#and i don't like to acknowledge my trauma head on

[invisiblerambler]

Jokes on everyone my therapist was out of town last week and I had to cancel my appointment for this week so you're all getting this in stereo.

motion sickness by phoebe bridgers is trending on tiktok again and it's not like the way I related to that song is new. that relationship happened when I was still a minor and I am thankfully years out from that reality now, but something about the way that song sat in my body today, I genuinely feel physically ill. it's weird to say I feel lucky because I wasn't it was an awful situation, but it could have been worse but also idk it was still bad!

I was thinking about recently the way that my body knew it needed to end before I did. There was a lot of our relationship where I physically could not be near him anymore because my body was telling me no. I attributed it to asthma I had low oxygen levels I was medicated for it. It took me years to realize that the reason I felt faint and sick and awful every time we spent time together is because my body knew what my brain didn't.

I'm sick thinking about it now. I have endless boundless self compassion for that version of myself but it doesn't feel like enough. she is so close to my skin these days. the emotional flashbacks of moving to a completely new place are nothing to fuck around with.

I want to go back and physically remove her. from all of those situations. I want the sick feeling in my stomach to go away.

The beginning of july was hell, and now at the end it feels like I'm right back where I started.

[bunnyboy-juice]

awawawawawawa

[doppelnatur]

i think maybe we should start talking about victims and survivors as an oppressed group even outside of the context of other marginalizations. I'm thinking especially about victims of domestic violence, bullying and sexual abuse but also refugees and victims of natural disasters and other forms of ongoing stress/trauma, I just have less perspective on that and would welcome other perspectives here.

And yes, being part of a marginalized group, a) is in and of itself an ongoing stress, b) makes it more likely for you to become a victim of both interpersonal power imbalances as well as the effects of the global power imbalances as expressed as war and climate catastrophies, etc and c) makes it harder to receive help. I just think seeing those as intersections might be helpful? Conversations about domestic violence and sexual abuse are very commonly framed as conversations about gender and while I do think gender is an important factor in both, it is unhelpful to deny the doubt, downplaying and scrutiny all survivors regardless of gender face.

I think it would be helpful when building support networks to keep in mind the social bias against victims, whether those support networks help people escape a war zone or an abusive home. My impression is that a lot of the same social mechanisms that apply to marginalized groups, also apply to victims and survivors. It's the downplaying of the impact of the violence/disaster, the dehumanization, the speaking about you and not with you, the being robbed of your agency, there being "good" and "bad" victims, the contradictory and impossible standards you are held to, the way you're expected to bare yourself to display yourself and your wounds and be available for questioning...

I don't know maybe this is a useless concept or already really common framing but like I'd like to have a conversation about it?

[elirluna]

why does childhood trauma pop up in your head at the most random times. i want an ad blocker for it

[lily-bisque]

ＷＡＹ ＯＵＴ ＴＨＥＲＥ 𖠰 ⋆☾𓃦☽⋆⁺₊✧🪵𓇢𓆸

series masterlist

✦ ── pairing: lumberjack!sukuna x citygirl!reader

✦ ── synopsis: taking a hike, alone, in a massive forest to escape your mundane life may not have been the greatest idea you'd conjured up—a realization you'd come to soon after you managed to lose your map miles inland. but when a lumberjack who knows the land like the back of his hand offers you a place to stay, you think maybe your life isn't so tragic after all. besides, for the sake of your safety, who knows what lingers in the shadows after nightfall?

✦ ── contents: lost in the forest au, forced proximity, bantering, angst, trauma/torture aspects, minor injuries, eventual romance, eventual smut, no use of y/n, mental health and depression struggles, suicide, blood and violence, mentions of war—pls remember that this is a fictional work inspired by a comic and i am not using this to rewrite history or treat any tragedies unseriously! tags to be added.

✦ ── a/n: this is going to be my 1k followers special but i've already got a solid outline and plenty written. i believe this will end up being a multi-chapter fic. can't wait to release this, so check below the threshold for a teaser ;D

✦ ── word count: 35k/?

archive ─ playlist

volume one // womb

volume two // amateur blood

volume three // you don't mess around with slim

volume four // eternal life

volume five // todo a su tiempo

volume six // sympathy for the devil

✦ interlude // a man needs a maid

volume seven // forwards beckon rebound

✦ interlude // ???

volume eight // ???

comment to be added to the taglist (status: open)

art by outdmilk on twt

teaser 𖠰 ✩��˚.⋆☾𓃦☽⋆⁺₊✧🪵𓇢𓆸

After getting fully dressed, you shuffled your socks on before you let out a loud hiss—a sudden piercing pressure on your ankle.

Gently setting your sock down, you sat atop a nearby rock and crossed your legs to take a closer look. 

It seemed that the thorn that poked you earlier had done more than just that—the area swelling and red. The spot, previously a microscope hole, had grown and was practically glowing and exuding a heat.

You pressed a finger against it, immediately regretting it when it sent pain spiking through your veins, the skin bulbous.

“You’re not making it out of the forest any time soon in that condition.”

You yelped with a jump, full-body flinching and swinging your head behind you to see Sukuna towering over you, eyes narrowed to slits as he eyed your injury. “Jesus. Warn a woman next time?”

He ignored you, something you’ve noticed he has a habit of doing, as he folded in half, skimming a hand over your puncture wound. A tight whimper left your lips, his calloused finger pad ghosting over it before he straightened out. “Can you walk on it?”

You attempted to pull the sock back over before you winced, heart fluttering in nerves. “I-I can try,” you stammered out, trying to maneuver it carefully before he clicked his tongue.

“Fuck, alright,” he grunted, as if mulling something over before he stepped in front of you. He crouched down on one knee, jeans digging into the mud yet he didn’t seem to care. “Hop on.”

Your maw fell slack at the sight, suddenly feeling incredibly hot. This crude and ruffish man was offering to carry you all of the sudden.

“Uh, i-it’s alright. I can walk–”

“Quit your rambling and get on.” 

You shut up at his interruption, muttering a ‘rude much?’ he didn’t acknowledge under your breath before standing to a wobble, doing your best not to bump your ankle into anything as the pain began to flare to what felt like your bones.

Oddly enough, he was practically your height on his knees, his massive form slightly intimidating you.

You brought your hands over his shoulders and clasped them in front of him, hoping he couldn’t smell the musk radiating from your sweat-soaked clothing.

As you tried to wrap your legs around his midsection, he suddenly rose, wrapping his massive hands along the underside of your thighs and straightening to his full height.

You did everything to ignore the flip of your stomach as he did so, the touch burning your skin.

Something sizzled in your mind, before you realized how leggy this man actually was. “Could make a joke about the weather up here, but it’s really quite nice,” you snickered, head ducking between his hat, cheek right beside his, as your eyes raked over his bird's eye view.

“Shut it or I’m dropping you.”

[bunni-v1]

May we get some crk thoughts, my liege? I too have a hyperfixation—

Shadow Milk Cookie Headcannons (SFW & NSFW)

🍓Thank you for the excuse to write this shit, I feel less insane being asked to do it lol. I still think this might taint my public image, so lets hope none of my future employers fuck with tumblr. Anyway only smc since he's who I'm obsessing over. I was gonna add pv, but I write wayyyy too much to include both of them on one post. Maybe I'll do him if someone asks nicely. I'll have a mix of both sfw and nsfw so beware lol.

MDNI (I'll find u)

TW: Shadow Milk Cookie; Obsessive behaviors; Stalking mentioned; Nsfw under the cut; unedited

Info: Shadow Milk Cookie x Reader; Sfw & Nsfw headcannons

Credit for Beast Bite Idea: @rollingeevee (go give them love I adore this AU)

-To start I'm gonna say, he's insane, like genuinely. He leans into a lot of yandere-esque behaviors, but I firmly believe he's not a full-on yandere, just really fucked up in the head (trauma and such, poor thing, wah wah wah.)

-Pre-Corruption Shadow Milk surely had a lot of admirers, but admiration is very different from genuine love and connection. He was, in a very literal sense, on a different level than all the cookies on earthbread. He's immortal, a god meant to care for all cookies, romantic relationships with cookies (other than the other heroes) just aren't an option in his mind. (For the sake of these, none of the beasts have had any romantic interaction with him, because I don't wanna deal with that can of worms rn.)

-All that to say, it's highly unlikely he has much experience in relationships. Maybe he's had flings, and some sexual encounters, but I doubt he would commit to someone he would inevitably lose to time. And, sure, he certainly could artificially extend their lifetime... but that's unethical and unfair to his partner. The burden of immortality is not one a regular cookie is baked to bear.

-So when he is inevitably corrupted and sealed away, romance isn't really a thought on his mind. He's very fixated on escaping that stupid tree and enacting his revenge. Which he does, at least in part, and with his freedom comes half of his powers and ensuing chaos.

-There are not many ways he could meet you if I'm quite honest, so I'll leave that up to personal interpretation. However you do meet him, though, you have to be intriguing. He gets bored of people easily, so you have to stand out -- be that in your demeanor or the way you speak or how you challenge him, it just has to be interesting. Once he's interested he's hooked.

-He's rather... mmm... obsessive? He likely stalks you for a while before he makes any moves. He wants to learn your patterns, the cookies you surround yourself with, the things you like, your job, your favorite foods, what flowers you like, and how do you feel about his chaos? He'll even manipulate things around you, just to see how you might react. (Is it fucked up? Yeah, lol! But isn't it equally endearing? He seems to think so.)

-You have frequent reoccurring dreams about him in this period of time. You've only seen him from a distance at this point, but you can't quite shake him from your thoughts. What's very important here is that you realize that your thoughts are not your own. Acknowledge that he's watching, and make sure that he's aware you're aware. Be that by purposefully doing something he could recognize as acknowledgment, or outright saying that you're aware he's messing with you. He values curiosity and intelligence in a person, if you can break yourself out of his cycle he's 100% sold on you.

-It doesn't take much longer after that for him to make his first official appearance. Bowing gracefully in front of you as he materializes from thin air, smiling like a man driven mad by infatuation.

-Believe it or not, he's really not all that creepy or pushy. He's very playful and charming, and while you have the knowledge he'd been watching you for a long time at this point, it's hard not to fall for him. He flirts with an ease that no other cookie really has, and he's so very funny never failing to get a smile out of you at his jokes.

-Now, this may go against what others characterize him as a lot, but I don't believe he's the type to steal you away and lock you up. Shadow Milk is a cookie who wants to be wanted, he doesn't want his feelings to be entirely one-sided, it would really hurt him to pour himself into someone who does not want to reciprocate his passions.

-He's unbelievably patient with you. Despite what the mental manipulation from earlier implies, he allows you to set the pace and make the moves, mostly nudging you gently in the direction he wants you to go now that he has your attention. Again, he wants you to choose him. He wants you to love him, so he will happily wait as long as it takes for you to realize and accept your longing for him.

-He gives you the flowers you like, and listens to you talk about your exceedingly boring days (with rapt attention, of course, he loves listening to you talk as much as he loves talking). If you ask, he'll take you anywhere you'd like to go on earthbread with a snap of his fingers, showing you sights you'd only dreamed of seeing. (Whether or not these are illusions are still up for debate).

-It's very hard not to fall for him with all this considered, and he knows that of course. He was just waiting for you to confess, and you have to confess. He won't do it even if you make it clear you want him to. It's not something he'd ever admit to you -- or himself -- but he doesn't want to risk even the slightest bit of rejection. It would break him more than he's already been broken, so you'll have to do it for our poor little jester.

-When you do though? Oh, he's over the moon! Practically swooning as he scoops you up and spins you around in celebration. He's so overjoyed. He is wanted, there is someone in this world who loves him genuinely. There's no false platitudes or any worshipping done, just raw affection between the two of you. (Just the tiniest bit of manipulation at the start, but obviously you've dismissed and forgiven that at this point).

