#hoping i have a doctor free weekend at least..

[allthegothihopgirls]

the world if my different medical specialists knew how to coherently communicate with each other

[russellsppttemplates]

Let me love on you a little more (Charles Leclerc)

Sometimes, it felt like what you were doing was a drop in the immense ocean, but Charles always made you feel a little better when you had the chance to go home

Note: english is not my first language. I based this on the news and stories I heard from people on the front line! This is in no way romanticising or summing up what happened, much less downplaying it! I hold huge huge respect and gratitude for healthcare workers!

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: Covid-19 pandemic and themes associated with reader being a front line worker as a doctor (mentions hospitals, tests, death)

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog @hiireadstuff @c-losur3

"You can follow the purple line to the testing site we have here", you told the elderly woman.

"Is it going to hurt too much? My neighbour had to get tested to weeks ago when she visited her family and she said it's uncomfortable", she mused.

"It's a little itchy, I have to admit it, but it shouldn't hurt you, just a little bit uncomfortable, Mrs. Loire", you attempted to soothe her, your usual hand on the patients' arm now a strongly inadvisable way to comfort them.

"Thank you, Dr. Y/L/N", he said, her eyes letting you know that behind her mask there was a big smile on appreciation and gratitude.

Taking temperatures and checking flu like symptoms was not how you thought your medical career would pan out once you chose your speciality, but the new normal was this and you were working your best to do what you got into medicine to do in the first place, improve and save lives.

"How many people have you sent to the testing site?", your colleague Marina asked you when she noticed that for now, there were no walk-ins or ambulances with new patients.

"Just this morning, twenty-five", you sighed, "the closest I got to a potential non-Covid case was the kid that broke his arm, but Ortho swooped him right from me".

"Are you truly so disappointed about not being on an Orthopedics case?", she chuckled, "you hated everytime you had to be on that floor", she argued.

"I'd do anything that isn't watching people die because we don't have enough equipment or because we don't know enough about this disease to stop it", you let your frustrations out.

"We're going to win this, Y/N", Marina squeezed your shoulder, "you're usually the hopeful one on the service, but I can hope for the two of us today", she replied earnestly, "I'm going to have lunch now, do you want to go with me and sit on opposite tables so I can at least look at your face without a mask from a distance?".

"Let's go, I'm starving and I'm going up to the ward this afternoon", you raised your eyebrows, tidying up the station for whoever would cover the afternoon shift there.

As you walked to the area you had lunch in, you were happy to find the sun shinning outside on the green park area where you or the patients' family would take them to get fresh air when they were still admitted and recovering. It wasn't a thing now for obvious reasons, so you and Marina ended up in there keeping a safe distance while enjoying the feeling on the sun on your bare skin.

"Do you sometimes feel like you're losing all sense of time in there?", Marina nudged to the big building, "my mother's birthday was yesterday and I thought it was still a month away - she called me to say she had left a piece of cake for me by my door".

"Yesterday, Charles called me and told me he has going to wash my favourite hoodie of his and then wear it around the house so that by the time I came home it was nice and smelling the way I liked it. Then I reasoned with him that it wasn't this weekend because how could it be? Then I realised he was right", you took a spoonful from the tupperware.

"Are you spending the weekend at home?", Marina asked, smiling at how you seemed to finally be taking care of yourself.

You had been one of the doctors who didn't mind staying for longer in the hospital, reasoning that you didn't have kids and fortunately your family members didn't need assistance so you could cover more shifts and work as much to keep everything running smoothly. It caught up with you as it did with all your colleagues so you set specific times in your calendar where you would go home and, barring any catastrophic situation at the hospital, no one would call you for the days you spent home so you could fully relax with Charles.

"Yes, five days at home and then I'm back", you sighed, "and you? How is your little one doing?", you asked.

"My wife texted me an hour into my shift to say that Milo had a Skype call with his class and their teacher and he said his mama was in the hospital being a hero", she gave you a big smile and looked up to control the tears, "it's hard being away from them, but these little moments help", she added.

"Charles does streams with his friends, and apparently he's always mentioning me and the people on the chat have been very supportive - whenever he calls me he tells me that some fans recognise my voice and my name from the virtual appointments and that they've been here and treated by me, too", you blushed, "He's always hyping me up and I can't wait to be with him".

Stopping by the coffee machine, you both got another expresso shot before parting ways since Marina wasn't on the Covid ward for that shift.

"We've just intubated three more patients", the doctor finished her rounding up to you and the rest of the team that would take over for them, "beds five and six aren't looking good and we've alerted their family members already", he nudged.

Everyone knew what it meant when it came to calling the families, so you nodded, "hopefully they'll get here on time, have them page me downstairs when they arrive, please", you asked one of the interns before you excused yourself to put your personal protective equipment on.

"Is that you, Y/N?", one of the younger kids you had treated said as you got out of the room.

"Yes, it's me! You have a good eye, Arlo!", you smiled before noticing nurse Francesca pulling his wheelchair, "are you going home, sweet boy?", you gasped.

Arlo had been the first child you treated in the ward, only having seen adults up until that moment and it changed a switch in you. A small child struggling so much seemed to shake something inside you, and every time you called his parents with updates, you wished that you'd never have to make the dreaded call.

"I am, my lungs are all good and I'm not warm anymore!", he smiled, "I finally get to go home, my parents are downstairs waiting for me. Did you give Charles my thank you hug for the cap?", he asked.

When you noticed the little boy talking about the last Monaco GP and how he hoped one day he would be able to meet his favourite driver, Charles Leclerc, you couldn't find it in you to keep your relationship undisclosed. So, when you went home the last time, you asked Charles to sign one cap for you and told him to be ready for a FaceTime with the little boy. Arlo was the happiest you had seen him since he had been admitted, lighting up when he saw your boyfriend on the screen and giving him a few smiles despite his tired and sick state.

"I haven't been home yet, but I will give him the biggest hug at the end of the week!", you smiled, "I'm so happy for you, Arlo!", you gushed, making the gesture to blow him as kiss as he waved goodbye.

There were good stories, and even though they in no way erased the sad ones, they helped you carry on with the fight.

Laying on the on-call room after your shift, you took off your mask since no one else was allowed inside it other than you, doing your usual routine and setting your phone in the window sill.

"Hey, amour", Charles said on the phone, "how was your day?", he asked as he watched you towell dry your hair.

"Hey, mon coeur", you offered him a small smile, "I'm so tired I can't guarantee I won't fall asleep in a minute".

"It's okay, I won't mind. Did you get tested?", Charles asked as he seemed to be tucking himself to bed as well.

"Yes, another swab up my nose", you flashed him two thumbs up, "I'll have the results in the morning and hopefully I can get out of here for a few days and spend them with you and not quarantine in a hotel room", you crossed your fingers, "I don't have any symptoms, but still, you never know with this bastard".

"We'll spend it together, amour", he comforted, "I already have a lazy couple of days planned out for us", he smiled as you too tucked yourself on the oncall room bed.

"That sounds amazing", you closed your eyes briefly, "I can't wait to be with you", you yawned.

Charles knew better than to start anything important, just happy to see you were resting, safe and sound, making small talk to lull you to sleep before he ended the call.

After attending the virtual meeting so you could update the next team on how the service was running before you left, the results from test came back negative, which meant you could finally drive home.

Unlocking the door, you stepped inside as you heard commotion coming from the living room, "stay away while I put all of this in the cabinet", you warned Charles.

He was quick to go to the bedroom, getting his hoodie and a pair of shorts for you, "as much as I'd love to hold you all day looking like that", your boyfriend nodded to your figure in just underwear, "I think you'll be more cosy in these", he approached you as you finally let him touch you, his arms going around your waist and pulling your bodies closer, "I've missed you so much, Y/N", he whispered.

"I missed you so much, too", you pulled your face away from his chest before kissing his lips in a proper greeting.

Charles guided you to the living room after you got dressed in his clothes, stopping by the kitchen door to check if you had a proper breakfast to which you said yes, so he took you to the sofa, snuggling you two under the blanket as he put one of your favourite shows on the TV.

"I love you, Charles", you would say every now and again, completing the affectionate moments with a kiss or a squeeze.

During the afternoon, you and Charles ended up napping on the sofa, Charles waking up with you still fast asleep on his chest, making him kiss your forehead a couple of times and pull the blanket to cover you up.

"How long was I out for?", you rubbed your eyes two hours later, looking up to see your boyfriend's smile.

"A couple of hours, it looked like a really good nap", he kissed your nose.

"Yes, it was", you squeezed his body, "I'm really craving some carbonara for dinner, do you think we have what the recipe needs?", you questioned.

"We do - I did the food shop earlier this week and I got all of the supplies", he smiled, brushing your hairs away from your eyes and behind your ears, "do you want to get started on it?".

"Yes - I need to pee first, but I'll meet you in the kitchen", you winked, pecking his lips multiple times before getting up.

As he watched you walk to the bathroom, thoughts came flooding in.

This is what he wanted with you. Cosy intimacy that went beyond what happened in the bedroom. The domesticity that went beyond just spending time together and that shines through in the little moments of intertwined routines, special requests and little talks in the middle of the night about random existential questions.

Stepping into the kitchen, Charles gathered the ingredients, pots and pans before you stepped inside too, hugging his waist and nuzzling your face on his back, "you're so comfy, Charlie", you cooed before he turned around so he could face you, cupping your cheeks and rubbing them.

"And you're so gorgeous, mon coeur", he complimented, making you melt inside as you focused on the pads of his thumbs against your skin.

Slicing the guanciale, you removed the rind and cut the rest into small pieces while Charles grated the pecorino cheese and added the egg yolks to the same bowl, the pasta already cooking with the timer on the side.

Scrambling everything into the pot one last time before adding the pasta water a little bit at a time until it was spot on as you liked, making you serve it up in the plates and head back to the sofa.

"Haven't you had enough of the sofa?", you giggled as Charles let you sit before he placed the tray on your lap, doing the same with his own, "I know I haven't had the energy for much else, but maybe tomorrow we can go hike if you'd like", you suggested.

"I want to spend time with you, wherever you are - you're in the sofa, I'm in the sofa, you're in the kitchen, I'm in the kitchen, if you're in the bathroom, I'm in the bathroom", he stated like it was clear as water.

"Maybe not when I'm in the toilet, though, okay?", you squinted as he laughed at your antics.

Charles tidied up after the both of you, sending you to the ensuite bathroom for a bath he'd join you in as soon as he was done.

"You didn't get in?", Charles slumped his shoulders slightly as he saw you sprawled out on the bed.

"I was partially in a food coma, but also - I didn't want to get in alone and the water was a little too hot so I had to let it cool for a bit", you smiled, letting him pull you up and into the bathroom.

Stepping inside the bathroom, Charles grabbed your hips, "let me love on you a little bit more, mon coeur", he said as he pulled you to him, grabbing the hem of the hoodie you were wearing and taking it off of your torso, kissing the skin on your shoulders.

As he stopped his ministrations on your skin, you took the opportunity to take his t-shirt off while you shimmied your shorts and underwear, caressing his muscles before he also took the rest of his clothes off.

"Feels good", Charles dipped his fingers in the tub, getting in himself so he could help you sit between his legs and lay your back on his chest.

Your boyfriend brought his hands together and formed a shell shape with them, collecting water in them and wetting your shoulder blades, then letting it cascade down your neckline, boobs and tummy before he let his hands wander around to feel your body, hoping it would show you his love and appreciation for you.

After you got out, Charles rubbed your products on your face, giggling when you made little faces before you put on pyjamas, tucking into bed and cuddling his chest.

"You know I've missed you so much, but our bed feels heavenly right now", you chuckled, kissing his naked chest, "I love you, Charles", you mumbled before sleep took over you.

"I love you, beautiful girl, sleep tight", he whispered against your hair, kissing the top of your head before he rubbed your back.

Charles was woken up from your body moving a lot and the clammy feeling of your hand on his chest, looking for your face and noticing the crease on your forehead, "hey, amour", he gently shook you awake, "wake up for me, please, it's okay, you're okay", he urged as you opened your eyes wide as you took in where you were.

"I'm home, I'm home", you mumbled, taking deep breaths like Charles encouraged you to once you sat up, doing them with you a couple of times until you calmed down.

"You are, mon coeur, you are", Charles kissed your forehead when you rested your back against the headboard.

After standing there in silence while Charles played with your fingers on your lap, you were able to speak about it, "I hit five this week", you mumbled, "five people who have died on my watch since this thing started, five family members I've had to call to tell them their loved one didn't make it.

"And it's a small number when you compare it to other countries - so many colleagues are already on their one hundredth, but Monaco is so small", you reasoned, "I haven't had a number this high since I started at the hospital - in my regular service, I never lost five people".

"It's not your fault, amour - a virus is out there and you're working so hard to contain it", Charles pulled you to his chest, rubbing your arm up and down and kissing the side of your head, "the work you're doing with the testing site, making sure to slow the spread and ensuring everyone is as healthy as they can be - you're part of that, Y/N, and even though it doesn't seem like it, you're still winning, you're still beating the universe".

"I couldn't do it without you", you mused and Charles' scoff alerted you, "it's true, Charles! I would never be able to stay at the hospital for so long if you weren't supportive, if you weren't helping my parents and making sure they're doing okay when I can't do it! The way you support me and are there for me - the way your holding me like you always do", you snuggled further into him, "this helps me keep going - you do", you kissed his jaw, seeing his blushed cheeks in the dimly lit bedroom.

"We're a good team then", he accepted the compliment, kissing your temple again, "do you think you can go back to sleep or maybe we could have a chat, watch some TV, have a lazy makeout session", he wiggled his eyebrows.

"That last idea sounds great, I've missed that", you rolled over properly, taking his lips in yours as his hands roamed along your tummy.

[whatwouldsylwrite]

At least I got you in my head (3)

(2.5)

Summary: Abby is straight. And then you move in with her.

Tags: modern au, fem!reader, straight!abby (she is doing some comphet bullshit), pining, idiot in love and it's abby, reader is gay and tired.

Notes: gay yearning, homoerotic friendship, injuries, jokes about reader being weak but it's a comparison of average human/mma fighter. Abby is stupid, and they're both so delusional with "we're just friends" I feel like I need to write parallel povs with them so you'd see what the other actually felt.

Taglist: @abbyily @lillysbigwilly @gravygranules @blairfox04 @frogtits1 @ccinnamongrl (if you want me to tag you for the whole series dm me please)

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

October rolled around and you felt like both of you finally got completely comfortable with each other. You spent a lot of time together when you both were at home and you made plans for weekends and free evenings, so your friendship was flourishing. Your stupid, unnecessary, nonsensical crush was flourishing too. You were pressing all your feelings down as best as you could, but when Abby laughed at your jokes your heart swelled with affection and even if you scolded yourself it didn’t work. 

You needed a better way of getting over Abby. (some would say you needed to concentrate on Abby’s flaws - stubborn, leaves cups everywhere, has a hard time admitting she is wrong - but you’ve been down this road before, and it didn’t work, fuck you Jessica).

Sometimes you’d feel like you had a chance - when Abby hugged you tight or blushed when you flirted with her or when she affectionately called you a shrimp because you were hunching over in your chair while you were doing your homework. You’d have to snap yourself out of your delusions because you couldn’t afford getting your hopes up, and the constant reminders in your head actually worked. If you couldn’t get over Abby at least you could contain it at the level you weren’t hurting. You’d take that.  

You turned your key in the lock and opened the door to your apartment just to be surprised when you saw the lights on: usually when you came home Abby wasn't there yet. You felt somewhere between worried and curious why Abby was home early. 

You took your coat and shoes off and went to find Abby to check on her; you saw the light in the bathroom and the door was open, so you approached carefully in case she was naked. 

"Abby?"

"Oh! Hi." Abby said and something clank on the sink. 

"Can I come in?" 

“Yeah.”

You walked into the doorway and gasped when you saw Abby’s face. You came closer immediately, looking at her face with worry. She had a bruise on her cheekbone, her lower lip was swollen with a small cut in the corner of her mouth. 

“What the fuck, Abby?" You asked, for some reason trembling from worry. "What happened? Fuck, do you need to see a doctor?"

You held Abby by her neck, looking over her face, terrified and hurt from seeing Abby hurt. Who would do this? What kind of sick, violent asshole would attack Abby in the middle of the day? What did she even do to provoke such a response?

But Abby smiled, hissing from pain, and stroked your forearms.

"Hey." Abby said gently, soothing you. "Everything's fine. Wasn't paying attention during practice, caught some of the punches."

"Fuck, I forgot." You sighed, relieved. Abby was fighting for fucking fun, of course. "I thought someone attacked you."

Abby laughed and kissed your forehead to soothe you, her lips soft on your skin. You felt your chest flutter, but the relief you felt was bigger - Abby was okay, she was safe and these injuries didn't come from someone's violence. 

"Are you cleaning them?" You nodded at her bruises.

"Yeah."

"I'll help you." You said firmly and made Abby sit on the edge of the bath, looking up to you, amused. "Don't look at me like that, I can't cope with people being hurt."

"You're too sensitive for your own good." Abby said kindly. 

"I care about you." You said quietly as you wiped the blood from the corner of her lip, and Abby stared at you. You heard her breath hitch - she was shocked. "What, you thought I didn't?"

"No-no. I know you care about me." Abby mumbled and looked somewhere over your shoulder, avoiding eye contact. You could understand that, being so close to someone would make some people feel awkward. "You're so gentle." She scoffed as if it offended her, because Abby was all about I can take it so don't go soft on me. 

"Exactly why I said I'd do this. You, idiot, like to tough it up and suffer." You narrowed your eyes playfully and slapped your hand on the sink. "Not on my watch."

"How many vine compilations have you watched, grandma?"

"Takes one to know one." You scoffed and looked over her cut. You turned around and looked for disinfectant in the cabinet; then you took a piece of cotton and held it under Abby's chin so you could rinse the cut without applying any pressure. This disinfectant didn't hurt, so you were pretty calm about rinsing with it. "Okay. Do you have any healing ointments or whatever you use when you get hurt?"

"Yeah. Over there. It's for the bruise."

You nodded and gently applied the cream on Abby's cheekbone, your fingertips like feathers on her skin. Now Abby stared at you without hiding, looking at your face as if it was some kind of puzzle. She probably didn't even register that, so you didn't bring it up to her attention, not wanting to embarrass her.  

"Okay. I'm done." 

"Thanks." Abby said quietly and you smiled at her. 

"Be careful next time. I thought you have gloves for a reason. How did you even get your lip cut?"

