Taking a bite of your own tortilla, you watched Connor squabble with Will to the side of the food cart, the former trying to convince the latter to try a new tortilla filling. Your smile turned into soft rumbles of laughter as Natalie shook her head at the men - they were the real children sometimes.

Eventually, Connor and Will return to the group with their lunch choices and Will seems smug, you assume he got his way instead of caving to Connor’s recommendations. You catch Connor’s eye, shaking your head with a grin, shrugging as if to say “What can you do?” 

“Hey! I saw that!” Will grumbles at you, only making you laugh more when he swats the back of Connor’s head. 

You shrug with a teasing smile, “It’s not my fault you’re afraid of change. Maybe we should get you to Dr Charles about that…”

Will playfully kicks your shoe and you swipe back at him with your foot, Will smarting back at you that Dr Charles is “a psychiatrist, not a therapist.” 

“Hm, I never said you didn’t need both, buddy.” You wink, taking a bigger bite of your lunch as Will comes to sit opposite you with Connor who was stifling his amusement to avoid another whack.

“Remind me why we’re outside again?” You sigh, feeling the cold creep beneath your clothes and to your skin, despite your layers. 

April groaned in sympathy, she had a scarf on as well as a jacket and hat, yet looked colder than you. “Because the cafeteria had a leak this morning, it’s apparently a limited-capacity area for the rest of the day.”

“And we’re not in the on-call room because…?” You sipped more eagerly at your coffee, 

“Because it’s already got people in there who called first dibs.” Natalie supplies, rolling her eyes at the bad luck your troupe had been handed.

You wrinkle your nose in disapproval, knowing you only had about five more minutes until you caved and went back inside to do literally anything, so long as you could stay warm. “Ah…Suppose the fresh air is something, but maybe too fresh.”

“Besides…” Will starts, finishing a mouth full of his lunch, “Connor’s avoiding his new competition.” He raises his eyebrows, clearly pleased with himself for having ‘gossip’. 

You and your two bench companions turn your attention to Connor who sighs, wishing Will hadn’t brought it up. Things had been difficult of late, he was starting to think his reaction to the new CT Fellow was more to do with his mood than anything else.

“Look, things have been hard enough proving to Dr Latham I’m good enough to be his CT fellow and then the hospital decided to let a second Fellow join. He seemed delighted this morning when he told me.”

Natalie chimes in, having known Dr Latham a lot longer than Connor she had been periodically trying to reassure the surgeon that Dr Latham had the greatest respect for him. 

“Connor, you know Dr Latham isn’t petty like that, and we all know how good of a physician you are." Natalie encourages, and you nod in agreement, nobody ever doubted how excellent Connor was at his job, Nat then continues, "He’s probably just excited to have two great minds instead of one working for him. Presumably, this new doctor is a great mind too, right?”

Connor’s jaw clenches, thinking back to his first interaction with the new doctor, she had been… forward. It wasn’t usually a problem for Connor but there was a smugness to her, and he had felt defensive when she immediately diagnosed Dr Latham with Asperger's, annoyed that she would presume to know the man he had tried so hard to build a rapport with. Then again, he mused, the referral he had seen spoke for itself, she was an exciting new prospect from a professional standpoint. 

“Well yeah… yeah, of course, she was one of the top names in South Africa, Latham’s pick before me. Goodwin encouraged him to put his faith in me like Dr Downey did…" You all nod, sparing a thought for the late Dr Downey with whom Connor had really connected.

Connor turns to you, "Actually, she’s come from Groote Schuur in Cape Town. Y/N, you might have heard of her, Ava Bekker?”

The second Connor had said “Groote Schuur” your stomach had threatened to return your lunch back to the picnic table and over your friends. Your stomach felt like lead and you could feel the clamminess instantly break out over your skin beneath your winter layers. The world had started to zone out from focus, clumsily putting your coffee back on the table before you could drop it entirely.

Your friends knew you had spent nearly two years in South Africa, after becoming a fully qualified Emergency Medicine doctor as part of a fellowship programme. You had worked in the ED of Groote Schuur… but what they didn’t know was that you knew Ava Bekker all too well.

“Y/N, you okay?” Connor asks, confused at your reaction. 

Your throat felt tight, and your heart hammered away with adrenaline pulsing, you had to take a second away from the group, you didn’t want them to see how messed up you felt at the mere mention of her. 

“I-I’m fine, just uh…overate. I just need to take a walk, I’ll be right back, you guys go on inside before you, uh, freeze...” You give them all a tight smile, shuffling off the wooden seat, leaving behind a half-eaten tortilla that didn’t quite convince them of your excuse. You headed in the direction of the parking lot, not daring to look back at the concerned faces of your friends.

-

“Should I follow-?” Connor asks, Will considering the same himself. 

Natalie shakes her head, “Give her a minute, we can find out what that was soon enough.”

-

With shaking legs you hastily move towards a rarely used break spot at the side of the ED's main building, adjacent to the rows of parked cars, except as you stumbled with your head down you walked smack bang into a firm body. 

You yelp, “Oh god, I’m so sorry, I-I-...” You can’t help your jittered words as your brain fires a thousand thoughts at once. Ready to apologise profusely for not being more observant, you're panting hard. Steadying hands grasp your shoulders gently, making you finally look up to see who it was. 

“Y/N?” Jay’s face falls from confusion to concern when he sees your panicked expression. “What’s wrong?” 

Seeing Jay brings all of your emotions to the fore, tears stinging your dried-out eyes in the cold, your breaths are erratic and you can’t make the pain in your chest shift. 

“J-ay…” Trying your best to communicate to your boyfriend of almost a year what the problem was. 

“Hey, come on, it’s alright. Just breathe for me, sweetheart. I got you, let’s step inside out of the cold.” He puts a gentle arm around you, supporting you as he guides you through a side door, let in by one of the security guards.

It’s then that a nurse spots your boyfriend holding your distressed frame, watching him look for somewhere to take you away from the commotion of the hospital. 

She wanders over, coming over to see if you needed help.

“Sir, is everything okay, is she hurt?” 

“Uh no, sorry, Dr Y/L/N works here, I think she’s having a panic attack... I’m her boyfriend.” Jay flashes his badge, “Detective Jay Halstead. You got somewhere private, so we can just take a second?”

The nurse glances at you, watching you try and take slow steady breaths, hot tears running down your cheeks, shaking from the cold and the anxiety. 

“Do you know this Detective, hon, do you need me to stay?” She asks gently, hoping Jay wouldn’t take too much offence, as she did her due diligence to keep a fellow staff member safe, you could never be too careful.

“I-It’s okay, he is…” You take another deep inhale and exhale, “...my boyfriend.”

The nurse smiles sympathetically. “Alright, hon. This assessment room here is free for the next hour, you take the time you need, okay?” She takes in the colour of your scrubs, knowing you came from the ED. “Is your Charge Nurse, Maggie Lockwood?” 

You nod, sniffing as you focus on Jay’s hands on you, the warmth of his touch is something to ground you as nausea sits uncomfortably in your throat.

“I’ll let her know where you are and who you’re with. If you need anything, I’m gonna be at that station over there, alright?” 

You nod again, trying for a smile but you’re sure it comes out as a weary sniffle.

“Thank you, ma’am.” Jay thanks her sincerely, guiding you to the room as he helps you sit in a chair, moving away only to close the door gently. 

You sit staring at your hands as they shake, your head still spinning as you hear Jay approach, the soft rustle of him taking his coat off. He bends down to crouch in front of you,

“Sweetheart, can I scoot in a little closer and hold your hands?” He asks gently, 

You nod to convey your permission, “You…can…” eyes closed in some sort of relief as your boyfriend carefully takes your hands in his, thumbs immediately stroking over your knuckles. 