-Again, he doesn't immediately take you away from your life if you don't wish to be. He does heavily encourage you to come spend your days with him, though. He can take care of you, he's literally a god, you'll never ever want for anything so long as he can control it (which he can, duh).

-I feel it very important to emphasize that in a relationship with him, you are equal. Even if you literally cannot be equal in stature and power, you are equal in the relationship -- if anything you have more sway over him than he does over you. He's very, very in love with you, and he will do just about anything you ask of him so long as it doesn't interfere with obtaining his souljam.

-Having established that, let's get to the fun stuff.

-Shadow Milk Cookie is very physically and verbally affectionate. If you are around him it's likely he's touching you in some way. Whether that's him literally hanging off you like a baby monkey or just a hand on your arm, he likes to have a physical tether to you.

-Plenty of messy wet kisses all over your cute little face, he loves seeing you get all flustered and feeling your dough burn up from his barrage of affections.

-It's also very common for him to carry you around in various different styles. Over the shoulder, piggback, princess style, like a sack of potatoes... doesn't really matter. It's also a regular occurrence that you fall asleep as he floats around the spire of all knowledge. He doesn't need sleep, and he does not sleep often, but he likes holding you while you do so. It's proof of your trust in him, and he usually uses the time you are sleeping to be more genuinely affectionate. Soft words whispered in your ears bringing you sweet dreams as he runs his hands up and down your back, kissing the crown of your head with such love it would make a grown man blush.

-He calls you cute little nicknames, like shortcake or sweet thing. The most common, and his favorites, are doll/dolly and little star. (Little star is something he hums with such affection it makes you weak in the knees. You know he's feeling more adoring when he uses it.) Talks about how cute you are, how pretty you are, how desirable you are. How any cookie would be so lucky to have you -- too bad they could never compete with him!

-That being said, most of his affections are pretty surface-level stuff at the start of the relationship. At least, what you get to see. He has a hard time opening up to others, he's a very sensitive cookie deep down in his dough. It takes quite a while to get him out of his shell and start showing you who he is as himself.

-Who he is, is a very aching cookie. He lost so much, struggled with his own corruption, and still hasn't fully accepted it himself. He feels as though he has been betrayed and discarded by everything he once loved, it's no wonder he has a hard time showing you such ugly sides of himself.

-You warm him up, melt him slowly, and you get to see peaks of genuine love and adoration behind those heterochromatic eyes. He may never allow you to see all of him at once, but you do get to know him. If you continue to love him despite seeing the uglier side of things, there is a distinct shift in the way he showers you in affection.

-Initially, he's very showy with everything, his love is a spectacle for the two of you to watch. It's almost like he's put himself outside of the relationship rather than in it. After he opens up, it's quieter, more intimate. He's more involved in it, like it's less about showing you how much he loves you, and more about sharing that mutual feeling between the two of you.

-You didn't have much room to show him how much you cared for him, but now you do. He allows you to initiate physical affection and doesn't flinch away at the touch. He accepts your words of admiration for what they are, not questioning your intentions for any reason.

-Kisses are softer, more full of emotion. Less like he's drowning you and more like he's trying to swallow you up. Desperation to have you as close to him as possible can take him over quite frequently during make-out sessions, and they leave you breathless and fuzzy rather than burning and flustered.

-Now, you can't write Shadow Milk without acknowledging how fucking jealous he is all the time. Now, I believe it's less of a jealousy thing (though, that really is something that is frequent), and more of a possessive/protective thing.

-He doesn't get jealous of the average cookie, alright, not unless you show interest for whatever reason. They're not really a threat to him, and why would they be? He's secure enough to know that you wouldn't leave him for some random half-baked simpleton. HOWEVER, he DOES get jealous of the other beasts and especially Pure Vanilla Cookie.

-The other beasts aren't as powerful as him, but they're still powerful and cunning (some of them at least). Truly, on a level of divinity and ability to care for you, they are his closest competition. Even still, he only gets jealous if one of them seems to want to stake a claim on you, or you become too fascinated with one of them.

-If neither is the case, he highly encourages you to form relationships with them. They are cookies that, seemingly, he cares for. While they can be difficult to get along with, if you are someone Shadow Milk deems worth his time, you are someone they will also deem worth their time.

-Ah, I should also mention he gets... pouty about Black Sapphire and Candy Apple. He doesn't see either of them as a threat, so I couldn't say he's jealous... he just gets annoyed when you're being attentive to them when he's around. Black Sapphire is smart enough to set hard boundaries with you to start, for both of your sakes, but your relationship with him is very positive. You are Shadow Milk Cookies partner, after all, you're a very important Cookie and Black Sapphire has no reason to be unkind to you.

-Candy Apple Cookie on the other hand is the one who's jealous here. You find her positively adorable and her little crush on Shadow Milk is nothing but endearing in your eyes, but she very much is huffy about your relationship with him. Of course, she can't do anything to you, that would only turn against her in the end so she just pouts. You can win her over slowly, though, just by being sweet to her and comforting her when Shadow Milk rejects her once again.

-Your relationship with them seemingly pleases Shadow Milk, though you can't really tell if he's happy or not. Sometimes he seems pleased, other times he's pouty, so who really knows other than him.

-However, the cookie that really seriously gets under his skin the most is Pure Vanilla. He does everything in his power to keep the two of you as far away from one another as possible, but it's almost inevitable that you meet PV, especially when he becomes Truthless Recluse.

-Pure Vanilla is everything Shadow Milk is not. Kind, gentle, patient, soft-spoken, and of course truthful. He's very afraid you may meet PV and realize that you do not want to be with him anymore. You would rather have someone like Pure Vanilla Cookie to dote on you in a fashion that he cannot bring himself to do openly yet.

-Of course, you don't, but that doesn't stop the fear from seeping into his dough. The only way to ease him is by being patient and displaying your loyalty through and through. He won't really be calm until Pure Vanilla is take care of, but you can assure him that you won't be leaving him for his other half anytime soon.

-Circling back to his possessive and protective tendencies, Shadow Milk does see you as an object of his affection. He is fully aware you are your own cookie, you are not something he ever wishes to control entirely and remove autonomy from, but you are his. His to keep and love and protect.

-He's very obsessive about your well-being and happiness. If something hurts you (alive or not), it's gone, destroyed. He won't even make a show of it, it just disappears. If you are upset, he is there doing everything to make you feel better. Whatever you want, whatever you need! He's here for you, please rely on him (he needs you to rely on him).

-If you are out and about he keeps an eye on you, which you are aware of. It's rather obvious, so even if he doesn't tell you, you can feel him watching you. Ignoring it becomes easier with time, but if anything happens to you he wastes no time in popping up and taking care of whatever happens.

-This leads into my next headcanon (inspired by the ever-talented @rollingeevee go check them out!), he has a bite of sorts that he uses as a means of monitoring you. It's something he uses to pinpoint where you are at all times, even when he's not monitoring you actively. The bite acts as a connection between you and him, emotionally and physically tying the two of you together.

-You can feel what he feels through the bite, anger, sadness, joy, pretty much anything he feels you can feel. It also acts as a reminder to you that you should not stray too far from where he is, sending an uncomfortably heavy feeling through your dough. (This is a manifestation of his worry, and it only really happens when he notices you've gone somewhere a little too far from the safety of the spire).

-However, this goes both ways. He can also feel what you feel at the same intensity that you feel it. You can, likely less so, also tell where he is. There is a pull in the back of your mind from the magic telling you where to find him at all times, and it only lets go when you are in proximity of him. If you miss him, he feels the same heavy feeling in his dough reminding him that you would like him by your side.

-Now, finally, we have to address the topic of mortality. Shadow Milk is likely more aware than you ever will be of how mortal you really are. This is why he's so very protective and possessive of you, he doesn't want to lose you prematurely.

-However, if you are okay with it, he is completely fine with artificially extending your life span. In fact, he does it happily. He might even start doing it without asking if the topic hasn't been broached in a certain amount of time. He wants to spend as long as you'll allow him by your side, and if that means breaking a few rules of magic and cookie society then so be it. He's a god after all, he doesn't have to answer to anyone (other than the witches).

-Anyway, let's get to the shit you freaks are really here for. (Me, I'm freaks.)

-I don't really think sexual intimacy is something Shadow Milk desires all that much, but he more so likes it because it's... interesting? I'm sure he derives physical pleasure from sexual intercourse, but less so than the average cookie might. Most of his enjoyment comes from seeing you enjoy yourself.

-It goes without saying, but Shadow Milk Cookie is a freak. He's into pretty much anything under the sun (except maybe one thing...), and so long as you're down to try something he's happy to oblige you.

-He is a switch, but he leans dom most of the time, and you won't get him to sub early on in your relationship. That requires a bit too much trust for him, so he'll need time to be cool with giving you that kind of control over him. But he will bottom for you as your relationship progresses, and that's a whole different side to him.

-Lets start with him in a dominant role, though, since it's more common to get from him.

-Obviously, he's a tease, through and through. He loves to watch you squirm and react to the things he does. Tantalizingly light touches drawn over your dough, teeth grazing your soft body almost piercing but never quite getting deep enough, heated breath blown over your most sensitive spots but never relieving you with his mouth as you so desperately need.

-Truthfully he could spend another thousand years just tracing over you, committing each inch to memory until he's satisfied in knowing every inch of you. Unfortunately, (or fortunately), he's not nearly as patient in the bedroom as he is outside of it. Not with all of you on display for him, so trusting and open, ready for him to defile you. Oh, his sweet, sweet little dolly~

-Even with his impatience, his teasing does not stop. His hands continue to ghost over you, making sure you're still squirming even as he succumbs to his need to taste you.

-Oh, and tastes you he does. He doesn't have to subscribe to regular cookie physical limitations, so he somehow manages to swallow you whole. Jaw unhinging so he can get as much as he needs from you, tongue splitting itself to give you attention everywhere, and god is it long and dexterous. He can reach so very deep and it moves with such precision, it makes you cum embarrassingly fast.

-That is if he allows you to cum in the first place. He's a big fan of edging, which shouldn't be a surprise. He likes to get you so close, then deny you of your pleasure. Your whining and grumbling is the cutest thing on all of earthbread, don't you know? He can't help but edge you when you're so damn cute every time.

-Your pleasure is in his hands, and it requires such relinquishing of power and trust. In a weird way it makes him feel warm and fuzzy inside, especially when you thank him over and over once he finally allows you to come undone after hours of teasing.

-Speaking of, he is a big fan of being praised for the work he does on you. Your moans and pleas are reward enough, but if you mumble out about how good you feel, how much you love him, how amazing he is he'll become drunk on your praise. Chasing after it with fervor, meaning he's going down on you with so much more excitement somehow.

-He's into blood (jam?) play. He likes leaving physical reminders of your relationship all over your body (yes, even ur vag/dick if you let him). With how sharp his teeth are, it's impossible for you not to bleed when he does so, and he does really like the sight of your jam. It's so pretty and so different from his own, another reminder of how different you are, and how much you trust him. (He'll lick it up and purr at the taste.)

-Bruises are also littered about your dough, his grip on you is tight, like you might slip away from him. The treatment is rough and harsh, but it feels so nice to be manhandled by him. The bruises are just nice little reminders of who you belong to. (He gets all proud when other cookies worry about them, like he's done something worthy of praise).

-He likes watching, he's very much a voyeur. Occasionally requests that you pleasure yourself for him so he can watch you struggle to get off, and he'll only help you out when you're near tears begging him.

