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orshii · 4 months ago

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Can You Hold Me?

✶ Pairing: tennis player! Kim Hongjoong x therapist female reader ✶ Word count: 10,8 k ✶ Warnings: cursing, traumatic past, mentions of death, mentions of alcohol use, a lot of angst, a little suggestive at the end

✶ Summary: You had chosen to become a therapist, but why? So that you could help others, and at the same time escape your dark and traumatic past. One day, the problematic tennis player Kim Hongjoong comes in for a session, and everything changes from then on as you find solace and understanding in your traumatic pasts.

✶ A/N: Yoo, I'm back omg, I officially graduated and now I'm an unemployed nobody yaayy. So about this story...I'm not quite satisfied with my writing in it and I don't expect much from this, I just needed to write it because it kind of helped me through tough times. And I just realized writing angst helps me get through my anxiety lmao. Oh and just to add, I have no idea about psychology I kind of improvised the whole process so sorry if it’s not how it is going.

So buckle up ig, I wanted to make this very angsty but ended up making it rather fluffy lmao, so enjoy! Okay byee! (divider)

(p.s. This song inspired the title and it perfectly describes Hongjoong's feelings, I recommend listening to it hehet.)

Human's minds are pure chaos. Within each person lies a world as complex as our physical reality. There exists pure happiness alongside deep darkness that can both consume and strengthen. It's hard to escape the maze of rusty, huge walls that separates us from our sanity. Sometimes people desperately need a guiding hand that belongs to a person and runs along the dark maze, pulling them out of the dark labyrinth of thoughts that slowly destroy them.

I was a helping hand in hundreds of people's lives. People came to me shouting for help desperately or sometimes they were too stubborn to ask for help so I needed to convince them first to trust me, so they could let me lead them out of the dark.

I was a clinical psychologist, I fixed people's minds. It is a hard task, everyone has their unique story, and their own problems that can drive people crazy. And I needed to prevent that. All the process looked like a brain surgery, it just didn't need steel tools and extravagant knowledge of the different kinds of nerves and muscles. I couldn't just cut out people's brains like the doctors and fix things like that. A brain surgery could take up to 7 hours, but if I needed to save someone from the dark, dirty maze...that is impossible for them and for me to help in that short of time. It needed years. Years of trying to show the way out into the light that sometimes comes with the biggest hardships. To put together the lost pieces so they can be their old selves. But the thing is, they could never be their old selves again, just little pieces of it. Sometimes they can overcome it alone, sometimes they accept my helping hand and sometimes...they don't make it out of the dark ever. Those are the hardest journeys of my bumpy road.

I always felt like my life's purpose was to help people overcome their fears. I liked to dive deep into people's minds and play with the strings of their nerves, to find out their deepest, darkest secrets that they only told me. All the time someone confessed their feelings, when they opened up to me, I felt like a Goddess to whom people whispered their biggest sins. It was like they told me their Sea of Confession.

And why did I like it? Hearing people's dark thoughts made my mind concentrate on their problems, so I could run away from my own problems, from my own dark thoughts that hunted me in my nightmares, until my mind was tired enough so it could finally go blind.

I could fix people, but who fixed me?

I was in a hurry as I sipped from my morning coffee next to a quick breakfast that I made in a hurry because of course I overslept and now I was late for work. As I was sitting in my small one-room flat, I drank the last drops of coffee from my mug, quickly grabbed my keys, and turned off the TV that was a white noise on my chaotic morning.

Before I turned the TV off, I saw that the news was about some 26-year-old professional tennis player who got into a scandal, that was speeding through the highway drunk and nearly causing an accident. I heard about this player a few times on the news, he was always in some kind of trouble, like being drunk during an interview or shouting at a reporter after he lost a game, these attitudes of his made his fame slowly fade through the years as people started to judge him, because of his behavior.

I saw a few of his interviews, where he just seemed as bored as a prisoner in a cell, he spoke with people like they were some kinds of slaves. Something was up with him, I knew it—I was a therapist—he had a reason because people don't go insane just because they want to. I was sure it was deeper than the effects of being a professional tennis player dealing with fame.

He fought with some demons just like all of us.

The news also said that they just took his driver's license and the problem was solved, just because he was an athlete and had money. Our world was very fair. I scoffed at that after I quickly turned off the TV and glanced one last time at the full-body mirror, checking if my white shirt was perfectly ironed, which I paired with a grey, tight skirt that barely reached my knees with black heels, I pulled on my grey blazer that fitted with my skirt and left my cozy flat to step out into the air full of the breeze of spring.

As soon as I parked my car I hurried straight to my office, my first client was already there waiting for me in front of my door that held my name 'Dr. Kwon Y/N'.

"Ah, sorry for being late, but the traffic was horrible, my apologies." I quickly took out my keys from my purse and opened the door.

"It's okay, I know it can be the worst." My client smiled at me, his blonde hair fluffy from the morning hours, black framed glasses sitting on his tall nose, his dimples showing from the curve of his lips. His name is Song Mingi and he has been going to therapy for over a year now, he experienced a horrible trauma and it takes time to get over it, step by step but he is going to fight his demons.

"C'mon in." I smiled at him genuinely.

I stepped into my office, which looked comforting, and full of warm colors, that being orange, brown, and all shades of red. I wanted to make this room look like a place where people who are coming to my office, feel safe, to feel that whatever they tell me, stays there. The walls were painted warm orange. The furniture was brown, in the middle of the room there was a brown armchair with some orange stripes and in front of that, there was a sofa with the same colors, where my clients could lay down or just sit comfortably. On my left side, there's a big window and on the ledge, there are some green indoor plants. My main purpose was to give them a place where they can feel comfortable.

I sat on my armchair as I waited for Mingi to get comfortable.

"So how are you feeling today, Mingi?" I crossed my legs and all my attention was on the man in front of me, trying to listen to his thoughts and feelings that confused him.

Noon went by quickly and I had a little break before my next client came, so I went to the nearby bakery to buy some fresh baked bread. As I was walking back to my office, finishing the bread I bought, I got a text from my assistant, saying my next client was already here so, I needed to hurry back. Today was not my day that is sure. I kind of started to speedwalk, and that turned into running. I just hated it when my clients needed to wait for me because that didn’t seem professional.

As soon as I stepped into the building trying to catch my breath because of the running. I spotted a man who leaned against the wall in a black hoodie the hood was over his head, where a few blonde strings of his hair fell onto his forehead and his hoodie was paired with ripped black jeans.

"Good afternoon, sorry for being late!" I approached the strange man; it was his first time being here.

He quickly snapped his head up and looked at me with a bored and quite sharp expression. "Finally, I've been waiting for ten minutes already." He sighed staring at me with deadly eyes.

It didn't surprise me when my clients offended me and made me the wrong person. It was common when people didn't want to say anything at all to me or to be everywhere but here. Throughout the years I learned how to handle these kinds of people.

As our eyes met, that was the moment when I recognized this man, pictures from all over the media and the news appeared in my mind of the professional tennis player Kim Hongjoong.

I bowed my head a little as a sign of my apology. "My apologies, come in!" I opened the door with that and went in, to sit down in my armchair. He followed me with a disgusted expression as he looked around the room, and plopped down to the sofa. He was laying on his back with his legs pulled up, shoes still on, hands interlaced over his stomach, and closed his eyes, with his hood still on. I analyzed every little movement of his because it told me hundreds of things about him. I knew he wouldn't talk to me much, so my job was to read his moves. It was the kind of situation where we won't talk a lot because he just doesn't want to be here, it could be even that someone forced him to come here, or he just opens up with difficulty.

I was a tolerant woman and I knew, I needed to make him trust me.

"My name is Dr. Kwon Y/N, nice to meet you. Kim Hongjoong, right?" I asked with a warm voice as I crossed my legs and opened his files on my laptop that was on my legs. As I quickly glanced through his file, I immediately understood the reasons behind his behavior.

"Yeah. Can you stay quiet, I want to sleep." He said with a low voice, his eyes still closed.

I was in plenty of situations like this, sometimes people don’t know what is respect towards the other. You just needed to make them respect you.

"Well, you are not here to sleep right now, Hongjoong." I just looked at him with a knowing smile, because the next thing was that he opened his eyes and turned his head to look at me.

"Well, I don't want to talk." He turned his head back to stare at the ceiling.

"We don't have to talk about your problems or feelings, only if you want. But firstly, we are here to feel comfortable and to trust each other." I said, closing my laptop and leaning forward to place it on the small table that separated us.

Hongjoong just scoffed at that. "Yeah, right."

I leaned backward folding my arms. "What is your favorite color?"

He looked at me again with a confused expression. "Are you kidding me? Are we in kindergarten or what?"

"We have to start somewhere, aren't we?" I raised my eyebrows at him with a smile. I needed his attention and this was the best solution.

"It's black I guess." He said with a bored expression.

"Favorite animal?"

"Squirrel"

"Oh, that's an unusual one." I smiled. He just shrugged.

"Favorite place to go on a vacation?"

"I don't really have time for those things."

"But if you had time?"

He rolled his eyes. "Probably Greece."

"Greece is beautiful, I agree."

"Why did you choose tennis?" And here we are, the real-deal questions started now. I hoped he fell into my trap with the previous questions.

The question surprised him, but he just shrugged. "My dad showed it to me when I was younger and I immediately felt a connection with it." It was a short answer but told me a lot of things. Passion from childhood—noted.

"Something you like doing, other than tennis?"

"Nothing." I stood silent because I saw on his face he was thinking. "Probably driving. But I fucked that up too." His features changed to anger. It seemed like he was mad at himself. It was good. At least he knew something was up with him.

"You can get it back, it's not permanent," I said to him, trying to calm him with my soft voice.

"Well," he suddenly got up in a sitting pose and stared at me like it was my fault. "That was the only thing that could clear my head and I lost that too because I fucked up." He raised his voice, his expressions mirroring pure anger, that was pointed at me, but at the same time I knew he just couldn't face the mirror and to fully blame himself. At least he showed emotion, that was always a good sign, even if it were bad emotions.

"Sometimes people need to lose something that brings them joy, so they'll learn to live without it and find other things that bring them joy," I said seriously, looking deep into his eyes, trying to find a little light in them.

"Stop this bullshit, cliché speech. It's not true. When you lose something important to you, that will never come back." He was leaning over his knees with his elbows, his hands interlaced. He seemed vulnerable for a second, I saw a really broken part of him, that was going to be tough to put together, but there was no impossible task for me.

We weren't talking about driving I knew it; it was just easier to speak in metaphoric sentences.

"Yes, there are situations when that something won't ever come back, but that doesn't mean we have to destroy ourselves and live in self-pity for the rest of our lives." I just needed to stay calm and only beam positivity, even when people shouted at me, blaming me for everything.

"No, you don't understand." He stood up and buried his face into his hands in frustration. "I can't do this." He said and went to the door without looking at me.

"Thank you for coming today, Hongjoong! See you next time!" I told him quickly before he angrily slammed the door.

I sighed as the silence swallowed me. Being a therapist is one of the hardest jobs on earth. It is physically but especially mentally stressful and it can eat you alive if you let it. It not only affects your feelings, that you kind of have to close out every time you have a client, but you also have to transform into them and imagine yourself in their situations and their feelings. And these different types of feelings can really overwhelm you, it's cruel.

But in the end, when I see in people's eyes, after some sessions, that they changed and are trying to be better, it fulfills my heart, that is when I say, it is worth the ups and downs that come with it.

Hongjoong wasn't my first client to act like this; they were difficult to handle and required patience. However, I knew he would calm down one day, and we could have a sincere conversation.

That night I dreamt about a little boy's face, eyes full of passion, that looked so familiar but I still couldn't recognize it.

Hongjoong came back the next day and after. He was calmer than the first time. He slowly opened up to me, as we talked through the hours of the sessions, sometimes it went well, sometimes it was rather quiet, but we made progress.

"What does tennis mean to you?"

"It's my everything, that is what is left for me in this world. But I feel like it's slowly not enough to keep me here."

"Maybe you should try something new out."

"I'm only good at tennis, I tried to do sports like football, but I wasn't that passionate as for tennis."

"Do you want to give up on tennis?"

"I don't want to, but... I'm getting so bad at it because my feelings are eating me alive. I'm not the old unstoppable Kim Hongjoong who beat everyone who came his way."

"Fighting against your feelings won’t solve your problem. This is why you should speak about them."

"What if I don’t want to?"

"How does the media affect your feelings?"

"I don't give a fuck about the media, those are some fucked up people whose lives are so boring they need to bump their noses into other's life."

"It's a really good point of view, I agree they don't know the real reasons for people's actions, only what they see. But you can't say it never affected you."

He stood quiet for a second, thinking. "It affected me when they talked shit about my close ones."

"Do your friends support you?"

"Yes, I have only a few friends, but they support me in everything. Especially Wooyoung, who is like my brother."

I nodded. "Does Wooyoung live here?" Before he could say anything, I added. "Just if he's close enough so you can talk or hang out if needed."

"He lives in the city, we play football a lot of times together and hang out after for some drinks."

"Do you like to drink?"

"Who doesn't?"

"Replying to a question with a question. I see. You are learning from me." I smiled at him just to elevate the mood.

I saw a very little curve appear on his lips. We were heading in the right way.

"But back to my question. You know you did a lot of things while being drunk."

"Well, that is my only escape from this fucked-up world."

"But you know it affects other people as well, for example when you nearly caused an accident driving while being drunk."

"Do we really need to talk about this? I know I messed up, okay? You don’t have to shout at me for being stupid." His mood swings were like a child's—one moment he was cooperative, and the next he was angry for no apparent reason.

"Why did you become a therapist?" He asked, looking sincerely curious. It occurred a lot of times when my clients tried to ask things about my personal life and I only thought it was fair to reply to them but keep the boundaries in their place.

"It wasn't even my dream until 5 years now, the idea came suddenly and I realized I always liked to talk to people about feelings and give them advice," I said keeping eye contact with him as he was sitting in front of me.

"Did you always live here?" He asked, leaning back on the sofa.

"Yes." I smiled at him.

"Do you like it here?" I wasn't surprised by his questions, there was always a moment when people realized they didn't know anything about the person sitting in front of them, to whom they confessed their deepest feelings.

I looked out the window on my right and thought about the question. "I think, I do. Do you?"

"I hate it." He looked down at his hands when I turned my head back to look at him.

"Why?"

"Because a lot of shit things happened here."

"So why are you still here?"

He shrugged. "I don't know, I have nowhere to go."

"Maybe, you could go to Greece." I smiled at him.

"Yeah, maybe." He lifted his head to look at me a visible smile appearing on his lips.

"The night they caught you drunk in your car, what did you feel before?" I brought back that case because we needed to talk about that so I could understand what went through his head that night.

"Anger, heartbroken?" To my surprise, he answered, without getting angry at me. Maybe it was one of those good days of his.

"So you thought drinking and speeding through the highway would solve them?"

"I didn't think anything at all. I just needed to clear my head and that seemed the best solution."

I nodded. "Do you regret doing it?"

"Of course, I do…"

"That is a good sign. Sometimes we consciously won't admit our mistakes. But you did Hongjoong and that is a very big progress."

It was a dark, rainy day, with clouds obscuring the sun's feeble attempts to warm the world after a freezing winter. I was at work, having already seen a few clients. Some sessions went smoothly, while others made me wish I could run to the ends of the earth.

And when Kim Hongjoong came in, it continued. We made a lot of progress throughout the weeks. It went well. But something happened again because when I saw Hongjoong I felt like it was like the first time he came in. No emotions, just the bored face, and the I-don't-give-a-fuck-attitude. It felt like we started everything from the beginning like we didn't even speak the past few weeks.

"What's on your mind?" I started, hoping I wouldn't play with the string of his nerves.

He sighed. "I don't want to talk today." He leaned back on the sofa and stared at the ceiling.

I nodded. "Alright, we don't have to."

I just opened my laptop and started to reply my emails that I haven't had the time to reply to. But it was also a tactical move, I knew he would feel bothered because I didn’t pay attention to him.

I felt his gaze on me after a while. I looked up from my laptop, adjusting my glass as my eyes met with his. His expressions were confused rather than angry.

I lifted my eyebrows. "Yes?"

He looked away, seeming a little shy after being caught staring. "So, we won't talk?"

"You just said you don't want to talk."

"I know but it's strange sitting here and not talking."

"We can talk."

He just nodded, his lips forming a thin line. He was dressed in all black again—black jeans and a black T-shirt, along with a black cap that hid his eyes. With his tattoo ‘No1likeme’ on the inside of his upper arm peeking out.

I observed that when he was in higher spirits, he tended to wear brighter colors such as orange and beige. Conversely, when he dressed in all black, it signaled that he might not be feeling his best.

"What do you want to talk about?" I asked with my full attention on him.

He shrugged. "I don't know. What's your favorite color?" He looked genuinely interested, his eyes slightly hidden beneath his cap, making his gaze darker.

"Look around and try to figure it out." I smiled at him.

He slowly lifted his head and hummed his eyes scanning the whole room, taking it in, analyzing. I was watching him the whole time, his sharp jawline and characteristic nose on the sight.

"Is it orange?" He asked, his attention back on me.

I chuckled. "It is, it wasn’t impossible to guess."

He smiled at that too. Whenever he smiled, it was like witnessing the world's eighth wonder—a unique and rare occurrence that could rival any God’s smile.

"What is one word you don't like?" I asked.

"Love. It's just so overrated." Again, his expression changed as he was staring down at his hands thinking.

"Don't you love someone?"

"It's not that I don't love. It's just…" He adjusted himself on the sofa straightening up a little. "It's just doesn't embrace truthfully how I feel."

"How would you express it then?"

He paused, carefully choosing his words. "I treasure the people I feel close to. Everything they give me, whether it's gestures or words, they're little treasures that I keep deep in my heart, like in a small chest. And from that chest, I give to others. It might sound silly, but that's just how I feel." His voice sounded uncertain as if this were the most vulnerable moment of his life.

My heart started racing, and I began to feel what he felt, causing my heart to ache.

"It is a very unique and beautiful way to think of love, it’s not stupid at all," I said understandingly.

"But sometimes no matter how much you treasure the people you love, life takes them away anyway." He slowly stood up and walked to the window as his voice came out unsure.

I stood quiet because I knew he wanted to keep going. He ran his fingers through his blonde hair. "What did I do to deserve this?" The fingers in his hair grabbed his hair and pulled it as I saw his back only. "I fucked up." He raised his voice.

I stood up but refrained from approaching him, knowing he could explode at any moment.

"What happened Hongjoong?" I asked with a calm voice.

"I couldn't say goodbye to her." His voice sounded weak like he was crying.

"To whom?" Tears appeared in my eyes as well, this was the most difficult topic of my life I could never speak easier about this even if it was the hundredth time.

"My little sister." He whispered his shoulders moving up and down as he was breathing heavier. "I couldn't keep her safe." He yelled and in a fit of rage, he swept the plants off the windowsill, sending them crashing to the floor. The pots shattered, and soil scattered across the room.

I trembled from the sudden sounds of the shattered pots my heart pounding in fear. I saw a lot of situations throughout my career, but this—never.

"I couldn't keep her safe and now she is gone." He calmed down a little as his knees got weak and he fell on the ground his face in his palms.

My breathing grew heavier. There were strict boundaries between therapists and clients—any personal connection was strictly prohibited. But... how could I stand by while he was broken on the floor with shattered pots and dirty soil around him?

I approached him slowly and knelt beside him, extending my hand toward him as he stared down at his hands, lost in his own thoughts. I hesitated, afraid to touch him, but I knew I had to take the risk. When my hand gently landed on his shoulder, he lifted his head to look at me with wide eyes.

"It's okay it's not your fault, Hongjoong. Life can be cruel and make us believe it is our fault but sometimes we can't do anything to stop what was already written." I carefully lifted my hand towards his face to wipe his tears. As soon as I realized what was I doing I quickly withdrew my hands. But before I could do that, he grabbed my wrist and held it against his face staring into my wide eyes.

"Can you hug me?" He asked with an unsure voice.

"Y-yes." My heart wanted to jump out of my chest because I knew I couldn't do such things, I couldn't bond with my clients emotionally, but it was just too late because we had so much in common with Hongjoong it was impossible not to.

I slowly wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him close. The scent of sweet caramel filled my nostrils, instantly calming me and prompting me to draw him even closer. His hands encircled my waist, gently lifting me as I settled into his lap. And I let him do it without a word, my only intent was to bring him comfort.

"How could I forgive myself?" He whispered into the crook of my neck, wetting it with his tears.

"Time will make you believe it wasn't your fault, trust me. Time heals everything." My hands unconsciously started to caress his back when he nuzzled his nose into my neck.

"I couldn't say her goodbye." He whispered weakly.

Tears welled up in my eyes as memories of my own began to flood my mind. Memories that I dig deep down so I won't ever have to remember. A little boy's face I saw every night in my dreams. A little boy's face, that slowly faded away.

"She's watching you from above," I whispered weekly.

And then someone shut the door outside and reality hit me suddenly making me jump out of Hongjoong's lap.

"My next client is here. You should go. Thank you for coming," I said, avoiding his eyes, and realizing the line I had crossed. I walked over to another door where supplies were kept, kneeling to begin cleaning up the mess he had made.

"Let me help you, please. I'm so sorry, Y/N!" I closed my eyes, hearing my name. He kneeled next to me to gather the shattered pieces but I didn’t let him.

"You don't have to help me. My next client is here, so please leave," I stated flatly, glancing at him without showing any emotion. He stared at me wide-eyed, as if unable to believe what I was saying. Then, he dropped the pieces he was holding, stood up abruptly, and left the room, slamming the door behind him. I trembled at the sound, and tears began to stream down my face uncontrollably. But I couldn't allow myself to break down here when others needed my help. I wiped away my tears, took a deep breath to compose myself, and began cleaning up the mess.

To my next client, I appeared as an always smiling and understanding woman, offering advice that could save their life. But who would save mine?

After that day, I thought I would never hear from Hongjoong again. Perhaps he felt he had opened up to me only to have his feelings disregarded. I respected his emotions, but they overwhelmed me, and I was hesitant to deepen our connection. It didn't seem fair. Yet, he returned and acted as if nothing had happened on that dark, rainy day. We resumed our therapist-client relationship, asking each other questions as if he hadn't cried on my shoulder just a few days earlier.

It was a Friday evening when my last client left, it was late in the afternoon the sun was slowly disappearing, switching places with the moon. I locked the door of my office and left the building to sit in my car.

When I shut the door, sudden emotions hit me like a train that had no breaks. I needed to grab the steering wheel. All day I needed to put on a mask and smile for the people who needed reassurance and tell them only positive things that made them feel better.

I needed to keep my emotions in, which flooded like water crushing into a dam's cement walls. I needed to keep them back and just make that wall thicker, and stronger so it won't break. But there were already some thin cracks on it.

