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dadbodosamu · 3 years ago

Text

only you || part i

Stepdad Osamu x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS: pseudocest, stepcest, cheating, wombfucking, semi-public sex (in an alley), extremely light dumbification, breeding kink, spit kink, Osamu has a dick piercing

4.5k words. thanks to @waka-chan-out and @vanilleswtmacaron for beta reading this and reassuring me that it doesn’t suck lol

ao3 link here (aha its not too long mobile just sucks!!) part i || part ii || part iii || part iv || part v || part vi || extras || only you, too

You sighed as you tapped your fingers on the table. Your mom had decided it was high time for you to meet your new stepdad, who you had put off meeting for the past three years. You smiled as you remembered the perfectly timed appendicitis that had you missing the wedding. You couldn’t have planned it better if you tried.

Your dad had only passed away a little under four years ago, leaving your mom to remarry only six months later. You’d opted to live with your grandmother, citing her health as a reason to live with her on her farm. Your plan had worked perfectly, and you hadn’t had to meet Osamu for three years.

Now though, with your grandmother in the hospital, your mom thought it was a great time for you to come and visit and finally meet the great Osamu.

“Osamu should be home any minute,” your mom said, smiling happily over the takoyaki she was making. “He’s bringing your favourite!”

“Yay,” you said, unenthusiastically. You glanced at the time on your phone. You were almost wishing Osamu to be here so you wouldn’t have to spend another awkward second with your mom.

You and your mom hadn’t been close to begin with, you always being a daddy’s girl from the day you were born. And after remarrying so quickly, you’d drifted even further apart. At this point, you had nothing to speak to her about.

“I’m home!” Someone called. The door slid shut behind them and you glanced around, waiting for them to appear in the kitchen. “And I brought umeboshi onigiri!”

The man who stepped into the kitchen nearly knocked you out of your seat.

He was handsome. Devastatingly, heartachingly, handsome. He was tall, with brown hair and deep grey eyes, and thick. His t-shirt was pulled taut over his broad shoulders and his thighs in his shorts were almost indecent.

The next thing you noticed was that he was young. Probably only a handful of years older than your twenty-one, definitely closer to your age than your mom’s.

God, why had you put this meeting off? Had you known your mom was married to an actual god, you would’ve actually visited.

“Hey, honey,” your mom greeted, smiling at him. Your stomach twisted as she leaned over, puckering her lips for a kiss. Osamu pecked her lips quickly and turned towards you.

“Hey, I’m Osamu,” he greeted, smiling widely at you. Your heart skipped. “I heard ya like umeboshi onigiri so I made you some.”

“Th-thank you,” you stuttered. “I’m Y/n. It’s nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to finally meet ya,” Osamu said. “Was starting to think ya were avoiding me!”

“More like she was avoiding me,” your mom said. “She was always a daddy’s girl.”

“Oh?” Osamu asked, looking at you. Your cheeks burned. “Well, I’d never try to replace yer dad, but if ya ever need some daddy/daughter time, I’m here for ya.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from saying something stupid.

“I really appreciate that,” you said.

“Oh, I’m so glad you two are getting along already!” Your mom squealed. She carried the takoyaki to the table and smiled as she sat down. “Dinner is finally ready.”

“Itadakimasu,” you mumbled, already loading your plate up with onigiri and the other food on the table.

“So, how is university going?” Your mom asked.

You shrugged as you slurped up some noodles. “It’s going. Made nationals.”

“Oh? What sport do ya play? I don’t think yer mom ever mentioned,” Osamu said. You rolled your eyes. Of course she hadn’t mentioned volleyball, it wasn’t like you’d been playing since elementary school or anything.

“Volleyball,” you said. “I was on the Niiyama girls team in high school. Hoping to go pro after uni.”

“Volleyball? I played in high school! My brother, Atsumu, and I were on the Inarizaki team,” Osamu exclaimed.

“Not Miya Atsumu, right?” You asked, excitedly. “MSBY Black Jackals Miya Atsumu?”