“You’re freezing.” He murmurs, moving a little closer so he can see your face. 

You lift your head slightly with a pained expression that makes Jay’s chest ache, inhaling as deeply as you can before releasing a shaky exhale, your extremities feel weak and numb, just taking the time to catch your breath again. 

Jay scans the room, thankful that there was a pile of thin blankets in a cupboard just within reach. It would do for now.

Carefully he helps you shed your jacket and your hat, replacing it with the warm, dry, blanket around you. A gentle hand rubs your back slowly,

“I got you, I’m right here, Y/N. Just take it easy, I know it’s scary but you’ll be okay… I just need to let Voight know where I am, give me two seconds.” You nod silently, clutching Jay’s arm a little as he reaches for his phone, still feeling panicked as you don’t want him to move away.

“It’s alright, I’m staying, I won’t let go.” He soothes, dialling Hank’s cell, watching you with concern as he sees the exhaustion setting in from your attack.

“Voight, I’ve got a family emergency with Y/N… No, she’s, she’s gonna be okay, but I need an hour to take care of it. Yeah, of course, no, it’s alright, I just need some time… Appreciate it, alright, thanks.” 

Your boyfriend turns his attention back to you, one hand settling back over yours, the other remaining in soothing motions across your back, you put your head down a little more, trying to get nausea to shift, you can feel the edges of your vision going, tilting to one side as you lose your sense of gravity. “Woah, hey, it’s alright, honey, I’ve got you.” 

Jay stands in such a way that he can continue to support your wavering body, flexing out a leg to hook a second chair in the room with his boot, bringing it closer to sit by your side, letting you fall completely against him.

“It’s okay, feel my hands, squeeze if you can, breathe with me, slow it down, Y/N…”

Once you’re sure you’re not going to pass out, you relax into Jay’s hold, but you find it hard to stay awake as your heart skitters, only the sounds of your laboured breathing fill the room.

“That’s it, Y/N, it’s going to pass. You’re breathing better, you got this.”

You don’t how much time passes, but eventually the ringing stops, your extremities regain their feeling and your breathing is virtually back to normal. You’re so tired, but at least aware of yourself again. Feeling the heat of embarrassment creep up on you, you try and sit up in Jay’s embrace.

Jay remains quiet, letting you gather your thoughts. 

“Hi…” You rasp, sniffing as you wipe away the wetness on your cheeks. 

“Hey, you with me now?” Jay asks softly, soothing your forehead with a kiss. 

You nod, groaning as you can’t believe how badly you reacted to the conversation during lunch.

“I’m so embarrassed.” You murmur, resting your head on Jay’s shoulder, wrapping your arms around him.

“No need to feel embarrassed, honey. That was a bad one, you haven’t had one of those since those first months we met…” Jay doesn’t push, but he wants to know what could have triggered you so badly, squeezing you gently in the hug.

“Yeah, I know.” You sigh, lifting your head to look at the detective. “Uh…I, um, Jay… She’s here. A-...Ava’s here.” You exhale harshly, still feeling a visceral anger and fear at what this could mean for you.

“What? The reason you came back home, Ava?” Jay’s eyes have darkened, he knew all about your ex from before, it was part of the reason you had struggled so much to let Jay be there for you at first.

You nod, a moroseness overcoming your mood.

Yes, Ava Bekker was the reason you’d come home to Chicago last year. What at first had seemed like an exciting and hopeful romance, with even a permanent future to speak of, had turned into a mess of manipulative, controlling and exhausting behaviour on Ava’s part. 

It had got to the point where you had felt like you were going crazy, with no other choice but to take it to the police in Cape Town. It should have been a straightforward process, their laws on domestic violence were clear, but eventually, Ava had weaselled her way out of legal repercussions and you were left alone without a support system. Without so much as a restraining order to rely on, you decided it was better to simply walk away from your life there, coming back to Chicago where you knew she couldn’t follow. Until now, at least.

Coming back out of your thoughts you turn your gaze to Jay, you cup his cheek gently and lean in for a kiss, feeling his presence was doing wonders for your nerves. As you wrap yourself around him for a tighter embrace, you feel the rough material of his tactical vest. You pull back, frowning, realising that somewhere in your panic that you had heard him talk to Voight on the phone. 

“Wait, you here for work? Did I take you away from work?” 

Jay smiles wryly, stroking the back of your neck soothingly. “Sort of. It’s fine, I’d already given the witness statement I came to get to Voight before you ran into me.” 

You take a breath, “Okay, okay good… Seriously, Jay, you didn’t have to stay.”��

Jay huffs out a laugh, shaking his head as he kisses you again. “I was supposed to scoot you on over to Will and leave you to it? Now that I know why you were so upset? I don’t think so, honey.” 

You smile sheepishly, he had a point. “Okay, fair. It’s just, you know I hate being an inconvenience.” 

Jay cups your face, giving you a loving but stern look. “Being worried about this is not an inconvenience, Y/N. Seriously, I don’t have to tell you that domestic abuse is no light and breezy thing. You still have the police reports you gave back in South Africa, right?”

You nod, worrying your lip between your teeth. 

“Okay, so we’re gonna keep documentation of everything that happens here. Is there anything you can do in terms of reporting a conflict of interest to Goodwin?” 

“I…” Your heart picks up again, nerves jangling in your veins. “I don’t know, Jay. It’s my word against Ava's here, these people don’t know her like I do. I could try, I just… she made it hard for people to be around me last time, this is how it started, people questioning what was going on, thinking I was too much trouble because of her.” Tears spring back to your eyes, and you swipe them away angrily. 

“This is a nightmare, you…you think she came here because she knows I’m here?” You swallow, partially already knowing the answer. Ava knew every facet of your life before, she would always cancel plans with your friends, citing you had fallen ill or had something else come up, then when it came to seeing those friends again they would ask how you were after the cancellation and you never knew what they were talking about - it made you out to be a liar. 

She guilted you into thinking you weren’t grateful for her companionship, so you would overcompensate and do more to please her and win her affection. It had become an endless cycle, one that started to affect your work with patients and colleagues. In Ava’s eyes, her knowledge and expertise were always superior, it meant you began to question everything you did, which led you to self-medicating to cope - that had been the end for you.

“Sweetheart, I have to be honest, I’ve seen these types of situations a lot in my work. It would be naive to think she didn’t come here to mess with you, but now that we know she’s around, we’re gonna be vigilant. We’re gonna talk to Goodwin, Ethan, Maggie, Will… we’ll make sure that enough people know to keep her on a short leash. You have good friends here, family, and they’re not going to ditch you for her. You know that right?”

You sniff, resting your head on Jay’s shoulder. “Yeah… I know, I trust all of you… And Connor…she’s his new CT fellow. Oh god, poor Connor.”

His warm hand rests on the back of your head, lightly massaging your scalp. “We’ll make sure Connor knows too, it’s alright.” 

You nod against his shoulder again, taking another measured inhale and exhale. “Okay. Thank you, Jay, I am so glad you’re with me on this.” You lean back, squeezing his arm gratefully. You knew what a loving, healthy and communicative relationship could be like thanks to him.

He smiles fondly, “This isn’t a thankable situation, you just deserve better, and I want to make sure you have that… Do you want me to take you home?” 

You think about it for a moment, you sort if it did just want to curl up in your shared apartment with Jay and reset tomorrow. But you shake your head, a steeled look overtaking your worried expression.

“She’s crashed into my home, my life, I won’t let her scare me off already. I want to get back to work and face it all head-on.” 