I breathed in and out slowly. This day was the worst of the year in five years. Today five years ago I lost my little brother in a bus accident that was a fault of a man driving drunk. And that school bus was just there at the wrong time, taking the lives of many little kids who were the most innocent human beings on earth. I broke that day, just like my parents, who still did not process what happened. Life was unfair and I blamed God, destiny, and everything I could just so it could be better. But it didn't, it happened and I just couldn't do anything at all. My little brother was the sweetest thing in this cruel world. He was only 7 years old, but he was so smart and kindhearted compared to his age. He simply did not deserve this fate, just like the other kids who died that day. Since that day, I see his face in my dreams which are sometimes nightmares, as the accident is playing in my head, even though I wasn't even there when it happened. But his face slowly disappears in my dreams, it's starting to get blurry and I was terrified on the fact, slowly I won't even remember his face.

Psychology was the thing that saved me from burying myself in the dark. Studying distracted me and after I finished college, I settled for a job that was being a therapist and hearing other people's problems and dark thoughts—which sometimes scared me to death—but after working in this field for 5 years now, I realized this is just people—people who only need help, a helping hand that guides them towards the light. In the process of guiding them, I slowly helped myself out alongside them, their thoughts and problems being the priority of my life, distracting me from my real problems.

But on that day, I couldn't hold it back any longer. After gathering myself, I drove to the cemetery with a bucket of flowers in hand. The cemetery appeared dark, reminiscent of scenes from horror movies, with only a few faint lights illuminating the path ahead. I knew the way to my little brother's grave as well as I knew the back of my own hand. The weather was chilly, and I hugged myself tightly for warmth, clutching the bucket of white lilies.

When I reached my little brother's grave, I couldn't contain my emotions any longer. Everything I had been holding back broke through like a dam bursting, and I fell to my knees, crying uncontrollably.

"I miss you my little bud." My tears wetted my cheeks, the moon above illuminating my brother’s grave as I whispered into the quiet. My sobbing echoed through the dark and quiet cemetery. I had never truly had friends who could be there as shoulders to cry on. It's one of the reasons being a therapist is challenging. Friends often come to see you as the sole stable point in their lives, where they can vent about their struggles and expect reassurance and advice without offering much in return. The problem was they only saw me as their therapist-friend. Over time, I grew accustomed to it and began to cut ties with those who were only friends with me for this reason.

I was still kneeling on the dirty ground, miles away from the real world as I just stared at my little brother's grave that said 'Rest in peace forever, our brightest star'.

"Y/N?" I heard a voice that seemed strange but a voice I felt like I had known my whole life.

I glanced to my left and saw a man standing there in dark clothes with a hood on. Blonde strands of hair partially hiding his eyes.

"Hongjoong?" My voice came out weak, almost like a whisper. I quickly wiped my tears away, it was a habit of mine, where no one could see me in any vulnerable state.

"What are you doing here at this hour? You'll get cold." He stepped closer with a confused expression.

"I—I just… visited my little brother." I couldn't take my eyes off him as he slowly kneeled next to me, the universe now turning as the other time it was me kneeling next to a broken Hongjoong. He looked at me with a broken expression and slowly reached his hand to wipe my tears away.

"I'm so sorry for your loss." He whispered, cupping my face into his hands. "It could have been difficult when I spoke about my sister. You are so strong, Y/N." His voice was filled with concern, his eyes watering as I broke again and started to cry again. For myself, but for Hongjoong’s loss as well.

"Come here," he said, pulling my head closer to his neck so I could breathe in his sweet caramel scent, which enveloped us both. "It's okay, let it all out. You deserve to." He gently stroked my hair, then slowly slid his hands behind my thighs and lifted me onto his lap. I settled onto his lap, wrapping my arms around his neck and burying my face into the crook of his neck. Throughout, he continued to caress my back and hair, whispering reassuring words that melted my heart. Gradually, his calming caramel scent helped me feel better.

"Let's get out of here, you are shivering." He said putting distance between us to look into my eyes, I just nodded, as he slowly took off his black hoodie, and despite my resistance, he helped me wear it. It made me look small, its sleeves hiding my hands, but it was so warm it made me forget how cold I had felt. He slowly lifted me off his lap and helped me up like I was a porcelain.

"And what are you doing here at this hour?" I asked looking up at him as he held my waist.

"Visited my sister." He gave me an understanding smile.

"Oh, they are in the same cemetery? Then they have company at least." I smiled, imagining his sister and my brother playing around, even though I never saw her.

"Yeah, I am sure they are having fun." He smiled genuinely. "Did you come by car?" He asked as we started to walk towards the exit in the dark and terrifying cemetery, while he was still holding me by my waist, scared I might fall at any moment.

"Ah, yes," I replied, trying to ground myself back in reality. I hated when people saw my vulnerable side and perceived me as fragile as glass.

"Let me drive you home, I won't let you drive in this state." He said looking at me with concerned eyes.

"I'm okay, I can drive. And you don't even have a driver's license Hongjoong." I looked at him and frowned.

"I don't care I won't let you go home alone." He seemed determined and I was too tired to fight against him.

So I let him drive my car, to where I lived even though he had no available license, but he didn't seem to care about that so neither did I. We managed to arrive at my place without the police handcuffing Hongjoong on top of my car and I felt relieved at that.

"Thank you," I looked at him grabbing the handle. I was tired and I just wanted to get a warm shower and collapse into my bed. "You can take yourself home I'll get my car tomorrow." I chuckled as I said to him.

Hongjoong chuckled at that too. "Now you are not scared I'll get arrested?" He smiled sweetly which warmed my cold heart.

"Sounds like a you problem. If you get arrested, I'll just say you stole my car." I lifted my hands with a teasing smile.

"Hah, of course you would," he remarked, reaching his hand quickly to pinch my cheek. "Okay, but only if I can take you somewhere tomorrow," he added, leaning back in the driver's seat.

I looked at him confused. "You know we can't do that."

"Why?" He asked mirroring my expression.

"Because you are my client?" I asked my brows furrowing further.

"And you think I give a shit about that?" He leaned closer to my face as he whispered it.

"But then I won't be able to hold your sessions anymore," I tried to say, attempting to create some distance, but finding myself frozen in place, the words nearly escaping me.

"I don't care, I just want to be with you." He said leaning even closer, our warm breaths melting together.

"You barely know me," I stated.

"I'm going to change that." He whispered onto my lips and then leaned back looking at my slightly blushed face satisfied.

"I'll text you, sleep well!" He said with a confident smile, winking at me.

"How do you know my number?" I asked him frowning.

"Dear, you are my therapist." He said with a shit-eating grin.

"Well, not anymore," I replied, rolling my eyes with a smile that I couldn't suppress. I stepped out of my car, only to watch it roll away. A sincere smile spread across my face as I saw him drive off.

Might Kim Hongjoong be the person who saves me?

The next day, Hongjoong texted me that he would pick me up at 6 p.m. and told me to wear comfortable clothes. Unsure of what he meant exactly, I opted for sweatpants, a white crop top, and white sneakers. I also brought along my black sweatshirt, as the weather was still cool in the middle of spring.

When I stepped out of my apartment and went down to wait for Hongjoong, I looked up at the sky and it was slightly cloudy, it might rain in the evening and before I could run back to get an umbrella Hongjoong was rolling near the sidewalk so I could jump in.

"Hello there." He smiled at me sweetly taking me in with his gaze.

"Hi," I said, nearly blushing under his sharp gaze. I quickly glanced at him and noticed he was wearing black shorts that reached his knees paired with a white T-shirt. We were unintentionally matching.

"Okay soo," He looked at me unbuckling his seatbelt. "I think you should drive because I don't want to risk it anymore." He chuckled a little embarrassed.

I chuckled at that too. "As you shouldn't, I told you." I opened the passenger seat's door to switch places. When we met at the front of the car, he pinched my waist and quickly sat in the passenger seat smiling.

"Buckle up Mr. Kim, if you want to survive," I said with a teasing voice buckling my seatbelt.

"Yes, my lady!" He saluted as I laughed loudly.

I started to drive as Hongjoong told me the directions where we were going because I had no idea where we were going and he didn't want to tell me so I just drove where he said.

In the meantime, we carpooled a bit, because it's a must, and we both love shouting along to music. I put on Beach Weather's "Chit Chat," and we belted out the lyrics together.

"So come on, get your fix now, now, now"

"You drive me crazy with that"

"Chit chat do you want that"

"Or wanna take me home tonight?"

"I thought I told you, I really need you sugar"

"I'm going supernova"

When we arrived at a parking lot, I looked around, trying to figure out where we were. My jaw dropped when I realized.

"Are we going to play tennis?" I looked at him wide-eyed.

He chuckled sweetly. "Yes, if it's okay with you. Do you know how to play it?" His smile never left his lips and I loved it.

"Hmm, let me think…" I looked straight as we were still in the car. "I actually hate tennis." I side glanced at him waiting for his reaction.

He gasped forming an 'o' with his mouth. "Really? How dare you Kwon Y/N?" He seemed like he couldn't believe what I said, but this was the truth, tennis just seemed boring looking at it on the TV.

"Maybe, but just maybe you could change that." I smiled at him as I opened the door and got out of the car.

He got out as well and went to the back of the car to get his equipment and there was also a basket which I assumed was for a picnic.

"Ahw, is that a picnic basket?" I looked at him leaning against my car.

He closed the rear door with the basket and the equipment in hand and he slowly approached me hovering over me.

"Is there any problem with it?" he whispered; his lips so close to mine that I could feel his warm breath. His caramel scent enveloped me, making my knees weak.

"Not at all, it’s sweet," I whispered eyeing between his eyes and lips as I bit my lips. He looked so hot like this; I didn't know if I could keep it up anymore.

"Then let me teach you how to play tennis," he said, leaning close to my ear as he nuzzled into my neck. "God, I love how you smell," he whispered. At that moment, I needed air, feeling like I might faint. It felt like being a teenager again when my first crush approached me, leaving me uncertain if this was good or not.

I would've never thought I was going a date—I guess it was a date—with the professional tennis player Kim Hongjoong, who always seemed like an asshole in the videos I saw of him, and my first impression as a therapist wasn't also the best of him, but the truth is, he is just a lost man in the middle of his twenties who had none left in this world only tennis was the only thing that kept him going, that slowly slipped through his hands as well. But I really hoped he was going to find his way back to the passion that kept him going and I am going to help him find the way back to the light not because this was my job, but because in this short time, I started to care for him, not like I cared for my other clients, it was deeper and something invisible connected us that I couldn't name.

The tennis court was empty, illuminated by streetlights, with Hongjoong heading to the entrance to switch on the five floodlights. The court glowed green and a light shade of orange, divided by a net in the middle. I stepped onto the field, looking around in awe, as I had never been on a tennis court before. To our right were the seats where the crowd would cheer for the players. I was certain that one day I would be sitting there, cheering for Hongjoong with all my heart if everything went the right way.

"So," Hongjoong broke the silence. "Do you like it?" I turned as I saw his sweet smile.

"It's okay, I guess," I teased with a smile. I noticed he had already started unpacking the things he brought from the basket, laying a blanket near the net. He looked so sweet like this.

"I didn't know you were the romantic type," I said slowly approaching him, kneeling next to him to help him unpack all the food and sweets he brought.

"Well, it depends on the person." He side-glanced at me as he sat down on the blanket.

"Oh, should I feel special?" I sat down next to him, our shoulders slightly touching as I looked at him with serious eyes.

He looked back at me, tilting his head to the side and giving me a sharp glance. At that moment, I realized how close he was. His blonde hair perfectly highlighted his sharp eyes, and his cheekbones had a slight pink tint. My heart started to race, my body felt hotter than ever, and he hadn't even kissed me. I wondered if I could survive a kiss from him. I glanced at his thin lips, curved slightly in a smile. Up close, his face looked even more chiseled. He was so handsome that I finally understood why he was a famous tennis player. It wasn't just his skills; it was also how incredibly good-looking he was.

"Will we eat sometime or you will stare more?" Hongjoong's voice brought me back from my inner thoughts and as I realized I was staring the whole time I felt as my face got a little warm.

"Don't get over yourself, you did the same." I chuckled as I looked at the food and picked up a sandwich with ham and salad.

"How could I have not stared?" His voice came out low as he picked some green grapes and threw them into his mouth.

"Oh, shut up," I said, playfully bumping him with my shoulder as he chuckled.

"Make me." He leaned closer and smiled at me teasingly.

I laughed at that. "Does this work on other girls too?" I asked, hiding my mouth behind my hands as I tried to swallow the sandwich, nearly choking in the process.

He shrugged. "Don't know, haven't tried it."

"So, the bad guy image you created, isn't true?" I said looking at him suspiciously, finishing my sandwich.

"The media created that image, not me." He looked ahead as he supported himself on his hands behind his back, his legs straight.

"It must be hard, like…" I glanced at his side profile. "They follow every step of yours and they are waiting for you when are you going to make a mistake."

"It was hard at the beginning, there weren't anyone beside me, I was all alone…" He leaned forward and pulled his legs up his elbows on his knees. "But I got used to it with time and didn't give a shit about them."

I did the same, pulling my knees to my chest and hugging them. "Your parents…what happened with them?" I looked at him with soft eyes. "If you don't want to talk about it, it's okay."

"No, no, I want to. It was a long time ago…" He glanced at me briefly before looking down at his hands in front of him.

"They both died in a car accident when I was only 16. Just before the accident, I had started playing tennis. My dad encouraged me to play, and I couldn’t be more grateful for introducing me to this sport. After the accident, my sister and I were sent to an orphanage." His voice faltered slightly. I reached my hand toward his back and gently caressed it. "They even separated us because of the age gap. She was only 5 back then. We didn't have any relatives who could adopt us. So, I waited two years until I could take Byeol with me."

"It must have been difficult, you were only 18 and taking care of her and yourself at that age…" I looked at him as tears welled up in my eyes. This man went through hell and he was still here smiling.

"Yeah, well, she died too, in another accident... How is any of this fair, Y/N?" He rested his head on my shoulder, and I gently brushed my fingers through his hair.

"It's not fair at all. Nothing is fair. But we just can't do anything, we have to keep moving for them right?" I traced my hands from his hair to his cheeks, to his jaw to pull him up so I could look into his eyes.

"Right?" I asked him again caressing his cheeks.

"Right." He smiled genuinely at me.

He sighed and stood up. "Okay, enough of the sad moments. Let me teach you some real tennis," he said, offering his right hand to help me up. I accepted it, and he pulled me to my feet.

"So, this is your side and the other is mine." He pointed at the other side of the field and went to grab the rackets and the tennis ball.

"What if we play a game?" I asked, observing his reaction.

"What game?" he asked curiously.

"We ask each other questions every time we pass the ball," I suggested.

He looked excited and agreed, saying, "I'm in."

With that, he handed me one of the rackets. "You have to hold the racket like this," he began, explaining the main rules of tennis quickly and enthusiastically. The way he explained it, I almost felt like starting a tennis career (though I won't).

We started passing the ball to each other, and at first, I wasn't very good at it. But with practice, I improved, and soon we could pass the ball to each other at least five times without it going out or accidentally hitting Hongjoong. We were making progress.

As we played, we asked each other questions, gradually getting to know each other better. I had so much fun the whole time; I couldn't remember the last time I laughed this much. In recent years, my life hadn't been filled with happiness and laughter. It was all about work and making my clients happy.

It was never about me, but I realized I couldn’t have a life were I just serve people, trying to fix them, my happiness was also important and Hongjoong made me realize this, even though he was the same—his worldview was similar to mine. We always saw our little siblings in the back of our minds, even though they would've wanted us to be happy, but we were too stuck in self-pity and how life was unfair, we didn't notice how much we destroyed ourselves. So, we just need to put it behind us, they are always going to live in our hearts, no matter what. We are going to live for them.

As we passed the ball to each other and jogged in place, I started feeling like I might collapse. I wasn't the fittest person on earth, and after half an hour of playing, I was tired. We were so engrossed in the game that we didn't even notice the dark clouds gathering above us. It wasn't until a sudden rainstorm caught us off-guard that we realized, standing there soaked in the middle of the field, looking at each other and laughing.

Instead of caring about the rain, we continued playing. But then I cheated by not hitting the ball back properly, and Hongjoong jumped over the net that separated us, chasing after me. I screamed like a 12-year-old, our inner children coming to life as we ran, our sibling-like spirits taking over. But I didn't stand a chance—he caught my waist from behind and twirled me around. I laughed so hard from the surprise and joy that I couldn't stop.

"Got you!" He chuckled, as he took me down and hugged me from behind as we both were soaked the rain still pouring.

Then he slowly turned me around to face him. He was smiling so sweetly, his wet blonde hair glued to his forehead just as my hair. He reached his hand towards my face to brush off a string of wet hair behind my ear. His fingers tracing down from my ear to my neck, then to my jaw up to my lips where waterdrops dropped down to my already soaked top. He traced my bottom lips gently wiping the drops away. Our expressions turned serious, every goofiness leaving our soul as we both stared at the other taking in the other as the rain made us more beautiful. He looked so breathtaking with the passion burning in his eyes, his lips parted and the waterdrops that were on his lips made him more attractive. As his hands cupped both sides of my jaw, he slowly started to close the distance between us.

"I wanted to kiss you since the first time I saw you." He whispered onto my lips, his eyes never leaving mine.

"It didn't seem like that." I teased him with a slight smile.

"I'm sorry…" He leaned his forehead against mine.

"Just shut up and kiss me!" I said to him seriously.

He chuckled and finally closed the distance not even thinking a second, his lips crushed into mine like it was destined to each other. Our lips moved in synchrony as I could taste the rain that still soaked us with its full power, but I couldn't mind, because at that moment I didn't feel anything except Hongjoong's lips on mine, that tasted like sweet caramels mixed with the taste of rain. It felt like I was in paradise, as his hands moved from my jaw down my spine to my waist, he grabbed it and pulled me impossibly closer to him, our bodies melting together, closing the rain out. It felt like a relief, kissing him like my soul finally found its peace. When one of Hongjoong's hands dug into my hair at my nape, I unconsciously parted my lips and his tongue immediately found its way into my mouth as I wrapped my hands around his neck deepening the kiss. I felt like I might faint between his arms, as I had no oxygen left and he just simply made me feel weak like I could slip through his hands easily. But his arms held me strongly like a pillar and made me feel safe.

When we separated, he leaned his forehead against mine, out of breath and soaked till bone he leaned again towards my lips and gave little pecks onto my wet lips like he couldn't get enough of me.

"Let's go, we are going to catch a cold even though it might be too late." I smiled up at him, my hands still around his neck.

"Can I take you to my house?" He asked with a sweet smile his voice barely hearable because of the rain as his hands were still on my waist holding me close to his body. "Well technically you are going to take us to my house but you know." He chuckled.

"Yeah, let's go," I said, pulling away from him, still feeling the effects of the kiss that had made my legs weak. It was strange kissing Hongjoong, yet at the same time, it felt like the most natural thing in the world. I never imagined someone could make me smile the way he did that day.

Since my little brother passed away, I often felt undeserving of happiness. But today, this realization hit me hard. He would have wanted me to be happy, not to dwell in self-destruction. I tried to be happy, but I never felt truly happy, and I wasn't sure if that was even possible. However, right now, with Hongjoong by my side, I felt like I was on the path towards happiness.

When we arrived at Hongjoong's house, I was utterly fascinated. I already knew he was wealthy, being a professional athlete, but the house I saw surpassed all expectations—truly, I'm not exaggerating. It was colossal, almost like a modern castle. The exterior boasted white walls with expansive windows, sharp architectural features, and a garden adorned with delicate garden lamps. I even caught sight of a pool in the back.

Parking the car in the garage, we entered through a door that led directly into the living room—a space that was larger than my entire apartment. The main colors were black and white, with touches of brown. In the center of the room sat a black couch flanked by armchairs on each side. Opposite the sofa was a massive TV that seemed bigger than me. The walls were adorned with Renaissance paintings of various landscapes, which I admired until Hongjoong brought me some clothes, urging me to shower and change out of my soaked attire that clung uncomfortably to my skin. I hesitated to sit on the luxurious-looking couch, opting instead to explore the expansive space.

Moving slowly towards the fireplace—because of course, there was one—I observed the framed pictures displayed there. I guessed correctly that the photos were of Hongjoong with his little sister, and a picture of his parents when they were younger. Nearby were trophies he had won, along with a photo of a younger Hongjoong on a tennis field, beaming proudly while clutching a trophy larger than himself. His smile in that photo was so joyful and proud it touched my heart deeply. At that moment, I resolved to bring back that carefree Hongjoong—the one who only cared about winning games and making his little sister and parents proud. I wanted to see him smile like that again.

And when my eyes narrowed further it stuck on a framed picture that felt both familiar and strange at the same time. I had this picture at my home, framed but this picture was in Hongjoong’s house. My heart began to race, and I felt light-headed. The picture showed kids smiling happily to the camera with so much happiness, radiating pure joy. But I couldn't smile, because my little brother stared back at me from that picture.

"Here are some clothes that may fit you, I hope they are okay." I heard Hongjoong's voice behind me, but it seemed so far away I could barely hear what he said. I felt like suddenly I couldn't breathe, my lungs were full of air but I couldn't get myself to breathe it out. It stuck, just as my world stopped, at that moment and I couldn't believe what I saw.

Then I suddenly felt hands on my shoulders that brought me back to Hongjoong's living room, as I was still staring at the framed picture.

"Hey, are you okay?" I heard Hongjoong's worried voice on my left, as he was still holding me, turning me to face him, by my shoulders.

I slowly tilted my head up to meet his gaze, and I didn't even notice tears were falling down my cheeks, Hongjoong's concerned eyes met mine, filled with worry and uncertainty.

"Did something happen Y/N?" He reached his hand towards my cheeks to wipe my tears away.

I could finally breathe out the air that was stuck in my lungs and slowly reached my hands towards the picture bringing it between us. "I-is…w-was this your sister's class?" My voice came out unsure and weak as I felt I couldn't breathe again.

Hongjoong slowly took the picture from my hand, his expression softening into a slight smile. "Yes, she's in the middle. They took this on the day of the accident," he said quietly, pointing at his little sister in the photograph. His smile carried a tinge of sadness.

That was when I couldn't hold back anymore. I broke down, sobbing uncontrollably. Hongjoong looked at me with wide eyes, clearly bewildered by my sudden outburst. But as I gazed at the picture again, I realized something shocking—next to his little sister was a smiling boy who was unmistakably my brother. They were holding hands. It couldn't be true. It couldn't be that we both lost our siblings in the same accident and that they were friends, perhaps even best friends.

I buried my hands in my face as tears streamed down, my legs giving way beneath me. Before I could collapse completely, Hongjoong caught me and held me in his arms. I felt hollow, like an empty box that once held cherished memories but was now vacant. We both ended up on the floor, with Hongjoong holding me close, whispering comforting words and gently stroking my back and hair as I sobbed into his neck.

After a while, I began to feel a bit calmer. I realized it was best to explain to Hongjoong why I was crying before he thought I was irrational.