“The very one!” Osamu said.

“No way! They’re my favourite team! I have a signed poster in my room, it’s my prized possession!” I exclaimed. “I heard a few members are going to the Olympics this year.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me she plays volleyball,” Osamu said, glancing at your mom.

“Must’ve slipped my mind,” your mom said.

“We should go to a game sometimes,” Osamu said. “I can get an extra ticket to the MSBY, Adlers game later this week.”

“That sounds great!” You said, smiling widely.

Your mom ate in relative silence as you and Osamu traded stories about your volleyball times, only ever inputting something every once in a while. After dinner, Osamu found a Sendai Frogs match.

“I’m currently in the nation’s top 3 setters,” you said, proudly. “I’m number two behind Takao Michi.”

“I’ll have to start coming to yer games,” Osamu said. “See ya in action.”

“I’d like that,” you said, honestly.

“Why don’t ya come to work with me tomorrow? I can introduce ya to a few of my friends that are in town,” Osamu said.

“Absolutely,” you said.

“Don’t get me wrong though, I’m putting ya to work while yer there,” Osamu said. Your mom yawned.

“You all have me worn out from all this volleyball talk,” she said. “I’m going to bed.”

“Night, mom,” you said as she stood up.

“Osamu?” She questioned, turning back to glance at him.

“Oh, we’re going to stay up a bit longer,” he said. “The Schweinden Adlers have a match after the Frogs.”

“Oh, okay,” she said. You could hear the disappointment in her voice.

Osamu waited until you heard the bedroom door click shut before speaking.

“I know this is probably too much information about yer mom but she must think I’m some sex robot,” Osamu said, huffing. “A guy can only do so much.”

You crinkled your nose. “Gross, I did not need to know that.” You tried to hold steady but laughter bubbled up through your lips. Osamu laughed loudly and you joined him, holding your gut with how hard you were laughing.

“We need- we need to be- to be quiet!” Osamu laughed. “She’s trying to- tryin’ to sleep.”

You giggled a few more times before quieting down.

“So, how old are ya?” Osamu asked, standing up. “Old enough for a beer?”

“I’m twenty-one,” you said. “Old enough for a beer.”

“We got wine coolers if ya would rather have that,” Osamu said, stepping into the kitchen.

“Please,” you said. “So, how old are you? Can’t help but notice you’re quite a bit younger than my mom.”

“Twenty-five, twenty-six in October,” he said, grabbing a beer and a wine cooler out of the fridge.

“Follow up question,” you said, “and I don’t mean any offence, I’m sure she’s great in some ways, but why my mom? I mean, surely there’s no shortage of people your age that are wanting you.”

Osamu took a long drink from his beer before answering. “Ask me after I’ve drunk a few of these.”

You pursed your lips and took a sip of your fruity drink. “Fine,” you said. “Then let’s play a game. Every time the Adlers score, I’ll ask you a question and every time the Tachibana Red Falcons score, you get to ask me a question.”

“Deal,” Osamu said.

“Oh! Score!” You exclaimed, throwing your hands up. “Another untouchable spike by Ushiwaka!”

“Shush, yer mom,” Osamu giggled. You rolled your eyes and chugged the rest of your fifth drink.

“You shush, it’s my turn,” you said, plopping down on the couch next to Osamu. “So, now tell me,” You hiccupped. “My bad. Now tell me, why my mom? Why not someone your age? Because I’m gonna- I’m gonna be honest, you’re hot and my mom is, like, she’s not, like, ugly, but, like, she’s, like, fifty.”

“I could just like cougars,” Osamu teased. You rolled your eyes and popped the top on your next drink.

“Tell the, the truth, ‘Samu,” you slurred.

“Fine, but this stays between us, as best friends,” he said.

“Bee ef efs,” you slurred.

“Yer mom helped fund my restaurant,” he said. “So, I felt bad. She’s so nice and sweet. So, I married her.”

“Now you have a step kid that’s only four years younger than you,” you said.