Jay leans in to kiss you again, nodding, “Whatever you choose, I’m with you. Let’s get you back to the ED. If you’re ready, I’ll talk to some of the others real quick, and then I’ll head back to the 21st.”

-

You make your way out of the small room with Jay in tow, and you feel his hand rest comfortingly on the small of your back. 

The nurse gives you an inquiring look, and you smile and nod in confirmation that you were doing better. 

As you approached the double doors to the ED you felt your stomach knot up once again, Jay could feel you tense next to him.

He carefully stops you, turning to face you, “Hey, you don’t have to do this if you’re not ready. People will understand.”

You look into Jay’s intensely sincere eyes, wondering how you could be so lucky to have someone like him. You felt tired but not so much that the rest of the day was a write-off, you really wanted to make sure you didn’t let this disrupt your life already, Ava couldn’t do this to you again. You shake your head, “I can do it. You’re here, I’m going to be alright.”

He smiles, leaning in to kiss you soft and slow, you rest your hand on his chest, letting the moment linger, both of you unaware of the burning eyes that watch you from down the hall.

-

End of Part 1

@dumb-fawkin-bitch

Part 2

#jay halstead x reader #chicago pd #chicago med #one chicago #old flames can still burn you

[sery-chan-13]

Better to Run

Ch.12 of “My Sunshine” [TreechxReader]

Warnings: swearing and slightly suggestive content. He reads some of your poetry. You dug your grave bbg 🤷‍♀️

Some small cuts and bruises. He wasn't seriously hurt which was a good thing.

You held his hand as they redid the stitches on his back.

"See with pain meds this isn't that bad," he laughed, squeezing your hand.

You smiled up at him, taking a small towel and wetting it, gently scrubbing off the dirt and dried blood off of his face.

He smiled up at you.

They had him change out of his clothes and into some other more comfortable clothing. You took his clothes and he frowned.

"I don't want them to-"

"I'll take them home tonight and wash them. I'll give them to you tomorrow morning... before leavin'," you said with a smile.

"Ms. L/N... Dean Highbottom would like to speak to you. Privately."

——

"Do you know what these are?" He asked, pointing at the two items on the table.

"A makeup compact and a handkerchief? I'm confused... have I don't something wrong?" You asked, looking at him.

He sighed, it sounded relieved.

"No, sweet child, you have not... Coriolanus however..."

"Coryo? What did he do? What do those have to do with him?" You questioned.

Now that he mentioned it, you had not seen Coriolanus nor Lucy Gray. You would have thought he would be celebrating his victory much like you did.

"This... is Coriolanus's mother's compact.... And this is his father's handkerchief. He used them to cheat."

Cheat?

"I saw what you did to the water do you think I'm stupid?"

The words rang in your head. He cheated... Lucy Gray cheated.

"How?" That was the only word that came out of your mouth.

"The snakes... only attack those whose scent they are not familiar with. Lucy Gray touched that. That's why the snakes did not attack her. Snow slipped it into their tank. Her singing didn't calm them. The compact... he must have given her the idea to put in some rat poison from the zoo in there. She says it was her idea. That he had nothing to do with it. I know the Snows. And I know how much one manipulated by them will do to protect them."

Your eyes widened.

Dill.

Wovey.

Reaper.

They were all killed by the rat poison.

The way she tried to use the snake against Treech popped into your head.

"This makes you the true victor and owner of the Plinth Prize..." he mused, walking around the room. "But someone... a little birdie sang to me... that you were thinking of leaving. Going back home. Y/N, I highly implore that you stay here and continue your education. You are a very bright young lady you could do so much good here as a politician-"

He told. Coriolanus Snow had told on you. He was a liar. A liar. A cheater. A liar. You hated liars more than anything.

"Dean Highbottom... I truly appreciate that but... I'm not happy here. I don't want to continue my education here in the Capitol where they are telling us that killing kids is a good thing because of a war. I know you made the games yet, I... I do not like them. I do not want to be a politician when the people want someone who is willing to keep them going. I... I want to go home."

There was a silence in the room.

"You really do remind me so much of her," he whispered.

"Who?"

"His mother. She was kind. Too kind and he broke her down... the games... yes I fashioned them. In a drunken stupor when Dr.Gaul had given the class an assignment to create something to punish the districts. When I woke up I... I asked Cassius for the papers so I could rip them up. Destroy them. They were horrible... he had put both of our names on it and turned it in. Ever since then, she's kept me doing them... I understand how you feel. So I'm willing to help you."

You looked up in shock at everything he said. He didn't like the games either? He was friends with Snow's dad?

"Tomorrow morning they are sending your boy back. Tomorrow morning, you'll leave too I'm assuming?" He questioned.

You nodded, playing with the necklace.

"Alright... if that is truly what you want."

One question was still on your mind.

"Where's Coryo? Lucy Gray? What is going to happen to them?" You nervously asked. You were upset with them but that didn't mean they deserved to be hurt.

"Lucy Gray was sent back home. She's safe. Coriolanus is expected to join the peacekeepers tomorrow morning. Sejanus... wanted to go with...followed suit, that boy... he better be careful. I set up for him to be sent to six... but something tells me he will go to twelve to look for his songbird... that girl is lucky she survived him. He thinks he can trap her. Keep her in a cage and make her sing for him when he pleases... just like his father," Highbottom sat in the chair across from you. "He will come back. And he will come back with a hatred for those who know about what happened. For your sake... and for Treech's... act like you do not know about his cheating."

——

You went back to the room he was in and whispered everything to him.

His eyes narrowed.

"I saw her with that compact.... I should have called it out..." he whispered, looking down.

"I'm sorry... I should have never asked you to spare Lucy Gray.... She tried to hurt you..." you mumble, grabbing his hands. While you were gone he must have been allowed to take a shower because all the dirt and grime was off, and his hair looked more in it's natural soft curly state.

"Don't worry... you thought you were savin' me by having that alliance..." he said, grabbing your hand and pressing a kiss to it.

"I get to go home with you... I'm packing tonight. And I'm takin' just enough of my things and money to get by without seeming suspicious. Dean Highbottom was able to somehow... find an old cabin in the woods. We can live there... we... um I-" you stammered, meaning to say I, but obviously you wanted nothing more than for you two to be a 'we'.

He blushed and looked into your eyes.

"We huh? I'd like that," he said, quickly adding, "Only if you want that to I mean-"

You pressed a quick peck to his lips.

He smiled and looked at you, lovestruck.

"Well sunshine... that's one way to shut me up."

——

Later, you were both allowed to leave the hospital. You were told that he needed to stay with you, not leaving your sight, which was no problem.

There was a party for the victors, but you didn't want to go. You wanted to spend a quiet night in. So, instead of taking Treech to go to a party that neither of you wanted to go, you took him to your house.

Your father was still out... and your mother was probably still staring out the window.

You took him through the stupidly ornate house, stopping quickly by the laundry room, and finally into your room.

He was mesmerized by the room.

Although you refused to have any extravagant decorations, you guessed the room might have some things you wouldn't find back in seven.

"You never change do you?" He whispered.

"What do you mean?" You asked, following him as he stepped to the window.

His fingers traced the window sill, and his smile widened.

—-

He watched as you used a new stain you'd taken from the factory.

"How did you get that? Seems like something we'd use to stain anything sent to the Capitol," he asked.

It was a green color, and you were using a small paint brush to paint little vines and leaves around the edge of his window.

"Uh... snuck in."

"Oh? Didn't know you had it you," he laughed.

"Hey, I-... I can break the rules every once in a while," you huffed, embarrassed.