My hands reached towards the framed picture on the floor and my fingers traced through the middle where our siblings were holding hands. "This is my brother next to your sister. They are holding hands." I pointed at my brother on the picture whispering it in a weak voice.

Silence hung heavy between us, and when I didn't hear a response, I lifted my gaze to find Hongjoong's head tilted toward the picture in between us. He was staring at our siblings captured in that moment. Gently, I reached out and touched his jaw, turning his face towards mine. His eyes glistened with tears that rolled down his cheeks, each one precious as it traced a path across his face. With my thumb, I wiped away the tears and then embraced him tightly, climbing onto his lap. His arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me close to him, offering comfort and solace in our shared grief.

"At least they are together up above," I whispered into his ears as tears fell from my eyes again. It was me now, who tried to comfort him, as he did before without any word. I caressed his back then my fingers brushed through his blonde hair from his nape his hair was still a little wet. I put a little distance between us and leaned my forehead against his. "Are you okay?" I whispered it close to his lips.

"At least they are together." He repeated my words. "And we are here for each other too." His hands found their way up to my jaw and cupped it as the barely lit living room lights illuminated his face.

"We are," I whispered as I smiled at him slightly.

Then he pulled me closer to his lips as he cupped my face and I immediately felt at ease as his lips sealed against mine with passion I never felt in my life. Caramel scent embraces us with warmth, our soaked clothes are long forgotten. His lips moved against mine with a burning desire that whispered a promise between us to be there for each other forever.

The next thing I know is me being pushed against the wet wall of the bathroom, the water falling on us from the shower head above us, Hongjoong's lips on mine, our saliva mixing with the water, our hands interlaced above my head as we kissed each other with fire even the water falling on us couldn't stop the burning desire we felt for each other as his lips found their way down my neck, sucking on it, leaving little love marks here and there, as quiet moans escaped my mouth. The bathroom's walls echo the sounds our mouths made. As he whispered words into my ear that promised us a bright future together as we united our faith.

Two souls destined to meet, to heal from the sorrow their siblings' deaths left in their lives. Two souls that were destined to each other so they could find their way back to life, that is full of vibrant colors again, together.

A/N: Soo, that happened, lol. I just wanted to tell you I might write a part 2 for this story, only if I feel it tbh, because it is really just the beginning of their story. I have already some ideas of how I could continue it because let's think about it. Hongjoong is famous and lives in the media, and the paparazzi always find out everything so how would the media affect their relationship?

(Ateez masterlist)

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dixons-sunshine · 5 months ago

Text

Yielding Isn't My Middle Name—Chapter Three | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Chapter Summary: Your suspicions regarding the community you were trapped in only heightened with each passing second. Daryl was mad at you, and you had confirmation that you were pregnant. Things couldn't get worse, could it?

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of pregnancy, blood and injuries.

Word count: 2.7k.

A/n: I feel like this is all over the place, plot-wise. However, another chapter was highly requested (by a few anons asking about it), so I stuck it out and this was born. I also feel like it ends on an awkward note, but I wanted to end it on a cliffhanger. I don't know if I did it right lol. Anyways, I hope you like this!

Taglist: @dixons-girl89 @jupiter1700 @enlightndone @shadowcitrine @ddamm @caseylicious @celtic-crossbow

“Alright, then.” Doctor Owen Miller tightly secured the bandage around Daryl's wrist. “The bandages should be able to come off in two to three days. The rope burns weren't that severe. You can feel really lucky about that.”

The doctor's suspiciously friendly voice barely reached the archer's ears. His ocean coloured eyes stared off at nothing in particular, his mind desperately attempting to wrap around that one pivotal fact the doctor had accidentally exposed to the unsuspecting father. Due to that fact, about a million thoughts were flooding through his brain—pregnant. You're pregnant. Baby. Father. He was going to be a father. He needed to get you out of there. He needed to keep you safe.

“Liam should be made aware that I expect to see the lady again tomorrow,” Doctor Owen told Mariah, subtly motioning over to you. “With the beating Peter gave her, I want to monitor the baby. I want to ensure that these two don't lose their child due to that asshole's—” The doctor cut himself off and took a deep breath before continuing. “Peter's recklessness. Please bring that to his attention.” With that, the doctor walked towards the door and opened it, momentarily stopping to add one last thing. “I'm off for the rest of day. Don't forget to lock up once your done.”

Mariah nodded as she helped you from the bed, careful not to disturb your injuries. “Of course.” She turned towards you and gave you a hesitant smile. “Ma'am, how are you feeling?”

How were you feeling? There were at least a million answers to that question: Slightly happy. Angry. Sad. Frustrated. But above all else? Overwhelmed. You were truly and undeniably extremely overwhelmed. You now had concrete evidence that you had a life growing within you, and although you were ecstatic at the news, you knew there were far more pressing matters at hand. For one, you were a thousand percent sure that your husband was pissed at you for keeping your pregnancy a secret and insisting on going with him beyond the safety the walls of Alexandria provided. On another note, you were even more certain that the supposed safe zone the two of you found yourselves trapped in wasn't all what Liam was making it out to be. That almost definitely meant that blood would be shed when you and Daryl attempted your escapes.

“Ma'am?” Mariah prompted, snapping her fingers in your face to grab your attention. “How are you feeling?” she repeated the question in a softer tone.

You shrugged and cast your eyes down towards your feet. “Okay, I guess,” you mumbled out weakly, your voice unknowingly snapping Daryl out of his trance and redirecting his fiery gaze to you. “I've had it way worse than this before.”

Mariah chuckled before she took a step back. “I bet,” she began, picking up the tray with the various tools and ointments that were used to clean and fix up your wounds. “You look like a real tough gal. You wouldn't have survived if you didn't get roughed up a couple of times, right?”

“Right,” you agreed in a mutter, your eyes hesitantly moving to meet those of your husband. You flinched a bit when you were met with a glare, but you didn't blame him. You knew he'd be pissed, and rightfully so. You just didn't expect him to be so open about his anger. Well, open by your standards. To the regular eye, his anger would be mistaken for the signature Daryl scowl, but you knew better. This was different. He was angry. And he was angry at you, which made it so much worse.

Mariah placed the tray on one of the tables before turning back to face you and Daryl. However, before she could speak up, a voice could be heard through the room; a voice that you had grown to know and hate, all within a few... Minutes? Hours? You didn't even know at this point.

“Mariah, love,” the voice of your captor, Liam, rung through the air from the walkie talkie that was sat on one of the shelves. “It was just brought to my attention that Doctor Miller is done with the new recruits. Please bring them up to the house for me.”

Mariah sighed, her steadily relaxing demeanour being replaced by that earlier nervous, mouse-like stature she had when you had originally met her. She walked towards the door and opened it. “Please follow me,” she squeaked out nervously, her eyes darting around.

You slowly walked towards her, not sparing Daryl a glance because you didn't want to see the anger behind those beautiful blue eyes of his. Besides, as mad as the archer was at you, he would never let you face that man alone. He would much rather die, that much you knew.

Daryl grumbled to himself and followed behind you, proving your point. Together, in silence, the two of you followed the woman out of the makeshift medical building and up to the big farmhouse you vaguely remembered spotting earlier—the farmhouse Liam had mentioned you and Daryl would be staying in with him. In no time at all, the three of you were walking up the steps of the majestic, white home, and in through the front door.

The inside of the home looked even more beautiful than the outside. It seemed as if though the horrors of the outside world were never heard of for this house. The floors were shining, the walls were decorated with all sorts of artwork, and there was even a television resting in the living room. However, you doubted the object even worked, because you hadn't spotted solar panels or anything that could generate power, so the thing was more of a decoration than anything else.

You were snapped out of your rather unnecessary train of thought by the feeling of someone's hand resting on your shoulder. The touch was all too familiar—it was your husband who was resting his hand on your shoulder. A subtle glance to your left proved your suspicions correct. So your husband didn't hate you. You considered that a win. However, you were confused as to why he felt the need to do that. He rarely did that in public, unless he was trying to comfort you, or to refrain himself from launching a punch in someone's direction. So why would he��

Your thoughts were cut off by the obnoxious sound of an all too familiar British accented voice. “Ah, well would you look at you?” Liam began as he descended down the stairs, his green eyes alight with invitation. However, whether or not it was genuine, you were yet to find out. “You're looking better, Y/N. Doctor Miller did a good job. A shower and a set of fresh clothes will certainly make you look rather ravishing.” Daryl's hand tightened on your shoulder, and you brought your hand to rest over his, a subtle way of trying to calm him down. Liam noticed, however, and sent Daryl a reassuring smile with a raise of his hands. “Woah, there, champ. No need to get all feisty. I already have a lady of my own. I was just making an observation.”

“Observation, my ass. Shouldn't even be lookin' at her, ya stupid fuck,” you heard Daryl mumble under his breath, and you had to refrain from giggling. Daryl wasn't a jealous guy perse, and he certainly wouldn't stop you from befriending other guys, but he definitely had his moments. Although he had other reasons to want to knock this guy out, it was rather cute to know that he didn't want Liam to look at you that way.

Liam, thankfully, was blissfully unaware of the archer's hateful words, instead turning to regard Mariah, who had been quiet during the whole exchange. “Hey, my beautiful girl,” he greeted her, opening his arms as an invitation for a hug.

Mariah hesitantly walked into his arms, tensing slightly when he pressed a soft kiss to the side of her head. You were sure to make a mental note about that. You didn't know why exactly Mariah was so scared of her husband, but you knew it wasn't good. If his own wife was terrified of him for god knows what reason, you didn't even want to know what he could do to complete strangers.

After he was satisfied with the hug, Liam pulled back and turned back to you and Daryl. He was about to say something until an unknown man barged into the room, breathless and sweating. Liam scowled angrily at the man, swiftly pushing Mariah aside. “Reggie, this better be really fucking important. You know how I feel about being interrupted when interviewing new recruits.”

The man—Reggie—quickly nodded. “I know, I know.” He panted breathlessly and leaned against the wall in an attempt to recapture his breath. “There was a man who demanded to speak to you. He refuses to speak to anyone but the leader.”

Liam stared at Reggie for a few seconds, his face giving absolutely nothing away, until he nodded and turned back to you and Daryl. “Please make yourselves comfortable. I promise I won't be long. Mariah,” he began, turning to his wife and lazily waving towards the door that lead to another room. “Please make our guests something to eat. I'm sure they must be absolutely famished. Oh, and get them something to drink as well.” Liam sent the two of you a smile. “I hope wine is alright. I'd offer up some scotch, but that's really hard to come by and I don't fancy wine that much, you see.”

“Liam!” Reggie exclaimed impatiently. “We got to go!”

“For fuck's sake, alright!” Liam roared loudly, his eyes alight with a fiery glare. He roughly pushed past the man and stormed out of the door, Reggie having to jog behind him to keep up. The door closed behind them with a slam, and just like that, you and Daryl were left alone with Mariah for the second time that day.

Mariah let out a small sigh, and you could see her visibly relax without Liam's presence. It was odd to you that the woman felt more at ease with two complete strangers who could turn around and end up hurting—or killing—her, and it only fueled your reluctance to trust Liam. There was something very off about that man, and you were determined to find out what.

Mariah turned to look at you, her eyes darting between your face and your stomach. “Um, are you sure you want wine? I mean, I don't want to force you to do anything, but—”

“It's okay,” you cut her off, sending her a small, tight-lipped smile. “Water is fine, thank you.”

Mariah nodded and motioned towards the couches. “Please, feel free to make yourselves comfortable. I won't be long.” With that, she scurried off into the kitchen, leaving you and Daryl alone in the living room.

Without the company of others, the air surrounding the two of you got tense very quickly. Neither of you made a move to sit down, but Daryl did move away from you, his warm, comforting touch leaving your shoulder. He refused to make eye contact with you, and it broke your heart. You knew he was mad at you, and he had every right to be, but it certainly didn't mean that it didn't hurt. You were certain it would be up to you to clear the air, and that's what you'd do—whether Mariah heard it or not.

“Daryl—” you began hesitantly, but you were instantly shut down.

“Don't,” he muttered bitterly, his back still turned to you. His shoulders were visibly tensed and even though you couldn't see it, you knew his jaw was as well. He was trying hard not to lash out at you, and you had to give him credit for his self-control.

However, you weren't having any of it. You were nothing if not extremely persistent, so you'd stop at nothing until you'd had a chance to explain yourself. “No, I'm not gonna stop until you've let me speak my mind.”

Daryl whipped around to face you, his eyes finally meeting yours. His eyes were set in a steely glare, but you didn't back down. “Where could ya possibly start explainin' yerself to me?” he spat bitterly. “Yer pregnant and ya kept tha' from me? Ya begged and pleaded to come with me on the run today and put yerself and our baby in danger! Now 'cause'a tha', yer in fuckin' danger. If ya had jus' told me tha' ya were pregnant, maybe things would'a been different. Maybe we would'a been safe back home. Maybe I never would'a suggested the run. Maybe I would'a let Rick come with instead'a ya. Maybe—”

You cut Daryl off by pulling him into a hug, nuzzling your face into his chest. He froze for a few seconds, hesitating to return the hug, but ultimately wrapped his arms around you. He rested his chin on top of your head, closing his eyes as he felt the anger drain from his body. He never could stay mad at you. However, it didn't mean that he wasn't still upset that you were in danger.

“I'm sorry,” you whispered against his chest. “I should've told you I was pregnant, I know that. I just didn't want to say anything until I was a hundred percent sure. That's why I wanted to go on that run with you. I wanted to find a few pregnancy test. I guess I could've just asked you to do that, but I didn't want you to freak out. I was... Scared. I was scared that if you knew that I thought I was pregnant, something would go wrong. I don't know what I expected to go wrong, but I just... I promise I was gonna tell you after I knew for sure. You have to believe me. I—”

“Hey, s'okay,” Daryl reassured you, pulling back to look into your eyes. Daryl was feeling all kinds of bad at that moment. You didn't deserve to be treated like that for any reason, especially not by him. You had your reasons for keeping it a secret from him, and he couldn't blame you for it. He was upset, but the two of you could figure that out later. For now, all he wanted to do was get you the hell out of that place, and to do that, he needed a clear mind. “M'sorry fer reactin' like tha'. M'upset ya didn't tell me, but there ain't nothin' we can do 'bout it now. We jus' have to figure out a way to get the fuck outta here. We can figure the rest out later, alrigh'?”

You nodded. “Okay.”

The two of you practically sprung apart when the door flung open again. However, instead of being met by Liam, you were met by somebody completely different. The man came strutting in like he owned the place. The man stopped and regarded the two of you with an indifferent look. “And you two are?” he questioned, plopping himself down on one of the couches.

You shared a look with Daryl, neither of you making any attempts to answer the question. However, you didn't need to, because Liam soon entered the home as well, sending you and Daryl a suspiciously friendly smile. “Sorry for disappearing, champs,” he began. “He was the one causing an uproar by the gates. This guy can make quite the spectacle when he wants to, don't you, brother?” The two men shared a laugh, before Liam calmed down and regarded the two of you. A look of realization dawned on his face, and he hit his forehead with his palm. “Oh, how rude of me. Allow me to introduce him. This is Lucas Davis, my brother and right-hand man.”

The man—Lucas—sent you a small smirk, his eyes trailing you up and down. And for some reason, you knew that the arrival of this man would only mean trouble.

©dixons-sunshine 2024. I do not give permission for my works to be copied, modified, adapted or translated to any other site or platform without evidence of my given consent.

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lexirosewrites · 3 months ago

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Long time Listener, First time caller here when it comes to Slick Sunday, Here's an AU I've been playing with. Basically the thought process for this one was "Wow, S3 Steve is a bit of a bimbo --> I wonder why he's like that --> the Russians must have put something in the mall water" and then making that "something" ABO bitching juice (STAY WITH ME I PROMISE IT MAKES SENSE). So, here's how it goes:

Alpha!Steve gets the job at Scoops Ahoy, normal setup all that, and while he's there he's making ample use of the sink in the back of the shop to hydrate throughout his shifts, even though there's a sign that clearly says "hey man don't drink this". Robin thinks he's being an idiot but Steve says that it'll be fine, its not like its contaminated with anything. Over the course of the summer though, Steve gradually notices something is up. His scent is all fucky, he's tired, and omegas aren't responding to him the way they used to. But he brushes it off and thinks "ok its just because I'm tired" and carries on. This comes to a head when the Scoops Troop gets caught in the Russian base. During the interrogation one of them notices Steve's predicament and laughs about it before dumping him in the room with Robin. Steve doesn't catch much other than the word "omega" and "сука" (Which is Russian for Bitch). He sort of puts together what they mean, but it doesn't click until after the fight with the Mind Flayer (One notable mention about that, Billy survives with major injuries, this is a surprise tool that will help us later). Steve goes home, and basically the moment he feels even a tiny bit safe, his body launches itself into a presentation heat. Which obviously scares the fuck out of him because what the fuck, it's impossible for bitching to happen without another alpha, but here he is, with a brand spanking new cunt and a whole new set of problems to deal with. He and Robin work out that the forbidden sink water was probably laced with something meant to keep the people in the mall from noticing the weird shit that was happening, and by drinking it Steve may have ingested enough to make his dynamic shift. And not just shift, but shift HARD. See, Steve is now something of a super omega, he has stronger, more frequent heats, he's basically always in pre-heat, and according to the doctor who takes a look at him, they're not going to get any better. Oh and suppressants now do less than jack shit for him. So Steve is stuck like this, with no solution except the exceedingly notable exception of having a baby. The doctor says that if he's pupped, he may be able to control future heats better, and potentially return to normal baseline omega levels (returning to being an alpha isn't possible but Steve is not worried about that). After much deliberation, he decides that having a whole ass baby is better than the constant nightmare that is his heats, and so he hits up someone he thinks will be willing to hit it and quit it.

Eddie Munson does not want to hit it and quit it but the very pretty boy is basically begging him to help so he does, with the knowledge that Steve explicitly is not looking to be mated and will basically want nothing to do with him after, which is heartbreaking a little bit because Eddie wants to be a father SO BAD MAN. And if Steve had ASKED he would KNOW that but they're both idiots. So Steve is pupped, he's probably gonna get kicked out if he's unmated and he thinks Eddie wants nothing to do with him. He's not sure what to do about that until he's approached by Billy (Who in this au, despite being an asshole, is a morally okay guy who doesn't want to see Steve in trouble) Billy essentially offers to pose as the pups father, so Steve can have his damn baby in peace and get on with his life. Of course, he doesn't mean to catch feelings but we all know how this goes. Cut to a few months after Steve delivers twin pups, and who arrives at his door but Eddie, begging to see the pups and be present in their lives. What happens next is up to you, personally I am partial to Harringroveson (Metalsandwich) raising the pups together but there are opportunities for angst galore if you're down with that.

Happy Slick Sunday! Hope this is enjoyable lol :>

woohoo! accidentally bitching steve!🥳🥳🥳

#slick sunday #steddie #steddie omegaverse #omega steve harrington #alpha eddie munson #alpha billy hargrove #steve x eddie #metalsandwich #harringroveson #omegaverse harringroveson #omegaverse metalsandwich #a/b/o #omegaverse #my asks #mpreg #cw mpreg #tw mpreg

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greeniegirl23 · 15 days ago

Text

Isn't It.. Lovely? (Chapter 3#)

One month.

You had one month to make the biggest decision you'd ever make in your life. Part of you wondered why you didn't tell Alastor to have a field day with your Father's corpse, until you remembered that the other part of you still loved and cared for him.

He was still your Dad and once upon a time he was a very good Dad. Your parents were practically a power couple when your Mom was alive, after her death, depression fell on him like a bag of bricks. Leading him to find feeling again in glasses of wine and bottles of hard liquor.

Everyday you pondered on this, wondering if something would finally push you over the edge. If you'd snap and take revenge for yourself.

You didn't like having those thoughts. Yes, the idea of liberty made you feel elated but at the cost of the last family member you had? It was conflicting to say the least.

All that worrying came to a halt once Alastor began to solidify his place in your life.

Every night at 9pm sharp, when you were dressed for bed and your despicable abuser was asleep. Alastor used his powers to turn your radio into your own personal hotline. He was ever so happy to hear from you, happiest when he saw nor heard any traces of harm inflicted on you that day.

He soon found out that you were a curious one and a terrible over-sharer. It was obvious you never really had friends before and if you did, they left you behind long ago. You were as innocent and pure as the driven snow. Always asking questions about him, about Hell, and what it was like back when he was on Earth.

You loved when he told you more about his life. It was like he was reading you your own personal bedtime stories. Tales of speakeasies and the depression, parties that lasted from dusk to dawn, and of course, all of the completely justified crimes he committed before his demise.

As payment for his stories, you told him about your own and caught him up on modern day issues. He seemed especially interested in World War I, disappointed that he died a few years shy of when it started. You told him about your health science classes, your school, and he even became a good study buddy to help you out with your tests.

“Alright darling, last question.” He stated, a drum roll playing in the background. “If your patient performs a forward lunge, which plane of the body are they moving in?”

You chewed on the end of your pencil. “..Coronal?”

A bell dinging made you smile. “Correct! Well done darling, but I'd like for you to work on your confidence when you answer. No one wants a doctor that's unsure of what they're doing.”

“Yeah..I just get so unsure sometimes. I think I'm more scared of being wrong than being right.”

He chuckled. “Do not fret my dear! I've been doing these little pop quizzes with you long enough to know you have a sharp mind. Confidence is a tool that will solidify your place in the career you plan to pursue, so don't be afraid to utilize it more.” His voice was so kind and mentoirish. It felt like he was giving you life lessons almost every time he talked.

On one hand that made you embarrassed. Like these were things you should have already known but you didn't, but you decided to give yourself some grace. Life was different for you than everyone else, so obviously there would be some things you didn't experience to gain knowledge from.

You placed your pencil down and sat cross legged in your chair. Not being the type of person who could sit still, nor do things normally. “Is that how you become a radio host? Because you were super confident?”

There was a pause. “Well, it was something that helped. Being a professional at what I do required more than just believing in myself. Most people think it's easy, but it has its challenges. For example, I used to rehearse my script in the mirror to stop myself from unconsciously going ‘umm’ every 10-30 seconds. It also aided in preventing myself from fumbling my words.”

“That sounds like solid advice.” You smiled. “I should start keeping a journal when you're around and call it ‘Life Lessons As Taught By The Radio Demon.’”

A loud cackling broke out over the radio. “Ah, so the girl does have a sense of humor. A good one at that!” He said proudly. “And here I thought you were all doom and gloom.”

“Hey! I'll have you know staying positive at all times can be very exhausting.” You huffed, placing your hands on your hips in a pouty attitude. “It's really hard to smile when it feels like the world is against you...”

There was a stagnant silence in the air as you turned your head to gaze out the window, watching the rain drizzle from the grey sky. It was your favorite weather, even more so because of the friend it allowed you to find.

Alastor pondered over your words before he took a deep breath. “That leads to a question that I've been meaning to ask you for some time now. It's a rather sensitive one so if you'd prefer not to answer, I would understand.”