“Yeah, she didn’t really mention ya before we got married,” he said. Osamu leaned in close to you. “She didn’t mention how attractive ya were either.”

Your cheeks flushed. You turned your head away from him, looking back to the television.

“Oh, Falcons scored,” you said. “It’s your turn to ask a question.”

Osamu took a sip of his beer before speaking. “Why have ya been avoidin’ yer mom?”

You took a large gulp from your drink. “I haven’t been avoiding her,” you lied. Osamu blinked at you slowly.

“Fine, fine!” You exclaimed. You sipped from your drink, then responded, “Mainly because she remarried so quickly after Dad died. And to someone only four years older than me. But we’ve never been close. She and I never really saw eye-to-eye. She was the love of my dad’s life and he was just another guy to her. Not to mention, she’s never been remotely interested in anything in my life, she’s always been so self-absorbed. I doubt she even knew I still played volleyball, that’s probably why she didn’t mention it to you.”

Osamu stayed silent as you chugged the remainder of your drink.

“I know it’s probably not comforting, but I’ll be there for ya if ya need me,” Osamu said. “Even if yer mom and I separate, I consider ya a friend now.”

Osamu’s words were oddly comforting. You nodded as you reached for yet another wine cooler.

“I’m oddly comforted,” you said, popping the top easily. You fiddled with the top, thinking of what to say next.

“Another Falcons score,” Osamu said. “My turn again.”

“Question away,” you said.

“Can’t think of any,” Osamu said. He yawned.

“Tired already?” You teased, elbowing him in the side. “Old man.”

“I’m twenty-five,” he argued, yawning again. “But I am going to bed. Let’s call a rain check on our game.”

“Deal,” you said, raising your bottle to him. “Might as well go to bed, too. Night, Samu.”

“Night, Y/n,” Osamu said, standing up. He stretched out before padding down the hallway to your mom’s room.

You sighed loudly once you heard the door click shut. You gulped down your drink. “Good going, Y/n. You finally found a guy you like and he’s your stepdad.”

You finished your drink before gathering all the empty bottles and cans, throwing them in the recycling before walking towards your room. You collapsed onto your unmade bed and passed out before your head hit the pillow.

“Two salted salmon onigiri,” you said, placing the plate in front of the professional volleyball player. “And onion soup.”

“Go ahead and join them,” Osamu said, placing a few plates on the same table. “I’ll bring you out some umeboshi onigiri.”

“Thanks,” you said. You could barely contain your excitement as you took a seat between Miya Atsumu and Bokuto Koutarou.

“So, yer a setter?” Atsumu asked, taking a bite of his onigiri. You nodded.

“Number two in the nation,” you said.

“She’s better than you were, Tsumu!” Hinata Shoyo exclaimed. You smiled widely.

“In high school, I was ranked number one under nineteen in my second and third years,” you said. “I even got to play in the junior Olympics in high school. We only won silver, though.”

“We’re playing the Olympics this year,” Bokuto said. “And a few of our friends from the Adlers.”

“Kageyama Tobio, Ushijima Wakatoshi, and Hoshimiumi Kourai?” You asked. “I’ve been keeping up with everyone considered for the Olympics.”

“Maybe you’ll be playing in the next Olympics,” Sakusa said.

“That’s the goal,” you said, smiling. Osamu set a plate in front of you. “Thank you.”

“So our little star setter is here for the next week,” Osamu said, placing a strong hand on your shoulder. “We should play a game while she’s down, see how good she really is.”

“I’m game!” Bokuto exclaimed. “I wanna see those number two in the nation skills!”

“Probably nowhere near the level of you guys,” you said.

“We do have a few years on ya,” Atsumu said, ruffling your hair.

“Literally only four,” you said, fixing your hair.

“Leave the kid alone, Tsumu,” Osamu said.

“Hey, she’s my niece now, I reserve the right to tease her,” Atsumu said.

“Uncle Tsumu,” you teased.

“That’s right, Uncle Tsumu and Daddy Samu,” Atsumu said.