"Ok, ok... trouble maker," he teased.

——

He turned to face you with a bright smile. You sighed happily, and took his hands in yours.

"I am going to take a bath... everything hurts from sleeping on the floor," you mumbled kissing his hand.

"Oh, it hurts does it princess?" He teased, spinning you around. "Oh how will you ever survive seven after all this luxury."

You both started laughing and you wrapped your arms around his neck.

"The biggest luxury I have is to be by your side. I have not had it in years and that was a hard one to live without," you whispered, brushing his hair out of his face.

He leaned his face on your palm and smiled, "Such a poetic way of speaking, Sunshine."

Your eyes lit up as he mentioned the word poetic. You let him go and opened up a neatly organized drawer of letters and loose parchment. Then you opened another filled with journals.

"Well how about while I take a bath... you read those," you smiled, looking through your neatly organized basket of vinyls, selecting one to play. "Once it's done could you flip it? And then after that side is done you can pick one to play if I am not out yet."

He stared at the record player in admiration. He hadn't seen one for years. Most people had radios. Radios were somehow cheaper than a record player. But he had always admired the sound of one.

"Well, if you need anything just walk in," you smiled, going through the door into your bathroom.

He delicately placed the record on the turntable, placing the needle softly, and turning it on.

He heard you humming the music in the bathroom. The water was running so he assumed you were drawing up a bath.

He then went to go read one of the letters before you came out of the bathroom in a robe.

"Do you... want to join?"

His face exploded in a fiery red blush at your words.

"I don't mean it like that!" You whisper yelled. "Pervert."

You giggled softly at this and his reaction.

"I'm sorry you-I- im-..." he stammered unable to get his words out.

"You can just say no silly. I was just askin' cause you mentioned your body hurtin' too," you explained, quietly going back to the bathroom.

This time you left the door open a crack in case he needed something. He let out a sigh and rubbed his head.

"That was embarrassing for me... let's see what we have here..." he mumbled, looking through the notebooks, deciding it was easier to read through them first.

——

He could not have been more wrong.

You, much like him, wrote poetry. Some sweet, lovesick things.

And then there were things that were very scandalous.

He blushed as he read through the poems meant for him.

He heard you come out of the bathroom and he smirked in your direction.

"I didn't know you thought about me so much."

#×reader #fluff #treech tbosas #treech x reader #coriolanus snow #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #hehe they’re so cute #he’s so bbg

[clonerightsagenda]

Sick

We're most of the way through disability pride month and I'm not sure if I'll ever finish this WIP because I'm stuck over how literal to make some of the elements. So, I am posting it because I am curious if any of the weirdness resonates with other people. Enjoy my magical disability cure codependent haunting thing, and also I am going to post a rambling author's note about it.

The morning after the surgery, your Sick is sitting at the kitchen table. It looks good, for a corpse. It’s wearing the ‘I love dying and being dead’ t-shirt you joked about buying two diagnoses ago, pulled over a laced-shut hospital gown.

“What?” it asks. “You had more of a sense of humor when you were sick.”

The doctors warned you that your neurochemistry might be out of balance. You’re adjusting to the sudden lifting of brain fog after moving through the world in a protective cocoon of pharmaceuticals. They didn’t mention hallucinations.

“Think of me like a phantom limb.” Your Sick sips one of those awful plant-based protein drinks that still lurk in the back of your pantry. “Why did you do it?”

Talking to hallucinations probably makes them worse. You do it anyway. “You were killing me.”

“This world is killing you. But you finished yourself off first.”

You sit down across from it in one effortless motion. “That’s not what happened.”

“Right. I’m the enemy. So it doesn’t matter if I’m rotting at the bottom of a biohazard bin.” It considers you. “What’s it like not to hurt?”

What is it like? You’d woken up and lain there for a while, waiting. “Like holding my breath.”

“You’re in charge of all that now.” It nods, the motion referencing the length of your body. “Need to stay on top of it.”

“Like I need advice from you,” you say, but you blink, and the phantom’s gone.

60,000 pieces of microplastic. 7.2 micrograms per liter of per- and polyfluoroalkyl substances. 1:640 antinuclear antibody titer.

That's what they peel you out of. A second nervous system of petroleum products and misfiring T cells, the stuff that's been running your life via mob rule for a decade. They tell you that you weigh five grams less now.

They tell you, don't be surprised if at first it feels like something is missing.

I thought that was just for rich people, your friend says. She messaged you to remind you to take your meds, and you told her that you would never have to take your meds again. Celebrities and politicians.

Work decided it was cheaper to fix me than replace me, you message back. Score one for being essential.

Perks of your top-secret job.

I promise it's boring. Critical infrastructure usually is.

Did you look?

Some people share post-op pictures. They’re usually underwhelming if you don’t know what to look for - the subtle swelling over an aggravated nerve, hints of boniness in the knuckles. Shadows of bruises that never go away. No. I should’ve, though. I asked for hospital socks when they were prepping me but then obviously after I didn’t have them anymore. Who knows if I’ll get another chance.

You might be finished with surgeries forever and you’re disappointed because you can’t get any more grippy socks.

I'll miss the warm blankets too.

Your Sick crawled inside you when you were nineteen years old. It wouldn’t let you get out of bed.

“Help,” it croaked.

Your roommate (only your roommate then) came the second time it called. She was in her pajamas, her hair a dark tangle. You never asked for her help, even when your hands got so sore you couldn’t open jars without five minutes of struggle. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t feel right,” it said.

Her face softened. “I thought you looked rough yesterday. I don’t have class this morning; do you want me to make something? Call anybody?”

No, you tried to say. I can handle it.

“I think I need to go to the doctor,” your Sick said instead.

You had been putting it off. The doctor meant admitting something was wrong, meant – most importantly – a $30 copay. But healthy people never understand when you try to tell them. At a certain point, your body stops being yours.

Your Sick turned up its nose at greasy slices of campus pizza. It politely but firmly refused invitations for a night out. It sanded the branching tree of your life into a wooden sphere it could cup in the palm of its hand.

“You’re ruining my life,” you told the mirror.

It tilted your head. You read your own confusion. “I’m protecting you.”

“Mask,” your Sick says from behind you. It looks worse today – skin gone gray and patchy, with a shimmer of microplastic shards risen to the surface like body glitter. The shine complements the sequined mask secured over its own face.

You scowl, bag swung over one shoulder. You haven’t gone out since the surgery – you can work from home, you haven’t canceled grocery delivery yet – and now that you’re venturing through your front door, the phantom is back. You had reached for one of the masks on the table by the door before dropping it back into the bowl. “I don’t need it now.”

“So respiratory diseases don’t exist anymore? Dumbass.”

The objection reminds you of your own aggrieved complaints: why don’t people plan events with us in mind, don’t they know how many people there are with immune systems one shove away from collapsing, the world’s not getting any safer.

That was your Sick talking. You don’t have to worry anymore.

“You weren’t doing a good job taking care of me before, and you’re not doing a good job of it now.”

Its eyebrows rise. Black liquid has seeped through the cloth of its mask. “And fuck everyone else like you?”

“Like you,” you say, and slam the door in its face.

Outside, the breeze brushes your cheeks. You don’t have to sit down because you miscalculated the balance of meds and breakfast. You start to scan your surroundings for bathrooms, just in case, and then dismiss the impulse because you’re fine.

You’re better than that.

Three hours in, you realize you’ve been curling your fingers into a fist and then opening them again. You only notice because the joints start to ache. It feels familiar.

Nothing else does.

A notification flashes in the corner of your screen. There’s new activity in one of the forum conversations you’ve been following.