Giving the plushie your attention, Alastor's tone turned concerned as he asked. “I can’t help but wonder, Darling, where is your mother..?”

Without missing a beat, you replied. “Oh, my Dad murdered her.”

A sharp microphone screech omitted from the radio. It was safe to say he most definitely was not expecting that..

Not because he can't see your degenerate of a guardian doing something of the sort, he was actually more curious as to how someone as sloppy as your Dad could get away with something like that. No. What got him was even though you were saying words that no child should ever say until they're well into adulthood, you smiled. A soft one, filled with unspeakable pain and a lust for something you could not yet gain.

You could feel him hesitating to ask you some more questions on the topic, so you decided that you could quickly give him your life story. “Whenever anyone asks about it, I always tell them that she passed from cancer but, that's not true..”

Alastor’s signal chirped in curiosity, but he made sure to sound sympathetic. “What happened?..”

You chuckled a bitter melody.

“She was born a diabetic and I was around twelve.. Everyday my Mom took her medicine, the diabetes is actually what led her to becoming a doctor in the first place. Every morning my Dad would make her coffee, as a way of telling her he loved her. I snuck a few sips before only to find out she made it black, when she caught me she told me “Mommy can't have sugar…”

When I turned fourteen, they started arguing. A lot. I can remember hearing them sometimes. Mom threatened to leave him because he was starting to grow a gambling issue and she was tired of taking the brunt of most of the bills. He promised to change and that's when everything started to go downhill.. Weeks went by, she just started getting sicker and sicker seemingly out of nowhere. Still had her morning coffee though. I'd make it for her sometimes and she reminded me “Mommy can't have sugar.” Hardly able to do anything for herself, much less take her medicine. Of course he said he'd do it, he promised me he did when he took me to school..He still made her coffee, before he went to work and after she had been made bed bound..I thought it was a lie, that it wasn't true until I realized that she died that morning with a cup of coffee in her hand..”

A sour laugh left your lips, as you recalled that day you came home from school and found her lying there with blood on the pillow, blood that she had been coughing up for almost a month.

“That bastard was poisoning her with fucking sugar… Everyday he was putting a little bit in her morning coffee and not giving her the insulin she needed. She was a Type 1 diabetic and he did all of it for some fuckin insurance money..” You sighed, running a hand through your hair. Before yanking it in frustration and punching your fist through the nearest wall, your face was blank and unmoving for a second not even flinching as you removed your bruised fist from the drywall. “Mama couldn't have sugar..”

Alastor listened as you explained your mother's demise. His distaste for your father grew more and more as he recalled memories of his own childhood. He'd never tell you to your face, but he could see parts of himself in you from his younger years, if lead in the proper manner, you could become quite the promising killer.

He shook his head. Not the best thoughts to be having right now, not while you're on the edge of a mental breakdown.

��I..Would be lying to you if I said I knew what to tell you about such an awful situation..” He stated hesitantly. “But I can say that I am sorry, that you had to deal with something like this so early in life.”

“Don't be sorry, there's nothing to be done about it…She's gone now and I have to get away from him.” You declared, looking at your now bruised hand. “Now you understand why I made that wish. On any day, at any time, for any reason, that man could decide to kill me. To kill his own daughter in cold blood..”

Alastor hummed. “If you know this, then let me help you." He demanded. "I cannot sit idly by forever my dear, these links to your world are only good for short times to prevent other demons from causing other problems. No one understands the severity of this situation more than you. I would love to help you exact revenge on that putrid sack of skin but you must choose before it is too late and I am no longer around..

You sat in silence as Alastor did his best to help you come to a decision. As much as you hated being rushed, you couldn't deny that he was correct. But the decision was hard, harder than you thought it would be considering the fact that you still loved your father and the man he used to be…

All these thoughts ran through your head on a daily basis, everytime they made you wanna curl up and cry. Snatching up the plush doll, you gave it a good squeeze and hid your face in your knees, wishing that your Mom was still around.

The Radio Demon pursed his lips in thought, he wasn't good with others emotions unless he could feed off of the entertainment from it, much less comforting them. There was nothing entertaining about this, about you being sad. He didn't like it for a reason he couldn't explain, perhaps because you were so bubbly in the beginning?

You weren't trying to do anything miraculous, you just wanted to live your life in peace and possibly get justice for your mother. That was something he could understand. He wouldn't mind completely decimating your Dad, truly he wouldn't! It'd be on the house for you, truly you're the most pitiful soul he's come across in a long while.

He supposed he could pull a few quick strings to make you feel better in the moment. To bring back that smile of yours, full of wonder and a desire for life.

As you continued to seek shelter in your knees, you felt a gentle touch caress the top of your head, sharp claws softly scraping your scalp in an attempt to comfort you.

Wait..

WHAT?!

Quickly yet carefully, you snapped your head up to see none other than The Radio Demon crouched down right in front of you. His hand still rested on the crown of the head as you both stared at each other for a moment.

“I'm sorry.. am I dreaming?” You blurted out.

Alastor smiled, laughing in a low tone at your completely gobsmacked expression. “Fortunately for you, the answer is no my dear. As a gentleman, it'd be rude of me not to at least attempt to help a lady in emotional distress.”

You were still dazed and confused about him being here, much less t o u c h i n g you!! “Ida..I-- I didn't know you could-”

“Travel through the radio? It is quite possible but I only do so on rare occasions since it requires a fair bit of my power that cannot be overexerted in one day.”

Standing up to his full height, you realized how tall he was and thanked God that the ceiling was high enough for his antlers not to scrape. Crawling out of your chair, you immediately felt like an ant compared to him, the top of your head barely came to his collarbone.

“Holy crap you're tall." You blurted again. "I mean, I knew that you were tall but, you're really, really tall..”

Smirking with pride, he twirled his cane expertly like the show off you knew and loved. “7”0 exactly my dear, a foot taller than I was when I was a mortal! Though I suppose that was the universes funny way of punishing me for my crimes, I've bumped my forehead on door frames a good 50 times in both life and death!”

As you examined his real life appearance, you couldn't help but laugh. “Yeah well, the heels don't help.” You pointed to his shoes.

He huffed in feigned offense. “They are not heels, darling they are tap dancing shoes and it was quite common for them to have a bit of height back in my day.”

“Okay, Fred Astare.” You snorted as he settled himself on the side of your bed as you marveled at the fact that he was still taller than you even while sitting down. “And here I was preparing to offer you a dance in hopes of lifting your spirits, only for you to insult my tastes in fashion.” He hmphed, crossing his arms and legs while sticking up his pointy nose towards you.

In a daring moment, you sat right next to him crissed crossed, careful not to to touch him while he continued to play offended. “C’mon Al, don't be so huffy. I didn't mean anything by it.”

“ ‘Al’ huh?” He hummed. “Sounds like someone is getting rather familiar.”

“Hey, you call me 'Darling' and 'Dear' so often I think that it's only fair that I call you 'Al' on occasions.”

“I suppose you have a point. Nevertheless, I came here to try and boost your spirits, you seem to be doing better so if you wish to be bratty I can just go back home..” He teased with an evil grin.

“Wait!” You said just a bit too loudly. “Would you like to play a game with me? Ya know, before you go..”

Alastor raised an eyebrow in curiosity as he parted his lips to deny your offer, until you pulled out the big guns and gave him your best puppy girl eyes. A chill went down his spine from your usage of such cheap tactics, remembering his years as a lad and doing the exact same thing when he wanted something desperately from his dear mother.

“Okay! Okay!” He said, placing his hands up in surrender. “I shall subject myself to whatever game this is for one round, as long as you stop making that revolting expression..”

He watched as you smiled with pure enthusiasm. Such a beautiful smile you had, it made him irritated that you didn't do it more, yet proud that he typically was the source of it sprouting in the first place. Crimson eyes followed your movements as you shuffled off the bed to grab a small deck of cards off of your shelf. A part of him hoped you heard the chuckle that left his lips while you struggled to stand on your toes to retrieve this game.

“It's called ‘Uno’ “ You explained, walking back to him with a red box in hand. “It's a pretty simple game and the rules are easy.” Dumping the cards out of the box, the two of you sat parallel with one another.

”However, this simple game has been known to end more friendships than Monopoly and Mario Kart put together. It shall truly test our bond as companions, only the strongest survive it's trials..” You spoke in a dramatic tone while shuffling the cards and placing the proper numbers out for the both of you. Once you were finished, you placed the extra cards in the middle and looked the Radio Demon square in the eye. “Are you ready?”

“Yes yes,” He replied aloofly. “There isn't any possible way this silly game could cause such a staggering amount of broken relationships. I refuse to believe it's that bad.’

You chuckled bitterly. “You beautiful unsuspecting fool.”

---------------------- ( 2 Hours Later) ---------------------

“That's against the rules!” Alastor hissed underneath his breath as you threw out a fat stack of +2 cards.

“No it's not Alastor, you said you wanted to play stacks and this is how it's played.” You muttered.

The first round between you two consisted of showing Alastor the ropes. The confident man he was, he assured you that the game was easy enough for an infant to play and win effortlessly, especially since he won the first round. You then decide to spice things up by teaching him how to play stacks. He claimed that was easy as well and you allowed him to believe this as the next round consisted of him losing, and so did the next round, and the round after that, and the round after that…

Before you knew it, two hours had gone by and Alastor was determined to beat you at least once. It had gotten so intense that he resorted to taking his tail coat off and even putting his hair up, leaving him in his tight red office shirt and hair that framed his face like the scrumdiddlyumptious being that he was. The sight of his bare arms totally didn't have you blushing up a storm behind your cards.

While he was stewing over his next move, you got to confirm a few fan theories and ogled at his appearance.

Respectfully, of course.

But, the game wasn't over yet. Alastor sat across from you, irritated and with at least eleven cards in his hand, while you had three. The air was tense as he scratched his head and finally decided to throw out a small handful of 8’s, bringing his card count down to five.

Your poker face remained unmoving as you calmly threw out a wild card. “Blue.”

A warble of interference omitted from Alastor's person as his eyes scanned his cards carefully. You were actually surprised at how the tables had turned personality wise. In the beginning, it was Alastor who was calm and collected, but every loss slowly chipped away at the pride that fueled his unwavering persona. His usual smile was now looking more forced, making his disdain obvious.

Throwing out a blue card, you threw out two on top, leaving you with one card as you stated that dreadful word. “Uno.”

With a growl, Alastor tossed out a draw +4. “Red.” He stated blandly. A quick glance at the clock let him know he was late for a meeting with Charlie, but formalities be damned because he was going to win this game.

You took your cards quickly and deemed your hand an amazing one. He replied by tossing out a 2 and leaving three cards left. Victory was close and he swore that once he won he would ‘kindly’ rub it in your face.

But, just as you had been doing for these past five rounds, you had an ace up your sleeve. You tossed out the red ‘Skip’ card, costing Alastor a vital turn that could have turned the tables, only to metaphorically slap him in the face by cheering “Uno!” and dropping your final cards in the middle of the messy deck.

He suppressed a scream of irritation as you did your little victory dance, glaring at you both with gaiety and pure spite. He stood up and snapped his coat back on and his hair back down, he pinched your cheek just a little too hard. “That's enough cutting a rug darling, especially for someone that has two left feet such as yourself.”

“Stop trying to cease my dancing, I must wiggle out my joy.”

With a roll of his eyes, he tuned the radio on to his station to prepare to go back home. “Well you can dance until your heart's content, unfortunately I have to return back home to handle some business.”

Immediately your uncoordinated movements stopped, as you frowned. “Oh, right..”

Part of him felt bad. Not that he would tell you outright, but he didn't exactly want to leave you behind either. The thoughts of what your father could do unannounced made him concerned for your safety, but there wasn't anything he could do. Instead, he smiled genuinely and lifted your gaze up with his finger.

“Chin up, dearest. I shall check on you tomorrow as always and don't forget, you still need to make up your mind about what you want from the options presented to you.”

You didn't reply verbally, but you did nod your head sadly which would have to be enough for now. As he prepared to walk off, he was suddenly stopped by a tight embrace from behind. Anyone else who would have ever dared to think of such a thing would have been a splatter on the wall and he was just about to give you a kind yet serious talk about personal space until he felt something wet soaking through his clothes.

“..Thank you.” You mumbled through the fabric. Inhaling his scent as you sniffled and tried to calm down, honestly you were surprised he didn't push you off.

As mentioned before, emotions were not Alastor's think nor was physical affection. However in this moment, with you crying lightly and hugging him as if he were your only hope of survival, he decided that maybe, just this once, he would let it slide.

For his comfort, you didn't allow the hug to last longer than a minute. Once you pulled away you were embarrassed to say the least and prepared for him to possibly scold or never talk to you again. But, to your surprise, he simply pat your head and whispered, “Sleep tight, cher.”and was gone with a blink of your eyes.

To say you were sad was an understatement, but you knew that he'd be back tomorrow like he was everyday. The idea of talking to him tomorrow. To hear his voice in real time, talking to you and to offer comfort because he actually cared made your heart pound in your chest. As much as you didn't want to think this way, you couldn't help it. He seemed so concerned about you, in a way that no one else has until now.

You did your best to still your beating heart as you began to clean up your fun from earlier, only to find your cards were missing. You looked everywhere and still couldn't find them, ultimately you claimed into bed and decided that maybe Alastor snapped them somewhere you'd never find so that he wouldn't have to loose, I mean, play anymore.

Meanwhile…

“Alastor you're late!” Vaggie snapped as he came waltzing down the stairs, following her to where the rest of the group sat waiting.

“I am aware Vagatha, I was busy doing something else.” He replied calmly, only to make the fallen angel more irritated. “Whatever, I hope you brought something because it's your turn for a group activity today..”

“But of course! How could I forget?” He smiled impishly, before pulling out a red box with a familiar word on it. Once with the rest of the residents, Alastor clapped his hands together and pulled out a chalkboard seemingly out of nowhere.

“For today's activity being hosted by yours truly, we shall all be playing a game suited for bonding and the strengthening of relationships,” He beamed, writing out the title of the game in big letters for everyone to see.

“The name of the game is...UNO!"

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(Thank you for coming back for Chapter 3# of this story! I hope you stick around for the next one because I plan to make it the last. I've been so busy with life and stuff, it's kinda hard to find time or motivation to write, but I do want this to come to a close while still making room for a bit of fun between Al and the Reader.

For those who asked me to make a tag list, I'm not entirely sure how to 😅. Though I will try to figure it out for the next time I write a short story. Don't forget to leave your opinions behind in the comments and thank you for all the love you guys give me, it means a lot 💜

Stay Tuned! :D

Taglist: @twistedvanillacoffee @diffidentphantom @boldlyenchantingfox22

#alastor #hazbin hotel #alastor x you #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #alastor x oc #drabbles #alastor the radio demon #fanfic

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slushycoookie · 9 months ago

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Shaving His Hair

Relationship: Miguel O'Hara x GN! Reader

Word Count: 776

Content: Fluff, lice, Miguel's curls are gone and he's bald! (No not really)

Summary: After an unexpected lice outbreak, you have to cut Miguel’s hair.

A/N: Miguel when his hair is shaved is hot as hell, I don't care what anyone says. Also this one is kinda connected to the washing his hair post I did so if you wanted to read that too, here.

There was a lice outbreak in HQ.

You would think a bunch of superheroes could combat a bunch of little bugs but no.

Miguel ordered anyone who had said lice to get it taken care of in their dimension. Or go to the infirmary for treatment. The leader of Spider Society thought he was safe. Trying to avoid anyone who had potential contact with someone with lice. He was wrong. That’s why you two were in the bathroom. His head was in his hands as he sat on the toilet while you laid out the required tools. All set up like you were about to conduct surgery.

“This was your idea.” You reminded him while putting on rubber gloves. “The doctor said we could try the treatment and see what happens. You don't have to cut it.”

Miguel’s head shook, not wanting to look at what was about to happen. “The doctor said my case was more serious. It's best to cut it all off.” You were about to argue some more. Try to get him to see reason. But he stared at you with large eyes, knowing what he had to do despite not liking the decision. “It's my hair.”

He was right.

You wanted to support him, reassure him you were always going to be on his side. So you got the clippers ready. You weren't a professional but you knew how to cut hair. You surfed the internet to look up tips to make sure it wasn't uneven. Miguel wanted to get everything over with but you were determined to make his hair look nice.

The buzz from the clipper filled the bathroom. You started from the front, placing his head back to get a good view. The device hovered over his hairline as you wanted to give him one more chance.

“Are you sure you wanna do this?”

“Yes.” Miguel huffed, “I'm not changing my mind.”

“Alright, alright. Just checking.”

You ran the blade towards you, chunks of hair falling off and hitting the ground. Bye bye curls. Your eyes couldn't help but go wide at the fact you could see his head. Now you were picturing how he would look shaved. With that sharp jawline and high cheekbones. Miguel was going to be attractive regardless of his hairstyle.

“Any day now…”

You stuck your tongue out at him before continuing. Dragging the clipper down his head. Locks cascading down on his covered shoulders. You did your best to get all the extra hair you could, making sure he didn't look a hot mess.

Once you were done, it was time to wash it. You suggested doing it at the kitchen sink as you didn't feel like going in the shower.

“Really? We're doing this in the kitchen?” He asked.

“Don’t worry. I already cleaned it.” You pointed down to get him to bend over. Thank goodness for stools as you stood on it to get a good angle. The shampoo for lice had a minty scent. Almost medicinal when you rubbed your fingers along his scalp. The scent was strong enough to bring tears to your eyes. You hoped your partner wasn't having a worse time due to his enhanced senses.

“How you doing?”

Miguel grunted and you couldn't help but snort. “I'm fine.”

“At least one of us is.” You blinked repeatedly to get yourself together before rinsing him off. As much as you weren't a fan of the shampoo, you wanted to be thorough. Much to yourself and apparently his chagrin, you did another wash. It was better the second time around, your eyes getting itself together this time. There weren't any complaints from Miguel either.

With the lice vanquished and the prevention solution working, you dried him off with a towel. You grabbed the mirror from the bathroom and held it up to his face to see what you did. Miguel examined himself. Head tilting from side to side while trying to see how he looked.

“My head…it's so…square looking.”

You snickered, “It's a very handsome square look.”

Miguel playfully glared at you, “So you agree? That I'm square?”

“When you wear those glasses, yeah.” He pulled you in for a hug, not tolerating your teasing. “Okay, okay! I'm joking, you actually look pretty handsome.”

He held up the mirror once more. Seeing yourself and him in the reflection. “I do?”

“Yes. My handsome baby.” You peppered his face with kisses. The medicinal scent from the shampoo still lingering. “Oh by the way, you should find the person who started that outbreak. So this doesn't happen again.”

Miguel pursed his lips, having the same thought. “Yeah, good idea.”

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel x reader #spiderman 2099 x reader #slushycoookie writes

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messedupfan · 6 months ago

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Chapter 18

Summary: Wanda has been seeing someone. Daisy reconnects with Reader. Jean and Anna have special plans.

A/n: Heeeyy, please don't hate me. Enjoy!

Masterlist | All Stories Taglist | All Chapters

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Wanda checks her watch nervously. She had arrived at the office thirty minutes early to mentally prepare for the appointment. She wasn't sure what she was going to discover in that room. All she knew was that the idea made her feel ill. Her mind jumps to all of the people she slept with and she begins to feel like an idiot. Her leg bounces nervously as she thinks about how she will be judged by the doctor. It won't happen in front of her but she's almost certain it will happen.

“Wanda Maximoff?” Her head snaps up at her name being called. “I'm ready to see you now.” Wanda nods and rises as she collects her things. She was going to be fine. Agatha swears by therapy. She was going to be fine. This was the next step to getting better and getting on with her life.

You are standing in the backyard of your former home. “You wanted to show me my own craft space?” You ask with arms crossed over your chest.

“No, we wanted to show you our future craft space,” Jean says and Anna waves her arms around as she presents a stack of boxes where your tools and materials used to be laid out.

“What's this? You know that I need the space when I get an order. I know it’s been a while but it’s not just for me. I’ve been able to help you guys with the money I make from this side job. It’s not some frivolous hobby,” you walk around the room.

“Yes, well, it’s actually been a year – close to a year and I’m pretty sure we were your last customers,” Jean says. “Besides, since we’re going to have all of this time we thought would be occupied by a baby… We want to make it into a craft space.”

You clamp your mouth shut as you look at the boxes. It wasn’t fair for them to throw that in your face but this scenario was eerily similar to the one you’d witnessed with Wanda’s basement and Vision. You couldn’t stoop as low as that man so you sighed and nodded. “Okay, can you give me time to find somewhere to store it all? I don’t have the space right now.”

“Sure,” Jean says, “just please don’t take too long. I have a lot of idea’s and I’m excited. Well. We’re excited.” She pulls her wife close to her and the two share a kiss. You find their behavior to be odd but you don’t think about it too much.

“Okay,” you drag out. “I should get going. I need to do some grocery shopping and make some phone calls to see who will be willing to store my things until I can find a better place.” You walk through the gate to get to your car as they allow you to go. You scroll through your contacts to see who you can trust with your tools and supplies. You pause for a moment when you see Daisy’s contact. You know that you didn’t love her the way she deserved but it still hurt to see her name. You decide to leave that task for when you’re home because you needed to focus.

You walk around the store with this nagging feeling that you should contact Daisy for some reason. You didn’t understand it. In the time since she ended things with you, you haven’t wanted to contact her once. Maybe it was because things with Wanda have crashed and burned alive. You don’t know, but you had to fight it because it wouldn’t be fair for you to try and insert yourself in her life again. As you shop you recignize her friend and you can’t stop yourself from saying hi. Because you mistakenly feel as though that would be rude. “Hey, Jemma!” You greet with as smile.

Her eyes go wide and she almost runs but instead turns around smiles back. “Y/n, it’s been a while. How have you been?”

You take a deep breath as you mentally run through the chaotic months you’d been having. “I’ve been better,” you nod. “Yeah, um, how have you been?”

She makes a face and narrows her eyes at you, “Let’s not waste our time here. I’m not the person you want to know about. Am I?”

You’re surprised by the implication and you shake your head. “No, I’m genuinely curious about you. I wouldn’t ever put you in a position to update me about Daisy. She made it very clear that she wanted me out of her life.”

Jemma’s eyes scan you and she nods. “I’ve been well. Daisy, however, not so much. I’m telling you this because she is going to reach out to you soon. As much as I don’t like you, you do deserve the warning.”

Your eyebrows twitch and you frown slightly, that was not what you expected to hear. “Oh, I hope I can help her with whatever it is. I just… She’s not going to try and get back together right?”

Jemma bursts out laughing and you smile and nod as she makes a big show of her amusement. “I’ve forgotten how funny you are!” She points at you with a grin. “No! She doesn’t want you back!”

“I’m sorry,” you say as you try not to roll your eyes at her reaction. It was unnecessary. “Just, let her know that she can contact me whenever she wants. I’ll see you around, Jemma. Or maybe I won’t.” You walk away and continue to shop for the week. You go home and put your groceries away and don’t think about Daisy the rest of the day.