Your stomach flipped as the MSBY boys laughed. Osamu looked down at you and winked. You clenched your thighs together.

“All right, quiet down before ya disturb my payin’ guests,” Osamu said.

“Lunch on Samu-kun!” Hinata exclaimed. Osamu rolled his eyes.

“Once yer finished, I want ya back in the kitchen,” Osamu said. He rubbed your back before walking into the kitchen.

“So, you plan on going professional after university?” Bokuto asked.

You nodded as the table fell into casual conversation.

“I already have offers to go play in France and Brazil,” you said, taking a bite of your onigiri.

“Brazil is fantastic,” Hinata said. “I played there for a while.”

“You liked it? I’ve been debating back and forth between the two. Can’t decide which one I would enjoy more,” you said. “Does Brazil have good food?”

“The best! Unless you’re looking for Japanese food,” Hinata said. “There’s no good Japanese food.”

“Noted,” you said, smiling.

“What are you studying in school?” Sakusa asked.

“Education,” you said. “If volleyball doesn’t work out I want to teach Japanese in another country.”

“Smart,” Sakusa said.

“So, any boyfriends? Girlfriends? Significant others?” Atsumu asked.

You laughed. “With what time?”

“Oh, come on, there has to be someone!” Atsumu exclaimed. “We all find time for a lil’ somethin’.”

“There was a girl,” you admitted. “On my volleyball team, but we both cared more about volleyball than each other.”

“Any crushes?” Bokuto asked. He winked at you and flexed his arms playfully.

You pursed your lips. “And why should I tell you if I do?”

“Because we’re all best friends now!” Hinata shouted, slamming his hand on the table. He ignored the looks from the other customers.

“There is this guy I have my eye on,” you said. “He’s tall, nice, and beefy as hell.”

“Ooo, tell us more,” Bokuto said.

You shook your head. “No use talking about him. He’s strictly off limits.”

“He’s gay,” Atsumu said, nodding his head.

“What?! No!” You laughed. “He’s taken.”

“Ah, university relationships aren’t always serious, you can probably still get him,” Hinata said, waving away your worries.

“He’s married,” you said. The boys all hissed in sympathy.

“Ask for a threesome,” Atsumu said. Your face must’ve shown your disgust because the boys all laughed at you.

“She must be ugly,” Bokuto said.

“We don’t get along the best,” you said. You sighed as you looked down at your empty plate.

“Better get to work before Daddy Samu grounds you,” Atsumu teased.

You rolled your eyes, but stood up.

“It was nice meeting you guys,” you said. “I hope we can get a game together before I leave.”

“Oh, we definitely will,” Bokuto said.

“I’ll hold you to it,” you said, smiling. You waved bye to them as you entered the kitchen.

Osamu was leaned over the stove top, stirring a large pot of soup.

“Have fun?” He asked, wiping sweat off his brow with the towel thrown over his shoulder. You nodded.

“They were all super nice,” you said. “I feel like we’re actually friends now.”

“That’s good,” Osamu said, smiling at you. “Ya wanna start putting together a couple of onigiri?”

“No problem,” you said, washing your hands quickly.

“We need five salted salmon and three umeboshi,” Osamu said. “And then out to table three.”

“Got it,” you said.

The rest of the day went by relatively quickly and smoothly. It was finally around midnight when the last customers finally left and you and Osamu could close down shop.

“Come into my office and I’ll show you how to count all the money,” Osamu said, locking the main doors.

You followed him into his small office.

“Okay, whenever you count the money, make sure the door is closed and locked behind you,” Osamu said, closing the door behind him.

You held your breath as he slowly slid past you, your chest brushing against his.

“A lil’ cramped in here, sorry,” Osamu said, sitting at his desk.

“It’s fine,” you mumbled, sitting in the folding chair next to him.

“So, d’ya have a good day?” Osamu asked, casually thumbing through bills.

You nodded. “It was good! It was nice meeting your friends. I really liked them.”