It’s rich people doing what they always do. Wreck the planet? It’s fine, we can get a new one! Wreck your body? It’s fine, we can get a new one of that too. There’s no incentive to improve the situation if you can buy your way out of the problem.

I’d buy my way out too, but there’s no way I could afford it

Then you’d eat your first plastic salad and get sick again. See what I mean?

The new ones are supposed to be more resilient

But it’s not yours

Remember any theological debates go in the quarantine thread

I don’t mean it like that. I just think you’re interfering with your relationship with your body, and that’s a fundamental part of who you are, right? Whether or not a s*ul exists

There’s not a bot monitoring this thread. You don’t have to censor it.

Sorry, habit

Mod is human, asterisks don’t stop me. But they are a screenreader issue, so please edit your post.

You used to frequent disability forums. They had useful resources. Jokes, too, like the t-shirt your Sick wears over its hospital gown. But you can’t understand the people who embrace their disfunction. You took a time-honored approach to your medical misfortune. Cancer. Pregnancy. Demonic possession. Petrochemicals. There is something inside me, and I want it out.

These people helped you, but you don’t need them anymore. So instead of saying anything, you log off the forum for the last time.

You do tell your coworkers, who are excited for you. They pester you with questions over Slack: How long did it take? Did you look? Does it hurt?

Your boss messages you, When can you come back to the office?

You frown at the screen. The work you’ve been doing from home is good – better than what you’ve produced for years now that your head is clear. But your boss has always been old fashioned. Remote work was a concession that there’s no justification for now.

Monday, if you want, you type back.

That gets you an immediate thumbs up reaction, followed by, We’re all so glad you’re ok.

That chafes you in a spot rubbed raw. Everyone assumes once the problem they know about has been addressed, everything else must be resolved too. You must be ok.

Which you are, this time.

Your best friend comes to visit. She brings beers you couldn’t drink with your meds and a greasy pizza that settles in your stomach like a snake planning to strike later. It tastes amazing – you run your tongue over your teeth to capture the last traces of salty richness and tell yourself next time your body will recognize good food.

She’s spent the whole visit on your sofa. You have an air mattress from when she used to sleep on your floor while you were recovering from surgeries. She hasn’t asked you to bring it out, and you’re not sure how to ask if she’s staying. Instead you keep stealing glances at her, the curve of her cheek that’s the first thing you’d see when you looked over the side of your bed in the middle of the night, the hands that have held your hair back from the toilet bowl and now rest on her lap.

She keeps looking at you too. You wonder if she sees a difference.

After the silence and sidelong glances build into an itchy layer on your skin, you lean over, clutch the front of her shirt, and kiss her. She freezes and then kisses you back, gingerly, the way you'd investigate an unexpected bruise. There’s pizza grease on both your lips. Rich and unfamiliar.

You’re the one who pulls away. "I'm sorry," you say. "That's not what I want."

She’s stiff under her softness, like an examination table. "I didn’t think so. I didn't think you did that kind of thing."

You don’t. It’s the silence. Your empty floor. Her hands, resting on her lap. "I just thought…” you try. “That kind of closeness is enough for everyone else."

Your fingers are still clenched in her shirt. She looks at them until you untangle them, one by one. The knuckles don’t ache.

She shakes her head. "It's like you don't want to be better."

“That went well,” your Sick says after the door swings shut.

“It’s your fault.”

It tilts its head on a neck that’s looser than it should be. “I didn’t do anything.”

It’s right. When you were sick you could request a shoulder rub to loosen tight muscles or hike up your shirt, no seduction, no bullshit, to ask if that rash looked bad. You could open your mouth and let the truth of your predicament outweigh prudishness or shame.

You don’t know how to ask people to touch you anymore.

It leans in close. “You need me,” it says. Oil bubbles over its lips and slicks its chin. “I was always your excuse.”

That weekend you watch your phone sit silent on the table, no pings from forum posts or medication reminders. Your Sick drifts over. It’s no longer a rotting corpse leaking garbage. It looks dead in the way you used to whenever you looked in the mirror.

Wherever it is in the real world, it doesn’t look like that anymore. From what you remember from the booklets they gave you, it’s already gone.

“Not going to explain yourself, huh?” asks your hallucination. Your haunting.

You shrug. What would you say to her? I took away the foundation of my life and don’t know what’s underneath. You only started being my friend when I needed help, so what’s left for us? There was always another medication or appointment or symptom but now everything’s fine and I’m still holding my breath.

You’ve gotten used to letting someone else talk for you.

“I was killing you,” it says.

That’s what you said. You look at the lines around its eyes and imagine a billion tiny swords raised against invaders that poured in every time you took a breath to light your joints up with friendly fire. “You were protecting me.”

“I was the worst part of you.”

“You were.” You flex your perfect, painless fingers. “Do I miss it?”

It grins and leans against the back of your chair, wrapping chilly arms around your waist. “I just wanted to make you say it.”

The grip around your belly aches in a way you recognize. Dull pain that makes its home in you. Cozy as curling up in bed with a headache. You look back at your silent phone. “Which one of us did she come here for?”

“Only one way to find out.”

You could reach out, but you don’t move. You have never known how to ask for help.

Your Sick sighs. It loosens its grip and reaches over your shoulder to lace corpse-cool fingers between yours. Then it lifts your combined hands in a swoop like the first dose of anesthesia, when the orderlies wheel you away and everything is out of your control. “Come on,” she says. Her breath is a puff of disinfectant on your cheek. “Let’s do it like we used to.”

After you came out of the anesthesia, the surgeons asked if you wanted to see your old body. You said no. You’d spent long enough inside it – it was something you wanted to leave behind. Besides, even after all the pamphlets and counseling sessions, you worried seeing your vacant face would jar something loose. Convince you like those cranks on the disability forums that you’d severed a connection that was irrevocable.  

If you could do it again, you’d say yes. Step inside the morgue – no, they wouldn’t have moved it to the morgue yet, they’d want you to have a better venue to say goodbye – and catalogue the subtle changes only you could see. The swollen knuckles, flushed cheeks. All the other differences locked inside.

You imagine bending down and lifting the body the way it lifted you once, cradling its head in the crook of your arm. Imagine kissing your Sick and feeling poisonous tendrils creep down your throat to coat your insides with grime.

You imagine saying, welcome home.

(Author's note)

#kat writes

[uwingdispatch]

Endlessly

Endlessly

Notes: Cassian Andor/Reader, everyone lives au, post-rebellion, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort, disabled reader, domestic fluff, fluff and angst

**CW: **chronic illness, migranes disability, implied sexual intimacy, 

Ao3 Link

★★★★★★★★

You’d had plans this weekend. You and Cassian were meant to be in hyperspace right now, on your way to visit friends. But you knew this morning you’d have to call off the trip. You’d told Cassian to go without you. That you had Arseven, your support droid, and could call someone if there was an emergency. But he wouldn’t even consider it.

And as the sun begins to set you’re thanking the stars that Seven has somehow convinced the pharmacy droid to give you just enough migraine tablets until your doctor can see you next week.

In the kitchen the kettle whistles and you grit your teeth, hissing as you squeeze your eyes closed. Cassian curses as he rushes from where he’s sitting to stop the noise.

You open your eyes when you hear him set a tea cup on the living room table. He sits down next to you on the sofa and you curl into his body, laying your head on his chest, the softness his clean cotton t-shirt cozy and warm.

“Sorry about the kettle,” he says. “I wish you would let me take you to the clinic. At least let me make you something to eat.”

“Seven will be back with my meds soon,” you say. “I shouldn’t have let my prescription lapse.”

