stress relief before bed

Bedtime Grounding/Stress Relief

When you first lay down in your bed before you go to sleep lay on your stomach (if you are able). Press your toes into the mattress, then the top of your feet, then your shin, and so on. When you’re done lay on your back and do the same.

It takes very little time to do and can make you feel so much better. It can also improve your sleep and dreams.

beyourownwonderland  asked:

Guuuurl, after that last au, I need Linstead & intimate moments/touches.

Inspiration struck forever ago for #1, which I really, really, really like (personally), so we’ll see if the rest match up. #3, who the heck knows, just roll with it, I couldn’t come up with an actual issue but just accept that it was major and go from there. I tried to do #5 as something of a farewelling so let me know how that goes over too.

And this will be my last CPD fic for a long while, folks. I’m going to update the masterpost again so it’s all contained, but this is my last day of freedom and it’s going to be a busy one. I’ve got some personalized notes in mind for my peeps but here’s to all of you. Thank you so much for the outpouring of feedback over my fics, for all the requests and comments that have come in, for all the theorizing and flailing. I have had so much fun in this fandom, more than any other fandom I’ve been in, and that’s thanks to you all. Here’s to a hopefully strong finish to s3 of Chicago PD, and here’s to you guys for making it so much more fun to watch.


There are times when a case hits too close to home—a lost lover, a murdered spouse—and Erin struggles to process their grief because it’s too easy to imagine it as her own—if they lost their loved one, as a normal person, what are her chances as a cop? Jay picks it up too, and the team learns to turn a blind eye if they sit hip-to-hip and shoulder-to-shoulder on the end of one of their desks. A hand on an arm might linger, holding tight, when all they needed was the other’s attention. And sometimes Erin follows Jay down to the locker room so that he can slide his arms around her waist, muscles tightening and keeping her close, and her arms settle up around his chest, hands between his shoulder blades and curling into the collar of his shirt. Jay’s cheek settles against her hair and Erin leans into his shoulder, and they both hold on tight. And when they get home that night, late, exhausted, Jay cradles her face in his palms, staring down at Erin and then kissing her long and slow, and she can hear it in the pressure of his lips against hers—I love you.


It’s been a day from hell, dealing with organized riots and being called in to help contain the chaos—only to get sucked in by the mayhem as well. Erin crooks her finger at Jay and heads down to the locker room, anger churning in her chest at the rioter who’d gotten the drop on Jay. Her agonizing moments of fumbling for the unfamiliar taser had cost him several blows that had left him bloody and bruising. Following her lead, Jay takes a seat on the bench and lets a heavy breath leave him as his shoulders slump in exhaustion. Erin dampens a couple of paper towels then kneels down between her lover’s knees. Jay stares down at her with a crooked smile, the strain of the day showing through. Reaching out with her fingertips, she draws a touch along the line of his jaw, trying to ease the weight on him with the familiarity of them. He leans into her touch, eyes drifting shut and Erin straightens to bring herself a little bit closer, and starts to clean the smears of blood off his face, her other hand sliding behind his neck to knead the tendons there. The proximity, the familiar scent of him, calms the tension in Erin’s gut as well. They have to get back upstairs soon but before that, she finishes erasing as much of the fight as she can. It’s when she sets aside the paper towel that Jay’s hands come up to cradle her face, thumbs smoothing across her skin. “I’d do it again,” he murmurs, knowing her discontent with how he keeps stepping between her and danger. But that’s who he is. Erin’s eyes slide shut as her lover closes the remaining distance to press a slow kiss to her lips, drawing out the affection for moments that make her wish they were home. There’s apology, comfort, promise, in the gentle pressure of his kiss, her fingers curl into his hair, and it’s enough to sustain them until they leave work.


It’s almost ridiculous. They’ve been in a silent stand-off for two weeks now when Voight decided that a friendly road trip to do a patrolman’s job was a great idea. It’s on the way back that they stop for the night and Voight’s choice of motel has only two rooms left. Their boss takes one look at them and takes a key before disappearing, wishing them a goodnight over his shoulder. Erin snatches the other keycard before Jay can and leads the way down the hall. There is, predictably, only one bed and Jay spends a moment just watching it in defeat. He hates the cold quiet standing between them, hates that he was the one to start it and hates more that Erin’s obstinacy kicked in about the issue. They have no purpose to leave the room again and they’re leaving early in the morning so Erin locks herself in the bathroom while Jay gets the sheet set from the closet and takes the decorative coverlet from the bed to make himself a place to sleep. They bed down in silence and the light gets turned off without a word between them. Jay is too stressed to sleep, staring at the ceiling while listening to Erin’s breaths even out in sleep. He’s turning the problem over and over in his mind, trying to find a way to fix it because, damn everything that’s happened, he misses her. It’s almost three, he’s still wide awake, and then Erin whimpers—a strangled, desperate noise that’s like a blow to the gut, and he’s tensing to wait out her nightmare when she gasps out, words slurred but coherent, “no, Jay, Jay, please—“ and it’s enough. He’s out of his makeshift bed fast enough to trip over the sheets and beside the bed in two strides to plant one hand on the mattress and smooth her hair back with the other. “Erin, wake up, I’m right here. Erin.” She rouses with a sharp inhale, jerking beneath his touch before the situation sinks in and she stares up at him through the poor lighting, eyes wide. Jay’s tongue is lead because he’s so bad with words, so bad at spitting out what needs saying, and he just wants her back. His partner, his lover, lets the silence linger for aching moments before breaking it with a hoarse plea. “Don’t leave. Stay. Please, Jay.” And he doesn’t question, doesn’t doubt her, just climbs over her with care so that he can settle on the other side of the bed. Erin presses close as soon as he’s joined her under the covers and Jay hadn’t truly realized how much he felt the absence of her until he drags his hands down her back so he can find the bottom of her tank top and press his palm to the curve of her spine. Her breath shudders as she pulls herself on top of him so they lie chest to chest, knees knocking and her hair tickling beneath his jaw, closer than they’ve been in too long. His other hand finds her loose waves of hair, settling at the base of her head while Erin’s fingers ruck up his shirt so she can find the heat of his skin while the other is pressed against his heart. There is relief, release, reprieve in the found intimacy, in her every exhale across his skin, in his sporadic tightened grasp. Jay finds sleep with Erin’s weight across his body and the smell of her filling his senses and doesn’t know anything until the hard knock sounds at their door.