“Ooo, any of ‘em catch yer eye?” Osamu teased. You rolled your eyes.

“I already have my eye on someone,” you said.

“Oh?” Osamu questioned.

“He’s taken though,” you said. “Strictly off limits.”

“Ask for a threesome,” he said.

You laughed loudly. “Funny, Atsumu said the same thing. But no, I don’t get along with his wife.”

“Wife? That sucks,” he said, placing a wad of cash in an envelope.

“Yeah,” you agreed.

“Well, I, for one, think yer a catch,” Osamu said, sealing the envelope. “Anyone would be lucky to have ya.”

“Thanks, Samu,” you said, face burning. He patted your thigh.

“Anytime, princess,” Osamu said. You clenched your thighs together at the new nickname. “Well, we’re all done here, let’s get home.”

You trailed after him like a lost puppy as he double checked all the appliances were off and flipping the lights off.

You shivered as you stepped into the cool, night air.

“Cold?” Osamu asked, already peeling off his Onigiri Miya hoodie.

“Yeah, a little,” you said, gladly taking the hoodie from him. You tugged it over your head and breathed deeply. “Smells good. Half expected it to smell like onigiri.”

“It will soon,” Osamu said, smiling. “It’s new. Just got the shipment in last week.”

“I’ll have to get one,” you said.

“Keep it,” Osamu said. “Ya look cute in it.”

You blushed deeply. You bumped his shoulder with yours gently.

“It’s like, way too big,” you said.

Osamu shrugged. “Oversized is in. Besides, I thought girls loved to steal guys’ hoodies.”

“Yeah, guys they like,” you said.

“Well, ya took it from me,” Osamu said, bumping your shoulder. “Ya must like me a little.”

“Whatever,” you said, cheeks burning. Osamu laughed.

“Someone has a crush!” He sang.

“Shut up! I don’t have a crush on you,” you said.

“Ya did call me hot last night,” he said.

“I was drunk, so it doesn’t count,” you said. He rolled his eyes obnoxiously.

“Ya have a crush on me, just admit it,” Osamu said. “I won’t tell anyone, pinky promise.”

“You’re my stepdad, in case you forgot,” you replied. “That’s basically incest, isn’t it?”

“So ya admit it?” Osamu asked. You shoved him playfully.

“I actually have a crush on Atsumu,” you said. “He’s the hotter twin.”

Osamu pushed you into an alley and caged you against the cool bricks of a building.

“Oh?” Osamu said. “Ya think Atsumu is the hotter twin?”

You nodded slowly as Osamu looked down at you.

“It’s the hair,” you squeaked.

“Oh, yeah, forgot that girls love a guy who doesn’t know what toner is,” Osamu said, leaning down. “I think yer lying.” His nose was nearly touching yours.

“I’m not,” you mumbled. Osamu’s hands moved from either side of your head to your hips.

“You are,” Osamu whispered, lips brushing against your ear. You shivered.

“And if I am?” You asked.

“I don’t like bad girls,” Osamu said. “Lying is grounds for punishment.”

“Punishment?” You asked.

“I’d bend ya over my knee and spank ya until ya begged for mercy,” he said. You sucked in a sharp breath.

“It’s a good thing I’m not lying, then,” you said. By now, Osamu’s lips were nearly against yours, so close you could feel the heat from his breath on your lips.

Osamu ground his hips against yours, firmly pressing his hard on against you.

You bit your lip and glanced down. His cock was straining against his jeans, eager to be released.

“Tell the truth and I’ll think about not putting ya over my knee,” Osamu said, lips softly brushing against yours.

“You’re the hotter twin,” you said, putting your arms around his neck. “And I have a crush on you. And I want you to fuck me in this alley.”

“There we go,” Osamu said. He finally kissed you roughly, like he wanted to devour you. You moaned as he ground against you.

“Samu,” you moaned, pulling back. He wasted no time, kissing down your neck, sucking and biting at your sensitive skin.

“Been thinkin’ about pushin’ this lil’ skirt up all day,” he growled, pushing your skirt up around your waist, revealing the pretty pink lace of your underwear.