Tenderly, Cassian cups your face in his hand, kisses your temple. “I should have reminded you.”

“You know I hate when you do that. It isn’t your fault.”

“You just don’t seem like yourself, my heart,” he says, holding you close. “You’re sure you don’t want to see a doctor? There’s a Navy neurologist who owes me a favor—”

The door clicks and slides open and Arseven rolls straight into your living room, whistling and chirping her concern.

“You are a miracle, Seven,” you tell her as she hands you your pills. “This will help so much. Can you bring me my canteen? I think I left it in the bedroom.”

Kay lumbers in from the garage. “No improvement?” he asks.

He’d found you in tears last night, after Seven had docked into her charging station. You hadn’t wanted to wake Cassian as he’d been sleeping poorly over the last few days, dealing with a nasty bout of insomnia. But Kay had heard you when you dropped a bag of ice on the kitchen floor. Despite his own medical protocols, he decided to wake up Cassian himself.

“Not yet,” you say. “But soon, I think. Thank you for taking Seven to the pharmacy.”

“I can’t remember the last time you had a headache this bad,” Cassian says.

Seven hands you your canteen as she rattles off a date in beeps and chirps. It’s a date long before the little astromech had been a mainstay in your life, and Cassian appears startled.

“How do you know that?” Cassian asks.

Seven whistles low: Medical records.

You watch his face while he puts it together. He’d been on Tatooine when that happened. And you hadn’t heard from him for two weeks. “You never told me you were sick while I was gone.”

“When you got back, I was just so relieved to see you. And I wasn’t sick anymore, so…I didn’t want to put that on you and chase you off again.”

You take your meds and close your eyes. With any luck the pain will abate soon and you’ll be able to eat something and keep it down. Seven tells you to call if you need anything before retreating to the backyard where she’s been helping Kay with a project in the garden.

“Hey,” Cassian whispers, caressing your face. “You could never chase me off. Not then, and not now.”

You thread your fingers through his long, dark hair and he brings his forehead to yours. There is nothing he could say that isn’t said in this touch.

“I believe you,” you say.

“Is the medicine helping?”

“It is.”

“Can I make you dinner?”

“Stay here with me, Cass,” you say. “Just a little bit longer.”

*

It was raining when he called, late into fall, the kind of night where you could see your own breath when you went outside to pick up a parcel that had been delivered. It had been a few weeks since you’d heard from Cassian, and it was just like him to call at midnight and tell you he needed to see you.

You’d been starting to wonder if something horrible had happened. And you were tired—this was the second time he’d disappeared like this with no communication. And last time he’d said it wasn’t something he did regularly, it had been an emergency. And you'd believed him—you still believed him—but you didn't know how much of this your heart could take. You hadn’t quite been together a year, but your relationship had gotten so intense so quickly and now you weren’t sure what to do.

But this was Cassian. Of course you told him he could come by.

When there was a knock at the door, your stomach flipped. Still you let the door slide open for him. He looked half-drowned, his hair dripping wet, his jacket soaked. When you took his hand, it was freezing cold.

“You came here on that?” you asked, noting the speederbike parked outside. “In the rain?”

“I needed the clarity,” Cassian said. “And my speeder is in the shop. It’s a long story.”

You let him inside and he shrugged out of his wet jacket and hung it up—something he usually didn’t do. Somehow this worried. you.

Pulling you toward him, he placed a soft kiss on your forehead before stepping back, realizing he couldn’t kiss this better. Knowing you had every reason to be upset.

“I know what this looks like—” he started. But you cut him off.

“Just tell me,” you said. “If this isn’t going to work out. If there’s someone else. Just tell me, Cassian. I’m exhausted.”

“No,” he said. “Of course not. There’s no one. Nothing like that. I just got caught up in something…delicate.”

“You mean dangerous.”

“Yes.”

You turned from him for a moment, mumbling that he was dripping all over you floor. As you went to the hall closet, you wondered how he could possibly make sense of this. Despite the baggage each of you brought to the relationship, you’d gotten through the high holidays with just a few hiccups. You’d both grown comfortable. He was at your place more often than not before this disappearance. More than once he’d used the word forever. So this? It was not only a breach of trust, but anxiety-provoking. Painful, even.

You returned with towels, throwing one to the floor where a puddle had started to form. Cassian took the other and began to dry off. Somehow, for a moment, everything seemed normal. But the truth still hung in the air like a fog.

“I didn’t hear from you for three weeks, Cassian.”

He let out a long breath. “I lost my comm on Tatooine. Mos Espa. I owed someone a favor. Someone you don’t say no to. I didn’t want to contact you on any comms I wasn’t in complete control of. Safety in Mos Espa—”

“I know about Mos Espa.”

“So you understand.”

“I understand that you’ve told me that this is the kind of thing you left behind.”

“It is,” he said, hanging his damp towel on a hook next to his coat. “It’s not who I am anymore. It’s not who I want to be, at least.”

“Okay.” Your breath hitched at the idea of Cassian owing favors to a cartel on Tatooine.  “Where’s Kay? I couldn’t reach him either.”

“He’s been with Jyn. Sensitive Navy business. I don’t even know exactly what they’re doing.”

“I hate this.”

“I know, my heart.” He held out his arm. “May I?”

You nodded and he pulled you into his embrace.

“I thought you were ignoring my messages,” you said. “I thought maybe you were leaving and didn’t want to deal with a goodbye.”

“I do hate goodbyes,” he said. “But I’d never leave you like that.” He paused. “Truthfully, as long as you’ll have me, I’ll never leave you at all.”

From the corner of your eye you spot a pair of his boots, left here before his unplanned trip to Tatooine. You’d looked at them every time you left your apartment, wondering where he was, what you’d done wrong, whether he was okay. But now you remembered the night he told you about the Imperial prison, how he escaped with Melshi, no shoes on either of them, how their feet were raw and bloodied when they finally made it to safety. How all of this had spilled out of him when you told him you liked his new boots. You took a deep breath, considering how much of his life he’d offered to you, the kinds of things he didn’t tell anyone else.

Cassian caressed your back, his hand running softly over your thin t-shirt as he held you close. “I don’t owe any more favors to anyone you wouldn’t want to invite to dinner,” he said.

And you laughed then, looking up into his warm, brown eyes. You knew he was a skilled liar—because he’d told you as much. It came with the job, with what he used to do. But he’d also told you he’d never lie to you, and he’d never given you any reason to doubt his honesty.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

You replied, “I know.”

“I tried to send you a message from the ship’s comms, but I was out of range. It couldn’t find your device,” he said. “I just had to hope that when I got back I’d still have your trust.”

You reached to touch his face, every fiber of your being knowing that had any other man done something like this you wouldn’t have even let him in the door tonight. “You’ll earn it back,” you said.

“I will,” he said. “You have my word. This…was unintentional. But you deserve better. I know that.”

“Then you’ll do better,” you said, letting him lean in until his nose brushed against yours.

“May I kiss you?” he asked.

And when you said yes he kissed you with a desperation you hadn’t experienced before—somehow both apology and catharsis, his lips capturing yours deep into a promise you wouldn’t soon forget.

“You’re shivering.” you said, pulling back for a moment, noting the goosebumps along Cassian’s muscular arms, realizing he’d only been wearing a white undershirt under the wet jacket he’d shed as soon as he’d come in the door. “Take off your shoes. Let me get you warm.” You took his hand, leading him to your bedroom.

“I don’t want to do anything you don’t want to,” he said as you ease his t-shirt over his head.

“Cassian,” you said, “all I want right now is you.”