Wanda sits in her office and goes over her budget proposal for the project she was assigned. The company has been trying to score her former in-law’s as a client for years. She knew Stark Industries was a big corporation when she married into the family. It’s what paid for this house. It’s what allowed her to not work for six months. It’s what has paid for her new land. But for some reason she still feels weird about using her relationship to the Starks to help this company land them as a client. It made her realize why they probably hired her in the first place even with the unexplained unemployment gap after being fired from her previous firm. She runs through the proposal a couple more times and hopes that this doesn’t create a rift with the people she was getting to build a healthier relationship with.

When she feels confident about the proposal she sets it aside and starts to work on the digital blueprint of her dream home. It has gone from sketches to utilizing the program on her computer to draft together a more visual representation of what she wants her house to look like. She has lots of windows and an open floor plan. She knows where she wants a dining room and how she wants the kitchen to look like. The second floor has a den space and an office space and multiple bedrooms. Then she considers adding a third floor but thinks it might be too much.

She starts to shuffle the rooms around and considers moving the office to the ground floor. Then she adds a basement. Then she takes it away. She plays around with the design until her stomach grumbles and she is reminded that she has to eat. She shut down her work and walks downstairs to make herself something to eat. As she sets out ingredients, she fantasizes about you standing in the kitchen helping her. She wonders if you'd wrap your arms around her and kiss her cheek as she chopped vegetables. She thinks about how easily she could melt against your body. She allows herself to think about moments she could have with you without making herself feel guilty about it. She's tired of feeling guilty for wanting a better life for herself.

As she lays on the couch and watches a show that she has been binging lately she mindlessly traces the letters M, I, N, E, on her upper thigh. In her mind, it's a memory of you, but really it's only another fantasy. She doesn't know why she can't just give in. She doesn't know why she pushes you away. She knows she shouldn't have but she also knows that she probably would have hurt you. She takes a deep breath and sighs.

She walks up to her bed as her mind prepares her for waking up early the next morning. The mental checklist of what she has to take care of tomorrow. What she should wear for her meeting with Tony. What she should make herself for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Should she go out? Should she anticipate Tony offering to take her to lunch?

She thinks about the therapy sessions she has scheduled for the next several weeks. She thinks about wanting to hang out with her friends. Then as she closes her eyes, she thinks about you and a small smile lifts up her lips.

You are getting ready to take your lunch break when your phone goes off in your pocket. Your heart leaps into your throat when Daisy’s image covers your screen. You answer and start walking away from the job site. “Hello?” You say into the phone. There is a loud drilling sound and someone starts banging a hammer on a wall. “Hold on, I can’t hear you. One second please.” You cross the street and keep walking until you find a quiet area. You sit down on a park bench. “Okay, I can hear you now. Um, hey,” you say as you remove your hardhat. “This is a surprise. How are you?”

“Is it a surprise? Jemma told me that she warned you I might contact you,” Daisy says.

“Uh, she did say that but I wasn’t sure when to expect your call. So it is still a surprise,” you reply as you run your fingers through your hair. “She also warned me that you’re not doing too well. Is there something I can do for you?” Daisy goes quiet and you think that the call has dropped, you move the phone from your face to check but the sunlight makes it difficult to tell. “Hello?”

“I’m here,” she sighs and you can tell that she is trying to hide that she is crying. You take a deep breath as you brace yourself for what she might tell you. Maybe Phil is terminally ill. Maybe her mom passed. Maybe this, maybe that.

“I’m here for you,” you tell her. “No matter what, it’s okay. You can tell me.”

“I,” her voice cracks and you wish that you could do something more than sit here on the phone with her. “What I need to talk to you about is better done in person,” she finally says through her sniffles.

“Okay, um where do you want to meet?” You ask. “I don’t have Rachel this week so you could come over to my place because it's a lot more private than yours or if you don’t want privacy I can go to your place after work. Um or we can meet somewhere public. I’m willing to do whatever you need.” You softly offer her options. Your heart is pounding from the anticipation. What could be so bad that she had to see you in person?

“I’m okay with coming over to your place,” she replies.

“Okay,” you state, “does seven-thirty work for you? I’ve been working twelve to thirteen hour shifts to pay those pesky hospital bills.”

“Seven-thirty works,” she answers. “I’ll see you then.”

“I’ll see you then,” you say as the call ends. You sit on that park bench a little bit longer as you fear what Daisy has to say. What could she possibly be holding on to? What has her in tears? What can’t she say over the phone? Your mind races as you eat your lunch. It continues to run as you get back to work and think about what Daisy needs help with.

Wanda laughs with Tony as they sit together in a nice restaurant. Her pitch went well and Tony said that he would consider hiring her for the project. Then he offered to take her to lunch to celebrate. Now the two were discussing highlights of Vision’s finest moments during past holidays. “Oh, remember that time he convinced your dad to let him cut the turkey and he nearly cut his finger off?” Wanda says.

“How could I forget? I’m the one who pointed out that there couldn’t be that much blood on a turkey!” Tony laughs as he lifts his glass from the table and swirls it around. He shakes his head. “I have no clue how I’m related to that man.”

“I don’t know either,” Wanda says. “You are way more fun to be around,” she compliments and they clink their glasses together as they cheers to that.

“You know, Wanda,” Tony starts as he leans in closer. “Why are you wasting your talents working for a company like Nexus Developments? You are family,” he puts his hand on top of Wanda’s. “We could have helped you land a job with the company we usually use or hell, we could have made a branch for you.”

Wanda taps Tony’s hand as she pulls away and slumps back into her seat. “I know that you would have. But I couldn’t ask that of you or your family. Vision would have made it about him some how and lately,” she shakes her head as she feels tears building up. She takes a deep breath. “Lately, whenever your brother doesn’t get his way, my kids pay a price. Hell, even when he does get his way, my kids still suffer.”

Tony nods and takes a drink from his glass, he sighs as the aged scotch goes down smoothly. “I understand your position. Just know that if you ever need help, we are still here for you. Vision can go fuck himself,” he tells her. Wanda laughs a softly as she agrees with his statement. “Who knows, maybe I’ll be able to convince you into a Maximoff and Stark partnership once again. This one being a profitable business instead of an emotional headache.”

Wanda shrugs, “We’ll see. The future is quite unpredictable after all.”

As you walk through the your apartment building you run through the possibilities of the impending conversation over and over in your mind. The scenarios don’t stop until you see Daisy pacing in front of your door. You check the time on your watch and fill with relief that you’re not late, she’s early.

“Hey,” you say as you sort through your keys to find the one that will unlock the door. Daisy startles as you announce your presence. “Sorry, I didn't mean to,” you notice that she doesn't look too good and you just move to open the door. “Let's just,” you hold it open for her and she walks right past you. “Would you like anything to drink? Water maybe?”

Daisy shakes her head. “No, I don't know how long you'll want me in here after I tell you what I need to tell you.”

You make a face, unsure what she could possibly say that would have you kicking her out of your home. “I have a feeling this is something we should sit for. Come on,” you sit down on the couch and wipe the sweat from your forehead.

“Are you sure you don’t want to shower first? You’ve been working hard all day and I know you how much you hate sitting in–” Daisy rambles on as she paces the living room and you have to cut her off.

“Daisy, I hate waiting even more,” you tell her. “Come, sit,” you pat the space next to you on the sofa.

Daisy stands still and frowns at you. “No you don’t. You are the most patient person I know.”

You nod your head slowly, “I can be patient, that’s true. But I still hate waiting.” You admit to her. “I’ve been worried about you all day, Daisy. I don’t want to be pushy but I want to be able to help you. I can’t do that if you don’t stop stalling and tell me what’s wrong.”

Daisy sits next to you and drops her face into her hands. You sit there and wait for her to collect her thoughts and say something. Anything that will explain her behavior. You bounce your leg as your body decides to show your impatience. The movement has Daisy moving her hands from her face through her hair. “The night we broke up I,” the area around her eyes are red and her nose is pink. She doesn't face you because she can't say this and have you look at her differently. She doesn't know where you stand on a topic like this because every conversation the two of you had on the matter was purely hypothetical. She wanted to keep this to herself because she didn't want you to change in her eyes. She likes you the way you are. “I found out that I had um, sorry this is difficult for me to say.”

You hold your hand out to her, “Daisy, it's okay. Whatever it is,” you trail as she turns her head away from you. “Are you sick?” You ask softly as her shoulders shake.

She turns her head to stare in front of her as she shakes her head and wipes her tears. “No, I'm not sick. That's not the kind of results I had received,” she reaches for the box of tissues in the coffee table and blows her nose. “I found out that I was pregnant,” she finally says.

You feel your heart stop beating and drop to your stomach. You grow nauseous at the news. “Oh,” you grab onto the arm of the couch as if you're going to faint. “I um,” you blink a couple of times. “Is it someone else's?” The words stumble out before you can process the implication.

“I never cheated on you,” she states sharply and she looks at you this time.

“I'm sorry, I shouldn't have… I mean, can you blame me for asking? You didn't tell me until today. You broke up with me instead of telling me. I can't think of why you would do that unless the baby wasn't mine or —” you stop talking as you look at her and clamp your mouth shut. Daisy avoids your eye contact as you recall her behavior that night. She didn't want to be a mother. She kept telling you that as she tried to leave. “Oh,” you react again. The tension in your body releases and you try to figure out how you can address this conversation respectfully. “You decided not to go through with the um the uh pregnancy? Is that what you're telling me?” You try to keep your tone even and your features neutral, trying to avoid showing any insensitive emotions out of respect.

Daisy closes her eyes as she starts to sob. “I couldn't go through with it. I'm not ready.” She says through her tears. You nod your head because you don't know what to do or how to properly react. “It wasn't an easy decision, you know? I thought about it for a couple of weeks and I thought about telling you but I was so scared that you would be happy and I would have the baby to please you and I just —”

“Daisy,” you call her name until she stops rambling and you enter her personal space, pulling her against your chest to let her know that you are there for her. “Daisy, I get it. It's okay. I’m not ready for another kid. Shh, shh, it's okay. It's your body, I would have never asked—”

“I know you wouldn't have but I would have done it! For you!” She interrupts. “Because I know how much you love kids and you're a great parent. You're so great with Rachel and I know how much she wants siblings and I just couldn't. I couldn't be the one to give you that. But if I told you, I would have gone through with it and I would have been miserable,” she continues to ramble. You pull back and get her to look you in the eye.

“Daisy, you're not listening,” you say calmly. “Breathe with me. Okay?” She nods with you and you count to four with your fingers as you inhale through your nose. Then you put down the four fingers as you hold. You lift them back up as you exhale. And you repeat the process with Daisy until she appears a little more relaxed. “Daisy, recently I've been asked by my ex-wife to have more kids with her and I told her no. I — this is going to sound horrible but — I wasn't ready to be Rachel's parent. I love her, she is my world. But it took me longer than anyone realizes to be comfortable being her parent. I wasn't ready and I know that a lot of parents will tell you that none of them were ready and that's,” you wave your hand to the side. “It's quite clear that they weren't and I don't think it should be that way.” You shake your head. “Daisy, I'm telling you right now that I'm not ready for another child. When you told me about the pregnancy right now I nearly threw up. You made the right decision. I'm not mad at you. I don't hate you for making this decision on your own. It's your choice, I'm just sorry that I didn't make you feel like you could come to me about this. I'm sorry that I wasn't there for you.” Daisy closes her eyes and leans against your chest.

Neither of you talk for a moment. Allowing yourselves to process and accept the truths that each has shared. You think about how that night might’ve gone differently. You wouldn’t have lived with Wanda for almost two weeks. You wouldn’t have gotten as close to Wanda as you have. You would have been having back-and-forth conversations with Daisy. You would have developed a stronger relationship. Maybe. It could have turned sour. She could have grown distant and resented you or herself for the decision. Who knows? That wasn’t what happened. So it doesn’t matter now. But you can’t help but think where you could have been now had things happened differently.

“Did you deal with this alone?” You eventually ask her. Daisy shakes her head against your chest. You’re surprised she is still resting against you because normally she couldn’t stand the smell of your sweat and the other odors that come from manual labor when the two of you were together. “Jemma?” She nods against you. “Can I ask, uh, what… or why did you bring this to me now?” You ask carefully.

You feel Daisy take a deep breath and this is what pulls her away from you. She wipes her face and sits against the back of the couch. She plays with the rings on her fingers and flexes her jaw. “I didn’t get the abortion until a couple of weeks ago,” she admits. “I almost went through with the pregnancy because,” she takes another shaky breath. “Jean was at the same clinic I was at to make the appointment. I spilled my guts to her because Jemma had to leave halfway through since it wasn't the appointment and Jean was there when I had second thoughts. It took me a couple of weeks to even go in because I was in denial for a bit. I didn’t want to believe it was true. Then I saw the sonogram and I,” she shakes her head and looks up to the ceiling. “I had second thoughts.” She shrugs her shoulders and you take one of her hands to offer your support. It’s not an easy decision for most. That's assuming that it's ever an easy decision for anyone. “Jean offered to pay for my doctor bills and prenatal care if I decided to follow through with the pregnancy and gave her and Anna the baby and never told you about any of this.” You drop Daisy’s hand and turn away from her.

You stand up with that nauseous feeling again, not sure what to do about a betrayal of this caliber. You know that Jean has a tendency to do anything and everything to get what she wants when she wants it but… This was too far. “I can’t fucking,” you shake your head. You want to punch a wall or break something but you can’t. You can’t afford the injury. You can’t afford the plaster to fix the wall. You can’t afford to replace the things you have. You can’t afford any of this because you thought you were paying off debts before interest can build on them. You thought you were doing everything right. You thought you could trust Jean. You can’t believe she would go so far as to put Daisy through something like this.

“Please don’t hate me,” Daisy begs, “I was confused and I wasn’t sure what I wanted. I only said yes at first because I thought you would be allowed to be in their life and I thought you would like that and–”

“I’m not upset with you,” you cut her off. “It’s not your fault,” you try to focus on your breathing but you can’t calm down. You can’t focus on anything. You don’t know how someone can be so deranged. You look at Daisy and you feel so guilty for what happened to her. The position she was put in. It makes sense why one day Jean is ready to cut your head off for saying no and then next she’s perfectly fine. What kind of person could be so deceptive? What kind of person… you huff through your nose. “I’m sorry that you had to go through that,” you say to Daisy in the softest tone you could muster up. “You shouldn’t have… She shouldn’t’ve…” you shake your head and close your eyes.

Daisy stands up and takes your white-knuckled fist and massages the tight skin until you release your grip. “I am going to be okay. I probably shouldn’t have told you. I just, I don’t know. At first the offer was that I just give them the baby. I wrongfully assumed that also meant giving you the baby. Then she eventually told me that you would not know that the baby was even yours,” she shakes her head. “I couldn’t put myself in the middle of this. I couldn’t put anyone in the middle of that. I didn't want to be part of why Rachel’s parents grew to hate each other. You guys are such healthy examples for her.” You begin to grow upset again thinking about how Jean deceived Daisy. How she was ready to deceive you. It was one thing to ask you to knowingly not be allowed in your child's life. But to go behind your back and essentially kidnap what almost was your child… you couldn’t believe it.

“When I had the chance to think about it, I didn’t want to give birth. I couldn’t go through with it so without telling her, I went through with the abortion because that’s what I wanted.” Daisy closes her eyes as tears slip out and she continues to rub your hand. Something she learned that can keep you grounded. “The only thing that has been tearing me apart about this whole thing is how much of it was being kept from you. I haven’t been able to sleep because of it. You deserve to know.”

“Thank you for telling me,” you state as you watch her rub your hands. You clench your jaw as your eyebrows knit together. Normally an action like this would calm you down but the information was far too upsetting. “I need to go for a walk or something. I don’t know. I just can’t be here right now.” You pull your hand away.

“I don’t think you should be alone,” Daisy tries to pull you back to her.

“Trust me, right now, that’s what’s best for everyone,” you say as you hold your hand up to stop her from coming any closer to you. Daisy stares at you, wanting to be in your arms again. Wanting to feel that comfort that you brought her. Both in the past and just before she dropped the bomb on you. But you weren't someone that sought after touch when you were going through something. You retreated. You isolated yourself. At least, that's what you did when you were with her. She might never know that there are other sides to you. Especially not after tonight.

“Okay,” she says just above a whisper. “Okay,” she repeats as she walks to the exit. “I'm sorry for everything, again,” she says as she steps into the hallway. “Please, don't do anything stupid.” She disappears, leaving the door open.

You stare at the door as you think of what you want to do. You think about getting into your car but you're afraid that if you do, you'll drive into a tree or worse. You'll drive to Jean’s house. You couldn't do that to Rachel. You check that you have your keys, phone, and wallet in your pockets and then you lock up your apartment on your way out. Stepping out onto the concrete sidewalk outside of your apartment building you look every which way. There are bars and restaurants down each way. You could easily find somewhere to drink but that's not what you want to do. So you start walking.

You walk aimlessly for a long time. You walk until your legs begin to ache and your feet begin to hurt. You find yourself at a dock, there are many boats parked but you find a space without one. You sit at the ledge and look out to the water and breathe. The smell of the salty water is calming. You watch as the water moves causing the reflection of the lights to dance. You allow yourself to grieve because even though you didn't want another child, you contributed to almost bringing another life into the world. It was a weird feeling. You're not upset with Daisy for making her choice, you are grateful to her. But you still feel the loss. You didn't understand the feeling but you let yourself feel it. Because even though you don't understand why you feel the way that you do, you don't have to justify or explain it to anyone. You can just allow yourself to feel whatever you want to.

Then you grieve the relationship you thought you had with Jean. You can't believe she would pull something like this. You don't understand where an idea like that would come from out of her. You don't know how you'll be able to move past this. You feel like she took everything the two of you built together over the years and tore it apart bit by bit. You feel disgusting. You feel used. You take deep breaths as you feel it all. Hoping to release it in a healthy way. It was done, there wasn't much else that you could do about it now except to confront her. You couldn't do that until Sunday.

When you stand up to leave, you slip and fall into the water. You don't try to swim at first. You let the water move you. Trusting that it won't take you away. That it won't pull you under and shorten your time on this planet. You just float in the water. Eventually, the need for air is too great and you swim up until you break the surface with a big gasp.

You pull yourself up onto the dock and start walking home. You are grateful for the bulky phone case when you pull it out of your pocket to find that the phone is perfectly fine. You use the map application in order to navigate your way home. When you arrive at your destination you shower and eat a microwavable meal. You fall into your bed after taking a sleep aid and fall asleep.

The next day, at work, Wanda stops by the job site around lunch time. You walk into Pietro’s office and find the two of them laughing with takeaway meals in front of them. You still feel horrible from the night before. But hearing her laugh heals the wounds inside your heart.

“Y/n!” Wanda grins. “I brought you something too,” she holds up a container. You look at the container and try not to show that you have anything wrong with you by forcing on a smile.

“You didn't have to,” you say as you move to the sink to wash your hands before you join them. “I appreciate this. Is there an occasion I'm not aware of?” You ask as you open the container. The aroma of your favorite food should have made you happier, instead you began to feel nauseous again. It has nothing to do with the food or Wanda's presence and everything to do with the feelings that you're suppressing.

“No, I had lunch with Tony yesterday and it reminded me how much I enjoy having lunch with other people,” she shrugs. “Isolation can become a bit of a downside when it comes to working from home for me sometimes.”

You nod, “Makes sense. Why don't you do the hybrid method? That's what Daisy did with school. She would do online classes and in-person classes,” you suggest before you take a bite. You chew slowly because you do need to eat. No matter how sick you're feeling.

“That's a good idea,” Pietro agrees. “You could finally get better acquainted with the rest of the staff.”

Wanda makes a distasteful face, “I don't know. Getting to know people always leads to getting stuck in the middle of their drama.” She shakes her head. “I think I have enough of my own.”

Pietro shrugs, “You never know. Sometimes it's good to hear about other people's drama. It makes your life sound better. Why do you think I still talk to you? Just because you're my sister?” Wanda’s eyes widen and she punches her brother on his shoulder. “Hey! It's not my fault, you have the most dramatic life out of anyone I know! Y/n,” he nudges you, “back me up here!”

You are snapped out of your head and try to catch up with the conversation. You look between them cluelessly. “I'm sorry, I probably have her beat when it comes to a dramatic life.”

Pietro shakes his head, “What are you talking about? Other than that baby thing, you are relatively drama free. That drama even ended pretty well from what I remember.”

You feel a little light headed as you are reminded by the development of that issue. That there is a new ending to the situation. But you don't tell him. You don't want to tell him. You're not even sure you want to tell Wanda. Not right now at least. You nod, “Yeah, I guess you're right.” You turn to Wanda with a playful shrug. “Sorry, I tried.” Wanda shakes her head and the three of you share a laugh.

“Whatever,” Wanda mutters as she stabs her salad with her fork.

When lunch is over, you walk Wanda out to her car. You're quiet as she talks to you about her current project and updating you on her boys. Then she asks you if you are okay because you seem a little off. You shrug and stop when you reach the car. “Um the other day, Jean and Anna asked me to move my workshop out of their shed,” you scratch behind your ear. Feeling queasy saying her name.

“Your workshop?” Wanda asks as she unlocks her car.

“Yeah, just my tools and some leftover materials that I used on my last order,” you explain as you open the car door for her.

“Last order? What do you mean?” Wanda reaches over and sets her purse on the passenger seat but she doesn't sit in her car just yet.

“I have a little side business. Haven't I told you about it before?” You are surprised with yourself that you haven't mentioned this to her before. You try to think of a time that you might've brought it up before but you come up with nothing. There just hasn't been a reason to. Wanda shakes her head as she does the same. “Ah well, I have a small business. I take custom orders. Anything that someone wants built, I build it.” You pull out your phone and show her your website. “Just something to help with the bills whenever I can't get a lot of hours.” She takes your phone and nods, impressed by the stuff you have built in the past. “Anyway, the reason it's on my mind, they want me to move my stuff out of the shed. I can't really afford a place to be able to store everything and be able to have the space to work on orders.”

“I have a shed that, admittedly, could use some care,” she says as she hands you back your phone. “You could set up shop in there, at no cost, of course.”

“Wanda, I can't take you up on that offer,” you resist.

“Yes, you can,” she insists. “Why couldn't you?”

You look away and lick your lips as you are reminded of the night she rejected you. “I would need a lot of access to it when or really if I get another order. I don't know if it's a good idea for us to spend that much time together.”

Wanda nods as she understands where you're coming from. “Technically we wouldn't be spending any of that time together. You'd be working and I would be inside my house or doing something. Come on, we're friends. Let me help you with this.”

You focus your eyes back to hers and you think about just how much she has been helping you. It doesn't feel like there is a balance in the friendship with how often she helps you compared to how often you help her. “I don't know Wanda,” you say as you bite your bottom lip in thought. You can't think of a good reason to say no so you don't. You shrug and nod at her. “Okay, yeah, I will take you up on that offer. Thank you, Wanda. I really appreciate it. Is it okay if I bring it all by on Sunday?”