Erin doesn’t know what wakes her up but when she cracks her eyes open, the clock on the bedside table helpfully informs her that they’ve got an hour and a half before they have to be back on the case. These ones are the worst, weeks of slogging through paperwork, evidence, and interviews to find the breadcrumbs they need. She’s been tired and grouchy for days now. Mumbling the time for her partner’s benefit, Erin is ready to settle down and sleep another hour when familiar hands grasp her waist and drag her across the bed. When her equilibrium reorients, Erin is much more awake and stares up at Jay where he hovers over her with an impish light in his eyes. “I was sleeping,” she croaks, arching an eyebrow at him, not that it makes a difference. Jay’s fingers linger at her hip, tracing indistinguishable patterns on her skin, and humor plays on his mouth as he murmurs, “But why sleep when we could blow off stress instead? I know all the paperwork is getting to you.” Erin is trying to form a reply to protest but Jay lowers his head and she tilts her chin up to meet the kiss he plants on her lips. There really isn’t any protesting after that. Their time is limited, but not so much that they have to rush, and Erin is glad because it is a relief. To take this time, to revel in the sensation of his touch dragging across her skin, nipping at his lips when he takes too long, and receiving a playful tweak in return for her her misbehavior. A short laugh escapes Jay when she rolls them over again so she’s on top this time but it turns to a low groan before long. Their stress relief strays from the bed, into the kitchen for food, then gets chased to the shower and Erin had forgotten how nice it was to just laugh with Jay, between long hard kisses and lingering, burning touches. Definitely better than another hour of sleep. If there’s a bounce to Erin’s step and a glint in Jay’s eye when they show up for work, everyone keeps their comments to themselves.


Growing up, Erin had been led to believe that loving someone meant being willing to fall into bed at their command, and that relationships involved very little else besides sleeping together and fulfilling whatever her boyfriend might want or need. Hank had helped her learn some self-respect and now she knows what to expect from a relationship—mutual respect, caring, talking, sharing. Still, nothing quite measures up to standing by Jay’s side at the barbeque that Antonio throws for Hank’s 60th birthday, laughing hard at Alvin and Ruzek’s antics. Hank stands up to do his begrudged but required thank you speech and Erin slips her hand into Jay’s, leaning her head against his shoulder. Her lover presses a kiss to the crown of her head, fingers lacing through her own, and the simple contentedness that warms Erin’s chest is everything she could’ve asked for. After Hank’s done, she goes up on tiptoe to press a brief but affectionate kiss to Jay’s lips, smiling at the curiosity and amusement that brightens his eyes. “Thanks for being here.” Erin murmurs for only him, memory of the past years of their partnership and relationship lending greater weight to her words. Jay nods once, leaves a lingering kiss on her forehead, then wraps his arms around her shoulders in an embrace. “Always.”

Huevember 2015, Day 5

A single ray of sunlight shining in through the translucent curtains gently woke Tamlen up that morning. The bed was so warm and cozy, he didn’t feel like getting up at all though. He turned his head to see that Dorian was still asleep, but his arm was still around the elf’s waist. Tamlen carefully turned around, because he didn’t want to wake Dorian - but he really loved watching him sleep. As he slowly shifted around in the bed and stretched a little suddenly a sharp pain in his back accompanied by a loud cracking noise made him twitch. An involuntary groan escaped his lips and Dorian immediately opened his eyes, stirred by the sound.
“What happened?” he asked, his voice still heavy with sleep but also worried.
“My back…” Tamlen sighed after a moment as he tried to get more comfortable again.
Dorian laughed visibly relieved.
“You’re getting old,” he teased him and he let his head sink back into the pillow.
Tamlen smiled and ran his fingers through Dorian’s salt-and-pepper hair.
“At least we’re getting old together,” he replied.