"I don't know, It just happened. The punch wasn't even that strong." Abby rolled her eyes and some part of you wanted to laugh because she was cute, but the other part reminded you that Abby was big and strong and actually fucking dangerous. 

Yeah, she was cute when she scrunched her nose, but it was the way a lioness was cute. Little kitty from afar, but even the thought of it noticing you would make you hold your breath in fear. A lioness wasn't a kitty. A lioness was a killing machine that would overpower you and kill you in five minutes. This hit you in a way you wanted to press your thighs together - Abby was so much stronger than you just based on the fact she was a martial artist, and it made you feel things. 

Things you needed to press the fuck down and make yourself forget them. 

"Are you hungry?" Abby asked suddenly and you looked at her, surprised.

"Yes."

"I'll cook tonight." 

You raised your brows, surprised. 

"You know how?"

"Fuck you." Abby laughed and gently shoved you out of the bathroom and towards the kitchen. "Just because you're my housewife it doesn't mean I can't cook."

You sat on the chair and watched Abby cook with a mock worry, teasing her that she'd poison you, but Abby didn't mind. You actually knew Abby was a good cook, judging by how well organised her kitchen was when you moved in, but you couldn't miss a chance to tease her. 

"Behave, (y/n). Or I won't feed you." Abby said sternly, but this little command caused a knee-jerk reaction, pressing your buttons in a delicious way. You took a small breath to calm down the sudden haze from her words and came back to reality. "Threatening works, huh?"

Threatening, yeah, of course. Threatening.

"I have a fight on Friday. Do you want to come?" Abby asked as she stirred the vegetables in the pan. "At five."

"Yeah, I do. I'm afraid I'll have a heart attack if I see you hurt, but anything to support you, babygirl." You winked and Abby laughed.

"There is going to be a party after the fight too."

"Cool."

You weren't sure if alcohol plus Abby's company was a good idea, especially since you'd get more sad that you wanted her, but couldn't have her. And drunk cuddles would definitely hit differently and in not a good way, because now you felt something. So right now - though you didn't admit it yet - you weren't planning on going to that party. That September outing was enough for you to understand you needed to protect your heart. 

You snapped out of your thoughts when Abby stopped and rolled her arm, hissing. You frowned in worry, and when she looked at you, she explained.

"My shoulder."

"Did you get hit there too?" You raised your brows.

"No, just sore. I tried to massage it, but I couldn't reach it." 

"I can massage it for you later, if you want." You said before you could even process the implications of your words. You said that on pure instinct "people say I'm good at massages and Abby needs help", but if she'd agree it'd mean you'd touch her. 

Like. Naked back and everything. Shit. 

"Oh, you're so fucking nice, (y/n)." Abby cooed and you huffed. "Thank you."

"Feed me first." You said just as sternly as Abby said before, and she chuckled. 

"Or what, your weak little arms won't have any energy?" 

"The fuck." You asked, dramatically offended. "My arms are strong. No, don't even look at me like that, Anderson, I'm not arm wrestling you."

"Because you're weak as a noodle?"

That was definitely the payback for saying she'd poison you with her cooking. 

"You just want to feel that you're stronger than me, don't you?" 

"Come on, it will be fun." Abby said, now very into the idea of arm wrestling you. She wiped her hands and sat opposite of you, her eyes twinkling with mischief. 

"Yeah, for you." You rolled your eyes but put your elbow on the table. "Why do I even put up with your shit?"

"Because you love me, obviously." Abby rolled her eyes in return and your heart sank down in pain and came back in a matter of milliseconds. 

"I'm just nice." 

Abby wrapped her fingers around yours, delighted how your untrained hand was smaller than hers. Your hand was hot and dry, and your hold on her was strong - well, as strong as it could be for someone who occasionally went to gym. Your nails were short and neatly filed, you didn't wear nail polish. Abby suddenly remembered how Ellie explained to her why her nails were short with a shit-eating grin (for fucking, Abigail, for fucking) and even though it was funny then (yeah and nail polish is too gay, right?), it wasn't funny now, with you. 

Why the fuck she was so bothered you had a sex life? She wasn't in any position to police your life and especially your private life. She really needed to be a better person. 

"Ready?"

"If you break my hand you're paying for it."

"Ah, don't worry, my dad is a surgeon." 

Abby counted down from three and let you show your strength first to not demotivate you, but even like this she showed you you had no chance against her, because while you flexed all possible muscles in your arm, she was almost relaxed. 

"Yeah, you're a weak noodle." Abby said, smirking. 

"You're a noodle." You puffed as you tried your best to move Abby's hand, but Abby didn't bulge. "Come on, give up a little."

Abby laughed, but let you move her hand halfway down, and you looked ridiculously happy, even though you knew you were cheating. Abby thought about letting you win because you looked so pleased, but she wanted to destroy you way more. So when you almost got her hand all the way down, panting and puffing, Abby flexed her muscles and slammed your hand to the other side. She was gentle and didn't hit your hand on the table, relaxing her grip just the second before pressing your hand down fully. 

"Weak. Noodle." She said and you looked so angry she started laughing: it wasn't real anger, it was the playful one, and you honestly looked cute. "It's so fun to rile you up."

"First you humiliate me, then you poison me. I'm moving out." You said dramatically and Abby laughed again. 

"Well then how are you going to get Ellie to date you, hm?"

"Oh my god, Abby." You rolled your eyes again. "Gimme my food so my weak noodles could get some energy to knead your back."

Abby was absolutely delighted with how grumpy you were. It was the same when you played Mortal Kombat - riling you up was the biggest joy she had (after cuddling with you). You were so chill all the time, calm and confident like nothing could throw you off balance, and Abby liked seeing you crumble with childish anger, because it filled her with childish joy. 

You had your dinner and Abby rolled her eyes and called you a grandma when you mumbled something about poison again, but she saw how much you liked the food she made. Abby even started to reconsider if she actually hated cooking or she just needed to have someone to feed. Abby felt all warm when you said your thanks with a shy smile - something she never saw on your face before. Her stomach fluttered as she stared at you, searing your face into her heart. You were just adorable.

You washed the dishes and then asked Abby to lie down to fix her sore shoulder. You almost choked when she just took her shirt off and lied down on the bed, without any fucking warning. You felt your face heat up as you traced her muscles and her waist with your eyes, absorbing the sight in front of you. You could see how muscles moved under her skin as she adjusted her position on the bed, tucking her arms under the pillow, her shoulders showing these delicious curves around her biceps and triceps and whatever the fuck human arm was made of. The bruise on her cheek was getting purple and you felt your heart ache, sorry for someone as sweet as Abby to have this. 

"I'm not a professional, so I don't think I can fix the problem, but at least you'll relax. Are you okay if I sit on top of you?"

"Of course. Your back would get tired way too fast if you stay at my side, so take a seat."

"So forward, Abby." You chuckled and swung your leg over her ass so you could sit. You tried not to think how your legs stretched over her soft butt, how it would feel if you were flipped over and she was pressing you int- Stupid horny monkey brain. “Do you have a lotion somewhere?”

“Will hand cream work?”

“Yeah.”

Abby reached out for her drawer and handed you the hand cream while you respectfully didn’t look at her tits while she moved up, her naked chest showing from her sides. You squeezed the hand cream on Abby’s back, laughing at her surprised twitch, and got to work. You massaged the top of her shoulders and her neck first, listening to her soft pleased hums as you worked the tension out of her muscles. Then you moved to her shoulder blades and pressed your knuckles just under the right shoulder blade where you knew the sore muscle was. Abby let out a moan as you dragged your knuckles over the muscle and you opened your eyes wide, surprised. Fuck, Abby sounded delicious. 

“Fuck, right there.” Abby grunted and you repeated your movements, your ears tuned to her. Stupid, stupid horny monkey brain. “It feels so good.”

No. You refused to let her words get into your head. It wasn’t meant for you. It wasn't even sexual, what the fuck was wrong with you? 

"That's what she said." You murmured and Abby chuckled. 

"You have magic hands, fuck, do that again."

"You sure you're not my ex?" You teased. Abby didn't respond to that and you just continued massaging her back. 

After half an hour of you kneading Abby's back she was a putty and your hands were tired. You sat down next to her on the bed and watched her blissed out face. 

"Better?"

"I feel like I don't have bones anymore." Abby murmured into her pillow and you laughed quietly. "Thank you."

"You see where cooking dinner gets you." You poked her naked side, but Abby was too relaxed to twitch. "If you need my magic hands, just ask. I'm happy to help."

"You're too nice." 

"Why are you saying it like it's a bad thing?" 

"Just afraid someone would exploit you. Like, some idiot girl who won't appreciate you or something."

"Don't worry. I don't stay with people who don't care about me."

"I care about you, so stay with me." 

Your heart skipped a beat as you stared at Abby: she always said this kind of shit that gave you hope. That maybe Abby was just in the closet. That maybe she felt something too. That maybe you just needed to make a move, be the brave one, and then you'd get to have her. Your intuition was constantly whispering to you that Abby wasn't straight, but you refused to listen, because a) it was wishful thinking and b) even if she wasn't, it was for her to figure out and no one deserved to be forced out of the closet. 

"Well I don't want to be homeless, so I am staying with you." You stroked her back affectionately. "You need to shower."

Abby groaned and you laughed, before leaving her room. You needed to breathe.

Abby sighed quietly, still basking in your touch. She might've joked you were weak, but in reality your hands were strong. And so soft. God, you were so soft it opened some unknown need in her. She was longing for your touch in a way it scared her. Sure, Abby was affectionate and enjoyed hugs and cuddles and sleepovers when she got to hold someone - with boys they always held her, but with girls she could be the one holding and protecting. But with you she felt like an addict, craving your touch and closure with actual fucking pain in her chest, the constant pull to be closer in any way possible. Abby never felt like that about anyone, and she didn't understand what it meant. Was she so touch-starved she was looking to get her needs filled by using the closest person she had? That was very selfish and Abby didn't like what kind of person she was becoming. She felt sick at the thought she was using you, the kindest person she knew, to escape her loneliness. 

Abby sat up on the bed and looked at herself in the mirror, not really liking what she saw there. It felt like any issues she had inside were now outside, an inevitable evidence of her deteriorating morals. Fuck, she was turning into an idiot girl who couldn't appreciate you. 

Abby touched her shoulder where your soft fingers were a few minutes ago. Why just your company and your jokes weren't enough? Why did she want more? She couldn't understand at all, she was missing something. (Yeah, probably her morals). But it scared her to such a degree she didn't even want to go there.

The knock on the door snapped her out of her thoughts. You didn't come inside, staying behind the door to give her privacy.

"Do you want to have some tea with me?" 

"Yeah."

And everything was back to normal.

[its-time-to-write]

Thank you so much for the response to my request <3. the fic was better then I could have hoped!!!!

I have a new request (but feel free to focus on the story themes you were wanting to do!), I have been really wanting to see a Jamie fic where he takes care of sick reader. Could be period or illness (no preference) and Jamie has no idea how to help but tries his best. I think its a cute idea

Can't wait to read more of your fics!

Thank you so much for requesting!! Literally love when people ask me to write things. Also, apparently everyone loves a sickfic because my other one has the most notes of everything I’ve written. Anyway, here’s your fic!

there’s orange juice in the kitchen

You are not sure of much, but you know one thing: you’re in pain. It’s 2am, and you’ve gotten a grand total of two hours of sleep. You’ve given up on laying in your bed and have filled up your bath with hot water, bubbles, and bath salts. Lots of bath salts. Your abdomen feels like it’s shredding itself and you suppose, technically speaking, it is. You’re just relieved that tomorrow is the weekend and you don’t have to slog through a work day, white-knuckling these absolutely ripping period cramps. 

You don’t have regular periods like, ever, and your doctor’s concerned about your fertility. You remember waving it off with the statement, “That’s a problem for another day.” Thing is, that was just a cop-out. You didn’t want to think about it for a single second because then it would become real, and you make it a personal point never to complain about a period no matter how brutal it is because at least it’s something and never mind that your last one was four months ago, you’re ok. You have a good life and good people and you’re fine. 

It’s just the principle, you know? The desire of choice. 

The hormones don’t help either. 

But anyway, you’re in your tiny bath trying to soothe the pain you’re in, trying to make yourself tired enough to fall asleep once you get out. You breathe, in, out. In, out. 

You’re up till 6am when you finally doze off. 

—

You wake up in a sweaty haze. You’re in soft pants and a large t-shirt, on top of your sheets rather than in them. You reach for your phone then pull your legs in with a sharp gasp. You’re still in pain. 

It subsides so you reach again and check the time. 9:01. You groan. Three hours of dubious sleep is not enough. You have a missed text from Sam (remind me which brand of kitchenware you use?) two missed texts from Keeley (look at this absolutely adorable puppy! Attached: 1 Image), and a missed call from Jamie. 

Ah, right. Jamie. 

Your boyfriend. 

Who you were supposed to meet for breakfast exactly sixteen minutes ago. 

Shit. 

You call him back and he answers on the first ring. 

“Hey love!” he says. “You alright? Not like you to miss breakfast.”

You grimace. “I uh, I wasn’t feeling well last night and I haven’t slept very good. I forgot to text you. Didn’t fall asleep until 6.”

“A.M.?” Jamie asks and you reply to the affirmative. He lets out a long “shiiit,” followed by a, “how contagious are you?”

“For you? Not very,” you say. “For another girl, incredibly contagious, although some say that’s an old wive’s tale.”

Jamie is silent in confusion, then- “Ohh, I get it! You’re not sick-sick, you’re on your fucking period.”

You chuckle, despite remaining curled up on your side. 

“Yes,” you reply, “My fucking period. I feel nauseous and tired and I am bleeding so. Much. It’s like my body’s making up for the last four months of nothing.”

Jamie’s silent for a moment and you internally cringe, kicking yourself for over sharing. You haven’t been together that long, about a month and a half, and he doesn’t need to know that about you. He’s a famous footballer, after all, and a guy’s guy. Probably gets grossed out about periods and stuff. 

Then he says, “Can I come over? I’ll bring food,” and your worries almost completely evaporate. 

“As long as you don’t care about how disgusting I am or the fact that I hurt a lot, sure,” you say. “I’ll leave the door unlocked.”

—

Jamie’s at your flat in 40 minutes, which is fast considering how much food he walks in with. He’s brought a bag of Chinese takeout, plus two overflowing grocery bags. 

“This is for now, these are for later,” he explains. He’s in a pink sweatshirt with matching shorts and socks, and maybe it’s the damned hormones again but he looks hot. His hair is pushed back with a headband and you want him to fuck you. You don’t think you can convince him, though, what with the blood. And the fact that he’s Jamie fucking Tartt. And that he probably doesn’t do shit like that because it’s gross. 

Your brain whispers, but he’s here, isn’t he? so you just push that thought down to live with other scary ones like, I will never have kids, or I’m going to live with this pain for the rest of my life.

Jamie is oblivious to this, just pulling everything out of the bags and chattering on. He’s kicked off his trainers near the door, and he hasn’t made any comments about the fact that you’ve wrapped a blanket around your shoulders like a shroud, or that your hair is in the messiest bun in the history of the world. Not the sexy, reader-insert fan fiction type of messy bun, either. Just an I-did-not-get-anywhere-NEAR-enough-sleep-last-night messy bun. 

“-and me mum always drank orange juice, swore it helped with bloating or hydration or somethin’, I don’t really know, but I got some of that too and this tea that’s supposed to help with cramps, and also a shit-ton of chocolate because I didn’t know which kind was your favorite. I was thinking we can sit on the couch and watch a movie or play Animal Crossing or some shit while eating the takeout, then I can cook you a proper fucking meal later. Coach always says it’s important to have a balanced meal when you’re under the weather, and I think it applies to this too.” He stops when he notices you just looking at him. “You alright, babe?”

“Yeah, I just- why did you get all this?” you blurt out. 

For the first time since you’ve known him, Jamie looks unsure of himself. “I dunno. I mean, I do know. You didn’t sound great over the phone, and Keeley’s always telling me to fucking listen to other people, and me mum was always the same on her period so I used to get her the things she wanted all the time. And-” he takes a breath, “and I picked up on what you said. The fuckin’ four-months shit. That ain’t good babe. Even I know that. And, we haven’t been together that long, but I’m pretty fucking sure you know that too, and I wanted to let you know I’m sorry.”

You’re momentarily fixed on the way he says certain words. Keeleh. Sorreh. It’s sweet, for some reason, and it causes a dull ache in your chest. You realize what he’s actually said to you and that ache deepens. You’d kiss him if you weren’t sure your breath was gross. 

So instead, you settle for nodding and staring at your kitchen wall. That’s because option one is kissing and option two is crying. You can’t do either right now.

A traitor tear slips out your eye anyway, and you hope Jamie won’t see it. He does. 

“Hey, hey.” He comes around the counter and pulls you into a hug, blanket shroud, messy bun, and all. “Love. It’s alright. It’s alright. You’re not alone, and we’re going to go sit on the couch and eat as much food as we can and then pass out, alright? We’re not going to think about anything else except what’s right in fuckin’ front of us.”

“That was,” you sniff, “weirdly philosophical. And very sweet. And I’m sorry for being disgusting.”

Jamie pulls away from you, and you think this is the first time he’s realized how gross you are. 

“Don’t say that shit, babe,” he says, and you laugh before you realize he isn’t joking. 

“I’m serious,” he continues. “You might feel disgusting, but you aren’t. You smell like fucking lavender, for Christ’s sake. Your pajamas are clean, and so’s your hair. Might be fuckin’ messy right now, but me mum also taught me to braid, so it’s nothing that can’t be fixed.”

You pull him back against you and let some more tears come out. 

“Why are you being so nice,” you ask, voice muffled through his sweatshirt. 

“Oh, dunno,” he replies, hint of a smile in his voice, “Think you’re fit. I like shower sex. You pick.” He pauses. “Maybe both. Heard that it can help with cramps.”

You laugh wetly into his chest. He’s warm and comforting, and so completely not what you expected him to be. You both stand in the kitchen for another minute, his cheek resting on your head before he says, “Oi, you hungry?”

“God, yes,” you say, “I could eat a fucking horse.”

“Good.” Jamie picks up the bulging bag of takeout and a roll of paper towels. “Lead the way, babe.”

—

It’s not until much later, after you’ve eaten, watched a movie, and showered (and all that implies) that you realize you’re finally tired. Finally calm. You let yourself relax on your bed in Jamie’s arms, breathing in his clean smell. In, out. In, out. By the third breath, you’re asleep. 