-He prefers coming across you by himself, without having to request it. Or just feeling waves of pleasure through your bite. He'll watch you quietly fuck yourself without letting you know he's there. (Though, you most certainly can feel his eyes on you, that's what makes it so fun right?) Sometimes he'll join you after, and other and times he'll leave you be, it's 50/50 either way and regardless you still end up happy.

-If anyone else walks in on you when you're alone, he's very unpleasant. Accident or not they'll learn to be more aware of their surroundings next time.

-That doesn't mean he's against being watched though. Actually, he finds the idea of someone else seeing how well he treats you enticing (especially if it's someone like Pure Vanilla hehe). If you are together and someone walks in (or spots you in public), he won't stop. Instead, he'll lock eyes with them and smile big and wide, showing off his favorite little dolly for them.

-He's just so proud of you, and you're so very pretty beneath him, the whole world should get to see how you fall apart for him. He'll even make you look at them just to see how you fluster.

-If the offender tries to do anything other than watch, though, well... I really hope they didn't want to live for much longer. He's very much not a sharer, at all. The idea of anyone even thinking they could touch you and make you feel good both makes him laugh and want to tear them apart at once.

-He's very much into roleplaying and can get really into it. To the point, it loses the sexiness and is just the two of you playing around, which can be a bummer but is usually really fun. He likes things that lean into power dynamics but explicitly avoids god/king and worshipper/subject. A little too close to home for him, and would honestly be too boring and basic for him.

-He loves it when you dress up for him in pretty little outfits, be it lingerie or something more cutesy, he adores it regardless. Going out of your way to pretty up for him is a huge turn-on. He also loves it when you let him dress you up how he likes. Regardless of what you're wearing, it's not coming off the whole night. It will get ruined and he won't apologize for it. Besides, he can just replace it, right?

-Sex is more fun for him, but he can be intimate when he wants to be. Usually, when you're in control, he is at his most gentle. Yes, he's a brat when he bottoms and he'll fight you tooth and nail, but once you get him to submit he's the softest and sweetest you've ever seen him.

-He looks at you like you're the god, wide eyes taking in everything you do with such admiration it might make you crumble on the spot.

-He's much quieter, treating it less like a spectacle. Moans soft and squeaky, like he's not used to using his voice in such a way. He clings to you like a vice at each little movement, almost afraid you might disappear if he lets you go.

-Oh, and he praises you so much. 'So good', 'Thank you', 'You're perfect', and 'I love you' all tumble from him with such genuine gratitude.

-Being allowed to let his guard down and have you take control is cathartic for him, which is why it's so uncommon to have it happen. It's why he fights you for control so hard because this is an intimacy he isn't used to. It is hard for him to allow you to see him so weak, but you never use it against him. You're so very sweet and loving, and it makes him melt like butter in your grasp.

-If you have the bite I mentioned earlier, it only makes things so much more intense. Both of you can feel the raw emotion connecting the two of you, making the pleasure heighten further.

-In fact, when he gives you the bite it's the first time he allows you to top him. To connect you to him makes him very vulnerable, so he would naturally have to be in a vulnerable state already when he does so.

-It's unlike any of his other bites, it's far more painful when he initially bites down, but when his magic flows through it your body feels light and airy. The pleasurable feeling wrapping itself around your spine, and you feel what he's feeling. All that adoration pours into your being at once, and it's overwhelming to really feel how much he loves you.

[ohtobeleah]

Paramedic!reader grumbling but also excited because she has/gets to work Pittfest (the overtime and bonus pay was too good to turn down and homegirl is saving up for a vacation)

But as soon as the gunshots ring out she's running into the crowd, against the current of people fleeing

She's so busy treating people that she barely acknowledges the sting in her shoulder and thigh until a patient says to her, "miss... you're bleeding."

So she gets ushered into the back of an RA with a couple patients, insisting on treating them as they head to PTMC.

Meanwhile Jack is back helping in the ER knowing his wife is probably out helping and doing field triage and thats why she hasnt been here yet but he cant help but notice that heavy weight in his chest saying 'something is wrong.'

He sighs a breath of relief when he see's your familiar figure coming in from the ambulance bay, covered in blood but not necessarily yours... right? wrong.

You shouldnt be in the ER, all triage is happening outside-- thats a pink band.

fuck

-🐥

Oh my fucking god. My stomach dropped at the pink band… 💀

This is the exact moment he recognises you in a sea of bloodied victims. That pink fucking band is all he can see though.

It's pink. That means you have an hour if you aren't stabilised quickly. That means it's not superficial…that means…

“Jack!” Robby is practically screaming from across the way as he gloved up and immediately started assessing your nearly unconscious. How you were still standing was a shock to everyone. “Focus on the patient”

“Im fine!” You barely bark out before you go down. Its a dramatic sight to say the very least. But in a sea of trauma its the last thing people are worried about.

“Y/n!?” Jack shouts. He's making his way over with speed. His chest hurts. Its broken heart syndrome. He can't lose you ever…but especially not today. Not like this. “Thats my wife!”

“All the more reason to say over there,” Robbys calm. He shouldn't be given the circumstances, but he is. “Go, I'll call you—” But before Robby could finish his sentence, Jack is arguing back. He's standing his ground.

“I’m gonna save my wife because if you don't I wont forgive you.”

[afroslacks]

Don't Copy My Work 😐

Excuse any grammar mistakes and spelling I will fix it later.

I Luv Your Girl - The Dream

Modern! Elijah "Smoke" Moore x Black! Reader

Elijah has always been the quiet, calm, cool, and collected type. Whether that's its actual personality or a trauma response to adolescene he endured. He's been good keeping a poker face. But, when he met you it all changed.

You're his best friend's girl. His best friend being a man named Darius. They've know each other since their early 20's and been tight ever since. Smoke has always respected and love Darius like he was his own until he fell for you.

Right now he's watching you and Darius cuddle up on the couch as everyone watches some dumb ass horror movie. He's not even paying attention to the movie but instead he sitting at the end of couch watching y'all like some stalker. "I can't look" explain as out your hands over eyes only to slowly peek from behing your hands. Darius laughs deep from within his chest to pull you closer under his shoulder "it's okay baby I know you're a scaredy cat."

At his insenstive comment you smack your lips "boy shut up you know I don't like scary movies." Smoke has always liked your honesty and fired and he considers them some the best qualities about you. He never liked women who just sat there and took anything, to him they didn't have boundaries. He wanted woman who show him something and prove him wrong.

But he also knew Darius wanted to break you down in someone nobody would recognize. He had this belief that you needed to soften up a bit and follow a man's lead to make your life easier. Maybe even smile more so you would look so angry. That's exactly why he picked this lame ass movie.

Smoke then clears his throat to let the couple know he's still here. "My bad man we forgot you were here" Darius admits as he looks over his shoulder. "Speak for yourself" You cut in "Smoke are we annoying you?" Not wanting to inapporpiate. After all he is a guess. Elijah chuckles a little bit "nah you good."

He really appreciate that you're one of the few people who refuses to allow him to fall to waist side. Because of quiet nature people often move around because he doesn't make himself known. So to know that you'll always acknowledge him at his most silent makes him want you more. He knows its wrong to want your friend but he know he can treat you better.

He clears his throat stands uo clutching his bowl of popcorn. As screams from the televison fill the room along with the sound of chainsaw. "Well it's getting late looks like I gotta bounce." He admits

It causes you to smack your lips in disappointment as you push away Darius. "What? You don't have to go I gotta spare bedroom." You suggest while Darius raises a brow as your caring nature. "Since when you have such a caring spirit?" He jokes looking between his best friend and girlfriend. "I'm not heartless its too late for him to drive." You insists holding eye contact with Smoke who hasn't looked away since.

"I don't want to interrupt" Smoke confesses don't wanting to cause a fight. You shake your head the claim if their was a fight it started because Darius was annoying the hell out her. "No you're good plus it's my house" insisting

¤¤¤¤¤

Later that night You crawl out bed leaving Darius to snore loudly in bed heaving like a dog. Since he is such a heavy sleeper.Slowly shutting the door behind you make it to the spare bedroom. You gently open the door stepping inside for closing and locking it behind you.

Elijah already awake stares at you as he sleeps shirtless with gold chain gleaming in the night from the moonlight. "Came back for more?" He asks as the blankets falls from hips exposing his abs. You exclaim heavily "I'm just making sure that we agree we aren't going to tell him anything. Smoke then climbs out of bed walks over to ypu then peers down "now why would I do that?" He rhetorrically asks he knows why but, he wants to truth to spills from your lips.

"Because it shouldn't have happened don't play dumb it ain't cute." You snap turning your nose at him with anger flaring in your eyes. Smoke scoffs nodding along "So you didn't ride me or my face until 3am a week ago." He sarcastically agrees wanting to rub it in her face. "So we didn't spend time outside of sex enjoying each other company and you didn't confess you wanted to leave him?" Your face burns as he brings up some of the best memories that you've had in a long time. The memories that you're forcing yourself to push away to be safe.

"I'm with Darius, Smoke you know you're bestfriend." Pointed out "You don't have to be, let me take care of it and you." He suggest wrapping his strong arms around your waist. You heart beating faster as you feel yourself falling again.

Smokes leans his forehead again yours. Heavy breathing between you both and you haven't done anything yet. "I want to treat you like the amazing woman that you are. Don't you want that?" He inqures staring into your eyes. Your lip quivers as you think of wonderful treatment he provided for you before "Yes." You shakily admit breathing him in.

You're of Darius and honestly you can't stand him. He does everything in his power to try to control you. He's boring and his sex game weak too. You stayed simply because you've been there for a certain amount of time.

Elijah places his hands on your cheeks pulling you into his addicting kiss. It starts innocent with a press of his lips. Then he proceeds to open you up demanding for your tongue to play.

Your hands starts towards his large back and then makes its way up to his neck. Wanting to craddle his head to yours not wanting to let go of his touch. Moments later you break apart for air and he plants kisses on your neck. Grabbing a handful of your bottom to cop a good feel of what's his.

¤¤¤¤¤

Anyways let me know what you think. Should I make part 2? I'm sorry I didn't write more its 1am and bad bitch gotta work. Bye🫠

[un-fwuit-un-fwog]

HELLOOO👋🏻

Since your requests were open could you do a Leona x fem!reader??

Where the reader is initially wary of men due to past experiences back in her world. So when she's in twst world (more specifically in NRC) she's cautious around boys, but Leona notices and tries to gain her trust. Alot of people misunderstood him being a player, womanizer, mean cruel man etc when he's actually not like that. I guess you're my only hope for a Leona x reader request lololol 😭

Hope you have time to do this req!

Thank you for the request! I've been itching to write more Leona content, and you gave me an excuse to take a moment away from my The Rain series to do so! (I've had a somewhat similar idea rolling around in my head for months, but I'll save that for another fic ;))

I tried not to let the story or its themes veer too far off into. . .unsavory directions/topics, but some things have to be at least acknowledged in a vague way when discussing this topic. I tried to do so as respectfully as possible, but if I failed, please tell me so I can do better!

Synopsis: Fem! Reader who is wary of men grows to trust Leona.

TW: mentions of the reader having previous bad experiences with men, but I tried to keep it rather vague; reader has anxiety about being in a school full of men as well as having to stay with them in the events of book 3; reader gets chased by a guy that wants to beat her up near the end, but Leona steps in (I tried not to make it a princess in distress situation, but tell me if it comes off too much that way)

Being thrown into an unfamiliar world is awful. Being thrown into an unfamiliar world and being stuck in an all male school there? You had to question what kind atrocities you committed in your past life to deserve this fate.

It took you a while, but you managed to make. . .friends here. However, even those bonds were rather unsteady and fragile.

It's not that you hated men. You were simply wary of them. You had had past experiences that were. . .unsavory: being catcalled, the uncomfortable conversations with men who approached you in scarcely populated gas stations at night, the jokes no woman in her right mind would find funny, and even some experiences that to this day keep you up at night wondering what your fate would have been if you had done even the slightest thing differently.