Wanda smiles and nods, “Of course, come by then. I'm sure the boys will be happy to see you and Rachel again. They were pretty upset about not having you guys there last week.”

“Yeah, Rachel wasn't happy about it either. She prefers cooking with you a lot more than she does with me,” you say with a soft laugh. Wanda smiles at her shoes as she thinks about how much she prefers cooking with you over anyone else. She looks back up and locks eyes with you. She feels like an idiot for pushing you away but she doesn't feel ready to tell you how she feels about you.

“I'll see you on Sunday,” she says and you nod as you repeat her departing words as you step away from her. You wave as she drives off and you go back to work without thinking about your problems with Jean and instead thinking about Wanda and how pretty she looked today.

Saturday night you can't sleep. You toss and turn even after taking a sleep aid. Your heart pounds as your mind races about seeing Jean the next day. You can't stop running through scenarios of confronting her. Are you going to do it right away? Are you going to choke? Is the sight of her going to make you nauseous? Or worse. Is it going to cause you to actually vomit? Will you be able to see her without getting angry? You're going to have to be there longer than you want to because you have to load your truck with your stuff but are you going to make it through? You don't know. And you're exhausted by the anticipation.

You are lucky to get in a nap before you have to pick up Rachel. You have to drink two cups of coffee before you feel awake enough to drive. On the drive over, you are yet again practicing what you're going to say when you arrive. You yawn as you park and shake your head to get you ready to knock on the door. You stare at the house as you try to remember that she is your friend. She was your favorite person once upon a time. You loved her. But it's all tainted now. She has slowly burned you out and ripped you to shreds.

You step out of your truck and knock on the door. You look at the welcome mat to keep yourself calm as you wait. When there's no response, you ring the doorbell. You take slow breaths as you try to clear your mind. You can't think about what Daisy told you in front of Rachel.

Anna is the one to open the door. Since Daisy hadn't mentioned her, you can tell yourself that she isn't someone that you should be upset with and you can tell yourself that she has no idea. At least until you can figure out when to confront them about this. You walk through the house to get to your stuff in the backyard but when you bring the tools to your truck you go through the gate that leads to the front instead of going through the house. You don't say anything to Anna, you don't even ask why she's the only person you've seen so far. You just focus on your task. Move your tools from the shed to your truck. When you're done, Rachel greets you with a tight hug that you are happy to reciprocate. It's a relief to see her and to hold her.

Jean is on the phone in the kitchen and you don't feel the desire to interrupt her conversation just to confront her. You decide to leave it alone. You take Rachel to the car and help her get inside. “Did you hear the good news?” Rachel asks as you get settled in the driver's seat. You shake your head and ask her what the good news is. “I'm having a baby brother! My mommies said so. I'm going to be a big sister!” Your heart stops as your entire body freezes. How could they tell her something like that? How do they even know what the gender would have been?

“Wait right here, I need to ask your mommies something,” you tell your daughter with a tight voice. You climb out of the truck and walk to the front door. This time, you enter without knocking and walk up to Jean as she ends her phone call. “How dare you,” you start bitterly. Jean is thrown off and her confused smile drops. “How dare you put Daisy in that kind of position. How dare you tell our daughter that she's going to be a big sister before there is a baby. There isn't going to be a baby! There never should have been. You shouldn't have tried to talk Daisy out of her decision. You are a cisgendered female, you should have some respect when it comes to another woman making a decision about her life and her body. Not only that, you are my best friend. Or at least you used to be. I thought you would have enough respect for me to tell me the moment you found out about Daisy's pregnancy. I was mistaken to believe the lies you told me but I will not allow that behavior to affect our daughter. So you better be a thousand percent certain when it comes to something as big as a sibling coming into her life before you tell her anything!” You take a split second to decide whether or not to continue and with how upset you are, you can't stop yourself. “And I was going to let Daisy tell you this herself but I will do what you should have done. She went through with her decision. There won't be a baby. Now I suggest that you either start looking into fostering or adopting — no. You should get your fucking head checked be clearly you are out of your fucking mind, Jean!” Jean slaps you clear across your face. The slap was loud and the impact was hard. It stings and you lift your hand up to your face in shock.

“Get out!” Anna shouts from behind you. You are shaking with anger. You weren't aware that you had gotten so furious with the situation. You try to say more but Anna won't let you. Jean is in tears and looking down at her hand, shocked by her own actions. Anna steps in between you and her wife. “Get the fuck out of my house Y/n! Get out! Get out!” She starts pushing you backwards. You hold your hands up and shake your head.

“You're both unbelievable. I'm going,” you walk out after Anna's last shove. You can't believe the reactions. You can't believe the lack of accountability. You storm across the yard and climb into the truck.

“What's wrong?” Rachel asks in a scared little voice. You feel terrible seeing her shaken up. You sigh and close your eyes before you look at her.

“Nothing sweetheart,” you say as softly as you can. “Nothing, let's just… we're going to go home and I'm going to go for a run and then maybe we'll stop by Wanda’s house to drop all of this stuff off later. How does that sound?” You try to make her feel more at ease.

“Why can't we go to Ms. Wanda’s first? I really want to see Tommy and Billy and tell them about the good news!” She asks innocently and you have to close your eyes to calm down. You open them and start the engine. You need to distance yourself from this house. From Jean and Anna. You're starting to wonder if your ex’s behavior is being instigated by her wife. You aren't sure how you can find out. But it's definitely something to look into with the lengths she's gone through to make this idea of theirs happen.

“Honey, mommies were mistaken. You're not going to be a big sister,” you correct her.

Rachel frowns, “Yes I am. They said so. My mommies don't lie to me, Baba.”

“I know that sweetheart, that's why I said that they were mistaken. That's not the same as lying, it's more like they didn't know what they were telling you wasn't true,” you take a second to glance at her. “Does that make sense to you?” Rachel nods with tears building in her eyes. “Awe baby girl, what's wrong?”

“I really wanted to be a big sister,” she says as she wipes her tears. You feel bad as you continue to drive.

“I know sweetie, I know,” you sigh as you start to reconsider their proposal. But you quickly shove that thought out of your mind. You cannot allow your daughters disappointment to change your mind on a matter of this magnitude. “Do you still want to go to Wanda’s first?”

“Yes please,” she says as she continues to wipe her face. “I want to see my friends.” You want to calm down before you see Wanda. You don't want to pull her into more of your problems. But you feel bad enough for taking away your daughters smile. So you suck it up and drive to Wanda’s house. You text her that you're on the way when you stop at a red light.

When you pull up the driveway, Wanda is waiting outside with a smile. She knocks on the window and talks as you roll it down. “I don't care what you say, I'm helping you move the stuff into the shed.” Her wide smiles drops to an expression of concern when she sees the red mark on your cheek. She looks further into the truck and sees Rachel's face is red from crying. “What happened?” She looks you over and you shake your head.

“Nothing, why do you ask?” You say, oblivious to the evidence on your face while you try to hide your frustration from the day.

Wanda leans in as close as she can get. “Have you looked in the mirror?” She says in a low whisper.

Your eyebrows knit together and you frown before you drop the visor mirror to check yourself out. Then you see the mark and you shut it. You want to curse yourself for not going home first. “I can't talk about it right now. Can we start moving this stuff?” Wanda nods and allows you to get out of the vehicle. You walk to the other side to help Rachel down before you start to take stuff down from your truck. You hand some boxes to Wanda and she leads the way to her shed. She talks the entire way about how she spent her entire Saturday reorganizing the entire space. You hardly listen as your mind replays the last hour. How Jean slapped you and Anna pushed you. How angry you felt — no, feel.

Once the pair of you set the boxes down Wanda asks again what happened and the words come out of you before you can stop them. You tell her everything from running into Jemma to what happened with Jean just moments ago. Wanda is quiet as she stands there and processes. She doesn't look at you as she does. You shift your weight uncomfortably as you wait for a response. When she finally moves you don't expect her to hug you the way that she does. She holds you tightly in a warm embrace that breaks your walls down.

“I'm so sorry,” she whispers against your chest as you break down in tears and she rubs your back. You let her hold you and comfort you in ways that you hardly ever allowed anyone to take care of you. You allow her to witness a side of vulnerability that you rarely let many see.

After a bit of time the both of you stop crying. You and Wanda sneak into the house and each go to a bathroom in order to wash your faces and then get back to work. Together the truck gets emptied of the tools and materials in an impressive amount of time and was put away in the shed. When the both of you finish, Wanda gets a phone call and excuses herself to answer. You follow her inside to wash your hands.

You get a message from Nebula and you feel slightly guilty when you do. You open the message and you clench your jaw as she admits how much she likes you and asks when she can see you next. The two of you went out on a date shortly after Wanda rejected you. It was an okay date but with everything going on, it doesn't feel right. You close your phone and head upstairs to check on the kids. As you do so you pass Wanda's office. Her door is slightly ajar. You don't mean to listen in but when you hear the words, “Thank you for introducing me… yeah he has made me feel things I haven't felt before,” and, “I feel like he understands me better than I understand me.” You feel your heart sink. You continue to walk to check on the kids as you try to tell yourself that you didn't hear the entire conversation so you couldn't possibly know what she was talking about. But a small voice in the back of your head is telling you that she rejected you because she found someone else. A reality that you'll have to accept if you and Wanda are going to continue to be friends.

After you check on the kids you schedule another date with Nebula for the next Sunday after you drop Rachel off. Then you continue on with your night with Wanda and the kids. Doing your best to keep your mind off of everything else.

Chapter 19

Taglist: @princessprudy @sayah13 @agaymilflover @awkwardmandalorian @bentleywolf29 @thatshyboy1998 @artisannat @thisischaismagic @wqndanat @madamevirgo @likefirenrain @tearsofglitter @feltlikethat @the-writer-arcane @natashasilverfox @karsonromanoff @aloneodi @lovelyy-moonlight @red1culous @jovialsublimecomputer @natasha-maximoff @iliketozoneout @doudouneverte @druggedduck @notbornbutforged @when-wolves-howl @lifespectator @justyourwritter69 @wandaromamoff69 @awesomelygayasf @nekoannie-chan @diaryoflife @wuwu96 @wandanats-goodgirl @sincerely-indi @blueredg52 @sisiofthemultifandom @fuzzyuniversityeclipsefriend @arcturusseer @scarlettwidow34 @chasethemoon @raven-ss @canyonyodeler @sokovianbaby @alexawynters @bittysworld @hopeless-romantic17177 @spongebobtentacles @the-ox-fan20 @shaniiwm

#wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff au #wanda marvel #fanfiction #messedupfan #wanda fanfic #wanda x you #wanda x reader #wanda x y/n #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x y/n #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x gender neutral reader

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zjasperwrites · 1 year ago

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A Non-Exhaustive List of Tips For Managing Carpal Tunnel Syndrome

If you type, write, draw, craft, or do anything with your hands, you are at risk for carpal tunnel! If you're developing any pain, or have none but want to take preventive measures, feel free to try these. I'm not a doctor, but these help my case of severe CTS!

This advice may not apply to everyone, but these are all things you can do without receiving medical care. Yet know that options like pain prescriptions, steroids, and surgery are possible for relief.

Give your hands a break when necessary and feasible. Even just implementing one rest day a week can be extremely beneficial.

Stretch your hands, fingers, arms, and neck regularly. This video can get you started.

Look into a hand massager. I use this one. If your pain is severe, I find massaging before stretching is most effective.

Vary your positions. You can reduce strain by trying differing neutral angles of arm/wrist position while working. Elevation helps.

Use ergonomics. Ones I use include an ergonomic mouse and mousepad, and this support pen from PenAgain.

Explore temperature therapy. Both heat pads or ice packs can be helpful depending on your needs and preferences.

Work on grip strengthening. If you already have CTS pain, be careful, but some wrist/finger exercise can help. I use this tool.

Train yourself to work more gently. Lighten your grip on writing tools, slow down and don't press so hard while typing.

If you already have pain, GET WRIST BRACES. Sleep in them to start, then wear them during the day if needed. You can also...

Try out k-tape. I personally get more pain if I use a brace 24/7, so this k-tape wrap is nice for day-time support.

Look into finger splints too. Finger hypermobility or exertion can strain wrists much more quickly, especially when typing.

Compression gloves also help. These are my "lowest tier" for support when my pain is mildest.

Get comfortable with voice-typing. Adjusting to this can be hard, but its an excellent way to keep writing without hurting yourself.

Especially if you have severe pain, consider tools marketed at amputees. Obviously be mindful of the resources you take up, but accessibility tools are for anyone who needs them. When my pain is at my worst, I am unable to use my arm/hand and can't even raise it, so tools to facilitate one-handed use are helpful.

And finally, not so much a tip, but a warning. Most likely, you'll get CTS pain in your dominant hand first. When that happens, do not switch to your non-dom hand and continue on. That hand is not in the clear, its next. Implement treatment and management in both hands, and use your non-dom hand when necessary while not overworking it either. Don't let yourself fall into denial because you can "get by" without adjustments. I promise the initial ability to keep working without inconvenience is not worth developing CTS in both hands lol.

If anyone else has advice please add on! I live as a walking warning to my husband who crochets to take care of his hands, so here's to hoping I can help others too!

#writeblr #carpal tunnel #disability #crochetblr #artblr #accessibility #chronic pain

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alexa-fika · 11 months ago

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Ohh if you going to write Platonic reader

how about a male reader who's part of the straw hats and his devil fruit power is that he can talk and use dead people to fight (like Klaus from The Umbrella Academy)

he has a best friend who died but he talks to him all the time so he's never alone (like Klaus and Ben from The Umbrella Academy)

Gone but still there (Strawhats x male!reader)

A/N: I had to change it a little bit since im bot comfortable with the whole controlling dead people to fight nor I think the strawhats would be too happy about that but I made this instead, hopefully it is somewhat appealing to what you envisioned! It is not very good, I would say this one is a flop :(

Dividers by @/saradika

“Okay, are we ready?” Reader exclaims, staring at his crewmates around him. Robin and Nami sat at a table nearby, with Sanji bringing them both snacks and compliments. Zoro sat down in his favorite corner, eyes closed, with Chopper standing close to him; Luffy sat at the head of the Sunny as usual, with Franky and Ussop sitting together, tinkering with some gadgets they had. Jinbe sat at the boat's wheel, keeping watch of the course ahead, Brook standing nearby with his violin.

He looked up at the reader, smiling and waving his bony hand in excitement

“Yes! Im excited to hear what Doctor Hiriluk has to say this time.”

“Yohohoho, and im excited to hear what new songs my old crew-mates have learned since the last time we spoke.”

He smiles

“I promise I’ll go around with everyone!”

He sweatdrops staring at the small girl next to him

“Umm Zoro, I think Kuina really wants to say some things to you…”

His eyes open, and he walks over

"What did you want, Kuina?" he said with a bit of annoyance

He laughs nervously

“she said your form was off in your last fight, that only an idiot would make such a mistake.”

He sighed and shook his head a bit

"Thanks, I'll keep that in mind," he said sarcastically and started moving back to his corner

He sighs

“This is going to be a long one…Ah, Nami, Bellemere says you shouldn’t be hitting your crewmates.”

She gives a small sigh

"Well, when they don't listen, it's what happens. Thanks for the message." She said while fixing her bangs gently as she took a bite from her apple

"Robin You're mom says you should look up the Old Signs? Uh she says that the second part gives some interesting views on cryptography?"

"Hmm I will look into it, thank you for the suggestion"

“What about my Mom?” Ussop questions, glancing at Reader

“She says you should be more careful with your experiments; she hates to see you get hurt when one of them goes wrong.”

He chuckles softly at that

“I’m not a little kid anymore, though…”He said before he fell quiet and went about working with his tools

He cackles at what the crew can only guess is something one of the ghosts has said

“Ussop~ Your mom says you will always be her little baby.”

“That’s what she said?!” His hand froze on the tool in front of him as the other slowly wiped away his sweat, his eyes wide in shock and even some embarrassment at his mother’s words

He can’t help but laugh even harder at Ussop's embarrassment; he glances to the side as his laughs die down, now just chuckles escaping him as he smiles gently at his crew and all the one-sided conversations they were having with their loved ones, every once in a while he would step in to deliver a message to them. Still, even if it was one-sided, none of them cared, happily chatting with their loved ones, knowing they were there, listening to them.

Okay I was honestly debating if to put this one on a timer and then delete it but I think I smoothed it out at the end, but still debating that one.

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the-fiction-witch · 1 year ago

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Bump P2

Media The Artful Dodger

Character Jack Dawkins

Couple Jack X Reader

Rating Adorable + DARK

Requested: Hello Fiction witch, the new jack Dawkins imagine "Bump" is really good I think some others agree with me that if you could make another one....pleasseeee You are a really good writer and it makes people feel better, warm, and fuzzy. Thank you ❤️ omg I love that It was beautiful, I beg for an equally sweet part 2. It makes me feel all lovely and warm inside your such a good writer, I love all your work. thank you so much for writing these. I love it can you make part two when the baby comes Please Part 2 please 🥺🥺🙏🙏

Warnings: Labour! very very intense descriptions of a very difficult Labour/ Blood / medical tools / improper use of medical equipment / surgery / 1800's doctoring (Which I feel is a category all it's own) / And many other Dark elements!

I pushed my body up hearing my back crack as I stretched, given my body had been shoved into the absolute minimum of the bed. But I didn't want to complain I know she hadn't done it on purpose but she was tired and sore, and just wanted the space in the bed to stretch herself out.

I rubbed my face a little and grabbed my watch from the side, I needed to get going. I forced myself to get up but I couldn't move as a hand gripped my shirt. I chuckled and Turned seeing her not even awake enough to open her little eyes.

"Don't Go, Jack." She pleaded barely awake,

"I have to, I have surgery today." I reminded her "I'll be back before you know it," I told her as I stroked her cheek and kissed her closed eyelids and then the tip of her nose.

She let my shirt go, so I climbed out of bed and got dressed for the day all with her laid sleepily watching me, she stroked her bump almost invitingly like she was trying to make the bed with her and baby look as inviting as possible.

Which I have to admit was working.

"I'll be back as soon as Surgery's done," I told her as I headed back to bed as I did up my waistcoat, I knelt my knee on the sheets and kissed her sweet lips "I promise."

"Okay..." She smiled.

"Take care of little one for me," I told her kissing her bump,

"I will, Have a nice day Jack." She Yawned almost drifting off to sleep as she said it.

"You too, Love you" I smiled, but before I had even got to the door I heard her little wheezes as she nodded off to sleep again, I chuckled a little "Sleepy Mummy, Well Daddies off to work." I cooed I gave her bump one more kiss before heading downstairs, grabbing some toast from the kitchen, "Elis?"

"Yes, Doctor Dawkins!" She jumped as she came back in from pegging the laundry out,

"Keep an eye on her for me?"

"Course Sir," She nodded.

I took my toast and my bag, left the house and headed off to the hospital in the dim morning light, but the moment I got there chaos ensued. Not sure why it surprised me as Chaos almost always did occur.

There had been a bar fight with some group of sailors arguing with another group and before anyone knew where they were we had a hospital full of black eyes, broken noses, and god only knows what kinda damage. Sneed was pouting as usual barely actually helping at all, and Prof was drunk off his arse held up in his office to keep him from causing even more problems. I rushed around like a man possessed every time I glanced at the clock the day had disappeared some more. In the few free moments, my mind had as I wrapped bandages and went from place to place I thought of y/n. Of course, I did.

I hoped she was keeping herself well, even if every day I left her I was fearful given the state of her pregnancy, the baby would be along any day now and her stomach had even dropped so I knew it wouldn't be long.

By the time I actually got to surgery, you know the ONE thing I was coming into work to do today! was finally set up and organized I was already tired, so I just wanted to get this over and done with so I could head home and crawl into bed.

But... Things became difficult quickly, I hate when Surgery doesn't go to plan. And Just as it got worse the doors opened.

"Alright, The Surgeon is here!" Prof slurred as he came though still not sobered up,

"Sir I-"

"Dawkins, Leave this in the hands of the professional,"

"....Yes sir." I sighed moving away and handing him the knife, I didn't want to but I knew if I didn't he'd call me insulant and I'd be out of a job. I moved back but still did my best to direct him in the right way given he could barely even hold the blade straight "Sir? SIR!" I had to bolt across the table, pushed him out of the way and try to fix his drunken mistake, I rushed around as quickly as I could to try and fix this and keep him alive, I managed to stabilize him and get him half sewn up before he gave up from shock- "Fuck-" I sighed throwing my knife on the table running a hand through my hair tried to clean the tone of blood on my hands.

I was angry, frustrated, exhausted, but... at least it's over.

"Dr Dawkins?" A voice spoke up,

Ohh god no what now! I turned on my heels and immediately panicked.

"Elis?"

"I-It's-" she began nervously blood across her hands and apron,

"Y/n?!" I yelled and she nodded,

I didn't even hesitate, Grabbed my bag and my tools matching out like I was on Military order,

"Dawkins? Where do you think you going?" Sneed cornered me in the main entrance hall, and he forced me to stop and blocked my exit with his smug grin, his arms behind his back as he leant forward he does in that arrogant way so he could talk down to me like I was a child, "You still have patients to see to on the ward."

I wanted to deck him for preventing my leaving, but I did my best to be elegant "Dr Sneed, With all due respect, I have been working since four O'clock this morning, I have seen every one of MY patients on that ward, So I'm asking you if you'd wind awfully sodding off out of my bloody way."

"Get back on that ward. Or I'll have you thrown there."

"My wife. is in labour. MOVE!"

"You mean your whore?" He smirked

I didn't hesitate I decked him as hard as I could and left, I didn't care what trouble I'd be in I wasn't going to allow him to keep me there. Elis Took my things and I bolted home as fast as I possibly could, my body tried, beyond exhausted but fueled by the pure need to see her.

I pushed open the door as it had been left unlocked and bolted up to the bedroom.

I could hear her screams before I even opened the door.

Everything was the same as I left it, but the fire was smothered by the pile of tissues, rags and such like. The metallic twang of blood in the air was so much you could almost taste it. And the most horrific sight that could be imagined.

Y/n lay on her back in the bed, her body twisting, and squirming, her nightie around her hips, the white cotton flooded heavy with her blood, the bedsheets coated with it almost directly from her as if some hellish blood-soaked monster had crawled out of her, A damp rag beside her that Elis had clearly made up with lavender to soak on her head but it was a little late for that. Her head would throw back as she screamed. I found the sound... so utterly chilling that I froze up.

It took me two years to grow accustomed to the sight of blood without growing wozy, even longer to feel comfortable, cutting limbs, and organs apart. But still, even now, the screaming is a sound that rattles my bones. It's a sound no doctor can unhear, the sound of unrelenting pain. I found Labor screaming was always the worst, as it is endless and unforgiving, and there is so little you can do as a doctor to help other than hold their hand and let them suffer.

Even worse so... Given, That's Y/n. My Y/n.