[himexyandere]

Yandere Headcanons Pt. 2

Content Warning(s): Obsessive behavior, malpractice, gaslighting, manipulation, drugging

A/N: These are just more yandere HC's that I thought of and wanted to post ^^ I haven't written anything here for a while, so I figured I'd post something! Not sure what my next post will be, honestly, I'll probably do a poll and ask what you guys would like to see. Anyway, I hope you enjoy! <3

Yandere!Doctor who keeps you in his hospital by occasionally slipping different harmless drugs into your meals that makes you a little lightheaded and exhibit signs of being feverish, thus extending your visit.

Had someone told you that you would be staying for a bit at a hospital with your favorite doctor, you probably would’ve been elated to hear such a thing!

That wasn’t necessarily the case, however — yes, he was your favorite doctor and he’d always called you his “star patient” when the two of you were alone, but you weren’t exactly a huge fan of hospitals 

Staying for more than a week was already too much for you, yet he still wouldn’t let you leave 

“My dear, you may not think your symptoms are worrying, but they certainly are. A fever that comes and goes at random is nothing to treat lightly. I will be extending your stay until you feel better.” 

During your first week, a male nurse was the one who came to bring you your food and medicine, occasionally striking up casual conversations with you to help you feel more comfortable in such a quiet, sterile place 

After another week or so, you hadn’t seen him again. Confused, you asked your doctor where the nurse went and he gave you a seemingly perturbed frown 

“I’m sorry, dear, but we had to let him go. One of the other nurses found him assaulting a comatose patient. Terrible, isn’t it? I’m just glad he’s gone now and is no longer a danger to anyone… Wouldn’t you agree?” 

Had a month gone by already? You honestly couldn’t tell anymore. Your doctor was the only one who visited your room, stating that visitation was on hold for a while due to some issue or another—

He’s the doctor so why would you question him? He only wants what’s best for his “star patient”, after all

You were originally in for a small health scare at work, but now…

Yandere!Househusband who clings to you, slightly causing a bit of concern amongst your friends and family, but you feel like his clinginess is normal... At first.

He acted like the two of you were still a newlywed couple or something 

He always, always, always craves your attention, wanting to be close to you whenever feasible

This meant that leaving home to go to your job every morning was a nearly impossible feat, considering he rarely ever let you escape his arms (at least not without some bribery first) 

“If you promise to spend the entire weekend with me here in our home, then I’ll let you leave for work. How’s that sound, darling?” 

This was a common occurrence, leading you to spend most, if not all, of your free time cuddling up with your husband at home, watching corny movies and eating snacks. 

Your friends and family started seeing less and less of you, prompting them to call and visit your home more often with questions about where you’ve been. You always tell them that you’re fine and you’ve just been spending some time relaxing with your hubby 

He was delighted by your replies and would later tell you after they left that he loves you so, so much 

He does get anxious at times, though, wondering constantly if you’re annoyed with him or if you secretly hate his clinginess and overwhelming adoration

After you told him that you would be going to hang out with your friends one evening, he nearly lost it in front of you. Fortunately, he managed to maintain a gentle smile as he encouraged you to go and have a good time 

When you got back later that night, your husband informed you that he’d scheduled a getaway for your upcoming anniversary! He’s already called your job and put in for PTO, so you don’t have to worry your little head—you’re going to have so much fun… Just the two of you.

[m-ayo-o]

1 stranger

meeting Toji // female reader wc 3400 chapters m.list -> next

wrote this last winter, it was chilly. i was sick.

nb: I placed Toji in his 40s. feel free to imagine whatever age you're comfortable with

You’re feeling totally wiped out, it’s the end of another long year and you really need a break. You have a few more jobs to do before you can start your holiday, but you’re so exhausted you’re not sure if you can get through them. Your morning has been spent recovering from another late night at work, now traipsing around the shops attempting to find some flu medicine.

Your eyes are blurry as you’re walking around, feeling so weak. Your legs tremble and the edges of your vision starts to cloud over and turn black. Clinging onto the nearest shelf your knees buckle and you fall. Black swathes cover your eyes like curtains, reality fades away as you feel yourself collapsing.

This may be more than a simple flu.

⋆⁺ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆★

The next sensation you feel is stinging pain in your head. You slowly open your eyes and blink, taking in the light as your pupils contract.

“Ugh…” you mutter, your head is killing. You’re obviously in a hospital bed, but next to you is an unfamiliar person.

He looks up seeing you’re awake.

“You fainted,” he states flatly, looking at your dazed expression.

Well, that much seems fairly obvious. You turn to face him slowly. “And you are?” You ask cautiously, your voice cracking as you’ve just woken up.

“Your hero,” he extends a hand to shake yours as you sit up.

“I just found you passed out in the shop back there…” he continues, “I took you to the hospital. I’m Toji.” His big hand squeezes you tight. As your gaze trails up his arm to his face you’re greeted by striking green eyes, dark spiky hair and a slight smile with a red scar on the edge of his lips.

“Oh,” you’re a bit lost for words as you look up at him, “well, um, thank you...” you manage, looking down from his intense gaze.

“Don’t mention it,” he replies, releasing your hand, standing up, “well, I should get going now you’re up. I’ll tell the doctors to check on you.”

He turns towards the door, ready to leave. “Wait!” You squeak before he exits. He turns to face you again, locking eyes with yours.

“Please can I pay you back? If it weren’t for you I’d be in trouble… there are all sorts of creeps out there,” your voice is shaky as you ask him.

“How do you know I’m not one?” He questions with a teasing laugh.

“Because you brought me here! You didn’t have to do that,” you look down again, mumbling a little, “and now I owe you. So please, let me have your last name, or your number?” You ask, hoping that you can at least find him again to repay his kindness.

“It’s no big deal. I’m sure plenty of people would do the same thing,” he lies through his teeth, “but I’ll give you my number in case you need my services again,” he smirks as you pass him your phone. You text him your number and thank him again, managing a weak smile as he leaves you to the doctors.

You can’t believe somebody actually picked you up and took you to the hospital, let alone someone like him. He looked so intimidating and serious, but when he spoke his voice was soothing and alluring. You knew you really wanted to see him again.

⋆⁺ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆★

You’re discharged from the hospital fairly quickly and you rest up for a few days in your apartment. You forget about your work and just try to relax, feeling better in time for the weekend, which is the start of your time off anyway. Now you’ve pretty much recovered, you really want to contact the mysterious man who looked after you so kindly.

You decide to call him, choosing the most direct route and hoping to hear his voice again.

“Hello, it’s y/n, from the hospital,” you explain as Toji answers.

“Oh hey, girl who passed out in the shop,” you hear his teasing tone through the phone.

“Yes,” you sigh, feeling embarrassed, “just... please tell me what I can do to repay you,” you know your voice sounds whiny over the phone, making you cringe.

“Hmm,” Toji thinks about what he can get away with, “how about you cook for me, at your place?” He asks bluntly.

You pause for a few moments as you’re a little taken aback. “Um- uh, ok. If that’s what you want?” You ask tentatively, thinking about his possible motives for coming over. He can hear your embarrassment over the phone.

“Look, I just want dinner. I don’t like crowded restaurants, that’s all,” he explains. “Oh, yes! Ok!” you feel your cheeks going red, feeling dumb for assuming he wanted something else, “yes, I, I’m not an amazing cook but I can try my best,” you stutter out. He agrees and you wrap up your call. You text him your address and decide what to cook.

⋆⁺ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆★

Toji said he'd arrive at 7pm after work, so you've got everything ready, allowing enough time to get changed into something a bit more presentable than a baggy jumper and fluffy socks.

You slip into a dress, applying a little mascara and lip gloss, tidying up your hair. You study your reflection, thinking you look pretty good, but this is the kind of outfit you’d usually wear for a date. The dress hugs your figure nicely and frills out at the bottom. You sigh and think, too much? But it’s too late, as you hear a knock at the door.

Toji looms over you, seemingly filling the entire doorway with his large figure. Your gaze travels up his body, over his well fitting shirt, his arms and torso.

The size difference between you is ridiculous as you feel like a child standing in front of him. You try to stop gawking as you smile up at your guest and greet him.

He looks down, unashamedly checking you out in your cute dress.

“You look…” his eyes linger over your waist, “much better now.”

The corner of his lip twitches into a little smirk as his eyes snap up to your pretty face again.

“I, I feel much better, thank you, please come in,” you manage, turning to hide your blush.

You enjoy your meal together and chat about work and whereabouts he lives in the neighbourhood. He seems pretty reserved but Toji explains that he’s a bodyguard for some political official during the day, sometimes picking up freelance work if it pays well.

Now you’re sitting up close to him, after hearing about his life, you realise Toji's probably a fair bit older than you. You think he might be around 38.

You both settle in the living room section of your open plan apartment, pulling up a coffee table to your big sofa. Toji reclines and relaxes as you get some dessert for yourself– he’s finally full after eating what would’ve been a week’s worth of food for you.

You find some dessert then turn back to sit on the sofa, seeing him standing up and stretching, his shirt lifting as he reaches his arms up above his head. Your eyes hover over his figure for a second, quickly returning your attention to your ice cream.

“I should probably get out of your way, it’s kinda late,” Toji sighs as he finishes stretching. You didn’t realise it's already 10:30, but it's Friday, and Toji seems really nice.

“Would you like to stay… for a drink?” you ask tentatively.

“You want me to stay?” His eyebrow arches as you push the ice cream around your bowl.

You nod, “if you want to…”

“I’ll stay, but not for a drink,” you get comfy on the sofa together and enjoy your ice cream.

“So, you know a little about me now, is there anything you’re curious about?” Toji asks, turning to you. You take another mouthful of your strawberry ice cream and look up at your handsome guest. Your eyes travel over his muscular arms, up his neck, over the scar on his lip, settling on his emerald eyes. 

“How old are you?” You finally ask.

“How old do you think I am?”

You hesitate for a second. You actually think he’s 38, so you decide to go a little lower in order to avoid any offence.

“36?” You ask.

“Honestly?” He knows you’re lying.

“38.” You state more confidently.

“45.” Toji replies with a toothy smile. Your eyebrows fly up as you let out a laugh that quickly dies down when you realise he isn't kidding.

“45?” You can only repeat, searching your mind for something smart to say, only to end up looking pretty dumbfounded.

“And how old are you?” He asks in return, curiosity getting the better of him. You repeat your little game, Toji near enough guessing your true age.

“Um, so is there anything you’d like to know about me?” You ask back.

“Hmm…” he tilts his head, “how many people have you slept with?”

You almost choke on your ice cream. You end up swallowing it as you laugh at his question. “You really want to know that?” You finally ask.

He nods, “mm, please do tell. I’m curious.”

“Why don’t you guess that, too? See how close you can get,” you suggest, wanting to know what he thinks.

Toji tries to dodge around the question for a while, not wanting to answer. Although he seems fairly blunt and straight talking, he doesn't come across as rude. So you give him a little clue, helping him guess just a few shy of the actual number.

“And you?” You return his inquisitive question.

“What do you think?” Of course, let’s guess again.

“Well, you’re older than me…” you trail off, gazing over his handsome features, “and much more attractive…” you sigh, thinking aloud.

“Excuse me?” He asks with a smile, wanting you to repeat yourself.

“You, you’re better looking than me. That’s just a fact,” you say again as you look up at him, trying not to get embarrassed.

“You think I'm attractive?” He asks with a grin, making you lose your cool and look down. Toji leans over, tilting your chin up with a finger and thumb. You just nod your head, your eyes avoiding his intense gaze.

“Maybe I haven't lost my touch...” he mutters, releasing your chin, “but you’re much more attractive than an old geezer like me,” he shrugs, complimenting you so casually.

Your eyes dare to meet his as you continue, “Ok, so you’re attractive, and a smooth talker,” you count on your fingers, “oh, and you’re some kind of hero,” your list gets longer.

“So…?” He asks as you attempt some quick calculations in your head.

“Um… I really don’t know!” You whine. You hazard a few guesses that all seem way off the mark as he just laughs and rolls his eyes.

“Not even close, doll,” he pauses, hesitation crossing his features, “to be honest, I don’t have an exact number, probably triple figures. But I'm not sure…” his voice dips lower as his eyes lose contact with yours.

“wow” you can't help but let out a little whisper.

“I know. When I was younger... I made a habit of sleeping with someone new whenever I could,” he sighs.

“Mm, were you trying to get over someone?” You ask quietly. He just nods and looks up at you with a rueful smile.

“Yeah, exactly that. But, it didn’t really work, so I stopped… and just got on with my life,” he sighs more contentedly now.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to pry,” you apologise as he shakes his head.

“I brought it up, right?” he shrugs.

You finish your interesting conversation and ice cream, starting to tidy up a little.

“I really should get going, I have to work so early in the morning,” you hear Toji groan as you're washing up.

“Oh shit! I’m so sorry!” You didn't realise he was busy tomorrow. “No problem, how about we continue this another time?” He asks.

You agree, feeling a little disappointed as Toji leaves your apartment, but you understand he’s busy and his job must be tiring. He says goodnight and you thank him again for his help the other week as he waves and walks down the hallway.

⋆⁺ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆★

As the weeks progress, Toji and you seem to be getting closer, meeting up for drinks, he asks you for coffee the following weekend, then you invite him for dinner again the next Friday. You learn that Toji has a 25 year old son, which boggles your mind a little, who lives on the outskirts of the city.

He sees him fairly often but he explains they’re not that close. You’re very curious about the son he talks about as he’s around the same age as you. You presume the woman he mentioned before is his mother, and you don’t want to seem too nosy.

Along with his family background, you start to see different sides of Toji– how he is with strangers is downright off-putting, coming across arrogant and intimidating.

But behind his brazen and nonchalant exterior, you discover that he can be polite when he wants, seemingly pushing his ego down to show respect for others.

He doesn't seem to acknowledge it, but you swear you've never met anyone so hardworking. His profession in security takes a certain level of commitment, but Toji seems like he's on the clock 24/7, being vigilant and assertive everywhere you go.

You learn that he can be snappy and standoffish at times, mainly with strangers or whoever's unfortunate enough to be on the other end of the phone when his patience has worn thin.

But, no matter what mood he's in, you're never on the receiving end of any ill tempered outbursts. He seems so calm when he's talking with you, his body relaxing with your slight touch, his eyes softening as they linger over your pretty features.

You really innocently hope you’re the only girl he’s seeing right now. From his track record, you’d assumed otherwise. But, from his explanation you really hope that that phase is in the past for him. You carry on hoping, anyway.

⋆⁺ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆★

After spending another evening at your apartment, Toji has to leave once again. This time when he gets to the door he hesitates, turning to look down into your eyes. He reaches a large hand out to you as you stand close to him near the door. His hand seems to cover your entire shoulder as he pulls you into him gently. Toji wants a hug? You think to yourself.

You excitedly wrap your arms around his waist and squeeze him tight, but you feel him pushing you away again. Oh, damn it, you think. He didn’t want that?? 

“C’mere, doll,” he murmurs as he snakes his hands down to your waist. He lifts you and hoists you up with his hips, making you wrap your legs around him for support. Your hands reach up around his shoulders that you can now reach and Toji wraps his arms around you, squeezing tightly.

“Mm, that’s better,” he mumbles into your neck, your head right next to his.

“‘m too short,” you murmur back, feeling sorry that you couldn’t reach around his shoulders properly without help. Well, you don’t feel too sorry now you’re in this position.

“Mm, no,” he turns his head to you, “you’re the perfect size f’ me,” his lips lift into a little smirk, your noses touching.

“Toji…”

“Mm?” his voice sounds much deeper now you're up close.

He kisses you passionately and gently slips his tongue into your mouth. You eagerly kiss him back and slide your tongues together as he holds you in his arms. You pull away and he sucks your lip, not wanting to stop.

“Can I kiss you?”

He just smiles and leans in, closing the gap between your lips.

“I thought you’d never ask, doll,” he sighs and kisses you again, then sets you back on your feet, “I really do have to go, though…”

You have a slightly pouty expression as you look up at him, his black hair hanging down over his face as he leans over.

“How about you come to my place next week?” he asks.

Huh, you realise you haven’t been to Toji’s yet. “Oh, ok. Sure.”

He leans right down and kisses you again, saying goodnight. He knows he’s left you eager for more as he walks down the hallway, waving goodbye.

keep reading: sweet

[chapters m.list]

[masterlist]

likes, comments + reblogs appreciated! ♡

[rosewaterandivy]

https://youtube.com/shorts/QuNRoe29bPA?feature=share

Something like that? PLS

Love you <3

Wow, thanks so much for the request! I tweaked it a bit to fill one of the prompts from here, hope that's okay. Love you 💜

83. “Stay there. I’m coming to get you.”

When you told him what you and Eddie would be up to Saturday night, Steve groaned so loud you could swear the couch vibrated.

You can’t be serious. And leaving me at the mercy of the gremlins?

“Yes,” you grin, “I’m sure the Harrington babysitting service can handle it.” And then you’re off to get ready for the party. “Knowing you, you’ll probably have some hot date booked for after you’ve dropped the gremlins off.”

It’s not that Steve worries, really he doesn’t, because you’ll be with Eddie and Robin will show up at some point, so at least you’ll be safe. But Saturdays were for movies with the party, taking full advantage of Steve and Robin’s (five-fingered) employee discount at Family Video and hanging out.

Recently, it’s been the only time when he can see you—busy with work and classes and helping Eddie with his GED. All your free time was accounted for, used up, leaving nothing left for him.

He tried (and failed) to be accommodating about it.

This resulted in frequent calls to your house, which your mother or father usually answered with thinly veiled annoyance (Sorry Steve, she just left. No, I don’t know when she’ll be back), interrupted study sessions at Forest Hills (Eddie’s exasperated, ‘Dude, what the fuck. You’re infringing on my right to an education here.’), and drop-ins while you were working at the diner.

In short, it was becoming a problem.

So when you mentioned, last minute mind you, that Eddie needed a hand dealing for a party this weekend and you’d agreed to help out, Steve took it about as well as could be expected.

Which is to say, not at all.

It’s bad enough that he’s making them watch Rocky IV, according to Dustin. But Steve pays him no mind and pops the tape into the VCR. The kids grumble and complain, but otherwise occupy themselves by half-watching the saga of Rocky and Drago.

His leg won’t stop bouncing as he reclines against the couch. It continues for the whole movie. When the film concludes with Apollo’s tragic demise, Max starts sorting through the rest of the tapes.

“What else is in here?” Throws out a few titles as she sees them, The Color Purple, 101 Dalmations, Out of Africa—

“Nope!”