You tried to trust the clearly good-hearted people who you logically knew had no ulterior motives hidden behind their kindness, but it was hard. Traumas are not easily forgotten or healed.

That's why, when the events with Octavinelle went down, you were on the verge of hyperventilating. You were friends with Ace and Deuce, and you trusted them as much as you could muster yourself to allow, but that was them. You didn't know, and certainly didn't trust, everyone who resided in Heartslabyul.

Jack's offer didn't seem much better to you, but when it came down to it, you didn't exactly have any other options.

The arrangement ended up being that you would stay with Leona in his room. You weren't sure if you'd prefer this over staying in a packed room with more people.

He barely acknowledged you, or, at least, it seemed that way at first. As your short time staying with him passed, you noticed some things. For one, Ruggie always complained that when he was waking up Leona, the lion wouldn't even wait for Ruggie to get out of the room to begin getting dressed, but Leona had always changed in the bathroom connected to his room for as long as you had stayed there. He also never got too close to you; and when anyone else did, he'd come up with a conveniently timed task for them to do. He didn't use his bathroom for anything other than changing while you were there, and instead used the dorm showers, leaving you his bathroom to yourself.

Don't get me wrong, he didn't go easy on you. He simply respected you and your right to space and privacy. You aren't sure if this was simply how he was raised, if he had noticed your wariness and acted so as not to worsen it, or if it was a mix of both.

By the end of your stay in Savanaclaw, you had somehow managed to find a sense of security in being there with the lion.

As time passed after your stay at Savanaclaw, you found yourself continuing to sit in the botanical garden during lunch. When Crowley decided you would be required to join a club, you joined the Spelldrive Club as a manager. On the rare occasion you had joint alchemy classes with Leona's class, he was unexpectedly present to class and would always 'begrudgingly' agree to be your partner.

However, what really cemented him in your mind as someone who could be trusted was the incident.

You had to stay after school as Grim had caused trouble again and gotten the two of you into detention. You were allowed to leave a bit early as you hadn't caused as much trouble, and you did because you had errands you had some items you needed to pick up from Sam's shop before it closed for the night.

As you walked through the hallways, you were distracted making a mental grocery list. In your somewhat spacey state, you bumped into another student.

He accused you of bumping into him purposefully and it soon became clear he wasn't planning to let you go unscathed. He was massive compared to you, so you knew that if things were to get physical you wouldn't have a great chance of coming out of things on top, so, you did the only thing you could do at the time and ran.

The other student shouted after you and took chase. You ran for what felt like an eternity. Your legs burned so bad you were astonished you were still managing to take steps, and your lungs felt as though they were on the verge of imploding. You weren't consciously thinking of where you were going as you ran, but you found yourself approaching the botanical garden with the other student hot on your heels.

Telling yourself that if you just gained a little more distance you'd be able to find a spot in the plants to hide without him noticing, you urged your legs to pick up the pace.

However, luck wasn't on your side, and, when you got into the garden, you tripped over an uneven brick on the path and toppled face first into the unforgiving stone. You skidded painfully across the bricks, your knees and palms being skinned in the process.

You did your best to scramble to your feet, but your legs had finally given out.

"Gotcha."

You heard a sickening voice not that far away as footsteps approached you at far too fast a rate for you to crawl into a bush before he reached you.

It was when you were searching the foliage on the sides of the path that you noticed what you had at first mistaken as a stick laying in the path, but upon further inspection you realized to be a tail.

You took in a deep breath before screaming "LEONA!" and praying it would be enough to wake the lion.

"The hell are you babbling about!" The voice of the other student snarled before you felt a harsh grip on your collar yank you up. "I was originally just gonna make you pay up for bumping into me so rudely, but after that chase you put me through, I think my fists have some anger pent up."

You ducked your head and braced for impact, but it never came. What did come was a soft warmth that caught you and held you up once the student's hand had finally released its grip on you. When you opened your eyes, you saw a clearly ticked off Lion.

He had one arm snaked under your shoulder and around your stomach to keep you up, and his other had a firm grip on the guy's wrist.

You were too dazed and hyped up on adrenaline to take in the words the two exchanged, but you swore you heard a crack moments before Leona let go of his wrist. The guy fled and were sure that if he were a beastman he'd have his tail between his legs.

You were torn out of your daze by an uncharacteristically soft, but still gruff voice: "Can you walk?"

It took you a moment to form words, but you eventually managed to reply: "I'm not hurt, but-"

Before you could finish your sentence, your legs were swept out from under you. A brief "'scuse me" left Leona's lips as he picked you up, and an unfamiliar feeling blossomed in your chest.

Seeing the shift in your expression, Leona sighed "Look, I know you like your personal space, but you can't walk and I'd feel like crap if I left ya out here, so I gotta carry you to the infirmary. I woulda asked, but it's not like I could get ya there any other way. You can punch me later if ya want."

The trip to the infirmary was silent. Thoughts raced through your head, but one of the most prominent was: "I called out for him."

You had no other choice but to come to terms with the terrifying realization that you trusted this man. For better or for worse, you trusted him. . .and while it scared you, it also bloomed this warm feeling in your chest.

You let your head fall against his chest as he carried you, and if he took note of that, he didn't let it show.

After you got checked out at the infirmary and reported the incident to Professor Crewel (because we all know Crowley is too incompetent at his job to do anything), Leona walked you back to your dorm.

The two of you never verbally acknowledged the events of that day again, nor did you talk about the feelings that came with them.

He was never not there after that, and you didn't mind the company.

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[jackabbotsfakeleg]

As Above So Below I Chapter 5 - Choked Up

Synopsis: After a long-awaited week of nights, you finally have a day off with Jack Abbot and he’s got you right where he wants you. Pairing: Jack Abbot x Fem!Reader  Word count: 3k Warnings: SMUT; 18+, MDNI.  Choking, Discussion of divorced dad rock, our favorite sad boys, dark humor, talk of mental illness. A/N: Welcome to the beginning of the two-chapter Jack Abbot sexcapade. If you’re not into choking, I’m sorry (but not that sorry). Don’t try this shit at home unless you know what you’re doing.  Sorry it took me so long to write, I have been sad.  Song lyrics are “Breathe” by Knucklepuck. Thank you for reading, I appreciate every single one of you. Masterlist

Chapter 5: Choked Up

"Buckle up, cause you're gonna feel it In the chest, we're due to decompress Fill your lungs and hope we're even Sport a smile like you don't know what comes next Shut me out with all my demons But don't ignore the ones in your own head Potential power lost in sequence To keep it short, I've done more with less"

Sleep heals most things— The blinding headache, The ache in your back The existential dread, and the aftereffects of baring parts of your soul to a man who finds comfort in darkness.

An alarm wakes you up at 5pm. It takes a minute for you to register where you are, asleep and alone in Jack’s bed. He let you sleep and set an alarm—a small gesture of kindness A reminder to thank him later.

You get up and find him standing in his kitchen, Snacks laid out neatly on the counter, Next to his backpack, Packing for another shift. Neat. Orderly. Like everything has a place. Can’t take the military out of the boy

“She lives” He doesn’t look up from what he’s doing but acknowledges your presence,

“You let me sleep,” you frown, moving so that you’re standing next to him, watching him work

“You needed it, the first shift will fuck you up” he continues, zipping up his backpack, “packed you a snack.”

“Thank you, but I didn’t come to nap” You remind him, nudging his shoulder with your own.

“Yeah? Well, I can’t fuck the sadness out of you on a few hours of sleep” He chuckles, he finally takes a second to look at you, ‘Jesus, those eyes.”

“That bad huh?” You raise an eyebrow,

“I’d know them anywhere” he narrows his eyes at you, “like looking in a fucking mirror, kid.”

“I’ll be better next time” You promise, “Scout’s honor”

“You don’t have to be better” he shakes his head, turning towards you. He leans forward, face inches from yours, eyes moving from your eyes to your mouth, “the trauma dumping is kind of hot.”

You lean forward, lips meeting his, and it’s immediately different than it was with Robby. It’s his hands in your hair pulling you into him, tongue in your mouth, desperate and forceful and demanding, and lasts until you’re both out of breath.

“I give it an 8” He smirks, rubbing his thumb along your bottom lip, “could have felt a little more enthusiastic on your end.”

“Fuck off,” a laugh escapes your mouth, turning to lean against the kitchen counter.

“You want a ride to work?” He asks, “I’ll let you listen to sad music.”

“You sure you don’t care if we walk in together?” You ask

“Oh, you’re getting out before we get there,” he jokes, picking up his backpack “Can’t ruin my reputation.”

“Of being dark and broody and chronically single?” You ask, walking past him to collect your things

“You got it, baby.” He smiles, “Gotta keep ‘em on their toes.”

He drives you to work, And he lets you listen to sad music, as promised. But he doesn’t make you get out of the car a few blocks away. Just two coworkers walking into work together. He offers to pick you up for the next several shifts, And you accept the offer. Anything for more time with this one.

On the third day of riding to work together, he makes you listen to something called Divorced Dad Rock And it’s in this moment you learn that Jack Abbot knows the entire discography of Creed. By heart. You can barely stop laughing by the time you get to work, Listening to him belt, “With Arms Wide Open,” thankful for the brief moments of whatever this is.

“Well, well, well” Robby is waiting at the nurses’ desk as the two of you approach, raising an eyebrow at the two of you.

“Did you know about Divorced Dad Rock? Or is this a Jack Abbot original?” You ask Robby, leaning against the desk.

“That was supposed to be our thing” He replies, looking at Jack, “not cool, man.”

“I think I’m starting to gather why both of you are single” You nod, looking between the two of them

“I shared this with you in confidence” Jack adds, “and now you’re using it to insult us.”

“I would never” Your hand to your chest, smirking, “It just doesn’t feel special if you’ve already sang along to Creed with someone else.”

“In his defense, we only listen to Dave Matthews Band together” Robby chuckles, “You can have Creed.”

“Sad eyes and a brat” Jack quips, quiet enough for only you to hear, “you going to be like this all shift?”

“Probably” you shrug, “is it going to be a problem?”

“At work? No. At my place later? Yes.” He nods, “Got the day off tomorrow.”

He leaves you standing at the nurses’ station to anticipate the potential consequences as he disappears for shift change.

The night starts off slow, luckily for you, as you’ve convinced your staff to stick around for an evening meeting to review the last several weeks as the head of the department. The idea of running an entire department sounded great on paper, after all, you’ve been asking to make mental health treatment more available, cost-effective, and evidenced based since the day you were hired at your first job. Every new psychologist starts out as bright-eyed and full of hope. It's only later do you get beaten down by the systems in place and recognize that those symptoms were set up to keep people in a cycle of failure. But now you were in the driver’s seat, the hospital’s full resources and budget at your disposal, and somehow you were still stuck explaining for the umpteenth time why it’s “not cool” to leave psychiatric patients in the ER for days at a time.

They told you that you would have employees, but they did not tell you that these employees would have questionable ethics and morals.  This was in fact, your circus, and unfortunately these were your monkeys: One psychiatry resident- Dr. Sherman- who chain smoked in the ambulance bay and had a reputation for pushing pills so his patients could “get some sleep,” one psychology post-doc, Dr. Sutton- who made it known that this was not her first, second, or third choice but seemed to be knowledgeable enough, and two psychology interns, Ms. Goodwin and Ms. Simmons, who had difficulty understanding the difference between disclosure and debriefing. You were at least grateful for the psych techs who were capable of making sure the patients and the staff were safe. 'No one had been assaulted here in years,' they promised, and you intended to keep it that way. 