*

You’d forgotten that this medication had a tendency to knock you out. And when you wake, still on the couch, the sun has fully set. Your tooka-cat has curled up around your knees and you can feel him purring. You sit up, trying to shake sleep from your head.

“I was wondering if you’d wake, my heart” Cassian says. He’s at the kitchen island, slicing fresh bread. “Do you think you can eat something for me?”

You smile. “Yeah…I’m pretty hungry actually.”

“Good,” he says. “It’s just some noodles and broth. I threw in some of the veggies Seven brought in from the garden. You think you can handle that?”

Cassian brings you a bowl of noodles and a slice of buttered bread. He’s taken to wearing an oversized cardigan around the house, and there’s something sweet and vulnerable about it. You know the hardened soldier is still in there, but it’s good to see how comfortable in himself he’s grown since you first met. How much his walls have come down.

The tooka jumps up and heads to the kitchen, crying for his dinner. You’re about to get up to feed him but Cassian eases you back down onto the sofa. “Eat, darling. I’ll take care of the little beast.”

You hear him pouring the kibble, cooing at the pet he always claimed to dislike but who had taken to him the first night you’d let the man into your home. When Cassian returns to your side, he has a bowl of noodles for himself. You eat together in comfortable silence for a while. Outside, the rain has started to come down.

“This tastes like home,” you say.

Cassian looks startled. “Like home?” he asks.

“Is something wrong?”

“No,” he says, resting his hand gently on your knee. “It’s just that…my mother used to say that. There was this one meal my father used to make, back on Ferrix, before things got bad. It wasn’t anything fancy, but…she always said that it tasted like home.” He pauses. “Stars, they would have loved you.”

You place your empty bowl on the table next to his, reach out to take his hand, and squeeze. He pulls you toward him, presses a sweet kiss to your lips, caresses your cheek with his fingertips, his hands so soft now, so far from the years of combat and struggle.

“How are you feeling?” he asks. “I’d really like to take you to bed.”

“Would you?” you ask.

He kisses your jaw, your neck, pushes aside the collar of your shirt to kiss your collarbone. “I would.”

You stand, offering him your hand as he gets up from the sofa, leading him to the bedroom where your clothes soon find their way to the floor. The rain is coming down hard as you ease your way under the covers, Cassian on top of you, your hands sliding from his firm chest to his bearded jaw and into his hair.

“I love you,” he says, his hand making its way over the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.

And he kisses you again before you can tell him that you love him, too. Because he knows. You both know. As he ducks under the covers you hear him whisper something in Kenari, a term of endearment and a promise. A word that doesn’t have an equivalent Basic, the closest word being “eternal.” But so much sentiment is lost in that translation.

And as the rain pounds on the transparisteel of your bedroom windows, you thank the stars that this gentle man somehow managed to make it across the stars to you. That you both survived all that you did to hold each other close both in times of crisis and in times like this as he kisses your tummy, whispering words you can’t entirely make out as he eases his way toward your pleasure.

Tomorrow, you think—tomorrow you will take care of him the way he took care of you today. Maybe a small outing, something to make up for your missed trip. Because even though he’s the first one to tell you that he doesn’t deserve happiness, that there’s blood on his hands, that he’ll never wipe the slate clean—he’s wrong. Cassian deserves the galaxy, and if you can, you’ll give it to him.  

★★★★★★★★

Thank you so much for reading! I hope this fic makes you feel seen and loved, especially as we enter the holiday season which I know can be difficult for a lot of us.

I have a taglist now! Sign up here if you want to be tagged in future fics. (And choose if you only want to be tagged for certain characters.) In the meantime, I’m tagging my taglist as well as some folks who have been reblogging my fics. Love y’all!

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[blackroseguzzi]

Woosah Baby : Part 4

Summery: awkward dinners & ultrasounds

Warnings: pregnancy, divorce, mention of drugs and alcohol, language

Warrens POV

I watched as my mom placed a cube steak onto y/n’s plate. I could tell by her face that she was holding back the need to gag. After she left for work this morning I decided it was due diligence to read up on pregnancy symptoms. Apparently, yakking was completely normal.

It’s wild how little I knew about how a human comes into existence. It was gross and fascinating all at the same time.

“Y/n, how’s your mom doing?’ I watched my dad shove a piece of potato into his mouth and he chewed loudly.

“Well, I think she’s gone from drinking two bottles of whiskey a day down to one, so I’d say she’s doing well,” she laughed to herself as she pushed the food around on her plate. I knew she tried to pretend her mother’s alcoholic issues were a mere nuisance, but in reality it really bothered her. I know Y/n would never turn out like her mother, but I could tell it was something that ate at her.

My mom was still not at the table. Y/n’s eyes burnt into mine as if she was telling me to just come out and ask to talk with them. I cleared my throat.

Dad.. I,”

“Coach says you’ve missed a few practices Warren, what’s up with that?” My fathers disapproving look made me slouch in my chair. He really knew how to remind me of my dumb-fuckery.

“I know, I’ll do better,” lying to my father had been something I’ve been good at my whole life.

Yes sir, I love soccer. Yes father, I’m sober. No way am I selling drugs to my high school classmates, Dad.

“You know how important that scholarship is for your future,” my father looked between y/n and I before smiling.

“I can’t believe how long my son has been able to keep you around, Y/N.” He nudged my arm as if to say he was joking but I knew he was fucking bewildered that a girl like y/n would be into me… and stay with me for as long as she had. I had a flashback of the blonde chick I kissed at the party last night and got a pain of guilt. I wasn’t perfect, but I wanted to be for Y/n and our baby.

“Warren and I actually wanted to talk to you and Laura about something,” She looked around to see if my mom was anywhere in sight but she was off in the kitchen banging around some pots and pans. Suddenly a loud crash rang out.

“Jesus, mom you alright?” She stomped out in front of us, demanding to talk to Dad. What the hell was she so fidgety about? Did she know that Y/n was pregnant? I swallowed the thick spit forming in my mouth.

“Really, now Laura? I’m trying to have dinner with the kids and they want to talk to us,” Warren shot his wife a worrisome look.

“No now,” she stormed off again. I was getting anxious and I could tell that y/n was starting to feel uncomfortable. My parents fight, but they never did around y/n. I guess she really was just integrated into our family now.

My dad held up his finger, saying he would be back on a moment. He disappeared into the hallway towards the living room.

“What the fuck is going on?” Y/n leaned over her plate and gave me a confused look.

“They probably found weed in my pillowcase again or they’re fighting about who forgot to record the last episode of survivor,” I was trying my best to ease both our minds. We both just wanted to break the news fast.

“When we get out of here we’ll get you some Nausea meds and a milkshake. I read that morning sickness can last all day during the first trimester, “ I flashed a smile at her and she stared at me like I was some kind of mutated freak.

“Who are you, and what have you done to my Warren?” she asked with a raised eyebrow. She clearly wasn’t used to me reading, let alone about pregnancy symptoms. I just wanted her to know I was peeling back some vulnerable pieces I needed to show her in order for her to trust that I was going to take care of her and this baby.

“I’m just trying to help,” I replied. I stuffed my face with more food until my dad sat back down looking somber. I pushed the basket of rolls over towards him- bread usually helps.

He smiled sheepishly as he took one.

“So Dad, we have something…”

My mom walked towards us and placed her small hand in my shoulder. I took a deep breath about to continue, but her voice rang out before mine.

“I’m divorcing your father.”

Clang. I shot a look to y/n. She had dropped her fork against the porcelain plate. She embarrassingly picked it back up and looked at me. I could see how saddened she was for me. Did my face show any emotions? I couldn’t tell. I watched both my parents angrily storm out of the room.