Steve nearly hip checks Lucas in his haste to wrestle the tape from Max. They grapple for a bit, nearly coming to blows but Steve’s not about to hit a child and a girl at that. This sense of chivalry does not stop Max from smacking him upside the head, but he’s victorious in the end.

“And why can’t we watch that particular one?” Dustin ventures with a curious glance to Lucas before Steve settles back on the couch between them.

“I’ll, uh,” he stashes the tape behind the sofa, wedges its case against the wall. “Tell you when you’re older.”

Dustin and Lucas continue to eye each other warily.

Then El pipes up, “Friends don’t lie.” And before Steve can stop her from what will inevitably be an embarrassing calamity—

“It’s a … sad movie,” she continues, “The last time he watched it, he cried.”

Oh. Shit.

He wants nothing more than to bash his head against the wall, but can’t risk another concussion according to the doctors and literally everyone else. Maybe the earth could swallow him whole instead? Anything to end this humiliation.

“Didn’t you watch that with—” Mike begins, because he is an asshole.

“Oh yeah,” Dustin confirms, “They watched it like, a few weeks ago. I mean, her crying I get,” he turns to Steve, an incredulous look on his face, “But you—”

“Robert Redford is a good actor, okay?” He rushes to defend himself, “Very convincing.”

“Okaaayy,” Max drawls.

An uncomfortable silence ensues. The kids settle on watching Clue while Steve takes an opportunity to refill drinks and snacks. Tries to ignore the furtive whispers from the living room. Tries to focus on the popcorn in the microwave and not imagining what you may be up to at the house party with Eddie.

“Why don’t you just ask her out already?” Will says when Steve returns from the kitchen. 

The group falls silent, awaiting his response. Keep your cool, Harrington. He sets the bowl of popcorn on the table, doing his best to ignore Will’s probing question. Is almost successful until—

“Steve, you’re literally in love with her.”

He scoffs at Lucas’ blatant betrayal. Helped the kid practice everyday after school leading up to tryouts and this is how he’s repaid? 

“No,” he says with a tone to convey the end of this conversation. “We’re friends, just friends and that’s it.”

A beat of silence as everyone pretends to watch as Tim Curry greets the six strangers upon their arrival to the mansion.

Dustin coughs. “Friends don’t look at each other the way you look at her, Steve.”

“Oh my god.” Max looks like she wants to brain herself on the edge of the coffee table at the stupidity of it all. 

“Fuck off.” Steve huffs in annoyance, “Like I’m gonna take advice from a bunch of high schoolers.”

“Dude.”

“We’ve saved the world.”

“Like, multiple times.”

“And,” El annoyingly points out, “It’s good advice.”

Thankfully, Steve is saved by the bell. The phone trills its ring from somewhere beneath the couch cushions. Unable to find the cordless, he’s forced to answer it in the kitchen.

“Harrington residence.”

There’s music thumping and cross chatter down the line as he tries to make out who’s calling.

“Steve?”

“Rob, that you?”

A laugh, “Yeah, s’me. How you doin’ babe?”

Her voice has taken on that light, dreamy cadence it gets when she’s tipsy or high and, knowing her, it’s probably both.

“Uh, fine.” He turns to check on the kids in the living room, “Watching Clue. Did you need something?”

“Oh my god,” she rasps, “I love that movie!” A hiccup followed by a chuckle. “Nah, I’m good babe. I’m calling for someone else.”

He doesn’t know what to make of that.

“Rob, you know you called my house, right? The kids are here, if you wanna talk to them but—”

“Nonono Stevie,” she says in a rush, “M’callin’ about your girl.”

“My… girl.”

“Yep.”

The sounds of the phone being handed off to someone else. A few breaths and then, “Hi Steve.”

And oh.

Your voice is low and breathy through the phone, he can hear you giggling about something to Robin as you pull the speaker away from your mouth ‘I’m on the phone Buckley.’

He melts, just a bit. Because he knows that tone very well— when you fall asleep leaning against his shoulder during movie nights or take a brief nap sitting shotgun in his car, all raspy and sweet. 

“Hey honey,” he coos, voice incredibly fond. Steve turns, closing himself off from the din in the living room. “Y’doin’ okay?”

“Mmhm, tired though.”

“Is that right?’

A yawn. “Yeah,” he can hear the pout in your voice, “Rob doesn’t wanna leave yet and Eddie went upstairs with someone like, forever ago.”

Steve’s already grabbing his keys from the counter. “Stay with Robin, okay? I’m coming get you.”

“Thanks Stevie,” you sigh prettily, “You’re the best.”

_

Dustin (unhelpfully) advised him to get flowers before he left, so Steve put Max in charge, out of spite. Which unfortunately broke the levy for a barrage of romantic advice from literal children: hold the door, make eye contact, give her your jacket and be on the left side of the sidewalk.

It’d be endearing if it wasn’t so tragic.

He rolls up to the house to find not only Robin, but Eddie too, at your side seated on the sidewalk. He crosses the hood of the car as you stand with a soft smile, “Sorry Steve,” you say, less sloshed since the phone call, but still tired. “Didn’t mean to ruin your night.”

“C’mon honey,” he scoffs, “There’s no way you could ruin my night.” He ushers you to the passenger seat, arm around your waist. He can smell the beer from the keg and stale cigarettes on you, laced with the comforting scent your perfume. 

He shuts the door after reminding you to put on your seatbelt and turns back to Eddie and Robin. They look like they’re up to no good— Eddie’s smirking and got that glint in his eye that says he’ll be a problem, all the while Rob has a dopey grin on her face.

“She’s had water and we took the drinks from her a while ago,” Eddie says, waving back at you from the sidewalk. “Try to have her eat something.”

Steve rolls his eyes. Like he needs advice from a dungeon master on how to deal with a drunk.

Robin blinks owlishly, “Ooh, Hardee’s, get her that.”

Steve laughs as Eddie shepherds Robin away. Says something about not fucking it up and using protection. He can’t bring himself to care as he slides back into the car. The radio kicked on as he starts the car, David Byrne rhapsodizing about a girl as she was. 

He watched as you bop to the song in your seat, bringing an affectionate smile to his face— eyes closed, hair whipping back in the cool night breeze as you sing along. The axels squeak when Steve pulls into the drive-thru lane.

Try as he might to keep his gaze on you, to watch you a little longer, the intercom sputters to life—a young boy’s voice greeting mechanically but trying nonetheless to adhere to Hardee’s hospitality best he can.

The burger you’d gotten—medium, double meat, bacon, all toppings between—has completely fallen apart in a splat back onto the wax paper in your lap.

“Here, honey.”

He fumbles for napkins. But you wave his worries away, licking your fingers before diving in to deconstruct your food.

“Sorry—I promise I have my shit together.” Another giggle, “Not doing well here. Makin’ a mess your car and everything.”

“I, uh, I think you’re doin’ great.”

The words slip out before he can catch them and around a mouthful of fries, you thank him, and then you take a breath, and he can literally see you winding up for another enormous bite.

“Sorry,” you pause sheepishly, “M’ starving—skipped lunch on accident.” You take the enormous bite he saw coming, and then, “Also doesn’t help—mm—nervous.”

Steve chews on a fry and slurps his soda, driving with ease. “Nervous ‘bout what?”

You swallow and steal his drink, “Weren’t you on a date?”

He blinks.

You blink.

He blinks again.

“No, I was watching movies with the kids.”

His face is so hot that he thinks someone must have thrown a fire into him. Should he have just gone along with it instead? It’s old news by now that King Steve had turned in his crown for a walkie-talkie and chauffeuring a bunch of teens around.

A beat passes and he tries again, now at the end of the meal and the stain on your shirt starting to sink in and spread, heavy enough to dip toward the skin beneath. “Do you want to take your shirt off?”

You choke on soda and add another splatter down your chest, “What?”

“You can wear my jacket,” he clarifies. “Give it back later. I mean, if you…” He frowns. “Uh. Um.”

The beemer comes to a stop in front of he Harrington house. Lights still on in the living room signalling that the party is still there. 

You changed out of your shirt, ducking down in the front seat bashfully (“Look away, damn it.”), your old t-shirt in a crumple inside his pocket. His jacket hung a bit loose, but zipped up all the way and it was a good enough cover for a while.

There’s a smear of grease on your cheek from the burger and Steve knows it’s just a personality trait at this point. He laughs when you stick your tongue out, trying to find exactly where it is before giving up and asking him to wipe it off.

He shoves his hands in his pocket afterwards, thumb jammed inside his fist like a souvenir, keeping it there the rest of the walk up the drive, all the way up to the front door of his house before he wonders if he should have been trying to hold your hand.

Maybe not.

“I missed this,” he says, brushing his shoulder against yours.

You hum, knocking your hip against his. “Thanks for dinner,” you say, looking up at him.

“Yeah, of course.”

“And picking me up.” A beat passes. “And the jacket, too. It’s really nice… comfortable and, uh, smells… good. Like, cinnamon and… nice body wash and… trees.” You make a queasy face and close your eyes for a second, pinching the bridge of your nose uncomfortably as Steve looks on.

Oh, he realizes. You must be woozy.

Oh, he realizes. You’re gonna hurl.

“Steve,” Your voice is small and tight, and you look like you’re struggling to take steadying breaths. “I gotta sit down.”

“Right,” he replies. You laugh, rubbing the back of your neck before he turns and unlocks the door.

The kids are passed out on the sofa and reclining chairs in the living room. He locks the door and sneaks you upstairs, hands politely on your waist to steady you on your feet. Guides you to the left toward the guest bath and flips on the lights. 

“You alright?”

The fluorescents cast you in a hazy yellow glow, squinting at the bright light. You paw at the countertop for something, water? You turn to open a drawer and find a spare toothbrush— the blue one, yours, a freebie from a check-up and gloop some toothpaste on the bristles. With a nod in response, you begin to brush your teeth, faucet running as you fill a cup of water. 

Steve leaves you with a clean washcloth and towel, should you need them, and goes to check that his room isn’t a complete disaster. Bed sheets are clean-ish and he doesn’t have time to run them through the wash, though there’s always one of the guest rooms…

“Hey.”

He startles slightly, not hearing you walk in. You’ve toed off your shoes by the door and are looking sheepish, lip pulled between your teeth. “Can I borrow some clothes?”

“Yeah, sure.” 

Steve pulls open some drawers, rifling through for something for you to sleep in. Throws your top into his hamper while he’s at it. He turns back to you with a ‘Hawkins Athletics’ shirt that’s seen better days and a pair of flannel pajamas. Shoves them toward you awkwardly and then promptly turns around to let you have some privacy while you change.

“Thanks.”

He makes a strangled noise of confirmation and clears his throat. “No problem.”

Hearing the rustling of sheets, he turns back around and catches sight of your bare leg as you hunker down in his bed. Heat rushes to his cheeks when he spies the pajama pants neatly folded and placed on his nightstand. You turn on your side, burrowing and fluffing the pillows to your liking.

Steve makes quick work of brushing his teeth and getting ready for bed. Shoes by the door next to yours, jeans shucked into a pile by his desk, keeps his shirt on for the sake of decency, and slips in next to you. 

“I appreciate you coming to get me, y’didn’t have to do that.”

His arm drapes against your shoulder while you snuggle into him, casual affection being the norm between you two. He swallows thickly, tries to regulate his breathing when your hand rests against his chest.

“What’re friends for?”

“Hmm,” you consider for a moment. “Friends may not be the most accurate term.”

Steve bristles at that. 

“What do you mean?” He turns toward you, heart racing— did you not want to be friends anymore? Did he do something wrong?

Your face is impassive, blank. Steve couldn’t even begin to guess at what you’re thinking, is afraid to even try.

Then, you smile.

Fuck. That smile.

“S-so, not friends then?”

Steve is not a religious man, but he prays that your smile means what he thinks it does. Slowly reaching toward you, he brushes a lock of hair from your face, fingers grazing your cheek. 

Mischievously, you lean in, touch him soft on the lips and every beat of his pulse seems to be seeking out the sweet plush of your mouth. “If we were just friends, I shouldn’t wanna kiss you so bad, but we both seem to be … not good… at following decorum, so…” Your eyes light up teasingly, “What d’ya say?”

Steve makes a noise like a whimper. Wow. Babysitter extraordinaire with a bat of nails under his bed and it’s your smile that does him in.

You kiss him again, longer than the last, giggling softly and tugging on his bottom lip like you could pull his entire body toward you with just that. “I’m sure we could find a few more rules to break.”

[mariaofdoranelle]

Look at Us Now — Ch. 7

Fic Masterlist

Do I see change in the horizon? Yes, I do!!

Also, I added 4 chapters to our outline! Yay!! I’m going to update the masterlist soon

Warnings: language, incarceration

Words: 4k

“Could you stop staring at my stomach?” Aelin asked, feeling her cheeks burn and hoping Rowan couldn’t see it with the bad lighting of his cell. Her baby bump was barely visible, but he still did that thing where his mind seemed to go far away while he stared at her stomach.

“It’s very hard not to,” Rowan rasped.

“My stomach looks the same way after I leave an all-you-can-eat buffet.” Usually with Aedion. He was the most fun to accompany at those places, always impressing the employees with his binge-eating skills.

He didn’t reply, so Aelin went back to her book. Things were easier with him, though. She visited him again after they made amends to drop two pregnancy books, since he didn’t have internet access in the guardhouse, and now she was here once again.

It wasn’t weird that she was seeing him three days in a row, right? It didn’t feel weird, at least. Besides, they were already seeing each other every day for the past three months. Except that now she was seeing him on weekends too. And not having sex.

The first visit was to reconcile, the second to do him a favor. Now it was Sunday, and Rowan doesn’t have work, so it would be cruel to leave him alone in a cell the whole day.

“You’re out of here on Wednesday, right?”

“Mhm,” Rowan confirmed without taking his eyes off the book this time.

“Good. I scheduled my first appointment for Thursday afternoon. Do you think you can make it?”

“Aelin…” It was very easy to spot the alarm bells on his tone. “Tell me you’re not waiting for me to get out of jail to go see a doctor.”

“But you told me you wanted to be at every appointment!”

“Aelin.”

“Look, I work at a hospital. I can take my vitals whenever. I feel fine. I can wait until Thursday to hear the heartbeat and do the ultrasound, okay?”

Rowan relaxed again, but he still looked wary. “Fine. But it doesn’t sit well with me.”

Aelin snorted over his fussing and opened one of her lunchboxes she prepared this morning. Gods, she was so freaking hungry all the time. She opened the sandwich, but her eyes were locked on the mango. It looked so orangey and ripe. She held it with her free hand. So soft to the touch.

“I should eat the sandwich.”

He hummed. “You should.”

“The problem is: what I want to eat this mango. But the mean sergeant in the entrance confiscated my knife.”

Rowan snorted. “That’s outrageous. Do you think I should lock him up for it after I finish being locked up?”

She sighed, still conflicted over what to eat. “I don’t think you have another option, Rowan. I feel like this mango is staring at me. Begging to be eaten.”

“You don’t need a knife to eat a mango. Just bite it.”

If only it was that simple. She looked down, staring at her uniform. Wearing it meant she was supposed to look as put-together as possible, only being excused if something bigger than a mango happened, like a mission that involved rain or mud. Aelin didn’t even need to wear it to visit Rowan on a Sunday, but she figured it’d be a lot easier to get inside the base with it.

Fuck it, her hangry pregnant brain said, making her take a huge bite without analyzing the situation further, feeling mango juice slide down her fingers and chin.

Aelin leaned back on her chair and hummed in delight, closing her eyes while chewing the sweet, sweet mango she stole from her cousin’s kitchen. This was fruit heaven.

She stopped mid-bite when she noticed the look on Rowan’s face. The corners of his lips here half tugged-up, as if he was trying to stop himself, and he had the weirdest glint in his eyes.

Aelin squinted her eyes at him. “If you laugh at me, you’re dead.”

Whatever was going on with his face turned into a real grin. He turned back to his pregnancy book, chuckling. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Aelin looked at Rowan, quietly reading the book she bought for him. She wondered if his large shoulders could be comfortable in a hard, small bed like the one he’d been sleeping on the past week. Because of her. He didn’t complain to her about being locked up once after finding out she was pregnant, but there was always this reminder in the back of her head that she was the reason this happened to him.

Illicit. Unforgettable sex. Improper sexual conduct. Their baby.

Aelin didn’t know how he felt about all that, so she’d work with what she knew. She knew Rowan was being a good sport about his incarceration, at least in front of her. She knew Rowan wanted the baby. She knew that even inside a cell, she felt comfortable and at ease with him.

Rowan briefly looked up, sending her a shy smile before sipping water. She watched his throat bob as he gulped it down. She watched his hair move with the gush of air that came from the window.

Aelin felt the bottom of her stomach fluttering. It was probably just the baby moving.

“How far along are we?” Rowan asked, snapping her out of her thoughts.

“Somewhere around 12 weeks. Maybe 13?” She scrunched up her nose. “I know I’m a doctor, but I’m not trusting my math in this.”

He hummed in acknowledgement. “Here it says we can already know the gender.” Rowan closed the book and focused on her. “I’m not a fan of surprises, but I can wait to know if it’s important to you.”

“To be fair, I’m not really focused on that. We can know by Thursday if you’re okay with it.” Aelin didn’t understand the fuss over baby’s sex. It’s not like an ultrasound would determine if her kid would be a he, she or they. She paused. That didn’t mean Rowan wouldn’t care about that, though. “Do you want to have one of those gender reveal parties?”

“Not really my style. Do you?”

“I have a better idea.” Aelin wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

Rowan raised his own. “Do tell me.”

“We go and ask the doctor. If it’s a boy, we’re getting cookie monster ice cream after the appointment. Strawberry if it’s a girl.”

“Sounds nice,” he agreed, but his face said otherwise. “I’m not a fan of ice cream, but I can buy you some. That way I’m still part of the celebration, right?”

“You what?” Aelin blurted while her whole world stopped. Her baby daddy doesn’t like ice cream. Was she supposed to trust someone like that to teach her kid about morals and values?

When Rowan opened his mouth, a loud voice down the hall stopped him. She didn’t recognize it, but it was clear how it made the color drain from his face.

Before she knew it, a sergeant was bringing a couple that looked so much like Rowan it was unsettling.

“Hey… what are you doing here?” Rowan’s voice was cautious, his whole body stiff. From that moment alone, Aelin had an inkling of how much his parents knew about her or the baby. Her guess was nothing at all.

“I took a plane to visit my son in jail! The last words a mother would ever want to say!”