“Our patients can’t live in the ED” you let out an exasperated sigh, forehead resting on the table in front of you “Either discharge them to the community or a residential facility, or wheel them up to the behavioral health floor so we can treat them."

"We also shouldn't be calling them names like the Kraken" Sutton spoke up, annoyed.

"I agree, and will talk with the attendings in the ER" you confirmed, validating her concerns

“Also, we don’t have the staff or the beds,” she continued, shaking her head, nodding towards the interns “and even if we did, we can’t get those two over there to stop crying with their patients and start treating them. The C in CBT doesn’t stand for crying.”

"We're trying to empathize with our patients," Goodwin remarked, and it took everything in your being not to roll your eyes. Some people should not be psychologists. 

“Enough” you shoot them both a look, advising them to stop talking, “What do we need? We’ve got a hospital budget, and I’ve learned a thing or two about being creative from prison.”

“More techs, updated testing instruments, the ability to coordinate with community care, more restrictive settings for the behaviorally stupid patients, and better treatment options,” Sutton has been thinking about this for clearly a long time, “Oh, and the will to live.”

“Fine. I’ll see if I can poach techs from Western Psych, God knows they could use a break from the constant staff assaults, I will bring in updated testing instruments from home you can use, I will personally attend the NAMI outreach meetings and see if Gloria can help me contract some beds for those who don’t need hospitalizations. What else?” You run through her prior requests, “we’ll do five-point bed restraints for anyone who can’t keep themselves safe, and I’ll approve hours for attending training.”

“Seriously?” It’s like Christmas morning for them, “You’d do all that?”

“Yeah.” You nod your head, “You gotta find your own will to live though. Listen, I’ve never been a fan of the red tape of administration. If I can work my way around it with the federal government, this hospital should be a cake walk. You got me all day, and on some weeks like this week, all night. We’ll meet weekly for supervision, I will be available by phone and email, and I have an office downstairs near triage and you’re more than welcome to pop in at any time.” 

Your shift ends—the promise of a day off spent with Jack Abbot.

The silence on the drive to his apartment is heavy. You haven’t stopped thinking about that kiss several days ago, and he’s still reeling from you talking back to him earlier in the shift,

He shuts the door to his apartment the barely gives you time to set your bag down before his mouth his on yours again, back pressed up against the door.

“Been thinking about this all night,” He admits, mouth moving from your lips to your jaw and down your neck.

“Been thinking about this since Robby’s apartment” you add, as his tongue traces a line from your shoulder to your pulse point.

He takes a step back and holds out his hand, leading you down the hall and into his bathroom.

You hop up onto the counter while he disappears into another room, reappearing with two towels, tossing one to you, “Heads up, kid.”

You grab his wrist, pulling him towards you, your hands finding the bottom of his shirt, fingers sliding under the material, his skin warm against your hands.

He leans forward, hand sliding along your cheek to the back of your neck, fingers laced in your hair, tilting your head back to look up at him, before kissing you hard, like he’s trying to show you just how long he’s waited for this. His hands move from the back of your neck, along your jaw. 

Your hand moves on top of his, guiding his fingers down around your throat, squeezing.

You feel him smirk against your lips, as he pulls away to look at you.

“This your kind of thing?” He asks, raising an eyebrow at you, and you nod against his hand.

You push his body back with your other hand enough for your knee to slide between his, pressing up against his already hardening cock. His grip tightens around your throat, his other hand grabbing your knee, eyes darkening, “Don’t.”

“Or what?” both hands around his wrist, a smile on your face, “you’ll come?"

“You’ve been a brat all fucking day” His voice is low, “talking back to me.”

“Seems like it turns you on” your voice constricted by the hand around your throat.

You try to move your knee again, other leg wrapping around his waist, and he squeezes harder, pressing your head back against the mirror hard enough to shake the glass behind you. He shakes his head and let’s go, “you need to learn how to fucking listen.”

He takes a step back from you to turn the shower on before resuming his position between your legs, fingers tilting your chin up looking at the red marks on your neck, “Fuck.” “You’re not going to hurt me” You push his hand away, “I’ll tell you when to stop.”

His hand slides along your jaw, to your cheek, his other hand pushing the hair out of your eyes. He hasn’t stopped looking at you. His mouth finds yours. It’s slow this time, drags the breath out of your lungs, pulls you close to him. It’s not what you expected after his hand was around your throat.

“Strip” he mumbles against your mouth. It’s not a suggestion, but a directive. He takes a step back, gives you enough room. You pull your shirt up over your head, and unclasp your bra, tossing them both to the floor. You unbutton your jeans, eyes still on him, and he helps you out of them.

Jack reaches out, his fingers running over the lace material of your underwear. He doesn’t hesitate, but slides his hand inside the material, fingers running along your slit, his thumb pressed to your clit, eliciting a breathy moan from your lips.

“Already so fucking wet,” he mumbles, pulling his hand away, before licking his fingers and wrapping them around your throat again, ”show me how you touch yourself.”

He gives you some room, and your cheeks flush. His hand squeezes harder as you slide your hand between your legs, tracing the outline of your already soaked-through panties. He watches, mouth slightly open as you slide a finger under the material and inside your folds. against your clit. He squeezes harder. Another finger follows, making slow circles circle, your other hand reaching out to push his scrubs down over his hips. He hisses at the contact, his free hand gripping his already hard cock, moving up and down his length slowly, thumbing the tip.

“You think about me when you touch yourself?” He asks, eyes on yours as you nod against his hand.

“Been thinking about you since I started this fucking job. I think about what you’d do to me, how it would feel to have you inside of me,” It comes out as a whisper mixed with a moan as you slip a finger inside yourself. As soon as the sound leaves your mouth his hand leaves your throat. His hands move under your knees, and he slides your ass right to the edge of the counter, the tip of his cock pressing against you.

“Look at you, spread out like this, on the bathroom counter, begging to be fucked” He groans as he slides his cock against your clit a few times, “you’re so fucking beautiful like this”

“Jack, I—” You want to tell him not to rush this, but he’s got his hand around your throat again, as he slowly slides inside, breathing deeply as he moves inch by inch until he bottoms out, hooking your feet behind his back. His eyes never leave yours as he begins to work into you, fingers squeezing harder with each stroke.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he murmurs, as you moan against him, “fucking perfect.”

He drives into you repeatedly, and you clench around him, forcing him to work his length in and out. Blood pounds in your ears as your breathing gets shallower and shallower. His free hand grips your hips as he moves deeper and faster with every stroke. You weren’t expecting to feel the familiar sensation of your own orgasm approaching this quickly.

“Jack, fuck, you’re going to make me come if you keep this up,” you pant, trying to grind against him. His hand leaves your throat and slides between your bodies, finding your clit, making lazy circles as he maintains his pace, eliciting a loud moan from your lips.  Your arms slide around his neck, lifting your hips, both gasping at the change in angle.

“That’s it baby, be a good girl and come for me” his mouth to your ear. It blurs the edges of your vision–your self-control slipping. “I want to feel you come all over my cock.”

Your entire body goes rigid, his name tumbling from your lips over and over as your orgasm hits hard and fast, hips bucking against his as he rides out your orgasm. His breath is hot as he buries his face into your neck, as his pace picks up, his thrusts becoming uneven, chasing his own orgasm. “You fuck me so good, Jack,” you mumble against his skin, and your words are enough to push him over the edge and he comes, a low and deep groan escaping his lips.

He lets go of you, and you lean back against the bathroom mirror, your hands sliding along his shoulders and down his arms as he pulls out, his lips pressing soft kisses along your neck, lips, and cheeks.

“You always come that fast or should I take that as a compliment?” He chuckles

“That’s all you” You nod, still trying to catch your breath, “Jesus Christ.”

“Did I hurt you?” He tilts your chin up, his lips grazing over a small bruise forming on the side of your neck, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be” you brush him off, “It was so fucking hot.”

“You think the water’s still hot?” He chuckles, turning his attention back to the shower that’s been running the entire time.

“Probably not” you reply, “but if you turn it off now, I can think of something else we could do for the next hour while we wait.”

“Another round?” He raises his eyebrow at you.

“Take out.” You smile, “I’m fucking starving.”

Tag list is open!  @loud-mouph @dark-twisted-and-mechanical-mind @thebumbqueen @emilia-the-artist @boldlyherdream @felicisimor@eugene-emt-roe @i-mushi @andabuttonnose @moonlightmvrvel @miss-me-jack @dantemorenatalie @qardasngan@agreeewrites @aloudplace @painment @artsymaddie @d1n3e @damnitsthings @thicficbich1@readinwnoon @imagines-r-s @meowmeowyoongles @ikindier @katastrophic04 @lexibearsworld @luna-loves08 @herlovelykiss @all-by-myself98 @livingavilaloca @trustme3-13 @yourdaydreamerfan

Divider by saradika-graphics

[technovillain]

the fact that we never have any real conflict inside milla's brain was always weird to me, and that the only trouble you find is not only easy to miss but hard to locate at all.... this prototype with promo images showing party members getting snatched up by the nightmares is really interesting to me...

i was never really a fan of the nightmares' appearance in the milkman conspiracy. that level already has enough going on and the nightmares' presence is completely unintroduced and poorly explained. i'm thinking about how cool it could be if milla's brain had an actual lesson for the kids beyond levitation about the most important thing she learned from the psychonauts, how to focus your mind and maintain a safe mental space via distancing yourself and controlling recurrences of trauma within the brain space...

the same way that sasha's brain is ultimately just a test for razputin, so is milla's. in my first playthroughs of the game i thought that maybe raz had really messed up sasha's brain a little bit, but then i realized overtime that the whole thing is a totally controlled environment. sure sasha is a closed off person, and very straight-laced, but i don't believe that his brain is constantly *that* empty all the time. he gives razputin direct instruction to shut off all the censor valves, which is the thing that causes the problem. it was all a training thing for raz to learn about control, there's even a hidden game line from sasha about the whole thing being a test. i just think that sasha is a poor communicator. his failure to express afterwards that the whole thing was a test was what failed razputin when he meddled in the mind of hollis forsythe, and why sasha's disappointment in him afterwards feels a little strange (like "you let me mess things up in YOUR head and it was okay, how was i to know?")

can you imagine a version of milla's dance party where the party is bumpin and all the campers are having a good time, but the other guests keep slowly disappearing, getting snatched up by the nightmares?? eventually, the other campers disappear too. later on, the room with the "milla's children" vault is presented to you more in the likes of oleander's side room with the little red curtain, where you are obviously supposed to see it, but *not supposed to see it*, and milla still encourages you not to go in there. when you get to the platform with milla at the end, everyone else is missing. she plays "where could they be?" and you find the nightmare room. you have to fight the nightmares to get the party guests back. you find that you can't *kill* the nightmares, however, and you instead put them behind bars.

ultimately the level could end with a similar level of "brain intrusion" as sasha's. like how sasha was okay with you knowing a little about his past, but probably didn't need to *also* show you what happened when he read his dad's mind and accidentally saw his mother in an inappropriate light. like not everything went smoothly, and he was obviously uncomfortable after the level being all "no, let's never speak of this again" like i imagine he unintentionally overshared and maybe messed with his 'image' a little. this version of milla's level could end with her being happy that she taught the kids about meditation through levitation, keeping the bad thoughts at bay but still acknowledging them as part of you, but she didn't like, need you to see that vault about her children being burned alive. because that would be fucked up to show to the kids. and maybe she got a little in that headspace again during the level and 'broke face' and got a little "protect the children!" about the campers in the face of the nightmares, but settles back down and gets back to the party by the end.

i imagine this is how the level would go if it was written more like pn2 levels are written, where every single level has a clear real-world-applicable mental health topic to cover. i still love milla's dance party, don't get me wrong, but it always felt a little anticlimactic or lacking in story compared to the rest of the brains, and these early promo shots just set me off in wondering if they ever intended on there being a lot more conflict in her mind earlier in development.