I had never heard her scream with such agony in her voice. Tears streaming down her face. Her body contorted as it had no other outfit for this level of pain.

I forced myself out of my state and rushed to her side holding her hand "I'm here! I'm here! You're gonna be okay." I muttered half to myself if I'm honest, quickly checking her over to see what state she was in "Alright, Yep this is... definitely labour."

"Thank you, Jack, I hadn't figured that OUT!" She yelled

"Contractuions when did they start?"

"About six this morning" She whined

"Six! this morning! and only NOW did someone TELL ME!"

"You were busy," She said,

"How bad were they at six?"

"Small, got worse. and worse and now where - AHHHHHYHHHHHH!" She screamed as another contraction ripped through her,

"Okay... just let me know when the next one is?" I told her as I opened my watch and counted the seconds between her contractions "Oooohhhh okay! That is uhhh" I nodded, I quickly moved to the end of the bed holding her nightie "Is it uhh it okay if I?"

"Go for it, You put the damn thing in there,"

I couldn't help but chuckle at her sarcastic tone even though her contractions, and I checked how dilated she was, and... uhhh she wasn't. "Uhhhhh..."

"Uhh? I don't like Uhh Jack!" She snapped,

"You're not dilated... You've been having early labour contractions for a minimum of twelve hours why the bloody hell are you not dilated?" I asked as I tried very hard not to panic,

"I don't know! ASK MY VARGINA!" She screamed

Finally, Elis arrived with my tools so I could get to work making sure things went as smoothly as they could do but the blood was still troubling me, Until I realized

"Then what's all the- Oh no,"

"You know you have a terrible bedside manner doctor. oddly enough, Oh no! is not something a pregnant lady wants to hear!"

"The blood is your mucus Plug."

"My what!"

"Muscas plug the... Plug, the stopper in the sink that is your womb, it's out, that's all the blood, which means... it's broken." I explained, "How long ago did you start bleeding?"

"Not long ago, I saw blood and told Elis to get you."

"If you're not dilated then baby is going to try and force its way out of you... as it is. without your hips being wide enough for the head."

"English!"

"Meaning... either it's going to tear you apart... Or it's head is going to get stuck."

"OHhh fan FUCKING tastic!"

"I can give you an injection, it might make it hurt more but it should force your body to realize there's a baby trying to get out of it and uhh open the doors as it were." I explained quickly giving her it but it only made her scream louder "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." I muttered knowing what I was doing to her, and understanding the horrific pain I was putting her through but I held her hand every second I didn't need it, even if admittedly my hand was numb and her nails had drawn blood at some points.

"Jack... I'm scared." Her voice was weak, tearful, as if on the brink of death,

"You're going to be okay. I promise you. I know it hurts. I know it's scary. but this.. this is everything you have ever been made to do, your body is made for this, and all of it will be worth it when you hold our baby in your arms," I told her giving her a sweet kiss,

"It's not made to do it comfortably..." She cried "Jack... Please I don't wanna die."

"You're not going to die," I told her almost ordering her as if I was willing her, to force her to stay alive. "I promise it's going to be okay" I told her trying to make sure things moved as they should "I know its hard, this is your first it's not going to be easy, Baby number three, four and five will just glide on out" I joked but the look on her face... that was a badly timed joke.

"I am never. letting you sleep with me again!" She screamed, She's just kidding... I hope.

"Think about it, you have an advantage over most ladies,"

"And what's that?"

"You married a doctor" I winked "Okay, there we go your dilating now. it shouldn't be too long but as soon as that baby starts moving we are going to have to act fast,"

"It's already moving."

"What?"

She grabbed my shirt "I can feel it moving. like a snake under my skin. this baby is coming!" She yelled in my face

"Your water hasn't broken yet it can't be- and it should have especially if your mucus plug is gone the water has no protection it would burst on your cervix at least," I told her trying to keep her calm, but she was right, this baby was coming, she wasn't dilated enough yet, and the water hadn't broke. I Knew every second risked our baby and Y/n... I knew the other option. And so did she.

"Jack. Get. It. Out. of. Me."

"Y/n I can't-"

"You're a surgeon. if anyone can you can."

"Y/n I can't."

"Jack... Please. I love you. I trust you more than anyone. Please... Make it stop."

"No woman has ever survived a Ceaseron section. The shock alone would will you. if it doesn't me moving your organs around will. Or the blood loss. or me cutting through something important. Or infection!" I explained "...You can't ask me, you cut you open knowing I'll kill you."

"Even if it saves the baby?" She cried,

"Do not make me choose between you," I begged her,

"Then I'll decide." She snapped "Save him Jack. Please."

"You cannot ask this of me-" I cried

"Please... Or both of us will die."

"...will you give me time? one hour. If I can't feel the baby's head by then... I'll do it. Will you Give me one hour!?"

"One. But I don't know how much more I can take."

I kissed her with as much love and passion as I could before I got what I needed from my bag, the tool wasn't meant for this, but... rumour had spiralled that it could be used for such things, I had never tested to know for sure... I didn't imagine I'd be testing on my own wife.

"This... is gonna hurt," I told her and she nodded so I did my best to be careful holding her leg to comfort her as I needed them close by and her hand was too far, as I used the tool as gently as I could, to forceably break her water.

The moment I did fluid began to replace blood, and her screams intensified but her body almost knew now what it had to do. Her body knew it had no choice. and was fueled by the natural female power to bring life into the world.

"Perfect. Perfect. you're doing so good." I told her holding her hand in both of mine even if we were both coated in blood, I walked her through her breathing and soon enough she needed to really push, so I directed her as best I could through her tired screams and tears, I did TRY and help her breath... honestly I also forgot at times.

Soon enough it became time, I called Eli in as a standby nurse, and I made sure to open Y/n's legs as much as possible, "Comfy? Or do you want another position?"

"He went in like that. He can come out like that" She joked between her gasps

"Okay... be ready, this all happens a bit fast," I told Elis and she nodded so I turned to Y/n "Y/n... I am, so so sorry for what is about to happen to you. I am going to be honest with you, this is going to be .... the worst pain of your whole life But I will do what I can to make it as quick and painless as possible, I'm here and I love you." I told her giving her a sweet kiss and stroking her cheek "And Nothing bad is going to happen to you. I promise." I told her before I checked her again and it was time, "You're favourite memory, take yourself there now." I told her just as it began.

Her screams blood-curdling, her body trying to fight itself, tears streaming down her cheeks, that sound, that image, would haunt my nightmares.

And... I may be a surgeon, But still.

Nothing quite prepares you for the sight of your wife... as your child's head leaves her body slowly stretching the skin as it forces its way out.

I walked her through her slow breaths making sure she didn't push and rip everything apart, until finally he was out, and quickly I made Elis pick him up and wrap him warmly. and by some luck almost immediately she delivered her placenta almost as if it was literally pushed behind him,

"It's done. It's done it's over. it's all over." I told her unable to control my tears as I gave her kisses "It's all over, you did so brilliantly my darling," I smiled making sure the cord was cut and she was set to begin to heal,

"It's over?" she asked understandably very weak,

"It's over. It's all over. you just rest" I cooed "Get your breath back and relax."

"What is it?" She gasped

"A boy Ma'am" Elis Said

"A boy, we have a little boy" I smiled almost in disbelief unable to stop kissing her "I am... So immensely proud of you, I didn't think I could love you anymore but you have proven me wrong."

"Uhh Doctor..." Elis Spoke up and there was fear in her voice,

I quickly moved and she handed him to me as he was wrapped up tight in his blanket.

Not moving. Not breathing.

I did my best not to panic I didn't want to alarm y/n, but panic rushed through me, tears streaming down my face.

"No, No, please... Please, come on little guy, come on, please, Please, Wake up. Wake up. Come on little guy please." I muttered trying everything I could in utter desperation "Please.... Please....Please..." I begged

and by the grace of god!

He coughed spluttered and began to cry wiggling his little arms.

I felt, so unexplainable.

I was proud, joyful, nervous, fearful, on the verge of both passing out, and of tears.

For a moment I held him in my arms by the fire, cradling him in his blanket as he cried freshly meeting the world, and it was as if He and I. Had a moment. Where we are all that exists.

My son, My sweet beautiful son.

"Is he okay?" Y/n woke me from this trance having managed to sit up now, she was clearly exhausted I'm sure I'll never be able to comprehend such exhaustion, but with her sly wicked smile almost... Jealous, but joyous all the same.

I went over being as careful as I could sitting on the bed with her and handing him over to her.

Her face was an utter picture, she glowed with a sweetness I had only seen briefly, her smile so wide, as she held our baby to her chest, he rested on her bare skin and almost went to sleep so content to be in the arms of his mother.

"He's perfect."

"Ummm," she smiled pulling me closer so I could cuddle her as she cuddled him her head on my shoulder

"So, how was labour?"

"Ummm what labour," she giggled

I smiled and kissed her head "I don't think I've ever been so happy."

"Me either Jack" she smiled "You think of a name?"

"I can choose!?"

"Mhm, Our first little boy, you can choose."

Honestly, I hadn't much thought about it, I ran through names in my mind trying to think of something that had meaning, but dignity, but found very little. But... I thought of one name. And I knew it had to be him.

"Sebastian."

"Sebastian," She smiled "It's lovely, Why?"

"... Captain Sebastian Grimm, He's the one who got me out of prison. took me away on a ship. Liked my quick fingers, made me... what I am. I'd still be rotting in a cell if it wasn't for him. Without him... I'd have never even met you."

She smiled and kissed my cheek "Then it's settled. Sebastian Dawkins."

"Sebastian Dawkins," I smiled playing with his little fingers and kissing his sweet head.

#tbs smut #tbs imagine #tbs imagines #thomas sangster imagine #thomasbrodiesangster #thomas brodie sangster smut #thomas sangster #thomas brodie sangster imagine #thomas brodie sangster #tbs #jackdawkins #jack #jack dawkins #the artful dodger #thearttfuldodger #theartfuldogger

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amphorographia · 1 year ago

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Something interesting about Pathologic that I don't see people talk about very often is the fact that technically none of the protagonists are doctors and, of the three, it's actually Artemy that's the closest to a real physician.

The fact that Daniil is specifically referred to as a "Bachelor" of medicine is something that was always sort of confusing to me but is actually extremely telling when put together with all the other details we get about him.

There's an excellent video essay about Daniil's character by Horror Game Analysis which goes into more detail about this [x], but he points out two things about thanatology that I think are really significant:

It was first conceptualised as a field of study in 1903 by Ilya Mechnikov, a Russian-Ukranian immunologist and microbiologist, who felt that there was not enough known about the phenomenon of death itself; and

Thanatology straddles the line between the humanities and the sciences because it's investigations grapple with the physical, psychological, socio-cultural, philosophical, and spiritual elements of death

With all that in mind and Pathologic's ambiguous time period, Daniil could very much be read as the in-game world's equivalent of Mechnikov. Despite his (sort of) alignment with the philosophically-minded Kains, Daniil is consistently shown to be very much focused on the physical components of death. He came to the town hoping that "[Simon's] tissues will help [him] defeat death." Rubin, Artemy, Victor (and Lara, Yulia, Aspity, Anna, and Clara) all need him to collect and examine blood samples for evidence of the disease. Once the plague begins, his focus in on the creation of a vaccine - a tool for immunisation - instead of a cure.

All of the evidence points to Daniil, at his core, being a microbiologist and researcher. His medical knowledge, while far above average, is highly specialised and doesn't indicate that he has any practical experience as a physician. He's not a doctor, he's a bachelor of medicine using his theoretical and academic expertise to fight an impossible disease in the only way he knows.

Now, Artemy does have some practical knowledge. Isidor taught him about the traditional medicine of the town while he was growing up before sending him to "study modern medicine in the academy" when he was 16. However, in his opening description, all we are told is that Artemy is returning from several years of "travelling from town to town learning theoretical and pratical surgery." In Pathologic Classic, Artemy is canonically 26 years old so if he spent 6-7 years travelling, his formal medical education was likely either short or incomplete. Not to mention that the emphasis on Artemy as a surgeon and menkhu (much like Daniil as a bachelor and thanatologist) implies a very specialised area of expertise which, although closely related to practical medicine, is not the same thing.

This is reinforced in a number of ways. For example, while there are multiple dialogue options which let you dismiss the town's local medical practices, they appear mostly (or only) in conversations with outsiders - responding to Daniil's admission of underestimating the value of "steppe medical knowledge" with "there's nothing medical in their knowledge" and telling Block that he has "an education in the civilized world and ha[s] forgotten two thirds of the specific local practices." Ultimately, Artemy is more consistently aligned with the Kin's more bodily approach to medicine. That distinction between Kin and Town is important, since the traditional medicines Artemy makes are not valued or trusted by townspeople and the kin refuse almost all of the modern medicine (specifically antibiotics) sold in the town.

He also seems to be either unfamiliar or seriously out of practice with the more formal language of science and medicine a university-educated physician should know. At several points, Artemy is shown to be dependent on Daniil's medical knowledge, and various members of the town poke fun at him for asking clarifying questions - Boy: "You graduated from a university and this is your question…?" Rubin: "I thought you were [away] studying." Artemy's story is about trying to fill his father's role and, while he succeeds in becoming a menkhu, his position as the town's doctor is less clearly defined even after the plague. While he begins the game with the most practical experience of the three protagonists, the fact that he's not qualified to be a physician but has to act as one is what drives his story forward.

I won't go into Clara since it's obvious she's not a doctor. If anything, she's more like a personification of a cure for this one specific disease (just like her 'twin' is the plague). She couldn't reset a bone or diognose the flu any more than she could synthesise antibiotics or distinguish between bacteria in a blood sample. Still, she's an interesting comparison point and does serve to remind the player that the protagonists don't really represent different approaches to medicine, but different approaches to healing.

The Bachelor is the modern healer of formal scientific practices who sees healing as the result of understanding the body, disease, and their interactions.

The Haruspex is the traditional healer with the spiritual or ancestral right to protected knowledge and practices who sees healing as a reflection of cultural duty, customs, and community.

The Changeling is the divine healer chosen by a Deity (or Deities) to carry out their will on earth who sees healing as an act of religious faith and demonstration of the existence and power of God(s).

#this took way longer to write than I expected holy shit #also can you tell that Daniil is my favourite?#pathologic #pathologic meta #pathologic classic hd #pathologic classic hd meta #daniil dankovsky #artemy burakh #clara saburova #clara changeling #pathologic bachelor #pathologic haruspex #pathologic changeling

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veespee · 8 months ago

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Hey!! your writing is AMAZINGGGG and I love how you view characters.

Do you have any headcanons for vinnie everyman?

MOON!!! HI HI you are literally the reason why i made this account and started taking writing seriously,,, sobbing rn

i was planning on making a post about Vinnie but i couldn't come up with any interesting ones, so here are some that i brainstormed. sorry if there are any mistakes, i wanted to make them close to canon but i put some of my theories in there too :)

Vinnie Everyman Headcannons

-(this one's kinda sad so apologies) He sees Evan through HABIT, and HABIT through Evan. Basically: when HABIT jokes with Vinnie, he sees Evan. He sees his jokey and rowdy friend at that moment. But he has to remind himself; that's not Evan, that's a monster. But. When HABIT left Evan's body for some time, Vinnie could only see HABIT. He tells Evan that he doesn't think he's a monster, but i believe in the back of his mind, there's some bitterness. He knows this isn't Evan's fault, but he's still frustrated. He's so confused, no one's giving him answers. Except for HABIT.

That's why i think he's disappointed in a way, he wants HABIT to stay in Evan's body. HABIT is useful, although destructive. He doesn't like HABIT, he doesn't want to like HABIT, but he still needs him. He needs someone to tell him what to do, a higher being that knows more than him.

-^ continuing that, that's the reason why he didn't take Corenthal's warning seriously. He believed HABIT over his own father, biological or not, figure because HABIT is so knowledgeable. He thinks HABIT is so wise, and that's what HABIT wants Vinnie to believe. It feeds his ego, and he keeps Vinnie under his control.

-Also, it's not really hard to be manipulated by HABIT. He talks and acts like he's wise and knowledgeable, and honestly, he's good at it. Vinnie's intimidated by his threats, but also follows him around like a dog. Again, i'm repeating myself, but he's so infatuated with HABIT cause he feels like he's the only one that can answer him. And HABIT keeps him around to feed his ego, and to get his plan going.

-Furthermore, I think his relationship with Corenthal is SO interesting. Although i think Corenthal in general is such an interesting and underrated character, but that's a whole another post. Now, for this one I'll go a bit far from canon, but these are HCs so i guess that's the point lol: Basically, i think Vinnie DOES see Corenthal as a father figure, but he has complicated emotions. He distances himself from Corenthal, possibly out of just bitterness. Now i'm talking about the YouTube iteration, not Fairmount or Princeton, so that means that Vinnie has his own biological parents. However, Vinnie's memory got wiped (i mean, he knows he has parents and siblings, but he can't remember anything about them) so who's the only one he can remember? Dr. Corenthal.

Corenthal falls under someone I believe Vinnie gets attached to; someone who's wise, knowledgeable. He's a doctor, and a much older man, and he knows a lot about the boys' situation. We don't see a lot of interactions between them, so I'll just use my imagination for this part, but i believe that Vinnie is bitter because of how little Corenthal has said. He knows the Doctor knows what's going on, yet he's such a mysterious figure. He only appears a handful of times, and the other information they have about him are from old letters he had written. So Vinnie must be thinking, why isn't he helping? Why isn't he protecting us, if he has so much knowledge? So when Corenthal does contact him, he's suspicious. He doesn't believe him, instead, he believes HABIT. HABIT's there for him, even in a twisted way, and Vinnie believes that there's no way he's being lied to. So when Corenth tries to open Vinnie's eyes, he keeps them shut, and stays blind to HABIT's manipulation. Thus, resulting to Vinnie's death. Thus, resulting to another iteration where Corenthal can't save his children.

alright that's all :3 thank you for reading and thank you Moon for the request!!

#slenderverse #request #slenderverse headcanons #vinnie everyman #headcanons #vinny emh #vinnie emh #vinny everyman #analysis #hcs #habit emh #everymanhybrid #emh #habit everymanhybrid #spotify

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butterflewaway · 1 year ago

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Hi! I'm the one who sent the ask about the boys being jealous of Leander being the only one who can touch you! If you don't mind can you make a part 2? Since Leander, Kuras and Mhin kinda have business some times I imagine this happing at the clinic after hours or at the street. Really liked the part 1 Thanks! ♥️

Here's your part two Anon! Hope you like it~

Warnings: minor blood (nothing crazy), jealousy, LEANDER, mhin's resting bitch face

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Kuras's clinic truly was a safe haven in desperate times. As you watched rain pour outside, a sense of ease flooded your system knowing you were in a safe place, protected from the cold unrelenting torrents. Behind you, the good doctor was quietly working on Mhin's arm. A deep gash oozed hot red blood.

Mhin did their best to keep quiet, candlelight flickering off their pale eyes. But every time Kuras moved his still hand to sew the skin, the albino flinched. You and Mhin had been exploring new places, searching for information about the Senobium, when a thief had snatched your bag and ran. Not one to be robbed, you had chased the guy and tackled him down. Just as you thought you had evaded the danger and were in the clear, leaning down to grab your satchel, Mhin had taken a hit for you from behind.

Apparently the thief wasn't fully unconscious and had pulled out a knife to try to get a stab or two in your back. Thankfully, the albino had reached you in time, but suffered from a cut in their arm before disarming the thief and knocking them out effectively. Mhin had tried to tell you that they were fine, but you had panicked and insisted and dragged them all the way to Kuras's clinic.

Good thing too, because immediately after, it started raining waterfalls. A sudden knock alerted you and your companions to a visiter. You opened the door cautiously and were surprised to find none other than Leander standing on the other side, soaking wet. He peered down at you and his lips lifted into an easy grin.

Even when looking like a drowned cat, this man was not swayed from his temptation to flirt. "I apologize for the delay Leander, but I must finish Mhin's arm before tending to you." Leander trudged to an empty chair to plop down while pushing back his wet hair. "It's fine, doc. Take your time." You stood confused for a few seconds before noticing what Kuras had already seen.

A shallow cut was dripping rivulets of red down his shoulder. You hadn't even noticed the darkness compared to his drenched clothes. "If you don't mind, I believe I can fix that." Leander's green eyes gazed into yours with his same easygoing smile. "Sure thing. But um.." He looked down at your bandaged hands. "Oh, I can take them off for this if you don't mind."

His eyes crinkled with his most charming smile. "Not at all, peach." And so, unbeknownst to the stares cast your way, you unwrapped your hands just enough so they wouldn't get wet with blood, and set to work. Leander shrugged off his coat, and you quickly cleaned up the remaining blood before acquiring some of Kuras's tools.

"It looks shallow, so you won't need stitches. I'll apply a salve and bandage it for you. Try not to use this arm for a few weeks for any heavy lifting." You had helped Kuras with patients before when he was dealing with multiple at a time, so seeing this amount of blood and ripped skin wasn't anything new to you.

While you worked on bandaging Leander's shoulder, the man himself was smiling at a scowling Mhin. Kuras had finished by now and was watching you work like a hawk, golden eyes zoning in on your uncovered hands. The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife.

Once you had finished, Leander pulled his coat back on and smiled at you. "Thank you. You should be wary Kuras. Seems like this one here is gonna give you a run for your money soon enough." This seemed to snap Kuras out of his thoughtful gaze, as he turned away to discard of the bloody towel's he'd used on Mhin. "I doubt that to be true. If anything, I would hire any competition worthy of gaining any of my customers."

You blushed at the subtle compliment, settling to pat Leander's unwounded shoulder. "Thank you. Are you going to be heading back now?" The brunette stood to his full height and nodded. "I'll be off now. Care to accompany me?" He offered you his elbow and you blinked in surprise. "I suppose so. Let's meet up again tomorrow at the same time, Mhin?"

The albino was still scowling but acquiesced to your question. You waved to your companions before setting out into the now calmed rain with Leander. He held open the door for you and as you had your back turned to step you, glanced over at the doctor and hunter. His soft smile replaced with something sharp and playful as he maintained eye contact with the smaller of the three.

Mhin fumed as the two of you had left. "What an asshole." Although Kuras didn't agree with the phrasing, he shared the sentiment. "I had no idea they could touch each other. It seems the curse has limits perhaps?" Mhin huffed and stood up. "Who cares," they mumbled bitterly, "Idiots suit each other."

#red spring studios #touchstarved game #touchstarved x reader #touchstarved demo #touchstarved #ts kuras #touchstarved kuras #mhin touchstarved #touchstarved mhin #ts mhin #leander touchstarved #ts leander #touchstarved leander #touchstarved fic

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fountian-of-youth · 2 months ago

Text

Welcome to the fountian of youth project !

Here you will be meeting Entity/z- 013253 -

Case file here

Badges

Bad end file here

Mantis allo!

Timeline info

Ascended form

Cons of immorality

And appearance insert here

His room /kitchen area

This is a rp blog drama , action or friendly conversation are very much welcomed !!