Aelin’s eyes widened at the same time she felt her pulse skyrocket. Rowan’s parents hadn’t seen her yet because she was leaning against the same wall his cell’s door was at, but they would any time now. There were pregnancy books all over the room and, looking down at herself, she was covered in mango juice. Fuck.

She silently reached over her lunchbox to get a napkin and try to clean herself, but Rowan’s father spotted Aelin before she could help herself.

“Hey! I didn’t see you there, sorry.” The man had a kind smile aimed at her while he extended a hand. “I’m Owen, Rowan’s father.”

Aelin quickly cleaned her palm in her uniform, fighting a cringe at her own gesture and the state she was in. She shook his hand. “Aelin. I work at the hospital.”

Rowan’s mom was by Owen’s side in a second, too interested in her son’s visitor to continue the scolding.

“Hi, dear! I’m Rory. Very nice to meet you.” She turned her head to her flabbergasted son. “Rowan, is she the girl you refused to tell me about?”

“Yep,” he confirmed, voice tight.

Aelin forced her jaw to stay right where it was. What did she mean by that? And how could she know there was a girl if Rowan didn’t tell himself?

After exchanging a few pleasantries, she was starting to feel more comfortable and forgetting about her ruined uniform. Rowan’s parents were nice. They were a lot more talkative than him, but while his dad was on the quieter side like him, Rowan’s mom talked enough for the three of them. It could be a little overwhelming for a first meeting, but Aelin liked her a lot.

“Darling, you’re absolutely gorgeous!” Rory marveled, one hand on Aelin’s shoulder while she inspected the young woman’s face. “No wonder Rowan wouldn’t send me a picture of you. I bet these phone cameras can’t do you justice.” A pause. “Rowan’s cousin is hosting dinner tonight, we’d love to have you there.”

Aelin’s grin widened an inch or two. Complementing her looks and offering food. It’s like that woman knew her way straight into Aelin’s heart.

Rowan didn’t look pleased, though. His jaw dropped. “What about me?”

Rory turned to her son, a reprimanding look on her face only a mother could master. “You can’t attend dinner while you’re in jail, can you?”

Snorting, Owen sat by his son’s side on the bed. When he grabbed the book by Rowan’s side, Aelin froze, Rory’s voice becoming only a background noise to what was about to unfold.

“What To Expect When You’re Expecting…” he quietly read the cover out loud. Then stopped, eyebrows raised. Owen blinked, then slowly turned to his son.

Not missing a thing, Rory took a sharp turn in Rowan's way, and finally noticed the pregnancy books around. She looked between the two of them, waiting for someone to speak, but no one would dare. Aelin’s heartbeat was so loud she couldn’t utter a word, and Rowan’s eyes were so bulged he probably felt the same on the inside.

Since no one would speak, of course Rory would break the ice. “Grandchildren!?” She asked in a high-pitched cheer.

After exchanging a look, Rowan and Aelin cautiously confirmed.

His parents’ smiles wouldn’t be that big if they had won the lottery.

~~

“Do you want to go with the jean shorts, or with the pink ones?”

“ELSA!” Maisie screamed, her face red and puffy because Aelin wouldn’t let her go to the park with her Elsa costume.

Aelin kneeled on the floor so she’d be the same height as her daughter. “Honey, that dress has long sleeves and polyester fabric. It’s too hot outside for that, you won’t like it when we get there.”

“Don’t care.” She sniffed and rubbed her little nose. “I want my Elsa dress.”

“And what if we make a deal?”

That seemed to perk Maisie’s interest. She immediately squared her shoulders, looking at her mother expectantly.

“If you wear one of the shorts I asked you to, we can invite your father to the park.”

Maisie’s mouth fell open, a hopeful glint in her eyes. “You’d do that?”

Guilt squeezed the back of Aelin’s throat so tight she couldn't say a word. She didn’t like that Maisie was so astonished both of her parents were willing to hang out. Spending time together wasn’t part of most co-parent’s arrangements, yes, but it still didn’t sit well with her.

Truth was, Aelin has been considering this all morning. Her interactions with Rowan after their therapy session hadn’t been easy-going, but there hadn’t been any fights either. Now it was Saturday, none of them had approached the weekly quality time subject, and tomorrow they already had lunch at Orlon’s.

If Rowan really wanted to go through that part of therapy, he’d have mentioned it, right? She sighed. Aelin wasn’t eager to hang out with him either, but she really wanted to make this therapy thing work. And she was the one who made him go there. Aelin opened their text thread.

Aelin: are you busy?

Rowan: What happened?

He answered in a matter of seconds, as if he was waiting for her to fuck up. She rolled her eyes.

Aelin: why would you think something happened?

Rowan: Why would you reach out to me?

Aelin rolled her eyes. Looking over her phone, Maisie was bouncing with excitement as she picked a shirt.

Yeah, putting up with Rowan’s bullshit was worth it.

Aelin: because we share a daughter, remember?

Rowan: Very hard to forget when she’s as sassy as you.

“Mom!” Maisie called her attention and pointed at two shirts she laid out. “You think I’ll look prettier with giraffes or kittens?”

”You always look pretty, Mais.” Aelin praised. And paused. As much as she wanted her daughter to be confident, letting a four-year-old pick her own outfit could easily lead to a disaster. “But the kitten shirt will look better with the shorts you chose. But you’ll still look great in both.”

“Right.” Maisie nodded. “Did Daddy say if he can come?”

She forced a smile. “Let me see.”

Aelin: are u busy or not?

Rowan: Yes. Why do you ask?

Aelin: nevermind

She looked over her daughter, thinking about how to break the news that her father couldn’t come. She shouldn’t have told Maisie—

Rowan: Aelin.

Rowan: My house is 3 minutes away

Rowan: I’ll be there in 2 if you don’t tell me what’s going on.

Aelin: i’m taking Mais to the park.

Rowan: Okay?

Rowan: I’m confused.

She held back a groan, not wanting to look distressed in front of Maisie. As frustrating as this was, his reaction was understandable. He was never invited to her outings with Maisie.

Aelin: do u wanna come?

Rowan: Oh

Rowan: Do you want me to?

Aelin: i told Maisie I’d invite you

Aelin: she has expectations now.

Rowan: I’ll meet you at your place in 10.

He arrived in eight minutes.

It was pretty quick until they arrived at the park, but not for Maisie. She was so eager to feed the animals, not even Disney songs could distract her from that goal.

The park had a little center of activities for kids, and one of them was feeding the animals. People could do it freely a few years ago, but now it was only with the proper food and supervision. Maisie was left with a small group of children and two of the park employees, then Aelin and Rowan settled the picnic blanket somewhere they could watch her.

This was… okay. Aelin could feel her body slowly relax. She could tolerate him like this. Well, Aelin always got along with Rowan when they weren’t speaking, so—

No. Absolutely not. This was not the time or place to have inappropriate flashbacks.

Rowan cleared his throat. “How are you?”

“Maisie woke up early. She was out like a light because now we’re drinking chamomile tea instead of wine slash grape juice. I made her grilled cheese, and she didn’t even complain about it being a little burnt. Then she had a meltdown because I wouldn’t let her come dressed as Elsa.”

“It’d be uncomfortable for her to play,” Rowan agreed, nodding. But he had a distant look on his face, and Aelin wondered which thing he was going to complain about today. He darted a glance her way, and she couldn’t decipher the look on his face. ”But I was asking about you.”

“Oh.“ Aelin wasn’t expecting that. She ran a hand through her hair, hoping she wasn’t blushing because of her mistake. “I’m fine, thanks.”

Rowan nodded. Aelin had prepared for a superheated day, but this was nice. There was this gentle breeze caressing her cheeks and ruffling her hair. A little further, Maisie seemed to be having the time of her life while feeding the ducks with the other kids.

“Is it still quality time if we use it to discuss something about Maisie?” Rowan interrupted their peaceful moment.

“She’s not going to soccer practice tomorrow morning.”

He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “Because she should’ve been at dance lessons this morning?”

“Exactly. I’m glad therapy is making you reasonable.”

Rowan was glaring at her, jaw tight. Aelin looked away, pretending she cared about nothing but the wind against her skin.

“Speaking about therapy, should we tell Yrene how sexist you’re being?”

“Sexist?” Aelin screeched.

“What? You think just because Mais’ a girl, she can’t play soccer?”

Aelin gaped, feeling her blood boil. “No, this is about you neglecting your daughter’s artist’s soul?”

“Are you calling me neglectful?”

“Yes, I am!” She fumed, inching her face closer. “And it’s on a Sunday morning! Who does that?”

“Oh, so it’s not about sexism. It’s about you being too lazy to wake up early.”

Aelin opened her mouth to retort, then closed it again. The pounding heartbeat. The ringing in her ears. Her tense muscles.

Aelin was about to escalate this argument so much further. Instead, she got up from the picnic blanket.

Rowan just watched her for a moment, frowning. “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to take a freaking walk.” She gestured around the park, then rested both hands on her waist. “And when I get back, we’ll be so civil Yrene will be beaming next Tuesday. Are we clear?” She checked with a stern voice, but both of them knew it wasn’t a question. Rowan carefully nodded before she went away.

Aelin tried to not think of Rowan for a second, just taking in the mixed scent of grass and stinking trash cans only a city park could have. Aelin breathed in, a lot slower than the joggers passing by her. And breathed out, now that the main sound she could listen to was the kids playing in the background. It always brought a smile to her face, now that it reminded her of her daughter.

Maisie, who was soon joining either soccer or dance classes. Aelin had so many assumptions about why Rowan was so adamant on this, but Yrene’s voice was on the back of her head, telling her to put all assumptions and blaming aside to hear him out. Looking at her watch, she had been gone for more than ten minutes now. Time to return.

Aelin would go back there and be so calm and peaceful even fucking Buddha would be jealous of her.

She opened the e-mail Yrene sent with the pdf about communication techniques and sat back with Rowan to start, but he beat her to it.

“I’m sorry I called you sexist and lazy.”

Aelin nodded. “And I’m sorry I called you neglectful. I—“

She sighed and checked the instructions on her phone before she started.

“I want Maisie to do dance classes because I feel like she’s more inclined to arts than sports, and as a mother, I’d like for her to explore that.“ A pause. ”And I don’t feel comfortable with the idea of becoming a soccer mom.”

Rowan’s eyebrows were very low on his face. “Soccer mom?”

“Soccer mom culture makes me feel…” Aelin swallowed. “Scared, old and cringey. I genuinely think Maisie would adore dance classes, and it aligns better with my plans for MILFhood.”

“What the hell is soccer mom culture?”

Now that Aelin had said everything out loud, she wanted to get up and flee like she just did. She’d just bared her soul to him, and that was her answer?

“I’ll explain later.” She gave him her phone with the pdf on communication tips opened. “Your turn.”

“Okay…” Rowan rubbed a hand up and down his face. “I suggested soccer classes because it’s the best option that has Sunday classes, and you know Lorcan can shove classes down my throat any time—“

“I’m so sorry,” Aelin blurted.

The dance classes were on Saturday mornings, and sometimes Rowan had classes at that time, even if it didn’t happen often. She knew it, but she didn’t remember.

“And when you insisted on dance classes,” he continued with Yrene’s step-by-step pdf, “I felt…” Rowan clamped his lips together and took a deep breath. “I guess I felt—“ His shoulders started shaking, and he pressed a hand against his mouth. He looked down, breathed deep, then up again. “I—“

This time, there was no hiding. He tilted his head up, and when his mouth opened, it was to blast a cackle so loud she could barely believe it was coming from Rowan.

It didn’t take a genius to understand this wasn’t true amusement, it was just nervous laughter. But seeing Rowan like that, it made Aelin laugh too.

They looked near euphoric, losing their breaths and holding their stomachs like this.

“I can’t believe we’re in therapy,” Rowan wheezed.

Aelin cackled in response. “It feels like co-parent jail!”

Rowan nodded, cracking up at her pun. “I hate it so much.”

Even if it was nervous laughter, her view looked quite good through half-opened eyes. Rowan Whitethorn was laughing, and Aelin was beaming because she couldn’t remember the last time he smiled at something that wasn’t his daughter.

Aelin didn’t see when a small body knocked her down on the grass, laying on top of her.

“You’re not angry?”

“No, honey, I’m not angry.” Aelin rearranged a strand of hair out of her daughter’s face, smiling so much at this sweet assault her eyes crinkled. “Why would you think that?”

“Because I saw you leave the blanket, and you looked upset, but now you don’t look upset anymore.”

“We were angry, but we talked it out and now we’re not angry anymore.”

Maisie nodded, understanding, and then turned to her father. “Daddy, do the *not angry* thing!”

“The… not angry thing?” Aelin asked, head tilted.

“Yes!” Maisie eagerly nodded. “When Daddy gets angry, and then he stops being angry, he gives me a kiss right here.” She pointed at the top of her head. “To show me he’s not angry anymore.”

“Oh.” Aelin struggled to give her daughter a proper reaction. “I don’t think that’s necessary, Mais.”

Maisie didn’t insist, but her big green eyes darted warily between the two adults.

Rowan gave Aelin a pointed look, and her shoulders immediately melted at his worried expression.

He didn’t want to kiss Aelin either, but that’s what Maisie needs to feel reassured about their reconciliation.

If a kiss on the top of Aelin’s head was what their daughter needed, that’s what they’d do.

Aelin slid closer to Rowan, careful to not knock down their things. His hands carefully holding the sides of her head were like pressing a button to start her heart, and she closed her eyes when the sight of his throat bobbing was too much.

The gentle peck near her hairline was quick, but it felt like a million years before Maisie was cheering on their side.

“How was feeding the ducks, Mais?” Rowan asked, eager to change the subject. Aelin was so sure he hated that little moment, it only made things more awkward.

Maisie laid on the blanket beside them on her cloud-shaped pillow and nibbled on cheese like the little princess she was. “I don’t speak duck, but I think they liked it.”

Since their daughter wordlessly declared it was snack time, Rowan opened the other lunchboxes while the little girl rambled about feeding the animals.

Like a peace offering, Rowan handed her a mango and a knife. She didn’t know if it was intentional, but the sight of it spread a gentle, nostalgic warmth through her chest.

Aelin devoured mangos throughout her pregnancy, a lifetime ago. He didn’t know a lot of her eating habits outside of that period frame, but she couldn’t blame him. It’s not like they spent a lot of time together after that.

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[ashleywool]

health update/diatribe/infodump BUT THERE'S A CAT VIDEO AT THE END

Dearest reader: This should be a simple health update, but instead, it's an obnoxiously detailed info-dump written by the kind of person who knows more than most people about American health insurance but is still surprised at how it continues to find new and innovative ways to suck. If this is not the type of thing your brain or nervous system wants to wrap itself around, I don't blame you one bit, but if it is, I hope you'll at least walk away having learned something or being at least mildly entertained. If not, feel free to

SCROLL TO THE END FOR A HTDIO-ADJACENT CAT VIDEO!

When last we left our third-or-fourth-favorite mildly niche-famous T-list Broadway person, she was finally on the brink of getting a brain and pituitary MRI. This was supposed to happen on Friday.

But I wasn't allowed to get the MRI on Friday because Cigna's pre-authorization was still pending and there was nothing my doctor could do to escalate its urgency, nor could they withdraw the order. They couldn't do anything at all until the third-party organization that approves the pre-authorizations signed off on its medical necessity.

Look, I get it. This is an expensive and labor-intensive procedure, so they have to be thorough. I mean, sure, my doctor said it was medically necessary, and sure, they sent the additional clinical information to confirm its medically necessity, and sure, every order at every stage was marked as urgently medically necessary, and it was sent for processing on Monday, but how can they REALLY be sure it's medically necessary until my case is also reviewed by doctors who have NEVER seen me, and don't work weekends or holidays, and will get around to reviewing it at their own leisure? The folks at the radiology clinic rescheduled me in their next available spot and maintained that they'd contact me as soon as possible to fill any upcoming cancellation spots.

A ridiculous mildly annoying setback was that their next available appointment wasn't until July 26. They couldn't attempt to book me at any of the other dozens of clinics affiliated with this hospital network, because the pre-authorization is site-specific, which is like buying someone a gift card from the Starbucks on my block only to find out that they won't honor it at the Starbucks two blocks down perfectly reasonable, because I'm sure every site has differences that can't be perceived from a patient perspective.

Oh, and the existence of a pending pre-authorization prevented them from doing the MRI that day even if I'd had $8K in cash to pay out of pocket for the procedure. Which is perfectly reasonable, because why shouldn't American healthcare policy punish rich people too? I'm sure it's many flavors of unethical for one doctor to do something without the approval of another doctor even though the doctor whose approval it hangs on has NEVER SEEN ME.

One fellow in particular--I'll call him Quincy--gave me some insider info on how to prepare for the types of advocacy he's had to do in the past with this particular pre-authorization team, and which numbers to call and questions to ask. He isn't technically supposed to know this stuff and also isn't technically supposed to share it, but says he does it all the time anyway--hence why I'm keeping him anonymous. Quincy isn't his real name, but Quincy is a real one, and I took in his information like a medieval warrior selecting the choicest armor to prepare for battle the informed and fully compliant patient I strive to be.

Anyway, a few persistent phone calls later, a Cigna rep informed me that the middlemen would approve the pre-authorization for the MRI on the condition that I get the procedure done at a standalone radiology facility instead of a hospital-affiliated facility. Which is like buying someone a gift card that could only be honored at Starbucks kiosks located inside Target stores, but not at a standalone Starbucks or anywhere else in Target perfectly reasonable, I know the insurance companies don't wanna have to spend hospital prices any more than I do. So I spent a great deal of time yesterday looking up non-hospital-affiliated radiology clinics that were in-network.

I made an appointment with one clinic for Thursday. But I also made an appointment request at a different clinic for Monday morning, just in case they could see me sooner--because I knew this clinic didn't accept Medicare or Medicaid, and were therefore exempt from the requirement of third-party pre-authorization. (Pro-tip: even if you do have Medicare or Medicaid, always try to bypass pre-authorization for diagnostic procedures, especially if you have a particularly high in-network deductible--it's entirely possible that paying out of pocket for a service at an out-of-network provider could cost less than the amount you'd have to pay towards your deductible at at in-network facility. American math.)

THIS MORNING, I woke up at 8am to a phone call from the latter clinic, saying that if I sent them the doctor's prescription, they could pre-authorize the procedure and see me tomorrow. So that's what I did...and then I got an email saying that they couldn't accept a prescription for an MRI with and without contrast because they don't have contrast at that facility. Which is like finally securing a coveted reservation at an elite steakhouse only to find out they don't season their steak or even have steak sauce perfectly reasonable, because not everyone needs contrast, but I do, so that place was out.