[yes-no-maybe-soo]

I think about this scene every day. No joke. I don't think I'll ever get over it.

It's so beautifully bittersweet. And it perfectly encapsulates what makes Sylus' character so healing and so special to me, and so many of my fellow kittens — the pureness of his love, and his respect for MC as a person, and her agency.

He makes it clear here that he fully believes that the two of them are soulmates — flowers meant to grow together in the same soil. And yet despite his belief that they are meant to be together, he wants MC to actively choose to be with him. Her agency matters more than anything, much more than destiny or a soul bond. This is something that he makes abundantly clear throughout their relationship (with the exception of the very beginning, when raw desperation and heartbreak lead him to act irrationally and wrongly. But he quickly course corrected and never again tries to force anything.), and is why he feels like such a safe space, and his love genuinely pure and selfless. He never holds their past or their soul pact over MC's head, hell, he never even tells her about it. He has no interest in manipulating or coercing her. He has even proved willing to let go of MC, if that's what's she wants or what is best for her, much as it would devastate him to. Not once does he feel entitled to her because he carries 10.5 grams of her soul and vice versa.

Another thing that the line about the flowers shows, is his admiration for MC. "We were meant to grow together in the same soil. Yet you were quietly moved to another garden in a foreign land. Still, you managed to bloom beautifully"

This is Sylus acknowledging that, although they are true kindred spirits, soulmates, flowers meant to grow side by side in the same soil, she is still able to thrive and accomplish beautiful things even without him there by her side. She doesn't need him in order to bloom.

She is strong.

She is courageous.

She is capable.

She is magnificent.

And she will keep doing more than fine, no matter what. Whether that be with him, or on her own.

This is just further proof of what Sylus has always expressed — his respect for MC and her capabilities. There are phone calls, texts, and memories where he demonstrates the same sentiment.

Sylus' love for her is founded on respect, on genuine feeling and care, and on consent.

He may be morally grey in other areas, but when it comes to his feelings for MC, there is none of that ambiguity to be found. He wears his heart on his sleeve for her. He loves loudly and wholeheartedly, but also selflessly and without any entitlement or coercion. He never pushes, in spite of all the trauma and their shared history, in spite of all the memories of their love that he carries, in spite of their literal soul bond.

Because what matters most isn't his wants or desires.

But hers.

There truly is no love purer than his.

[uhhhj13iguess]

the boy in apartment 5B

peter parker x gn!reader

summary: in the aftermath of the world forgetting about peter parker, peter finds himself wanting to let someone in again for the first time in months

wc: ~1.8k

omg okay i got permission to write a fic entirely based on a headcanon headcanons.foru wrote on tiktok, and i was fucking obsessed with it the second i read it. leighton, your work is beautiful, and i thank you for letting me run with this and flesh it out. some of the language is directly from their tiktok, so please go watch it! they’re the mastermind behind this bad boy, not me. i've been so afraid to write anything post nwh because it is devastatingly sad, and i don't like to acknowledge that my sweet boy peter is out there alone, forgotten, and miserably sad. but the hc was just so pure and sweet, and i had to expand on it

masterlist and taglist!

later in the winter months, you met your new neighbor, a meek brunette who moved into the apartment down the hall. you couldn't get much of a read on him, as all you'd exchanged were soft smiles and quiet greetings when passing through the halls.

there was no recognition as you passed him each day, no knowledge of spider-man or his extensive history. of everything he'd been through. it was just genuine human interaction, and as he began to catch onto that, it grew to mean everything to him. you only knew him as peter, the guy with tired eyes and messy hair who lived two doors down from you. you were a fresh start, and that both excited and terrified peter.

you found him sitting outside the building one day, visibly shivering and nose bright red. he was clearly upset, a day's worth of more trauma he could add to the list you knew nothing about. you swore his cheek had a soft yellow tinge to it, like a bruise almost healed.

peter flinched as he saw you approach him, not wanting to explain what he was doing sitting in the cold alone. you gave him a soft smile, a quick 'hey peter' as you passed and headed inside. he was both relieved and disappointed as you let him be, thankful to not have to explain himself, but feeling himself grow sad as you left him.

you didn't leave him for long, though, as minutes later you walked outside and took a seat next to him on the steps. you passed him a bowl, steam heavy between the two of you from the fresh soup you'd brought down for him. he took in in his hands with a confused look.

"i thought you might be cold out here. grandma's recipe," you motioned towards the bowl in his hands. "chicken dumpling. a great cure for whatever ails you."

the tone of whatever had weight to it, like you were referencing his emotional state without prying. he didn't say much, just staring down at the soup in his hands with his eyebrows furrowed. you left him with another soft smile, headed back inside for the evening.

he took a hesitant bite, not wanting to believe that his cute neighbor down the hall would poison him, but not trusting anyone around him at this point. after the flavors hit his tongue and his stomach blossomed with warmth, however, he'd be happy to go out this way, he thought.

he went inside that night with a little more strength than he'd left with.

later the next day, there was a soft knock at your door. you gave a 'comin!' as peter heard you run through your apartment, laughing quietly to himself as he heard you trip and mutter a string of curse words. you opened the door, a surprised look on your face as you saw peter in front of you, your bowl in his hands, empty and washed.

he held it out carefully, a genuine but tired smile on his lips. "thank you. it really does cure whatever ails you."

you gave him a playful smile back, a meek 'anytime' dancing on your tongue.

that moment was the starting point of your friendship with him, an invitation on both ends to reach out more. peter didn't want to admit it to himself yet; he couldn't, but you made him feel safe. everything about you put him at ease after a long day, after the weight of the world and the consequences of his decisions threatened to pull him under.

he started to show up at your apartment in the evenings, excited for a break from reality and to hear the adventures of your days. food became a silent peace offering between the two of you, an endless supply of sweet treats and warm soups traded on the harshest days, no words exchanged as you ate with him in silence, an occasional comment on how good everything tasted. words weren't needed with you, he didn't need to explain himself. he didn't need to justify his feelings or why he was suddenly being so weird and distant. you just let him be, and peter couldn't express how grateful he was for that.

over time, peter felt himself falling for you, and it terrified him to his core. he was so awkward with getting close to people now, scared to death of losing anyone else in his life. he fumbled his way through every part of falling for you: texts with too many emojis, stuttering his way through compliments, awkwardly hovering before asking if you wanted to hang out. but he was trying, and that surprised him.

he fought it for a while, his feelings for you. he cursed himself, angry that he was getting close to someone again. but he wanted to. he wanted to be close to you so badly. so after weeks of fighting it, he began to break down. to let you in. and it was messy. it was messy, and it was awkward, but it was real. he was trying, and you started to see some of his softness beneath all his scarring.

peter started to find any excuse he could to be around you, becoming your own personal handyman when you needed him. you didn't even have to ask. hell, half the time, you hadn't even noticed the issue yet. dripping faucet? he's on it. flickering light? he replaced the bulb and even bought it himself. he shrugs it off each time you thank him, bashful in your appreciation towards him. he did whatever he could for you, wanting to be a positive force in someone's life for once. he didn't even tell you how he scaled the side of your building the other day to fix your window that wouldn't fully shut. not that he could, without giving himself away anyway.

sometimes when you were talking to him or laughing, peter would go quiet. not a distant or sad quiet, but almost reverent. he would get so completely lost in you, so utterly entranced in your very being that it took all the words from his mouth. he didn't know how he managed to cross paths with you, how he managed to be blessed with someone so wonderful in his life after all he'd done, but over time, he stopped questioning it, rather soaking it up instead.

he was scared to let you in — how could he not be? but no matter how hard he tried, peter just couldn't stay away from you. he avoided many of the personal questions you asked him, the ones about his family, friends, or his past. you noticed, but you didn't pry, and peter appreciated that more than you could ever know. he wanted to let you in, to repay you for everything you'd done for him and all you've told him about yourself, but he didnt know how. he didn't know how to explain a life full of erased memories and unbearable losses.

but as time passed, he did. he'd catch himself accidentally lost in telling a story about may, eyes wide and mouth hung open as he realized what he was talking about. you gave him a smile, one so wide and excited that he hadn't seen before, as you patiently sat and waited for him to continue. he was flushed, almost embarrassed for how caught up he was over a story that he wouldn't have thought twice about telling a few months ago.

slowly, it became easier for him. he didn't tell you everything, but he began to let himself grieve his lost loved ones through the stories he told you. and you listened. you listened with such respect for him, peter almost thought it was laughable. because all he was talking about was a joke tony had told him once, but it was hard for him to get out, and you were so patient with him as he spoke. he fell quiet, tears flowing freely down his cheeks as he nervously laughed to himself. he told you how he'd lost more than he ever thought possible, and instead of asking for more information or shrugging him off, you just sat in a comfortable silence with him, your hand hesitantly on his.

that was another thing peter hadn't prepared for: touch. sure, he'd still been spider-man since everything happened, but there was a difference in the physical combat with criminals and the kind touches you gave him. whether it was a gentle hand on his arm as he spoke or a goodbye hug, each time, he didn't know how to handle it. his eyes would go wide, his breath caught in his throat. it had been a long time since someone touched him like that — not to heal, not to hurt, but just to be close. it made him nervous, but for the first time in a while, it was a good nervous.

when he realized he was fully and utterly in love with you, peter was so afraid. but his fear made him so gentle with you, treating you as though you were made of glass. he stared at you like you were made of stardust, a personal cosmic miracle standing before him. he held doors for you, buying an umbrella (which he'd never owned in his life) so he could make sure you'd never get caught wet in the rain again. he would give you his hoodie whenevr the weather grew shitty, even if it left him shivering.

and you noticed each small thing he did for you, from his handywork around your apartment to each gesture he made towards your comfort. you returned your appreciation in your own ways, leaving him little notes at his doorstep each morning to get him through the hard days, baking him treats, even going out of your way to pick up random junk electronics you saw out on your walks.

peter fell for you quickly, but you fell quicker, infatuated with him as soon as you realized just how much he hid to protect everyone around him. and when you kiss him for the first time, a kiss so soft and slow it was healing, you could feel part of him relax for the first time since you'd met him. you sat with your foreheads pressed together, a smile laced on your lips, and tangled in his own.

you pulled back enough to meet his eyes, your voice a gentle whisper. "whatever you're carrying, whatever hurt you're holding onto... you don't have to carry it alone anymore."

and for the first time in forever, he believed it.

taglist: guineveresghost nyutasgirl extremebookreader iamacheezburger

[shimmershifts]

Hi ! Shifting didn't make much sense to me , but you explained everything so well and now I get it 🥺 You're one of the bloggers I would trust without questioning 🥹

Can you explain what what happens in detail when you shift ? Like what are the sensations you feel and what happens , in order ?