Of course if you wish to talk to the doctor you can !

Dr. kraken , the founder of fountain of youth and one to have created the serum allo was injected with .

Insert image here

Case file here

Bad end file here

Ascended form

Rules

° you must be strictly 18+ to interact with this blog since it will dive into very serious and adult topics by that like murder , gore and trauma of any kind

° for the love of God pls keep things fucking sfw. I will not fucking stand straight up NSFW questions regarding pregnancy and weird fetishes

° joked are jokes but if I do much see another joke disguising a kink you are getting blocked , yes even evil gays have a line they won't draw and shockingly there a real person controlling this (I have cursed knowledge of forbidden things do not make me have a flash back )

° please don't control my OCS feelings or actions (unless your Melinda ) and generally be respectful cause they are my oc only I know their reaction

° I have a busy life so pls don't spam me with ask or tags , I'll reply in my own time but if I do forget pls do tag me or remind me in dm ! I'll try to respond as best I can

° I'm ok with hurting the two and trying to kill them since allo's immortal and kraken kinda a cyborg but don't go too far that or borders healthy obsession

° I don't mind fanart or art in ask! Pls send it helps me picture the interactions better

°other than that you're good to go ! If you want to discuss plots and ideas for our chats/rps dm me! I love to plot and go into character development!

Additional stuff

@creator-of-creativious is my other main blog where I'll post art or random posts not related/ related to this account

I'll be using hashtags to keep our rps in like of these : #fountainofyouthproject, allo, allo nanol , Dr. Kraken .

He will also talk in orange text so it be easy for you guys to read and spot while Dr. Kraken will have red text and white speech

I'll use your OCS and your username as tags as well so you can see it

With that over ask away !!

=================================

For allo

A kitchen hidden away and set in a more secretive part of the hadal back site. A hoodies figure is walking about sorting throughout items and spices seemingly absorbed into his work.

His hands are nimble and gentle when picking or setting and his tail and wings indicate he's isn't human anymore. Is he trustworthy ? Or is he an enemy ?

Do you approach?

=================================

For dr.kraken

He was stationed in his usual spot working away in the lab he pretty much claimed it for himself. He didn't like working with anyone and he certainly wouldn't like someone like you walking in to order him around .

His tendrils whipped about the room to grab what he needed gasping items or tools to get his work done. A sadistic glee shining in his eyes.

Do you choose to be civil ? Or snippy ?

===============================

Bad end allo

Shifting in the encloser of his cell a massive creature stared at the doorway that was the only access to the cramped space. Hollowed glowing eyes staring forward at the cursed opening. He didn't like being trapped . He hated it actually he wanted this to end - who was he ? That caught him off guard....who was he ??.....

He stopped thinking when he snapped his head and stared down at the person that dared enter the cell he was trapped in. A snarl ripping through his throat

(for mini bad end picture he was cat sized and your expendable / entity runs across him in the halls because he escaped )

===============================

Bad end Dr.kraken

You were running down the halls shaking and panting as the second breeched happen (your either a scientist or expandable ) shaking as nee entities or old ones captured were out again and causing havoc.

You turned and tried to run avoiding anything but stopped with wide eyes as before you stood a large albino like creature with a razor sharp smile.

Do you flee ? Or beg?

#fountainofyouthproject #allo nanol #allo #fountianofyouthproject #ask allo anything #ask allo #rp ask blog #rp blog #pressure oc #pressure fandom #dr.kraken

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chishiyasbiscuits · 2 months ago

Text

doctor, please! || chishiya x reader xo

[3.7k words.]

[Warning: Smut!! Doctor/patient roleplay, but it doesn't expand further than a paragraph, or so, put together. We're in public, again, guys. Chish helps clumsy reader. I found this, saved, and had forgotten to reupload it, so I've taken my time to rewrite it to my best ability. I hope it's to your standard! Enjoy, as always!

Also, I'd like to mention, thank you very much for 300 reads, I'm hoping the book gains as much attention as it's original. It's off-putting losing over 100k reads, but I'm back, and I'm tough!!]

It was clear, and noticeable how clumsy I had grown to be. The skin of my thighs garnished with bruises, my forearms, messily wrapped in eggshell gauze. Makeshift dressings had enveloped me, entirely, like an ancient Egyptian mummy. These misfortunes, and inelegant accidents, they were simply attracted to me.

Kuina was unamused, as she witnessed me stumble, for perhaps the eighteenth time today. Her thin fingers curled around my tensed bicep, and she stabilised me before I had the chance to fall.

"Careful, Y/n." She uttered the warning. Less disappointed, as the tone verged on a wary concern. She gave me large, cautious eyes. Searching my features, warily. Her lips tightened into a line. I smiled, sheepishly, rubbing a palm along a frayed strip of gauze. "Look at you." She sighed, the smirk that had quirked the corner of her lip was fond. "Do you ask for these scratches?" She questions, as she dips her slim fingers across the reddened flesh. Cautious, as if I were fragile. Her fingertips gentle. "How can you truly be that unfortunate." It wasn't so much a question. She was aware of the answer, entirely. "I think you know." I grinned.

Kuina hummed, softly. Her palm fell against a newer scrape, and I flinched. I swallowed a weak hiss. She blinked, in thought, using her opposite hand to raise a faux cigarette to her parted lips. "Have you not seen Chishiya for this?" She suggested, eyes raising, sharply. She was stern, but genuine. "He can help you."

"Chishiya?" I rolled his name on the tip of my tongue. He wasn't the helpful type, in my eyes. I've been directed to his care, and knowledge a few times, already, but I'm cautious that this may be one too many. Would he not be frustrated? I was overly aware that I had been taking his time, and it was painfully guilt-tripping. Kuina lowered her head, silently, chewing on the tip of her unlit cigarette. She searched me, quietly. "I'll take you to him now." She spoke. "He wouldn't mind." Though she uttered this through a brazen, upward curve of her lips. I stiffened, as her arm wrapped around mine. Tugging, just ever so slightly.

Kuina had me in the doorway of the improvised first-aid room. A standby, given our current situation. The walls were drab, and faded. A dirtied beige. The floor was carpeted, and stained, grossly. It consisted of a lonesome bedframe, with a sheetless mattress. Chipped, scraped cabinets, and a plastic, silver tray, with rolls of gauze, and worn tools. I watched, silently, as Chishiya shifted through labelled containers, filled with liquid, and white, oval-shaped pills. The frays of my gauze were unravelling, as I picked at the cotton nervously.

"Here again?" Chishiya questioned, teasingly. I could envision the smirk. "Yeah." I swallow. "I'm uh, I'm sorry for wasting your time." I lower my chin, and hear his jacket ruffle slightly, before a thumb, and forefinger were brushing my jaw. "Don't get excited, Y/n." He mocked the dusted tint of rose along my heated cheeks. "It's mandatory for me to check your external vitals, like your face, and neck."

He was far from heavy-handed, when tilting my jaw to the side, and repeating. The word 'neck' was soft, and feathery, as if he were whispering. At the time, his warm fingertips had settled beneath my chin, and had begun to wander, lightly down the tendons within my neck. They flexed, involuntarily, as I swallowed.

I urgently attempted at regulating my breath. He was a medical genius, of course he'd notice the irregular chest movement, and rushed heartbeat. I flushed, harder, jaw ticking. "Yeah, right." The scoff faded from my lips, as they wet themselves. Tongue flitting subtly, along the dried skin of my lip. He gives me a look, where his features are softened, but sharpened, too. He blinks, and dips his darkened eyes over mine, before allowing them to focus on my forearm. I had forgotten how thick his lashes were, and how well they had complimented the cat-eye shape. His lips were thick, too. Kissable. They curved, gently, in a smug smirk. "Who's the qualified one here, hm?" He hummed, and the skin he had weakly cupped was coated in goosebumps. Newly formed, and raised, as the thin hairs along my forearm stood erect. His tone was so effortlessly attractive, deep, and rich. Smooth. I swallowed, unable to repress the mellow hiss. His eyes were stern, and rose from the skin to my features. He searched, curiously. His head had been lowered, and so his pupils traced mine, flitting between them from beneath his lashes. "Does that hurt you?" He questioned, lowly. I began to chew my lower lip, humming, as I dropped my chin. "Mhm."

His heated palm was positioned above the wound, and pressed, flat. I hissed, harder, screwing the lids of my eyes to a close. "Did you really find that necessary?" I replied in irritation. My jaw tightened, my molars gritting, lightly. He shook his head, weakly, masking the breathy chuckle through his nostrils. It was as if he had found my pain to be both humorous, and entertaining. I wouldn't have put it past him. He returned, bluntly. "Not really."

He raised his palms, and settled them on the rim of the silver-lined tray. He took a roll of gauze, and the harsh, red-hot burn within my forearm was stifled by thick, coarse fabric. "Are you sadistic?" I whined, quietly. Unable to tear myself from stealing several glances at him, as he focused, hard, on the wrapping. His wrists moved smoothly.

"If I was sadistic..." Chishiya began, the sign of his smirk muffled by his curtained hair. He paused, amusedly. "I wouldn't be helping you now, would I?"

I blinked, softly. Knowing better than to snarkily reply to his frustrating wit. I'd be made a fool, and that would only stroke his ego, further. He was content with the silence he had ensued, lips quirking as he dressed the wound. I searched the small area of face I could see. His dyed hair hung, like wispy drapes, over his visage. His eyes were dark, and hardened by focus, and concentration.

My stomach knotted, tightly, watching him work his slender fingers, so effortlessly. Wrapping, smoothing the creases, tugging, and slipping beneath the gauze. His lips were parted, slightly, and the tip of his tongue had threatened to slide between his teeth.

He had clearly known how to use them. It was an arousing thought. I cursed, silently, and then prayed for his check-up to be quick. My clit pulsed. My inner thighs brushing, mindlessly. I stole a glance at his chest. His jacket hung loosely over his shoulders, and sagged at the angle he had been in. The zipper struggled, undoing, silently, inch by inch, revealing his smooth, toned chest. I swallowed, thickly.

"It's rude to stare like that, you know?" He muttered, confidently, eyes still tracing the bandage. He sighed, softly. Parting his lips, as he exhaled, and straightened his spine. He peered at me, knowingly. The blood beneath my skin rushed, harshly, like a crashing of waves through the lining of my veins. "I'm sorry." I apologised, abruptly. His stare was intense, and electrifying. I searched every corner, every crevice of this room in an attempt to steer from the taunt. "Thank you..." I spoke weakly. I had to leave. My thighs were heavy, my limbs were, too. Every part of me, like a sponge. My knees were threatening to buckle beneath the weight.

"It's my job." He raised his chin, smirking, fondly. "I guess. Now that you're seemingly in need of my care every hour of the day."

I blinked, toning down the growth in my eyes, as my jaw fell slack. Only briefly. I had wanted to reply, but the words were wedged deep in the tightening confines of my throat. I shifted, awkwardly. He exhaled through his nostrils, voice low. "Is there anywhere else that needs my attention?"

I bit back the need to retaliate a lewd joke. Flushing, quickly. A deep, deep crimson. My thighs brushed further, squeezing, as if wrapping around an imaginary head. My stomach dropped, excitedly.

He had never appeared so kind, and gentle. I was often hushed, and led to the doorframe the second he had finished tending to my wounds. It wasn't as if he were benefitting from this, in any way. I slowly, unsurely, searched the rest of my raised skin. Glaring down, at my shaking fingers. He was closer.

"Here." He neared, catching the skin of my thigh with his piercing stare. My cheeks were warm. There was a thin, reddened slice on the inner flesh of my thigh, barely three centimetres in width. I let my inner thighs meet, as if they were shy. Rubbing, coyly. He lowered his head. "Does this hurt?" He questioned, lowly, smirking pridefully. He didn't hesitate before pressing his palm to the mark. His fingertips curling, and arching against my skin. Cupping me, softly. I inhaled, quickly. Gaining a teased glance from the blonde. My chest raised, and fell at such a speed, I was afraid my lungs were going to over-expand, and burst. "Yea...yeah." I stammered, lying awfully. "I see." He clicked the tip of his tongue against the roof of his mouth, gesturing toward the sheetless mattress. "Please do take a seat."

He was silent, as he shifted on his heel, and took a new wad of gauze into his fingertips. His palm brushed the sensitive skin, slowly. So, so slowly. The pads of his fingers dug softly, as he began wrapping. His free hand cupped the fat of my thigh, raising it from the carpeted floors. The gauze manoeuvred skilfully, beneath me, and then over the muscle. It flexed, involuntarily, against his touch. "You seem tense." He noted, focused on my thighs, and the thick wad of gauze. "No, I'm okay." I regulated my breath, pressing the tip of my tongue along my inner cheek. "Ah." He breathed, lips curving, slyly. "You're shaking, too?" His grip hardened, squeezing my thigh. I swallowed, drily, as he met my dilated pupils. He slid one of his palms, stealthily, along my forehead. Pressing, lightly. I watched his lips, curiously. His tongue had wet them, and they shone with saliva, full, and thick beneath these dimmed lights.

"Chishiya." I sighed. It verged on desperation, and irritation. He hummed. "You know what you're doing. I know you're not dumb."

His brows raised upward, momentarily. "Do I?" He blinked, feigning innocence. My jaw tensed, organs tossing. "What am I doing, Y/n?" He questioned, searching me, curiously. He smirked. He knew all too well. Teasing me. I was begging, silently, skin a fiery mess of faded pink. My cheeks fading further when his palm fell along my thigh. He gently parted them, and placed his other on the opposite thigh. He gripped, tightly, and shifted me toward the edge of the sheetless mattress. He neared closer, fitting himself between my separated thighs. My breath hitched, while his remained calm, and composed. "Tell me, Y/n." He whispered, commanding, lightly. The pit of my stomach had ached for him. The fabric of my swimsuit was surely stained, by now. His cologne was spurring me, leaving me damp, and light-headed.

"Chishiya." I whined, with a breath too fast, I had almost choked on a stifled whimper. "You're doing this on purpose. I know you are." I whispered. Afraid these sentences would slip from between my lips, incoherently, and slurred by desire. His eyes were lidded, searching me, more, before his chin dipped, and his breath tickled the skin of my jaw. "Do you want it?" He warmed the skin with his faint whisper. "I can tell that you're wet, Y/n." He continued, lips brushing the edge of my jaw. I was unable to think, my internal processes flawed. Fogged. My heart began to beat through the bikini I had worn, in two distinct areas. The fabric was dipping down the bare skin of my shoulders, as if it were as desperate to be stripped, as I were. "Doctor." I smiled, softly, feigning innocence, as he had done prior. His brow raised, expectantly. I neared him, chest almost flush along his, my lips parted by the shell of his ear. My palm slid along the smooth expanse of his revealed chest. Fingertips arching, and drawing lines, needily. "I have somewhere else that needs your attention."

I pushed back, palm still flat along his chest. He could see, tracing the tip of my forefinger as I pressed the pad over the rim of my lower swimsuit. I rolled my middle finger down my soaked, clothed clit. His chest was raising, quicker, as his eyes flickered upward to meet mine. "Is that so?" He smirked, knowingly. He was playing along.

He soothed the skin of my waist with his palms, either side of my hips. They yearned to grind along the edge of the mattress, and stain the frayed edge. I stiffened, when his fingers curled, hooking over my lower swimsuit. The fabric had been pulled, lightly, from my slickened skin. "Don't tense." He hushed, "You're in good hands." He speaks low, and slow. Enunciating each, and every syllable, and waiting for my features to contort. He gave me a questioning glance, but the upward quirk in his lip had told me otherwise, that he was aware of the answer. "May I?" His fingers tugged, and the fabric slid along the dips in my hip. "Please." I breathed, barely. Hastily.

The cloth tightly clung to the curves, stripped by his palms. He shifted me closer, allowing the loose fabric to fall and hang, caught on the skin of my ankles. "Part your legs, please." He instructed, calmly. I abided, widening the area between my knees. Spreading, with no retaliation. He watched the muscles in my inner thigh contract. My clit was swollen with arousal, parting my lips, slickly. "You might feel a slight sensation." He sighed, softly, before grazing the tip of his thumb along the pulsing flesh. "Right here." The smooth pad lightly pressed the clit, teasing a whimper from between a faltering breath. He hummed, drawing a gentle circle, until his thumb was coated in slick. My palms were damp, cupping the mattress beneath me. Tightening, roughly, when the tip of his middle finger had traced, teasingly, through my folds. He rolled the lengthy digit in subtle circles, once more, and I sighed, pleasingly. Lifting my hips into his fingers.

Chishiya raised his brow. Taking his fingers from between my legs, and settling them, lightly, on my tensed thighs. "Is this how you treat your doctor?" He questioned, mockingly. "Fuck." I cursed in a half-whine. "Please, Chishiya, don't leave me like this."

He smirked, cockily. Why had I been giving him this? I was stroking his ego too much. "Do you beg for your doctor to touch you?" He continued. He was smug. My chest raised, frustratingly falling, as I huffed out a long-held sigh. "What if I do?" I peer through my lashes, lips rising, smoothly. Pridefully. "Doctor." I wet my lips, fingers taking his wrist, and placing his palm, flat, along my aching clit. I left my touch against his lower forearm, watching him, curiously. "Please touch me, doctor."

The blonde's brows raised, quickly. His eyes had fallen into fogged, hooded crescents. I was aware he was enjoying every part of this, as much as I was. He smiled, in amusement, before pursing his thick lips, in fake wonderment. "Usually." He began, maintaining my wavering focus. "The impatient receive their medication last."

I whined, mutedly, through tightly pressed lips. My hips lowered, my slick lips grinding on his calloused palm. He rubbed, harder, cooing me with a gentle, low "Shh."

"So needy, hm?" He hummed. His lips met my jaw, planting softly. "Chish..." I sighed. "Do you need me to take care of you?" He questions in a low, stifled hum against my lips. I blink, preparing a reply, but the tip of his tongue had already parted them. Stealthily slipping between my teeth. My gasp, and groan were muffled by his lips, as he toyed with my clit with his thumb, and slid inside of me with two, thin fingers. I clenched around the minimal girth, and yearned for it, needily, to be his cock, instead. I was being loosened beneath him. Pumping his skilful fingers, in, and out, untying the knot within my stomach, little by little.

I took his tongue with my own, swapping our saliva, greedily. I needed him down my throat, his girth stuffed between my jaws, tip threatening to choke, and gag me. My eyes were screwed shut, palms lifted, and pressed, harshly, within his dyed, chin-length hair. I tousled, and knotted the strands, sliding my fingers through the thick partings, tugging, ever so lightly. I was working harder. Limbs wet, and heated, chest raising, quickly. He was calm, fucking me with his fingers, unthreading me. Pushing his tongue into my mouth.

He parted us, and I blinked in awe. Chishiya was composed. Chest barely heaving, features relaxed, skin clean, and dry. I was swallowing air, greedily. Cheeks flushed, lips thickly swollen, and wettened by a mixture of our shared spit. He smiled, softly, as if my state was amusing. His fingers had ceased their movement, and I whined. Urgently objecting. He hummed, content with how I had reacted. "Do you not want something better?" He questioned, tipping his jaw, as he eyed me. "I'd like to treat my favourite patient." He cupped the flesh of my thighs, and squeezed, lightly.

He dropped a palm beneath the loosened band of his shorts, and arched his hand around his cock. His other palm soothed my inner thigh, shifting me closer, as he removed himself from his swim shorts. His tip dripped, eagerly, coated in a thin layer of pre-cum. It slid down the skin of his veined shaft. It threatened to brush along his faint happy trail, as it curved upward in its hardened state. I tried desperately to compose myself, still my harsh chest, and rough beating of my heart. It slammed along my ribs, choking a pleasured sigh from my tight throat. He twitched in the palm of his hand, as he searched my expression. Smirking, cockily, at the way I had unknowingly rubbed at his ego. He curled his fingers, and pressed his tip to my clit. He traced himself, drawing wet lines through my lips, before burying the tip between them. I whimpered, sharply, and he muted the strangled, throaty whine with his lips. He hummed against them, lowly. I had realised the action wasn't to muffle mine, but to repress his own. His other palm had his fingers arching into my flesh, digging deeply, while he kept it raised. My legs spread, further, and with a slight thrust forward, his cock had sunk, deep, inside of me. His breath hitched. Shaky. My throat was straining, my chin tilting backward, as my lips had fallen, parted. He fit, tightly, my walls enveloping him, entirely. I sucked him, further, making his tip rub my insides. My walls squeezed his veined cock, lightly. Pulsing around him, softly.

Chishiya rocked forward, his strokes were precise. Filling me, over, and over. I whined, hard. His name. Chanting it, and stuttered, stammering versions of it, like a sacred prayer. He paused, smirking at my whimper. He hung there, pulling out, until his tip was stuffed between my lips, pushing against my clit. He then rutted forward, finding himself tightly encased by plush, thick walls, once more. He groaned softly, a slight, stammered breath. My thighs were shaking, chest tightening. He sighed, spurred by the sounds that had complimented the way his hips shook my upper thighs. Soft slaps, and quiet, wet sucking as my core gave in to his thick cock. Staining my walls, with each desperate drag, in, and out.

I whimper softly, and he sighs in relief each time I tighten, and wrap around him. He's still calm. Hair only slightly messed, wisps of loose strands flickering over his hooded eyes. They were glossy, like glass. "Chishiya..." I groan, tossing my chin backward, my pupils finding themselves beneath my eyelids. I find his jacket with my hands, and wrap my fingers around the fabric, folding, as I pull the mass of cloth into my palm.

He exhaled deeply, thickened lips parting when I suck him between my contracting walls. He twitches. I swallow, thickly, the knot within my stomach untying, when his tip draws further, deeper. "Shit..." I stammer, and curse. My breath hitches. "Chish, I'm..."

He sinks himself so far inside of me, his cock pulsing along my walls, as they squeeze him, lightly. He fills me so thickly, I orgasm loudly. Brows knitting, tightly. Slack-jawed. I rolled over his cock, as he milked me dry. Plunging himself further into my slick, before coating my insides with his thick, warm cum. He fucks it deeper, until a ring of milky white drips from between my lips, and around his base. His hips stutter, only slightly. His breath calms, chest falling with a subtle sigh.

He takes a second to compose himself, before tucking his softened cock between the material of his shorts. He smirks, as he watches me study him. "Not my usual treatment. Please leave a review with my receptionist." He jokes. "You can book another appointment, if you wish?"

I giggle, lightly, palm pressing along my lips. "I'll definately consider it, you know."

He hummed, smirk twitching, while he dips his head, and tidies the gauze. Places it, softly, on the silver-lined tray. I drop from the raised height of the sheetless mattress, and drag my lower swimsuit from wrapped around my ankles. It settles on my hips, loosely.

"I wouldn't be too surprised if you had suddenly become more accident prone." He teases. "Yeah?" I scoff.

"If that could be possible."

#alice in borderland #alice in borderland smut #smut #chishiya #chishiya x reader #chishiyasbiscuits

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