But as far as I've been told, Thursday's appointment should go off without a hitch as long as I call EviCore (the pre-authorization middlemen) tomorrow morning to tell them all about the not-hospital that will be giving me a not-hospital-priced MRI, so that they can grant the pre-authorization at long last.

Perhaps if I plead my case and bat my eyes at them real cute-like through the phone, they'll give me some other reason why it's actually not medically necessary for me to know definitively whether or not I have a literal brain tumor I can get seen even sooner than Thursday.

FUNNY STORY THOUGH...

A couple weeks ago I was talking to a friend from church who was going through a lot of the same stuff as I was, and I was like "idk, maybe get your cortisol checked?" and lo and behold, he messaged me back a few days ago saying that he'd found a new doctor and asked him to do just that, and WITHIN A DAY his doctor ordered ALL the labs I'd fought for (serum blood cortisol, low-dose dexamethasone suppression test, 24-hour urine, saliva, etc.) AND an MRI for suspected Cushing's.

And he completed ALL OF THAT within a week.

Although he did have to suffer for quite a while before I floated the possibility of Cushing's, just like my friend Alan had to suffer for years before his own endocrinologists floated the possibility of Cushing's. Still, they both got that MRI the second it WAS floated, without a fight, and I'm genuinely happy for them.

But I can't help wondering how much quicker and easier this whole process would have been for me if I were a man. Or if I was neurotypical. Or if I still had a choice about whether or not to disclose being autistic. But mostly if I were a man.

THIS IS THE END! HERE IS THE HTDIO-ADJACENT CAT VIDEO YOU WERE PROMISED!

I'm fostering my friends' exquisite tuxedo princessfloof for a few weeks. Chevy and Tex are being very accommodating foster siblings, but she's much younger and is used to being the only pet, so naturally it took her a while to acclimate.

But there was one thing she took to immediately: the How to Dance in Ohio fidget spinner.

[i-will-cry-you-a-river]

Day 3 of @niecest-weekend-2023

“DA-GE!”

Nie Huaisang jerked up in his bed, gasping for air. His heart raced as his eyes were darting from one corner to another, finding unseen enemies in the shadows. The loud yelling outside of his apartment scared him; was the mob coming for him? Would they finish what they started so long ago?

He jumped from his bed, tripping when the sheets his feet were tangled in stopped him. A small cry was all he allowed himself, small and almost silent but it rang loud in the night. Struggling to free himself, he could almost feel the restraining hands of Su She around him. Fighting for his life, he crawled under his desk, finding shelter from the demons of his past.

A church bell rang, indicating the start of the day, and with it, the wrathful wraiths faded into nothing. The shadows of Jin Guangyao melted into the darkness, the angry screams of this qi deviating brother died and Nie Huaisang was suddenly alone in his room.

Alone, like he'd always been.

Always alone without his brother, his other half.

No matter how much he cried, how much he looked for his brother, and asked for him desperately, no one answered. No one would answer.

Pulling up his knees, covering under his desk, he allowed himself to break down.

“Da-ge,” he sobbed, wishing for those strong hands to pat his head, for his big brother to promise him he would always be with him. To lie to him.

But Nie Mingjue never came. So many reincarnations, so many lifetimes without his One and Only, and Nie Huaisang still yearned. Still hoped. But maybe he should just accept it…

He was all alone in this world.

His parents in this reincarnation cycle were nice. A bit absent now that he was a university student, but they were always there for him. Still, they could never make up for what he lost in his first life - or at least in the first life he can remember -, and he felt a bit guilty for it. His nightmares and screams for a big brother he never had were a constant companion of his since his childhood, worrying his parents. Before he learnt how to hide his condition, he was taken to many doctors and psychiatrists to find out why a five-year-old little kid had PTSD but the only answer they could come up with was that he needs medicine.

After that, he was quick to learn how to hide his night terrors and memories from other people. After all, he still remembered how it felt to be locked in the psychiatry ward for being “insane” just because he knew he was reincarnated. Nobody believed in reincarnation for hundreds of years.

Suddenly, his cellphone rang on his nightstand. He didn't want to get up, he didn't want to crawl out of his safe space under the table, but it was Xian’s ringtone.

He would always pick up his phone for the only person, the only friend he found in this life, Wei Wuxian.

The phone rang and rang until he picked it up. Wei Wuxian was the only constant connection he had to his first life; sometimes he found nobody, but most of the time he found Wei Wuxian at least. Sometimes his friend didn't remember, sometimes he did, but he always, always ended up finding his One. He always found Lan Wangji.

Nie Huaisang wasn't sure if he remembered in this lifetime or not, his friend was always hard to understand, but he didn't find his soulmate yet.

“A-Saaaang,” whined Wei Wuxian when Nie Huaisang finally picked up his phone.

“Xian…” he sighed.

“Don't be like that! I know you love me, and you love hearing my gorgeous voice as the first thing in the morning!” Wei Wuxian has always been and always will be a gremlin. His best friend, one he appreciated, but a gremlin nonetheless.

“What do you want?”

He could basically hear the pout in his friend's voice. “Spoilsport. Okay, but you know I work at the museum, right?” He waited until Nie Huaisang give an affirmative hum. “I might have met with the love of my life today, aaaaand I need you to take over me so I can go on a date with him. Pleeeeeeaseeeee?”

He expected this - well, not the situation but Wei Wuxian finding Lan Wangji -, but it still hurt. Countless lifetimes, and he was still so fucking jealous of them, for always meeting, for always falling in love at the first sight.

“When do I have to be there?” He sighed. It wasn't like he could say no to his friend. Not now, not ever.

“I knew you were the best!!! Thank youuuuu! You have to be there in- uh- ten minutes! Byeee~”

And with that, the line was dead, leaving Nie Huaisang frustrated, but not shocked. Of course Wei Wuxian would leave it until the last fucking minute to notify him. Of course he would.

A little more than ten minutes after the phone call, he arrived at the museum. A bit breathless, a lot red and sweaty from running, looking like a mess with his braids undone and jacket hanging on him carelessly, but he was there. Like in every lifetime, he wasn't an athletic type of person in this one either.

Thankfully not many people were in the museum that morning as it was a weekday, but he had to be ready for the guided tours and the odd tourists, art students and other visitors. He already knew his tasks, being at the receiving end of Wei Wuxian’s begging puppy eyes before, so it wasn't difficult to open the tiny art museum.

What was difficult, however, to face the topic of the new temporary exhibition. Wei Wuxian should have told him. He fucking should have told him.

It was fucking “The Cultivation World: Beyond the Myths”.

The fucker-

He stopped in front of the painting that haunted his dreams. The color work faded, the time left its signs on the painting. He didn't have to read the sign to know how long it took for the artist to paint it, to know its size or its title.

He felt a presence behind him. He should have been more concerned about the visitor, but he felt right. As if the person had every right to be there, to share the moment with Nie Huaisang.

He didn't dare to look back at the person. He didn't want to be disappointed. He started at the painting, transfixed by it, focusing on the past instead of the present.

The painting wasn't one of his best works. It was, however, the most emotional one. The pain, the love, the terror and the grief… the painting was a gateway to his heart. It was not something he ever wanted to see again.

It was something he needed to see. To tell his story; to share his pain.

He felt he was being watched. It wasn't uncomfortable. It wasn't creepy.

It was familiar; safe. The visitor came closer, his steps slow but loud as they echoed in the room. His heart quickened.

It was time.

For what, he didn't know. But he felt like all of his lifetimes, all those years of grief and hopelessness were about to end.

Taking a deep breath, he turned around, his eyes immediately finding the person.

Oh.

It felt like he was punched in his chest.

“Didi…” A whispered sound, not louder than a sigh. Was it the person or was he hallucinating?

He must have been hallucinating.

The person was staring back at him, his deep eyes full of longing. His hair was black, long and braided, his mustache made his handsome face stricter, more stern.

Nie Huaisang felt his mouth dry.

“Da-ge,” he breathed. Legs buckling beneath him, the only reason he didn't fall was because of those strong and safe arms he dreamt about for so long.

“I've got you, didi. I got you.”

Nie Huaisang wept.

He was finally whole.

[joelslegalwhre]

On the other end of the world

pairing⁀➷ daniel ricciardo x fem!reader

word count⁀➷ 2.3k

summary⁀➷ When daniel is away for a race, you decide that you and your little daughter should pay her dad a surprise visit

warnings⁀➷ female reader, mom/pregnant reader, fluff, dad daniel, reader has family in italy, pregnancy, parenting

a/n⁀➷ I know that pregnant women aren't supposed to get on a plane but I ignored that for the sake of this fic. I’m not a doctor and my only source about pregnancy-related topics is the internet lol, remember that this is a work of fiction :) (I didn’t really make the readers pregnancy difficult like the request asked for, it just kinda didn’t fit in that well) (tell me if I missed a warning pls!) y/d/n = Your daughter's name

Requested; If that’s okay for you, could I have one with Daniel Ricciardo, who will be married to y/n, they already have a little girl together, who is a real daddy's girl, and y/n is pregnant with a second little girl, and the theme ca will be that y/n and their daughter surprise him during one of his races and that Daniel does not expect to see them because y/n wanted to rest because she has a very complicated second pregnancy

(I used an Italian sentence, please feel free to correct me if it's wrong!)

It was the weekend of the Italian GP. Daniel had already left Australia a few days ago, which was especially hard for him this time.

You and your daughter were at home in your house in Perth and would watch the race from there.

At least that's what Daniel thought.

"y/d/n? Baby, can you come here for a second?" you called her. You were sitting in the kitchen, while she was happily playing in the living room.

"Daddy is on the phone!" you added, and after that, it didn't take you a minute to hear her little feet tapping on the floor.

"Dadda?" she excitedly said.

"Nugget!" Daniel called back from the phone.

Her grin covered her entire face and she climbed onto a chair at the table to sit down next to you.

You turned your phone in her direction and she grinned at her Dad.

A huge grin spread across Daniel's face and he waved at her through the screen.

"Hey dadda, what awre you doin'?" she asked as best she could. It was that typical phase where usually only the parents understood what their child was saying. But it was also just too cute how she pronounced some words.

"I just got to my room." Daniel smiled and turned the camera to show her around.

"Where are the toys? Don't you have cars or play-doh?" she asked, totally shocked by that.

Daniel let out a hearty laugh as he looked at his little daughter with a smile. "No, they didn't give me any. But they did give me a real, big car, which is almost as great as play-doh." he returned, pretending to be disappointed too that he didn't get any toys.

"Mommy, can I show Daddy mine?" she whispered to you. "Of course." you whispered back and watched her grinning as she ran into the living room with the phone in her little hand.

"Look, Daddy, I have mine 'ight here! Mommy bought me a new colour today!" she told him excitedly. You listened to the two of them chat about everything for quite some time, stroking your baby belly.

You were 9 months pregnant and your belly was pretty much showing. As well as y/d/n, it was a girl. Daniel just seemed to be a girl daddy.

▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄▀▄

"Good night sweetheart," You kissed y/d/n on the forehead and she snuggled closer to her stuffed animal. "Night Mommy."

It wasn't really late, not even for your daughter, but you would have to leave early tomorrow to catch the plane to Italy.

From her room upstairs you could hear your phone ringing. You walked down the stairs, hoping the caller would be patient until you were downstairs.

You picked up your phone from the counter in the kitchen and plopped down on the sofa as you took the call.

"Hey, lover." you said, grinning teasingly at him.

"'Dear cherished husband' is what I would have expected to hear from you, Mrs Ricciardo. But I guess I’m just your 'lover' then."

He greeted you.

It didn't take three seconds until you both couldn't hold back anymore and burst out laughing.

„Okay okay sorry, my dear cherished husband. How are you?"

„I'm missing you." Daniel said with a frown. „I miss you and y/d/n and baby bean."

Baby bean, that's how he called your baby daughter. It warmed your heart every time.

Your hand moved to your growing belly and you looked at your phone, propped up against a tissue box while you laid on the sofa.

„How are you, love?" Daniel asked as his gaze went from your big belly to your face.

„I'm okay, just the usual back pain. But I'm goo-„

„Have you called the doctor yet? Maybe that's not normal, maybe you need to take some medicine or herbs or... I don't know what a pregnant woman has to take. Babe please go and see a doctor-„

„Daniel!"

The previous three times you said his name, he didn't even hear it. Too focused on making a diagnosis for you.

Now he finally looked at you. He didn't say anything else but his eyes clearly said ‚huh?'.

„Baby, I know what to do, don't be scared."

„Yeah I know, but with y/d/n it was different..."

„I know," you sighed, „But even if this pregnancy is more difficult, I still know what is best, babe. And don't forget I have help too." you winked at Daniel and slowly you could see him starting to relax.

„Have you had any trouble with y/d/n going to bed?" Daniel asked interested, changing the topic. The last time he was away, she didn't want to go to sleep until, quote her, “her daddy was here to kiss her goodnight”.

„No, maybe because you two talked on the phone or it was just coincidence. But she behaved like a well-raised girl." you joked.

„Well, of course, I raised her." Daniel went along with the joke.

„Haha. How very funny of you Ricciardo." you faked being outraged.

„That's me, I'm always funny." he said laughing.

„But that's why you married me." he winked as you grinned and suppressed a giggle.

„True." you gave in and laughed.

„And this woman right here," you pointed at your chest, „is going to bed now."

„Are you? Are you really leaving me here, all by myself?"

„I am, sorry Babes." you said with fake pity and Daniel grinned.

„Oh, by the way, is it still as hot as when I left?" he asked interested.

You shook your head yes, „That's why I only sleep in my underwear." you grinned at him, knowing how it would tease him.

You got up from the sofa and turned off all the lights, your phone being the only source of light.

"Babe." He said with a straight face, tilting his head.

Daniels gaze went to you on the screen. "Don't say something like that if I'm here, on the other end of the fucking world." He said almost angry. Still, you grinned.

If he only knew.

The next day was a little hectic but y/d/n was so excited to see her Daddy again, that she acted like an angel sent to earth. She loved her Dad more than anything. He was her role model, best friend and guardian.

Even when she was a baby, her eyes always lit up whenever she saw him, her lips curling up in a smile, turning into a giggle no matter what he did.

The flight was alright and luckily for you, your daughter slept through most of it. At some point, you were a little afraid that something could happen, especially with your unborn baby girl.

You have visited your doctor before you had made any plans and she assured you that nothing would happen. She was the best doctor you could wish for, she always knew what is best and what to do, ever since your first pregnancy with y/d/n.

You'd also visit your family while you were in Italy, especially your grandma and if anything should happen she'd knew what to do.

When the warm Italian sun kissed your face and send warm shivers down your spine, you knew you were not far away from home anymore. Y/d/n held your hand while you walked out of the airport, your luggage by your side.

„Mommy, when are we going to see Daddy?" she asked, still a little tired. Her small eyes were puffy from sleeping on the plane and her stuffed sheep animal hung in her tight grip.

„Only a few hours now." you warmly smiled at her. „He's still working but later we're going to have dinner together." She beamed at you and hopped up and down while you both made your way to the exit, where a taxi would already be waiting for you.

Michael and Andreas had helped you manage everything so you knew in which hotel and room Daniel would be staying at, without having to ask him. Andreas was the nicest, and y/d/n already called him Uncle Andy which you found quite funny as did he. She met him once.

„Hey Nugget?" She looked up at you with a pair of brown eyes.

„We're going to surprise Daddy, remember? He doesn't know we're here yet. Do you have any plan how we could make it even more like a surprise?" you smiled down at her.

She looked like a total mix of you and Daniel. Whenever you looked into her eyes, you could swear they were Daniel's.

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Dinner time came sooner than you thought.

Your luggage was already in the extra room next to Daniel's and with y/d/n holding your hand you were on your way to surprise Daniel.

Michael texted you earlier so you could plan everything and be at the same spot at the same time.

Y/d/n wanted to get Daniel a surprise for when they met again, so for the last hour, you were walking around the area luckily finding everything she needed to surprise her Daddy.

„Oh mate, nah." Your husband's laugh echoed across the restaurant parking lot.

Michael had told him he „accidentally" booked a table for four persons, only that it wasn't accidentally.

Michael sent you a thumbs-up emoji, your sign.

„Are you ready to see Daddy again?" you giggled turning around to your daughter.

She shook her head excitedly.

„Me too." you grinned.

Taking off your seat belt and then hers, you locked the rental car and walked into the restaurant.

For a little more fun for y/d/n, both of you acted like spy agents as you walked up to the table. The gift bag in y/d/n's hand as you did.

You both had reached them, and you secretly winked at Michael for a hello.

You let go of her back, where one of your hands had rested to guide the way.

Your rested your hands on Daniel's shoulders before you leaned over to his ear.

At first you felt him stiffen a little, startled by the unknown touch, but as soon as he smelled your familiar scent his shoulders instantly relaxed.

He could tell that smell from thousands. This was the smell of home for him.

„Surprise." you whispered close to his ear.

„Supraisee!" y/d/n laughed full of joy at the same moment, tugging on his jeans.

To say Daniel was surprised was an underestimation.

„What? You- How?" He stuttered but then it looked like he was struck by a lightning strike.

Daniel stood up and turned around to you and his mini version. His smile showed how unbelievably happy he was.

He bent down to lift up his daughter, then he leaned to you to kiss you.

„How?" Was everything he could say. Daniel looked so confused, you and y/d/n both laughed at the same time.

„You know, we got on this crazy thing called a plane." you joked, once again.

„Very funny." Daniel joked too, but it didn't wipe away his grin.

Y/d/n had given Daniel her present, and let's just say the two were melting your heart.

She gifted him a little car and orange play-doh.

„You can build your Formula One car, that's why it's orange play-doh." she proudly explained.

Daniel looked at it like he was a toddler himself, „That is absolutely the best gift ever, Nugget!"

He lifted her up to kiss her on the cheek while holding her in a tight hug. When his beard tickled her cheek, she started giggling and wriggling his embrace. It was absolutely heartwarming.

When you all sat down and ordered your food, Daniel shot Michael a look.

„You knew."

Michael started grinning. „Of course I knew, mate."

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Y/d/n was already sleeping, and you laid in bed next to your husband, something that happened too rarely during the f1 season.

Your head rested on the pillow, facing him, your eyes studied his face.

„I love you." you whispered.

His hands found yours and he leaned in closer.

„I love you too. I love you. I love you. I love you." he said in between kisses, the final one lasting longer than the previous.

„Do you want to come with us when we're going to visit Nonna?" you quietly asked in the silent room.