I'm sorry if this is invasive to you 😅 I'm just curious.

hii thank you so much! i do feel like you should always question everybody but i understand and appreciate the sentiment 🥹💕

i'm fine with sharing how i shift, because i think it is valuable to hear how shifting feels for others. but i do feel that no matter how much i say not to people will think they have to do it the exact way i do and then they'll shift. this... is not the case (probably.) we're entirely different people, and what works for me might not work for you! and shifting might "feel" totally different to others.

my method (down below the cut) is currently is a lot simpler than it used to be. when i was initially relearning how to shift, it was a process, to say the least. i also happened to be getting heavily into meditation already at the time. i was meditating for about 8 hours a day (broken up, not in a row.) you do not need to do this, and i wasn't just doing it for reality shifting reasons, but for healing and growth. i used meditation to process trauma, somatic experiencing, and exploring states of awareness and understanding the universe around me and the dimensions its made of. as a bonus, i do think learning to meditate helped me in my personal journey with reality shifting, but that's probably because meditation is something that works for me. i try to mention lots of methods that require 0 meditation because it's not the only way! this is all to say, "the shimmer method" if we can call that is highly specific to me personally.

how i shift:

first, i find a comfortable place and time when i feel like shifting. sitting, laying down, it doesn't really matter. i personally prefer to have a fair amount of "free time" ahead of me, because i like to shift back here to the moment i left and have time before i have to do anything else. like i don't wanna shift back here and have to go straight to work. or worse, shift back while at work.

next, i take three deep breaths. it sounds cheesy almost, but it helps me regulate my breathing and the overall tension in my body. i only need three to do this, but i used to do more.

then i do a simple body scan. this helps me detach my awareness from my 3D body. i move from toe to head, focusing my awareness on each area, and acknowledging whatever sensation is there without the need to change it. i move my awareness to the next section, letting go of the previous. i used to do this process much more slowly, but now id say it takes me a handful of minutes. now, here's the important bit, how does it feel? sometimes after this i feel completely "numb" and lose all awareness of my body. sometimes i begin to experience hypnogogic symptoms right away. and sometimes i dont. sometimes i feel "normal" after. it doesn't matter. my body can feel whatever it's feeling. i gently direct my awareness, and i move on.

next, i focus on my stream of thoughts. personally, i have adhd and intrusive thoughts, and a very active internal monologue. it's honestly so so rare for my brain to be quiet. i was literally surprised to find out that some people don't have an absolute constant stream of thoughts. but it's completely okay, because my brain doesn't need to silent. my thoughts can continue, just like feet probably still feel my socks. my thoughts don't get to demand my awareness. at this stage, i do like to visualize, but for a "visualization", it's not very visual. its more idea of it. if i have any really intense or bothersome thoughts or worries, i direct them into a mental box or current, or toss them off a mental cliff. work tomorrow? tax forms? argument? embarrassing moment of the day? i direct them into the box. i don't need to be aware of those thoughts right now, but they are perfectly ok to continue being. i can get them back out later. sometimes it helps to count, or imagine something, to give my awareness something to focus on. sometimes i don't need to. how does it feel? my brain continues doing all that thinking. it's a thinking machine, that's what it does, and that's okay. i'm shifting my awareness into a different 3D brain anyways. sometimes i get hypnogogic symptoms, sometimes i don't. sometimes i can still "hear" the mental chatter that im not focusing on, sometimes i can't.

now, i used to feel more comfortable shifting from the state of pure awareness, so id drop into that. but i generally don't feel the need to when im reality shifting now, so i don't bother. sometimes i experience other meditative states, sometimes i experience hypnogogic symptoms, sometimes none at all. i think because i've really practiced with everything and i have experience shifting from any of these states of awareness, it is no longer as consequential for me which destabilized state of awareness i'm in. like, initially, hypnogogic symptoms were really overwhelming for me, and even scary. i couldn't shift from hypnogogia because id panic and ground myself to my CR 3D, ending the attempt just to stop the hypnogogia. now, im more comfortable with it and i can unfocus my awareness from it like any other sensation.

i start to direct my awareness towards my DR, from whatever state of awareness i'm in (usually some form of destabilized awareness). how does it feel? i start visualizing or thinking about my DR, and the first change is that at some point, i start thinking as my DR self. this comes more naturally to me after i've already shifted somewhere before, but it can happen for a "new" DR as well. there's not a distinct moment, and i usually wouldn't notice it happened until looking back on it. this is important i think, as i feel some people expect their 3D to change first, like they're expecting to start feeling their DR with their CR body or something, which (for me) has never been the case. my awareness shifts first. i relax my awareness, and slip into my DR. if feels kind of like waking up, even if im already awake there. it's not a long dramatic journey of traveling, but sometimes there is a sense of.... "falling" is the best way to describe it, though to be clear it is not a physical sensation. it's not like i'm falling through space, it's like if your awareness could sink in a metaphorical or poetic sense.

and then i'm there. so, in a simplified way: i relax, i visualize, i repeat. my awareness shifts first, and then im in my DR 3D.

[glamorizethechaos]

Off The Ledge (Dr. Robby x Reader Fic)

I usually write on ao3 so I don't really know what I'm doing here. I've read some BOMB fic on this dumb site and now I feel like I actually couldn't write myself out of a paper bag. The writing award I won in 8th grade did not carry into adulthood thats for sure!

Word Count: 2.0k

Summary: After a particularly rough shift, you find yourself on the roof. Dr. Robby rushes to find you and tells you what he's wanted to say for a long time.

TW: Suicide (no one died), gun violence, death, this just really sucks I’m sorry lmao but I’m trying to get this out of my drafts

Not beta read

It was a grueling shift. You pulled the white sheet over the small body, looking down at your gown and shoes that were soaked in blood. It was a child, no older than 6, who was playing his fathers gun with his brother when it fired.

You looked at the clock, 8:30am. Your shift ended over an hour ago, but it wasn't unusual to stay late. Especially with how short staffed the ER was, or the whole hospital for that matter. Before leaving, you pulled the sheet back down once more, looking at the little boy who still had the intubation tube down his throat. Taking a wet cloth, you wiped his face that was stained with blood. He deserved to be cleaned up, his parents deserved to see him without being connected to machines and tubes and wires. He deserved dignity.

"He ready for transport?" Dana poked her head into the trauma room. "What are you still doing here?"

She had a point. What were you still doing here? Everyone else had long cleared out, yet here you were. Dana furrowed her brow as she waited for you to speak.

"Yeah he should be in a minute, just cleaning him up a bit before his parents see him." You blinked rapidly, trying your best to suppress the tears that began to sting your tired, dry eyes.

You had worked on day shift when you first started at PTMC, and you missed Dana, Langdon, Collins and Robby. But when you became the primary caregiver for your mother while she was on hospice, you switched to nights. She passed 6 months ago, but you never went back to working days. That would make it all seem too real. There were still mornings you left the hospital expecting to find her in her recliner waiting for you.

Once the boy was cleaned up, you ripped off your gown with shaking hands and make a b-line towards the bathroom- bumping into Robby on the way there.

"S-sorry." you choked, not even looking him in the eye.

"What are you still doing here?" he called, taking off his glasses and perching them on the top of his head. You didnt turn to face him and didnt acknowledge his question.

You found yourself on all fours and your head in the toilet. You hadn't had time to eat anything in the last 12 hours, so there wasn't much to throw up, but your stomach revolted trying to expel every last drop. Your body was exhausted. Your mind was exhausted. Ears ringing as you thought back 20 years ago, the sound of the gun firing still fresh in your mind. The screaming, the chaos. It was an accident. A stupid fucking accident.

The sound of the bathroom door opening snapped you back to reality. Flushing your sick away, you walked to the sink to wash your hands, the water stained light pink with blood. Looking back at you in the mirror was a person you didnt recognize.

When you walked back to the nurses station to collect your things, you already had decided you were going to jump. You contemplated whether or not to do it here, to wait until your old colleagues weren't working, to find a place that wasn't in this hospitals jurisdiction.

When you exited the bathroom Dana immediately knew something was amiss. She knew that you tended to get attached to your patients more than most. Of all the doctors and nurses in the ER, you found it the most difficult to compartmentalize. To be quite frank, she was surprised you had lasted this long. You never found out about the hush bets behind your back, those guessing how long it would take until you went running for the hills.

"What's going on?" Dana asked, rubbing a circle on your back as you threw some last minute things in your bag.

"Nothing, I'm fine."

"Y/n, I'm a lot of things, but a fool isn't one of them." she raised her brow, cocking her hand on her hip and she looked up from her glasses.

"Have I ever told you how great you were?" you quickly changed the subject. Dana furrowed her brow, looking at you with a confused look. She took her glasses off, directing the EMTS to an open bed before turning her attention back to you and leaning against the desk.

"What?"

"I said, have I eve-"

"I know what you said, but why did you say it? Where is this coming from?"

"I just want you to know that the entire time I've been here you've-" you began to fumble over your words, "you run a tight ship Dana but- I'm gonna miss you. I'm sorry." Thats all you managed to say. I mean, what else COULD you say? Hey Dana, I'm about to go jump off the hospital roof, sorry in advance? You pursed your lips to try and hold back the tears that were once again welling up behind your eyes.

With the final zip of your bag, you flung it over your shoulder and walked away.

"Sorry for what?" Dana called behind you, a sense of dread eating away in her stomach. You didnt turn back. You just walked to the elevator and hit the up arrow. You figured it would be quicker than taking the stairs, and less time for you to talk yourself out of what you were about to do. One last time you and Dana made eye contact, a single tear streaking down your face and you smiled softly at her, the doors closing.

Immediately Dana set down her large stack of papers and turned to Robby who just walked over to grab his coffee cup. He saw the panic in her face.

"Something's wrong." Dana uttered.

"What? What's wrong?" Robby had never seen Dana look so panic stricken.

"Y/N. I hope I'm wrong."

Before she could finish reaccounting the bizarre conversation you just had, he was rushing to the roof. He knew thats where he'd find you. All the talks you two had at the end of shift, sipping hot tea and trying your best to process the day. It was both of your safe spaces, away from the chaos of the ER, a place of solitude, and a perfect place to jump.

You stood at the ledge of the building, your chest heaving and sobs echoing through the Pittsburgh sky. It was eerily quiet, as if the world knew and anticipated your journey coming to an end. You shut your eyes, your feet shuffling closer and closer to your final moments, until the door swung open, Robby calling out to you, unable to catch his breath.

"Y/N!" he held his arms up, almost saying I come in peace. His chest rose and fell quickly as he tried to make sense of what was in front of him.

"Go away Robby, let me do this!" the tears fell, one after another, clouding your vision and the street below.

"Come on, talk to me. What's going on? You don't have to do this."

You shut your eyes, the visions flooding back once again. You didnt mean to do it. Your brother found your fathers gun and let you hold it. You didnt know it was loaded. The ringing in your ears from the gun fire soon melded with the sound of the heart monitor's flatline, the little boy lifeless on the table. It all came flooding back.

You remember him hitting the floor with a loud thud; your parents rushing in to find their son bleeding out in their bedroom. The screams that came from your mother, the blood seeping through your fathers fingers and he applied pressure to the wound. The gun felt hot in your hands, the room filled with smoke, the burning smell of gun powder filled the air. It wasn't your fault. It wasn't your fault. It wasn't your fault.

"I killed my brother." you muttered, barely a whisper.

"What?" Robby called back, slowly taking steps closer to you each time you turn away.

"I killed my brother. I shot him. Like the boy in trauma one. It was an accident. The gun went off, I was 7... the gun just went off." The years of therapy you thought were helping you process the pain were only helping you compartmentalize, to bury everything away.

Robby stood there frozen. All the talks you two shared on this very roof, he never knew this detail of your life. You never spoke about your family, you never even alluded to having a brother. This part of your life was pushed deep down into the depths of your memory.

"It wasnt your fault. You were just a kid." Robby spoke softly to her, trying to calm his own racing heart.

"So was my brother." you took another step forward, making Robby lurch forward once more.

"Wait! Wait a minute, look at me y/n. You don't have to do this. Come on, on my shift? That's not fair." he tried to lighten the mood, trying to ignore the pit in his stomach. The back of his neck was sweating and the beads trickled down his back through his scrubs.

You ignore him, but he was right. He was right about most things, and it was something that drove you nuts. Everything about him seemed perfect, too perfect. You tried to speak but nothing came out, but another sob that once again wrapped your body.

"Please," Robby began to plea, feeling the tears starting to burn his eyes, his voice shaking as he tried to suppress his emotions. "Don't do this to me, y/n. I-I-I I love you. Don't do this. I love you."