“What the fuck?” I whispered. I could hear my mom making more noise upstairs. Was she fucking packing?

I got up from the table, where y/n still sat in silence. I have had some awkward encounters at her house, like the time I had to lift her mom off the toilet and into her bedroom after a night of binge drinking- but she had never had that kind of experience at my family’s home. She looked up to my parents relationship as have I. I mean if they could last 34 plus years than we could last that long as well. Except here we are both shattered by news that nothing in this world fucking lasts.

I walked over to the glass slider where my dad had escaped to, I could hear faint sobs and he was bent over.

“Are you crying?” I stared at him through the door.

“Warren lets just go,” y/n’s soft voice rang out from the table. I ignored her.

I banged at the door “ARE YOU FUCKING CRYING?”

Y/N POV

The weekend went by slower than I would have liked. After the news about Warren’s parent’s divorce, Warren was acting different. He had come to visit me at work on Sunday afternoon but was being really secretive with Spencer. I tried not to think much of it, but it bothered me. What was he hiding from me? He never hides anything from me. As soon as I had walked over towards the two of them Warren hit Spencer’s shoulder and they both completely shut up. Was Warren that stupid that I wouldn’t have caught on?

I called at 7am on Monday before my class about the ultrasound. They had a cancellation and asked if I wanted to come in that afternoon. Warren had been sleeping at my apartment all weekend and by the vibe I was getting after the news drop at dinner, I don’t think he planned on going back there.

I didn’t know if he had practice this afternoon, but he was more than likely to skip it anyway so I decided to take the appointment and email my Woman’s studies professor that I was sick. I think I had enough knowledge under my belt about the study of women anyway.

Warren and I drove in silence to the appointment. I don’t think it was out of anything but fear. I wanted to bring up the fact he was being weird with Spencer at the market, but I didn’t want to start something I most likely couldn’t finish before we got to the doctors office.

“I’m the only dude in this place,” Warren leaned over and whispered to me. I slapped his arm. This was a gynecologists office, what did he expect. I’m sure a lot of expecting dads came to appointments but today just wasn’t one of those days. “Also, I wonder why that old lady is here?” I smacked him again.

“This isn’t just a place for pregnant woman Warren,” I whispered back, my eyes wide as to let him know to shut up and that the entire waiting room could hear him. God, he had the loudest whisper voice on the planet.

A female nurse came out and called my name. I grabbed Warren’s hand and he laced his fingers into mine and we walked into the back of the office. The nurse led me to the ultrasound room that was much larger than the room I had been in on Friday. There was a chair that looked like a hospital bed laying in the middle. Lots of pictures painted the walls, lots of photos of babies inside the womb and one of a very detailed painting of a birth canal. I hoped Warren wouldn’t see that one because I know he would stare and make some kind of joke.
“If you want to lay down here the tech will be in momentarily,” The nurse smiled between us leaving the room quickly.

Warren let out a deep breath. I knew he was nervous, which was a characteristic I wasn’t used to seeing in him but had showed up all damn weekend.

“Can they tell us today if it’s going to be a boy or a girl?” Warren laughed a little as he took a seat next to mine. I raised my eyebrows, embarrassed for him that he even asked me that question.

“Warren, the baby is like the size of a watermelons seed or some shit,” I shook my head and laid back on the chair. I stared at the ceiling, trying to imagine I was on a beach somewhere with a spliff and a really strong Mai Tai.

“Y/N?” A woman was at the door, she looked really friendly and had on bright blue scrub pants and a scrub top with a bunch cats riding on clouds on it. I liked her instantly.

“That’s me,” I called out. Warren stood up, extending out his hand like he was meeting the fucking president.

“I’m Warren.. I’m the dad,” He smiled politely. She shook his hand and looked at him like he was the cutest puppy dog she had ever seen. I’m sure she sees dads like Warren all the time. That was such a weird thought - Dad’s like Warren….

“I’m Bri, I’ll be your ultrasound tech today! I’m just going to do some measurements to see how far along you are and calculate a due date!” Her voice was calming and I felt a lot less terrified as I had been the last time I was here. I think Warren being here was helpful with that.

“Great, thank you so much,” I responded quietly as I watched her sit down on the chair in front of the ultrasound machine. She turned it on, and I had a flash back from the first time I watched Knocked-up with Warren. He thought it was the funniest movie ever, but you found it to be a terrifying reality for what some woman have to go through after an accidental pregnancy. Now I was that girl living her own terrifying reality.

“If you don’t mind lifting up your shirt and pulling down your yoga pants a little we can get started. The gel is a little cold, but will warm up pretty quick,” She instructed at me and I followed her directions. I placed both hands down and looked at the ceiling again. I felt Warren grab my hand and squeeze it when the gel hit my abdomen. I felt her little probe like object that was attached to the monitor on my stomach. I looked over at Warren, his eyes were fixed on the ultrasound screen. His mouth was slightly ajar and an intense scowl on his face. I swallowed hard.

“Okay, so you’re measuring at 7 weeks, and looking at your chart and last menstrual, it looks like you’ll have your little peanut around June 9th!” How did she sound so excited. That was the start of summer. How was I going to finish off finals fearing I would give birth at any moment.

“Here’s the baby, take a look,” She moved the monitor so It was closer to me. I slowly looked over and saw a black circle amongst all the static looking gray. Inside that black circle was a squiggly line and a blob. It even looked like it had a leg and an arm and I suddenly felt this overwhelming sense of….joy.

“It’s already got my big head,” Warren laughed.

The ultrasound tech, Bri, giggled as well and placed a hand on my arm. “The baby’s heart rate is at 110 beats per minute, which is fantastic.”

“So it’s healthy and I haven’t fucked anything up yet?” I don’t know what came over me, but I blurted that out without thinking.

“I just see a pretty healthy happy little peanut that is going to grow fast and be here before you know it!” Bri was used to saying this I’m sure, but it did make me feel a sense of relief and also a bit of fear.

“I can’t believe that’s OUR baby,” Warren’s voice rang out. I smiled at him and he was looking at me like I had just given him the ultimate gift. I guess I kind of was.

We finished our appointment and made another at the front desk. Warren was so invested and even pulled out his phone’s calendar to make sure he was available for the next time we’d be here. He was on cloud nine, and I would be lying if I said I wasn’t too. We were going to be parents, and for one moment I wanted to be allowed to feel joyous about it, not sitting there thinking about the logistics of it all.

We got back into the car and Warren leaned in instantly to kiss me. His lips on mine made the world around us disappear.

“I’m so happy you’re the mother of my big headed baby,” Warren spoke between kisses. I laughed and hit his chest but deepening our kiss. I always thought of myself as a bit addicted to weed, but honestly I was way more addicted to Warren. No matter the dumb shit he did, he made me feel alive with his excitement of life and I wanted our child to get that characteristic from him.

“This is so crazy,” I smiled against his lips and he pulled away to stare at me. He had the most intense eyes, something else I hope our child gets from him.

“I have it all figured out. We’re going to be fine - great even.” Warren grabbed my face and kissed my forehead fast before getting back before the wheel and turning his key in the ignition. Maybe he got a job? Maybe he was selling weed?

“Oh yeah, and what makes you think we’re going to be just fine?” I was curious now, his nervousness seemed to subside and it was replaced with utter jubilance.

He laughed and drummed on the steering wheel as he pulled out of the parking lot. I narrowed my eyes at him.

“Because Spencer and I are going to pull off an Art Heist.”

#evan peters imagine #evan peters fanfic #evan peters #evan peters x reader #warren lipka x reader #warren lipka imagine #warren lipka #Warren lipka American animals #evan peters smut