„I'd love to. I haven't seen her for some time now." Daniel lightly smiled, kissing the tip of your nose.

Once he started, Daniel couldn't hold himself back with kisses.

When his expression changed, you furrowed your eyebrows.

„What's wrong?"

„What if the baby comes sooner than we thought? If we're still in Italy?" You could hear he was concerned a little.

„Well then maybe we'll get an Italian baby girl, who knows?" You laughed and nudged Daniels side as he laughed „We'd be the Italian-Ricciardo-gang."

„Oh sí, amore mio." Daniel burst out laughing quietly.

When he wrapped his arm around you, holding your hand, you knew you've reached home.

Because home is not a place, but the person you love the most.

༄ Don't copy, translate or republish any of my works on any app or other platform please. I only post my work on Tumblr and Wattpad.

Reposts are always appreciated, they really make my day🧡

[barbieb0y]

summer love, wild and free.

day 2 of scrunkly week baby !!! still kinda late but im trying my best.

for day 2, the theme is summer! gotta love summer. i went with both the prompts sandy shores and crashing waves + road trip of our lives!! the two go so well together, i cant help it

still my self-insert oc, paper cut x joe reverse 1999 ... it's romantic this time bc i am cringe but i am free. also yes this is longer. not sorry

also title inspired by this crj song! a lot of her fluffier songs remind me of my this selfship tbh ... listen to it while reading for a better experience? maybe? anyway

An arm raises to shield the sun. No matter how strong the individual, the sun will always prove to be quite the formidable foe. And for Paper Cut, the blistering heat is more than enough reason to stay indoors.

“Joe, I love you, but asking me to go out in this weather is no different to asking me to willingly jump into a volcano.”

He complains, yet his feet find their way outdoors, towards their agreed meeting spot. He says hi to any familiar faces on the street - either they were his patients or are Joe’s friends (or both even). Paper Cut has lamented the fact that his networking skills could use some work and he wishes he hadn’t; because it was sort of the reason why he’s stuck in this predicament.

Joe proposed to him that the summer is a perfect time to make new friends and that he’ll make some arrangements to help his lover out. Paper Cut, ever the people-pleaser that he was, couldn’t say no to him or his wide smile at the time. Pretty privilege is a curse, he realized.

All that thinking makes the trip to their meeting spot feel short at least.

“Babe! So. Guess what?”

Joe exclaims the moment Paper Cut enters the scene, which is Joe leaning on the hood of some car. Paper Cut squints. If he has to be honest, he is not in the mood for guessing games. But he’ll spare some of his annoyance to answer a simple question… with another question, since Joe definitely couldn’t hide that car in any way.

“Whose car did you steal?”

Joe is quick to defend himself, most likely a habit sprung from his gangster living. Paper Cut doesn’t actually mind his lifestyle (he finds it quite attractive at times even) but it doesn’t prevent Joe from wanting to prove himself a good guy any less. 

He jokes but the heat gets to him so he sounds somewhat stoic. In that moment, he wishes the sun could just melt him down into a puddle of guilt.

“Hey hey hey, I rented it, alright? And for the whole weekend too.”

But more importantly.

“T-The whole weekend?”

He isn’t super shocked that Joe can afford it - he has his sources of income - but rather, the fact that this arrangement of his is gonna span the whole weekend. He’s already preparing to say goodbye to his free time.

As much as he enjoys spending time with Joe, Paper Cut is an introvert first and foremost. Time to himself is as precious, if not more, than gold. But Joe… oh God, he loves him too much to say no to this.

Calm down, Paper Cut. It’s just a weekend out. It’s harmless. On the contrary, more sunlight is good for your health! You’re a “doctor”, you have to set a good example for your patients.

“Fuck yeah! Just the two of us, on a road trip of our lives…”

Did he say just the two of us?

Paper Cut finally perks up for the first time that day. Maybe there is hope for this socially awkward little doctor.

“Well, at first I did want to set us up with some friends of mine from Sunset District but then I thought… we haven’t really gone anywhere far, just the two of us yet.”

Paper Cut can tell Joe is trying his best to not point out that the former thinks that the lesser the company, the better… but he appreciates his effort. Even if Joe is basically enabling his boyfriend to stay in his comfort zone.

Well, this whole trip is supposed to be a comforting thing, right? Paper Cut tries to justify the situation to himself.

“I like how you had to add ‘far’ in your little excuse.”

Paper Cut can’t help but tease his adorable boyfriend. Especially since he often reacts as he does at the moment: small smile and the corner of his eyes crinkled, with a touch of deep brown on his cheeks. He scratches the back of his head bashfully.

“Okay, yeah, we go on bike dates around here all the time but this! Is a whole-ass car!”

He proudly slaps the hood of the car but not without stealing a quick glance at it, in case he accidentally damages it somehow (he did not, thankfully). Paper Cut chuckles when he can’t find it in him to argue with the proclamation. It is, indeed, a whole-ass car. It’s more convenient for a road trip to wherever the hell Joe is planning on taking him.

Seriously, how can he say no to this?

“I just have one question.”

“I’m not worried about that. I’m existing without an ID so I have no place to judge you for that.”

If there’s anything Paper Cut loves more than Joe, it’s questions. The latter has always loved his curious nature but this time around, he comes prepared.

“Yes, I know how to drive, no, I don’t have a license.”

Or so Joe thought.

“Fair point.”

Joe pouts to himself. Paper Cut has his unpredictable moments it seems.

Paper Cut adjusts his glasses.

“Why didn’t you just buy a car? Don’t you have the money for it?”

A look of clarity crosses Joe’s features. There’s a reason why Paper Cut is the brains of this two-man operation called a romantic relationship.

“...I didn’t think of that.”

Paper Cut can’t help but reach up to kiss his idiot boyfriend.

“Ocean Beach is such a stupid name for a beach. Like yeah, duh, I sure hope it does.”

For an introvert, Paper Cut quite easily starts the 10th conversation in the last two hours alone. The heat is still getting to him and he can’t bring himself to willingly fall asleep. Not to mention that he can’t stop singing along to the songs on the radio anyway.

“Couldn’t they have named it something pretty like, oh I don’t know, Sunset Beach? Sunset District is right there.”

Paper Cut leans back in his seat and sighs dramatically, cursing the fates that gave naming authority to people as creative as a food stain. Joe only offers a small laugh at this reaction.

“Of course you’d complain about beach names, Mr. Writer.”

He simply says, eyes laser-focused on the road to Paper Cut’s relief. The latter blabbers on, appointing himself as the main contributor of entertainment, radio be damned.

“But you agree, right?”

Asking Joe questions which answers he doesn’t even care for proves time and time again to be an effective way of providing such entertainment.

“Yeah. They should’ve named it after me. Joe Beach.”

Paper Cut pretends to gag.

“Full offense but that’s worse.”

The car is filled with boisterous laughter once more that day and the couple have a feeling that it would be far from the last time it would ensue again.

“Okay, I’ll take back half of what I said. This place is beautiful.”

Water laps at Paper Cut’s ankles. It calms his earlier nerves, from the rush to check in to the hotel Joe somehow booked in advance (Joe’s attempts at romance are one thing that Paper Cuts are not too curious about; he’d rather wallow in their mysterious nature). The view subdues his disappointment of not being able to catch the sunset. The stars carry a mystical aura of their own. Paper Cut knew this in theory, as he is a writer, but the real deal will always be indescribable, nor can it be replicated by visual artists.

“Only half?”

Joe bursts Paper Cut’s bubble of thought but he does not take offense. Paper Cut scoffs as his lover finally stands beside him.

“The place is pretty but that doesn’t make the name itself pretty too.”

Joe lets loose a laugh that’s free of any worries. A truly unbridled expression of joy, and Paper Cut finds himself completely enamored. A fond gaze turns towards Joe. Paper Cut feels his heart fill up with so much love. He feels as if he could burst, not unlike the stars above when they eventually transform into supernovas.

“You’re prettier.”

Paper Cut has to admit, he has no urge to roll his eyes at such a corny line. He doesn’t fight the blood rushing to his cheeks either.

“Shut it, will you?”

Paper Cut’s argument grows weak with the loving look that Joe gives him. No amused giggles, no profound sarcasm, only affection. In a way, Paper Cut’s wish is granted. All is silent and still, save for the tiny waves caressing their feet.

Even as they walk back to their car for the weekend, they say nothing. There simply is nothing to be said. When you’re under a blanket of stars, they do the talking for you. But gifts? Gifts are self-made efforts still.

And Joe knows what kind of gift to end the Saturday night with.

[coolnonsenseworld]

mezzy! hello. i wanted to ask how is your partner? you mentioned you were going to the doctor last week and i just hope everything is alright, or al least better! feel free to ignore me if this seems too nosy lol

Thank you so much for giving me the opportunity to answer privately! I won't, though, because it's wholesome and she is better so absolutely no bad news here💞💞💞Thank you so much for asking/caring! I hope you and your loved ones are well too! And will have an awesome weekend as well 💖🥳

Back to scheduled klance doodl!🖌️(hope you like it)

[strapskinkstories]

Fen becomes a rubber maid and then gets trashed!

Sissy Fen sat down to his computer in the evening on a Friday night, just off work. He looked through his social medias and saw nothing, he put a bowl of instant noodles in the microwave and sighed saying to himself “Wonderful, another boring…” *KERDINK* His laptop chimed. Sissy Fen left the microwave alone and sat at the computer. On it was the following message to his Tumblr.

“Hello Fen, I hope you can possibly meet with me this evening for a full weekend session. I saw your want ad in the oddities and sex work section of the classifieds online and it told me to come message you on here. I’m looking for a rubber covered maid, you said you want to be converted into a rubber covered maid. I have all the clothing and everything, there’s only one stipulation, you have to live in my house wearing the uniform, you will be stored in the uniform like an object. If you at any time fail to clean the house perfectly I reserve the right to administer a punishment like no other. Respond to me if you are serious, if you are a time waster don’t bother, I’m in serious need of a RUBBER MAID SLAVE!”

CC Craigslist Ad: Submissive Rubber Sissy Guy 34M Seeks Live In Slave Arrangement - 34M Uncut, looking for live in slave arrangement, don’t have gear, just want to be permanently rubbered up and never released from it. don’t email me with CL, Tumblr message me at @sissyfen

I feel my heart skip a beat as I read and re-read the message, my cock throbbing as the thought. With barely a seconds thought, I quickly type out a reply.

“Hello, and thank you so much for your message. I am free right now if you can tell me where to go. I would love to be turned into your rubber maid, and happily consent to being stored away while not being used like a true object, as well as any punishment you deem fit. I will surrender myself to your every whim for the chance to be a true rubber object! Please please please come back to me asap!”

I hit send, not truly thinking about what is next, my microwave noodles completely forgotten as I begin to get lost in a spiral of ever deepening fantasy

*BEEP BEEP* Fen snaps out of fantasy as the microwave starts to angrily beep at him. Fen grabs his soggy noodles and sits at the desk, he stares at the screen scrolling through porn. Fen sighs thinking he got hit by a catfisher yet again. Suddenly *KERDINK* the window pops up. It's Master Blunn. Master Blunn shows you his house and says "214 E Poplar Drive, don't be later than 7PM and expect to get dressed and stored away until your workday tomorrow."

I wolf down the soggy noodles in an instant, barely tasting them as I rush to get ready. It’s already 6PM, and Poplar drive is 45 mins at least from my apartment. 

I am soon out the door, locking it behind me and rushing to meet the 7PM deadline. I haven’t brought anything with me other than my keys and wallet, my mind filled with thoughts of serving as a true rubber maid for a full weekend.

I finally reach the massive house, knocking on the door at 1 minute past 7

Master Blunn opens the door and says "Hmph, a minute late, you've never been to a doctors office, people show up early to see me. Oh right, well now you know what I do when I'm not here at the mansion, I'm a surgeon. Neurosurgeon to be exact. Master Blunn was actually Dr Albert Blunn, the universities head of neurosurgery. He wore a shiny white labcoat made of latex, beneath it he had on green rubber scrub pants and shirt. Master Blunn said looking at Fen "Before you even ask if I wear my rubber to work, yes, I do all the time, people love seeing me in it and a lot of people love rubber hugs before getting gassed out or IV'd out. I only wash it when someone gets sick, I keep it super clean using a special purple light that doesn't destroy smells, because this rubber smells lovely! Every person who hugs me likes the sweaty sweet salty rubbery smell. Why don't you try giving Dr Blunn the snuggle doctor a hug!?" He opened his arms wide, his scrub shirt dripping sweat onto his pants

I take a sniff, immediately feeling weak at the smell of the latex and rubber, it being the perfect blend of heavenly and just a bit disgusting, before meekly stepping forward towards Master Blunn’s open arms. He is massive, towering over me. I briefly wondering if I have made a mistake coming here so quickly before I am dragged into a glorious sweaty, rubbery hug.

Master Blunn squeezes Fen tightly and says "Come on, who can refuse a sweaty Blunn hug!" He falls forward onto Fen body slamming Fen onto the relatively hard carpeted floor. He lays there pulling his arms tighter and tighter saying "You're gonna suffocate sucking on my sweaty scrub shirt! Either that or I'm gonna feel you orgasm beneath me as I crush your face into my sweaty shirt!"

The breath is forced out of me by the sudden body slam, my gasp to try and draw in more doing nothing but filling my mouth with the sweaty latex. I thrash beneath Master Blunn, though can do nothing more than weakly struggle as I am held firmly beneath him. I feel myself getting light headed as my lungs burn for oxygen, my cock spasming in an involuntary orgasm as I start to black out.

Fen in the rubber dress & apron (Source: Tumblr Generic - @sissyfen)

Master Blunn keeps you in the tight grip, he laughs as you black out. When you black out he injects a small syringe into your neck to keep you asleep. Master Blunn forces your limp body into a thick heavy 30lb latex dress with a 10lb latex apron on over it. He puts 10lb handcuffs on Fen's hands and as he awakens pulls a hood on over his head zipping it shut and locking it along with the dress. Master Blunn holds the keys up to Fen's face and then throws them across the room into the fireplace saying "Orgasm smelling my sweaty scrubs, you become my rubber slave forever, until you mess up. First time you mess up, things get worse, second time things get even worse, third time your life becomes a miserable hell." Master Blunn forces Fen down into a small pit in the floor. He is forced to kneel down with his head pressed against his rubber apron. Master Blunn closes the floor trap door and says "I'll see you in the morning, until then enjoy getting acquainted with the smell of your uniform, I bet you like its smell, if you liked my sweaty work uniform you'll love the dirty maids uniform that I've had every rubber maid wear, I've had over 500 maids in that uniform over the last 30 years. It's never been washed, it's been sweat in pissed in puked in covered in all sorts of filth. Have fun huffing the stink of that apron and dress all night long slave Fen! Tomorrow we can figure out a new name for you."

I let out a moan as the trap door is forced shut, a heavy click heralding the lock, pushing my face even further into the heavy apron, leaving me in a crushed ball position. I can barely even wiggle as I try and call out, but all that escapes is a soft moan. 

True to Master Blunn’s word, the Apron and maids uniform are disgusting the smells of piss, sweat and puke overwhelming me in the tight confines, while the sheer weight of the dress, combined with the manacles and my prison mean all I can do is gasp for what little rancid air I can pull in

The night passes very slowly for poor Fen, Master Blunn awakens Fen the next morning by dumping squidgy rotting yogurt fruit and vegetables into the pit, he forces the door shut and says "Enjoy your breafast, enjoy drowning in sticky nasty rotting filth! When you've had enough of drowning you can drink it down and there's your fucking meal you stupid worm! Fucking dumb of you to come here. I have dozens of people stored away, some permanently stored away. You're gonna be my permanent slave to clean the place and eat all of the trash and food that spoils, understand dumb worm!" He pauses for a few minutes staring into Fen's eyes as the gooey yogurt and trash settles around him allowing Master Blunn to pour more in until it's up to Fen's neck

I choke and splutter, fear rising in me as the disgusting mess is poured down onto me, Master Blunn’s words ringing in my ears. I try to mumble and beg for mercy, but all that gets me is a mouthful of the disgusting sour yogurt and other have rotten or partially eaten food. I gag, my eyes filling with tears, but I instantly see that any plea I can make will fall entirely on deaf ears, Master Blunn leering down at me with a sadistic glare.

With a whimper, I try and slurp down more of the disgusting slop, having to stop and wretch every few mouthfuls to stop myself throwing up and making the mess even worse.

“P...Please...” I weakly manage between mouthfuls

Master Blunn laughs, he pours a heavy stinking blue rotting yogurt over Fen's head and forces the lid shut saying "have fun drowning in it, even after you're done drowning you'll stll be suffering breathing it off of your uniform and the apron. When that pit is empty, or when you can't eat any more, scream for me, but I want it at least half empty or you're gonna end up being tossed into a trash compactor and crushed to death, so get eating that nasty sludge worm! After you eat your breakfast it'll be your time to do the yard work!

I struggle through the disgusting mess, forcing myself to eat mouthful after mouthful. More than once I slip and my head goes, and soon I am completely covered in the filthy mess. The stench is awful, but eventually I have managed to eat about three quarters of the slop.

“M...Master Blunn! I’m...finished” I call out, wretching as the smell assaults me yet again

Master Blunn returns. He opens the hatch and forces Fen to stand up and says “Your new name is Sissy. Understand Sissy? Now you go outside and do the yard yard work.” Master Blunn attached a lead chain to the heavy cuffs and dragged Fen outside into the 100 degree heat. He held a manual push mower to him and said “Should take you a good 12 hours. Just come pass out in the dirty workwear bin over there when you’re done. Who cares if a stupid slave like you gets to breathe proper air. Stinking dirty workwear is enough as long as you don’t suffocate.” Master Alex sat on a beach chair sipping lemonade and shouted “If you’re good I’ll let you drink my sweat!” He chuckled wearing a thick leather jacket with no lining against his skin

The sun is unbearable as I start to push the ancient hand mower. It is heavy and stiff, forcing me to put all my weight behind it just to move it. In mere moments I’m drenching in sweat, adding to the awful smell that now clings to me.

For a moment I wonder if I should just run for it, but the heavy manacles force me to stay, let along the heavy rubber dress. As the hours pass, my body screams I protest, forcing me to stop more than once, only to push myself again as I catch a glare from Master Blunn. Finally, after what feels like an eternity of torment, I cut the last blade of grass, crawling over to the dirty workwear bin. 

With the last ounce of my strength I open the lid, before recoiling at the stench, greeted by what looks like hundreds of overalls, work boots and thick butchers aprons covered in mud, puke, trash and every other manner of filth.