"Don't do that, Robby." she froze at his words, taking her by surprised.

"Do what?"

"Say that. Say that you love me. Say that so I wont jump."

"Do you think I'm lying?"

"Arent you? I would lie too."

"I hate tea!" he screamed, "I fucking hate it."

"What?" you turn to him.

"Do you remember the first time we met up here to chat after our shift?" you two made a habit of this at few months after you started in PTMC. "You brought me a cup of tea because of how cold it was. Every shift after that, we'd come up here and you'd bring me tea. I hate tea. I fucking hate it."

"Why'd you drink it?" you almost chuckle through your tears.

"Because I just wanted to be with you. I guess you thought I liked the tea, I dont know. I didn't want to hurt your feelings. Listen- I know its fucking stupid. But why would I make that up? I love you, y/n, and if you jump I'm going after you, but I didnt eat dinner yet and don't feel like dying on an empty stomach."

He had made it within arms reach of you at this point, holding out his hand, whispering your name and pleading for you to get down from the ledge. Over, and over again telling you how much he loved you. How he loved the way your ears turned red when you were angry, or your nose wrinkled when you laughed; how you unknowingly skip with delight when you find out good news about a patient, how you hum Frank Sinatra to yourself when doing surgery so you can concentrate, all the things that made you realize how much he paid attention. How much he took notice of things not even you were are of. Did your ears really turn red?

Before you could respond or react, you felt his arms loop around you, yanking you backwards onto the roof. You screamed, the fear and realization of what you just did finally sinking it. Robby bringing you back to reality.

"What the fuck were you thinking?" he nearly wept as he held you as tight as he could to his chest.

"I dont know, I dont know." you cried out. Your body that was once tense was now limp- utterly exhausted. He raked his hands through your hair, taking in your sweet scent of sandalwood, vanilla, sweat, and antiseptic. Nothing in that moment could make him let go; his hands just roaming up and down your silhouette, making sure you were really there.

[m4rv3l-girl]

Not the kind of partner I’m used to..

Bucky is referred to a paired therapy program..

Warnings: None, little bit of angst…Kind of?

The chair was too small.

Bucky shifted uncomfortably, arms crossed over his chest, shoulders hunched like a caged animal. The walls of Dr. Raynor’s office were the same off-white shade of every other government-sanctioned therapy clinic he’d been forced to visit, and the fluorescent lights hummed in a way that made his teeth itch. He hated it here. He hated therapy. And, most of all, he hated whatever new hoop Raynor was making him jump through this time.

"This is stupid," he grumbled, voice low and flat. "I don't need a - what do you even call this? A therapy buddy? A trauma pen-pal?"

Raynor gave him that look. The one that said she was just barely tolerating him. "It’s a paired therapy program."

Bucky rolled his eyes.

"You agreed to try," she reminded him, flipping through her clipboard. "The point is to help people with… let's say, complicated pasts, to build social connections. Get used to interacting. Being normal."

"Great. So you’re admitting this is a group project."

"Not a group," Raynor corrected, sitting back in her chair. "Just the two of you. One-on-one. You can do that, right? Make one friend?"

Bucky sighed through his nose, glaring at the ceiling like it had personally wronged him.

"Well, lucky for you, she’s not thrilled about this either," Raynor continued, glancing at the door as voices echoed from outside the office. "I warned her to be civil, but fair warning - she's not exactly a social butterfly."

Bucky’s interest piqued at that. He listened, keen ears picking up the muffled sound of a woman’s voice.

"Look, Doc, I’m just saying - do I actually have to?" The voice huffed. "I don’t need a therapy partner. I’m doing just fine avoiding people all on my own."

Bucky smirked.

"Y/N, you promised," the other doctor’s voice responded, a familiar level of exhausted patience in her tone.

A pause. A groan. The sound of a doorknob turning.

Then she stepped in.

Y/N had the kind of posture that screamed reluctant participation. She entered the room like it physically pained her to do so, crossing her arms and scanning the space with an expression that read: ‘this was not my idea, and I hate it here.’ When her eyes landed on Bucky, she froze for a fraction of a second - just long enough for him to notice. He was used to that reaction. The pause. The flicker of recognition. Like she was debating whether to acknowledge who he was or pretend he was just some guy.

Bucky arched a brow. "You must be thrilled about this."

She gave him a flat look. "Over the moon."

Raynor clapped her hands together, the universal therapist signal for ‘let’s begin.’ "Great! Now that you’ve met, let’s set some ground rules. The goal here is casual interaction, low-pressure conversations. Just get to know each other."

Y/N’s mouth twitched like she had about ten sarcastic things she wanted to say, but she bit them back.

"I’ll leave you to it," Raynor announced, already making for the door. "Try to keep the glaring to a minimum."

Then she was gone.

The silence stretched. Bucky stared at Y/N. Y/N stared at Bucky. The tension between them was less hostility and more… mutual disinterest. Like two kids forced to work on a school project together, neither wanting to be the first to break the silence.

Bucky sighed. "Guess we should start with the basics. Name’s Bucky."

"Y/N," she responded, shifting her weight. "But I already know who you are."

He tilted his head, not really surprised. "Yeah?"

She gave him a look like he was an idiot. "Because you’re Bucky Barnes. The white wolf. The Winter Soldier. Avenger. Internationally recognized brooding champion."

Bucky blinked, caught off guard. "Brooding champion?"

She shrugged. "You do have a very… ‘resting murder face’ thing going on."

Bucky stared at her for a beat, then snorted. "That’s a new one."

Y/N shifted again, looking slightly less miserable than before. "So, uh… what exactly are we supposed to do? Just talk about our feelings until we magically become better people?"

Bucky smirked. "Pretty sure that’s the idea."

"Gross."

"Agreed."

A beat. Then-

"Wanna get out of here?" Y/N blurted out.

Bucky blinked. "What?"

"Not, like, run away forever," she clarified. "Just… sneak out. Get a coffee or something. We can pretend to do the therapy thing and check it off the list."

Bucky considered this. On one hand, Raynor would definitely give him hell for it. On the other… he really didn’t want to sit in this room for an hour talking about his feelings.

He stood, stretching. "Alright, partner. Lead the way."

Y/N looked surprised for a split second before masking it with an easy smirk. "Try to keep up, Grandpa. We have an hour."

They stepped into the hallway, and Bucky couldn’t help but feel a twinge of nostalgia. It reminded him of old missions—sneaking around, trying to keep a low profile. Only this time, there were no explosions or rifles. Just the muted sounds of people trying to put their lives back together. The smell of over-brewed coffee and sadness.

"This way," Y/N whispered, jerking her head towards the stairs. "The café's less crowded." They descended the stairs, Y/N moving with the kind of ease that came from spending too much time in places like these. Bucky followed, watching the way she moved—like she was trying to be invisible, but couldn’t quite pull it off. She had a presence about her. Something that made people look, even when she didn’t want them to.

When they reached the café, it was indeed quieter than he’d expected. A few patients nursed their drinks, staring into the abyss of their pasts. The barista looked up, giving them a nod that suggested he’d seen this sort of thing before. Bucky couldn’t blame them—therapy was a weird gig.

They claimed a table in the corner, far from prying eyes and eager ears. Y/N slid into a chair, her eyes scanning the room with the kind of wariness he understood all too well. She was checking for threats, even though the biggest threat here was probably someone asking how their week had been.

"So," she said, breaking the silence. "What’s your damage?" Bucky raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?" "Your tragic backstory," she elaborated, rolling her eyes. "You know, the reason you’re stuck in that soul-sucking building." He leaned back, arms crossing over his broad chest.

"You first."

Y/N’s smirk grew. "Okay, fine. I was in the military. Mission went tits up, ended up with a few too many pieces missing. Now I’ve got metal where there should be meat and therapy where there should be… well, anything else."

Bucky nodded, taking a sip of his coffee. He liked her. "Sounds like a blast," he said, voice dry.

Y/N chuckled, a low, dark sound. "It was. Literally."

The conversation flowed from there, surprisingly easily. They talked about their military backgrounds - Bucky’s HYDRA days, his time as a SHIELD agent. It was like two old soldiers swapping war stories, except the enemy was less about bullets and more about inner demons. She had a sharp wit, he noticed, and a way of cutting through bullshit that was refreshing. No pep talks, no pity. Just raw, honest words that stung a little.

As they talked, Y/N’s defenses slowly started to lower. She spoke about her past missions with a passion that was palpable, her eyes lighting up with a fierce intensity that made him want to lean in closer. And as she spoke, he realized that she wasn’t just some girl with a tragic past - she was a fighter. A survivor. And she’d earned every single one of those metallic scars.

Bucky found himself telling her more than he’d ever told anyone else. Stories of Steve, of the Avengers, of the endless nights spent trying to drown out the echoes of his past with a bottle of whiskey. The words poured out of him like they’d been damned up for too long, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he didn’t feel the need to censor himself.

Y/N listened, really listened, without judgment or the need to fix him. It was a strange feeling, one that made him feel both exposed and oddly at ease. They talked about their fears, their regrets, their hopes for the future - things that Bucky hadn’t allowed himself to think about in a long time.

The bell over the door chimed, and they both looked up, startled by the sudden intrusion of reality. The café was emptying out, the sun setting outside the window in a wash of orange and pink. They’d talked for hours. And they’d be in deep shit. Oh well.

Y/N’s eyes searched his, something unspoken passing between them. "Thank you," she murmured, voice low. "For not making me feel like a freak." Bucky’s smirk grew into a small smile. "You’re not a freak," he said softly. "You’re a survivor."

They stood, gathering their things. As they made their way back to the clinic, Bucky realized that maybe, just maybe, this therapy buddy thing wasn’t going to be so bad after all. It wasn’t fixing his life - not by a long shot. But it was a start.

They re-entered the building, the sterile air hitting them like a slap in the face after the brief taste of freedom. Y/N’s shoulders squared up again, the wall sliding back into place.

"You know, Bucky," she said as they approached the elevator. "I didn’t hate that." He chuckled. "Me neither, kid." The elevator doors dinged open, revealing the all-too-familiar corridor. Y/N stepped in, punching the button for their floor with a little too much force.

"So, what now?" Bucky asked, leaning against the railing. "We just go back to her office and pretend we talked about our feelings?" Y/N rolled her eyes, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. "If that’s what it takes to keep them off our asses." The elevator lurched to a stop, and they stepped out into the hallway. As they approached the room they were supposed to be in, they could hear the muffled sounds of a conversation - Raynor’s voice, and another therapist, discussing their patients.

"Looks like we’ve got company," Bucky murmured, glancing at the clock. They were cutting it close. Y/N nodded. "Let’s make it look good." They both took a deep breath and stepped into the room, trying to look like they hadn’t just blown off their session.

Raynor looked up from her notes, raising an eyebrow. "You two look… enlightened." Bucky and Y/N shared a look, the unspoken challenge passing between them.

"We had a breakthrough," Y/N said, deadpan. "A real emotional rollercoaster." Raynor’s gaze flicked between them, trying to gauge their sincerity. "Well," she said, after a beat. "I’m happy to hear that. Why don’t you sit down and tell me all about it?" Her voice was skeptical.

They sat, and Bucky launched into a half-true, half-exaggerated story about their heart-to-heart. Y/N filled in the blanks with sighs and eye-rolls, and somehow, it was convincing. They had a rhythm, a way of finishing each other's sentences that made it seem like they'd been friends for years instead of minutes.

"So, you've discovered the importance of sharing your feelings," Raynor said, scribbling on her clipboard.

"It's life-changing," Bucky deadpanned, and Y/N snorted. This might not be so bad…

——————————————————————————————————

Here you go, My Lovelies! I just love the thought of someone matching Bucky’s energy in total contrast to the usual grumpy/sunshine trope 🫶