I try and move away from the bin, but before I can, I feel Master Blunn grabbing me from behind

Master Blunn forces Fen into the bin. He grabs the collar of the dress and pulls the dress up over Fen’s head zipping it closed and locking it. He pulls dozens of the dirty overalls over Fen and buries Fen up to his chin saying “Feel good I bet. Fuckin boiling in stink. Smell that nasty dress! It’s all you will breathe for the night. All you get to inhale is the smell in that dirty workwear bin. Some of that shit not been washed in 50 years. Fen heard a loud chain lock click shut and then heard Master Blunns footsteps fade to silence. Right then and there Fen knew he was totally alone for the whole night

I let out a sob, trying to move to get any sort of fresh air. Instead, something shifts within the pile, collapsing underneath me and sending me sprawling onto my back, the pile of rancid work clothes tumbling over on top of me, burying me fully. I try to scream, but all I manage to do is get a filthy apron lodged in my mouth

The taste is awful, the industrial rubber coated with piss and sweat, and forcing my mouth to remain open so anything else can dribble in.

Utterly exhausted, I slump as much as I am able against the crushing weight of the clothes, unable to move more than an inch, struggling for each breath. Sleep never comes, the minutes passing with agonising, tortuous slowness

Master Blunn returns the next day to the bin. He looks down and sees that Fen had made the gear collapse around him. Master Blunn rolled over a massive keg of sour yogurt mixed with beer and poured the pink concoction into the bin and said “Have fun. Hope you can eat it all and you don’t drown. Dead people aren’t fun to play with. I like my captives to be alive!” Master Blunn slammed the lid shut and kicked the bin saying “Start eating garbage disposal. Think that’s gonna be your permanent job. Don’t fail at it or I’ll reassign you from one job to another until I reduce you to nothing but a fuckin’ apron!”

I let out a gargling scream as the disgusting yogurt pours into my wedged open mouth, unable to do anything other than swallow it while still trapped under the mountain of clothes. 

Even with everything, and to my shame, I’m still rock hard beneath my dress, the torment making it strain painfully, even as I am unable to even get near it to relieve myself

Master Blunn laughs hearing the gurgling sounds coming from the bin. He said "See you tonight, I'll have to get you out of there and move you elsewhere unless you wanna get crushed in the landfill"

I’m completely spent at the words, sobbing around the vile filth surrounding me, crushing the day I ever responded to that message

Master Blunn returns that night, he pulls Fen out of the bin and helps him walk into the house. He says "Thought you were gonna get a reprieve from nasty stinky crushing? Nah, I got something just as bad if not worse for you!" He lead Fen into an ABDL nursery, he opened the diaper chute and threw Fen head first in yelling "Have fun suffering buried amongst several thousand piss and shit filled diapers and plastic pants!" Fen fell into a big pit of diapers PVC pants and PVC clothes, with each move he sank deeper. He could faintly hear Master Blunn say "Eat at least five gross diapers clean and I'll let you move to your next slave task stupid slut!"

...I scream and cry as the diapers cling to me, the stench of piss and other filled diapers mixing with rubber into an unholy stench. I puke into the pile, which only makes it worse, and for close to an hour I just lie there, unable to contemplate moving. Finally, I slowly try and do what Master has said, though my stomach refuses to aid me, barely allowing me to get through three of the disgusting soggy masses when the lid of the diaper chute is opened the next morning

Master Blunn says "Shame, you couldn't eat five diapers to save yourself. I guess you actually do want that twisted fantasy you had posted on GarbageBagged years ago to happen to you. Do you remember that fucked up fantasy, do you remember wanting to be thrown away with a bunch of dirty overalls and dirty winter coats? It's a good thing I have a whole bin of filthy foul dirty roadworkers jackets to throw you away with! Like the worthless trash you are!"

Master Blunn dragged Fen out of the diaper bin and dragged him up the stairs dripping in filth and sweat. Master Blunn threw Fen into a large bin of tar grease mud cow shit and sweat soaked hiviz workwear

“No, please!” I scream, floundering in the slime, trying and failing to stand up.

“M-Master Blunn, I don’t want this anymore! I thought I did, but I just want to go home! It was just a fantasy!!!”

I grab onto the side of the bin, the tar acting like glue, adding to my dresses weight so I can barely move, let alone haul myself out of the bin.

“Please.” I whimper, looking up at you through the cow shit smeared across my face

Master Blunn laughs at Fen and pushes him back into the bin, this time he pushes him in face first making sure to smash his face into a grimy gritty hiviz vest. The vest was soaked in machine oil and mud along with SWEAT. Fen made bubbling sounds as Master Blunn pressed him down harder and harder. Master Blunn climbed in on top of Fen and stood on top of him, crushing his body down into the dirty workwear saying "Fuckin sink! Fuckin sink below all of the workwear, fuckin drown in filthy workwear! After I'm done with you you're gonna be sewn in the clear pocket of one of these vests, you'll be forever suffering in a stinky thick PVC hell surrounded by gooey rotting hiviz!"

I flail as best as I can but it’s in vain, my strength utterly spent from the torment. My mouth is filled with the disgusting muddy trash as I wonder if this is how it all ends, my vision beginning to go dark as I begin to pass out. Master Blunn just laughs, pushing harder, already reaching for the massive trash bag beside the disgusting trash

Master Blunn holds Fen down until his struggles stop, he picks him up by the neck and lifts him into a massive rubber bag, he packs the bag full of dirty vests and says "See you in a few months, the compression will slowly shrink you to no larger than a gum ball, it will be extremely slow, painful, hot and stinky. Goodbye!" He left, the vacuum turned on, the bag crushed poor Fen in the dirty workwear for 3 minutes then released him for a minute then repeated the cycle, 3 minutes on 1 minute off without ending. This is how Fen will spend the entire week, being slowly crushed to a new size

For an entire week my world is nothing but agony and disgusting slop, my body being crushed again and again. True to Masters words I feel myself shrinking, the sludge pressing in on all sides, until I’m little more than a mound of flesh, my limbs useless and atrophied, while my skin has absorbed the gunge around it, ensuring that I will never escape the disgusting smells that I am trapped with now.

If I had thought I was helpless before I know better now unable to move even if I was completely removed from the now far oversized dress and disgusting sweaty work clothes

Now trapped inside of the dress Fen was truly reduced to nothing. Master Blunn picks up the dress and pisses into it before jacking off into it, he has 500 other men jerk off into it and then he rolls the dress into a vacuum bag and vacuum seals it saying "Poor fucker can't die, bet you want to though, fucking crushed in all that nasty crusty stinking rubber about to be crushed even harder!" Master Blunn turned on the vacuum and walked away leaving Fen there as the dress compacted around his helpless body

I scream as best I can, utterly helpless yet in agony all the same. My scream is instantly stolen by the vacuum, the air sucked from my lungs as the disgusting slime and filthy clothes as pulled ever closer to my face and body. I want to struggle, I want to die, but I can’t do either, so I just suffer for Master’s amusement

Master Blunn leaves the vacuum running for a whole hour. He then wraps Fens poor compressed body in thirty heavy thick quilts, he then forces the massive roll of quilts into a 10mm thick vacuum bag. The ultra heavy thick vacuum bag is sealed, the vacuum is turned on and Master Blunn yells "If you can hear me crushed inside there, enjoy being slowly crushed til your body is flattened in filth! Fuckin filth filling your lungs stomach, every inch of your body filled with filth!"

I can hear Master, though only just, the terror setting in anew as my breath is stolen once more. The weight of the quilts crushes into me, while the vacuum squeezes out every last drop of sweat and filth, each one seeming to find its way to the centre of the mass; my ever flattening body. After mere hours, it’s done, Sissy Fen now little more than a disk of flattened flesh, yet impossibly I’m still alive, my eyes wide and my lungs burning for air that I haven’t tasted seemingly for lifetimes

Master Blunn unzipped the bag 100 years later, he unwrapped the quilts revealing the dress with Sissy Fen wrapped inside of it. Master Blunn unrolled the crusty stiff dress and said "You thought it's been horrible? You don't know horrible!" Master Blunn and 100 mn walked in, they all shat into the bag letting their thick sticky shit flow into the dress. Master Blunn tied the dress shut and said "How's it feel drowning in shit along with all the other filth, about to be crushed to death in shit!" Master Blunn folded the dress violently and tightly, he then folded it in half several times. He wrapped the dress in 30 more quilts, making it 60 quilts total. He violently and brutally folded the quilts forcing them into the massive vacuum bag. Master Blunn turned on the vacuum and yelled "I'm welding the door shut and leaving the vacuum running, it'll be a long slow cruel death for you. Have fun dying, could take thousands of years, but your death will be here, sucking the shit soaked rubber dress and all the other nasty filth you are encased in!

I try and talk, but my mouth has long since fused into an open scream, once packed with sweat and now packed with human shit from hundreds of men. My body burns with constant agony of hundreds of years of crushing pressure, leaving me wishing for nothing more than death

Unbeknownst to me however, death would never come, no release permitted to Blunn’s slaves. My immortality had been ensured from the moment he had first injected me all those millennia ago. Now, as centuries turn, I become nothing more than a forgotten footnote, the building slowly buried by time, leaving me forever buried and crushed beneath the shit of my betters. After being told I might die I never did, I lay there 10,000 years later, still sucking the rotting rubber tasting the shit piss cum sweat and all the other congealing rotting filth around me, knowing that nothing will change as I slowly sink deeper and deeper into the earth, the temperature getting warmer as time passes. I know in some hundred thousand years, maybe, maybe not, my body will be liquified and burned up in the core of the earth, that or I’ll live in that molten magma, crushed the hardest, unable to smell, only able to feel the searing hot crushing grip around my worthless atrophied paralyzed body. Now I am nothing but a worthless bag of flesh to the world, I may as well be dead.

[pancake-breakfast]

Will I get through all the chapters by the weekend? Unlikely. But at least I can get through a couple more tonight.

Stream-of-consciousness thoughts for TriMax Vol. 6, Chapters 3-4 below.

Note: Several references to Stampede's aesthetic choices below.

Chapter 3: Cross X Assassins

Goshdarn, we had to start out with Legato, didn't we? This is pre-spider-smash Legato, but still.

Legato's idea of a game sucks. There's a reason Vash didn't want to play. A GOOD reason.

A;ALJSDF;LAJDL;F This sopping wet cat... I want to wrap him in a towel like a burrito and hope he doesn't kill me and feels marginally better about the world when he inevitably gets free. That's the best anyone can do for him, really, and more than he deserves.

Oh, look. Elandira's already got him wrapped up like a burrito.

He remains alive out of sheer stubbornness to get Knives-sama to someday notice him.

Elandira reading El Gato like a book here.

Hahahahahaha, now he's literally sopping wet.

"They anger me to the point of madness!!" You don't say....

Oooooh, Double Fang I know. Trip of Death is new.

He looks soooooo bummed that he doesn't get to go play with them. I'd feel sorry for him if it wasn't for **redacted**.

Man, all these people and their bikes. Are bikes like this practical in sand? My family was never one of those "go to the desert and ride around" types... but from what I remember, that was mostly done on quads. Eh, I guess bikes are what Nightow really wanted to draw.

LOL, they have so many guns....

That gate looks like a church door.

I don't trust this dead-eyed kid.

Dude. Don't do drugs, kids.

Pffftthahahahaha, Legato's so happy that things are going sideways with the meeting. Only he gets to be the special one!

I'm actually really looking forward to learning about the Eye of Michael. They didn't come up in '98, so their presence was a surprise to me in Stampede.

Cross assassins, indeed.

So much for their fancy gate.

Ohhh, that is definitely a ship, isn't it.

Ok, so the dead-eyed kid mentioned this place having three towers... and the more I look at it, the more I'm getting crucifixion imagery vibes. Like, you have the prominent one in the middle that's Jesus's cross, and it's flanked by the smaller ones a little further back that were the crosses of the thieves. Maybe I'm stretching a bit. I dunno.

His ability to retain all his clothes after roiding out is impressive.

"Joe Tooth," huh? That's a terrible name.

Eyyyy, look at all those familiar-looking crosses! I'm sure that's not ominous or problematic in the slightest!

Elandira was supposed to be hosting this meeting, but Legato's taking charge again.

So much for the newcomers. Check out that mask, though. Now I know where Stampede's inspiration came from, especially given that Nightow asked them to up the tech in the series.

Ew. Ew ew ew ew. Surely there was somewhere better for him to keep them? What the hell happened to his tongue? I have a lot of questions and I'm not sure I want the answers to any of them... but man, is this boy dedicated to his terrible, terrible game.

Chapter 4: Death Omen

Ahhhh, what a great title page of Knives! Like, he's got all the blades out, but his face is so calm, they might as well be groceries. A wonderful contrast that highlights his casual relationship with extreme violence.

So, apparently, Stampede got the inspiration for its Knives ass shots from Maximum, too.

Also, who's letting him wander around in public??? He shouldn't be allowed out and about. No, Elandira does not count as a responsible babysitter.

Arrrrrgggghhhh, he's doing that thing where he looks too similar to Vash. A sad Vash. He looks like sad Vash.

This guy gets it. That's the doctor, right?

Elandira, getting off on the prospect of violence.

I like how you can tell who it is just by the silhouette here.

The doctor knew Knives as a boy? Just how old is this man??

Goshdarnit, Vash is wanted for the death of this guy, and he's just prancing around all alive like it's NBD. Rude. At least have the grace to be dead if you're gonna be involved in a plot to frame someone for killing you.

This is actually really poignant. I think it's the first solid suggestion we've had that Knives wasn't born a genocidal maniac.

Sooooo many plants. Stampede took heavy inspiration from this, too.

Look at these skrungly boys being skrungly.

Body horror time!

Her hair....

Knives doesn't look like he's in a forgiving mood. Can't say I blame him, all things considered.

Good to see him doing the "My name is Millions Knives and I have lots of blades" thing, I guess?

Yeah, I'd panic a bit if I saw a giant scythe manifest in the middle of town, too.

Looks like Knives is having some trouble controlling his angel (?) arm, too.

HIS HAIR!!!! D:

Of course, he immediately starts putting two and to together with Vash's hair. Now if he can just make the connection that Vash using all that power is his fault.

Goodbye, Conrad. We hardly knew thee.

Vash senses something's wrong with his brother. I wonder if he can guess what.

You know, that really adds some weight to the chapter title, Death Omen. The Death Omen is the dark hair, but Vash has been carrying that around since Fifth Moon.

Archive

Trigun Volume 1: Covers + 1-3, 3 Detailed Thoughts, 4, 4 DT, 5-6, 5-6 + DT, 6 DT, 7-8, 9-10 || Volume 2: Covers + Extras, 1, 1 Supplemental Research, 2-4, 5-6, 7-8

TriMax Volume 1: Covers + 1-2, 2 DT, 3-4, 3 DT, 5-6 || Volume 2: Covers + 1, 2-4, 5, 6-7 || Volume 3: Covers + 1-3, 4-5, 6-7 || Volume 4: Covers + 1-2, 3-5, 6-7 || Volume 5: Covers + 1-2, 3-4, 3 DT, 5-6 || Volume 6: Covers + 1-2, 2 DT

[clunelover]

Today I really hit a wall on Men. Specifically the male attitude of "helpful women are like virtual calendars/a substitute for remembering things."

Sequence of events:

E is in their school play, and once the date and time is up and the (free) tickets are available, I forward the email to everyone in the family. The play has two showtimes, a 10 am and 6:30 pm.

Unrelated to play, I offer to host a birthday dinner for my stepdad. I text everyone the date and time and say what I'll be cooking.

One week before bday dinner: my dad texts to ask "is the dinner thing this weekend or next weekend?"

At 4:45 on the day of the dinner: Stepdad (guest of honor) texts me "we're meeting at 5, right?" Nope, it's 6! Hey, at least he asked instead of coming an hour early??

During the dinner, the topic of the play comes up. My dad and stepdad both want a reminder of when/where it is. I try to calmly say, and then my dad says "oh I might prefer to go to the morning show time, can I do that?" [lengthy digressions about the different showtimes and the ticketing website, ultimately leading to my dad needing to see if he's actually free in the morning.]

Yesterday, I text my dad to ask if he decided on which show so I'd know whether to get him a ticket for the morning (he can't work the ticketing website). No reply. The play is on Wednesday.

Today, I take E to therapy. On the way back to school, they tell me that at the bday dinner party, my dad said "hey E, gimme a kiss" on his way out the door, and they didn't want to but didn't feel like they could say no (I didn't notice this happening in the moment). We have a big discussion about how I definitely want them to feel like they can say no, they DO NOT have to worry about hurting grandpa's feelings, I will tell grandpa that he should not say "gimme a kiss" to either of my kids and try to have my antenna up at future gatherings. I drop them off at school.

Literally as soon as I drop them off, my dad texts me back about the play - "when is it, tomorrow? I have a doctor appointment at 10."

Blood starts coming out of my ears and mouth. I'm so angry I drive into a ditch while screaming "fuckyoufuckyoufuckyou!" (...not really but that's how I feel)

I reply "the play is tomorrow. There is a 10 am show and a 6:30 pm show. I got you a ticket for 6:30. At dinner on Saturday, you said you might prefer to come to the morning show. But if you have a doctor's appointment at 10, sounds like 6:30 is the best bet. Hope to see you there!"

He replies, "Don't get mad, but where is it? At the school? What's the name of the school?" [he's definitely managed to show up at this school once or twice before. BUT no, the play is not at the school cause there's not enough room there. It's at a church and all that info is in the email I forwarded everyone]

[blackness and tv static noise]

I finally get settled in to my work computer. The first thing I see is a message from my middle aged man coworker saying "hey when you get in can you tell me again how to do a merge request? I'm trying to make myself a checklist so I stop getting it wrong" (a document on this process already exists, as well as two different video recordings, one of which is actually a video of me training THIS VERY GUY. Oh and by the way, there's one other person on my team who knows the procedure inside and out...a male person...but somehow the messages asking for help are sent ONLY TO ME?!?!)

I'm seriously going to lose my fucking mind. I mean the #1 priority is tackling the bodily autonomy stuff for my kid's safety. As for the rest of it, the answer is probably to stop answering these messages and see what happens, but I fear that will lead to worse things (panicked day-of calls that will cause me more stress than a text...or in the case of my stepdad's party, him just being there an hour early to piss me off and get underfoot, and okay maybe you say "that's fine, put him to work!" but in case this post doesn't make clear, these men will find a way to make a simple delegated chore into my problem too.)