“Please,” you gasped as he shoved his jeans and underwear down, releasing his cock. You nearly moaned at the sight of it, long and thick and leaking precum from the swollen tip.

“Gonna wreck this cute little cunt,” Osamu said, tugging your underwear down and letting them fall to the ground. He dragged the tip of his cock through your wet folds, teasing your clit and hole.

“Is- Is that a piercing I feel?” You asked, feeling cool metal against your warm folds.

“I’ll give ya a closer look later,” he said, teasingly pushing the tip in and out of your hole. “Wanna be in ya now.”

“Fill me up, please, Samu,” you begged, digging your fingernails into his skin. Your walls fluttered around nothing as he lifted you up. You instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist.

“Good girl,” he muttered, lining his cock up with your hole. “Beg for my cock, princess.”

“Please, please, please!” You cried. “Want your cock in me, need it! Please, Samu, want you to fill me up.”

“Of course, baby girl, anything for my princess,” Osamu said, kissing you softly. He rutted his hips up into you, stretching you out suddenly.

You moaned loudly and let your head fall on Osamu's broad shoulder.

“So big,” you moaned. “Hurts.”

“Shh, shh, yer takin’ me so well, baby,” Osamu said. “Squeezin’ me so tight, wanna bust just bein’ in ya.”

You whimpered as Osamu slowly pulled out. He pushed back in slowly, giving you time to adjust to each inch. Your walls clenched around him, sucking him in deeper and deeper until the swollen tip was kissing your cervix.

“Fuck,” he hissed. “Gonna ruin ya.” Osamu pulled out until just the tip was in and slammed back into you.

You gasped loudly as his cock breached your cervix, going deeper than anything had ever been in you and stretching you more than anything ever had.

“Samu!” You cried, throwing your head back and digging your nails into the nape of his neck. “Fuck, harder, please!”

“Feel that, baby? I’m so deep in ya,” Osamu said. “Fuckin’ past your cervix, yeah?”

You nodded as you bit back your moans as Osamu pounded into you. You buried your head into his shoulder and bit down, quieting your too loud moans.

“Next time, ‘m gonna have ya somewhere ya can be loud as ya want,” Osamu grunted. “Wanna hear yer pretty, little moans.”

You let out a soft moan in his ear and he snapped his hips up harder into you.

“Ah, Samu,” you moaned, struggling to keep your volume down. “Gonna cum.”

He pinched your clit as you gushed around his cock. You looked down to where your bodies met and watched as your juices leaked down his cock, dripping on his heavy balls. You moaned.

“Gonna fill ya up, baby,” he growled lowly. “Come ‘ere.”

He pulled your head up by your hair and squeezed your cheeks until your mouth fell open, tongue lolling out. He gathered spit in his mouth and spat it on your waiting tongue.

“Don’t swallow,” he said. He kissed you deeply, licking into your mouth and sucking your tongue. He kissed you messily, spit running down your chin and a thin strand of it connecting you two when he finally pulled back.

“Such a messy, little slut,” he said, slamming his hips against yours. “Taking my spit so well. Gonna take my cum like that?”

You nodded, unable to speak beyond gasps and moans as his cock abused your cunt.

“Can’t speak? Fucked ya dumb, huh?” Osamu asked. He chuckled. “My cock makin’ ya dumb, little baby?”

You whined. God, you wanted him to fill you up so bad.

“Cum. Inside.” You gasped out.

“Oh? Want me t’ breed ya? Make ya big and swollen with my baby?” Osamu asked, hips moving faster.

You nodded furiously. He rubbed your clit in tight, fast circles.

“Cream ‘round my cock one more time, baby,” he grunted.

“Samu!” You exclaimed. Your stomach tightened as your walls fluttered like crazy.

“Yeah? Gonna cum again for me?” Osamu asked. You let out a high pitched moan as the coil in your stomach snapped.

“Fill me up, please!” You moaned as you came. Osamu’s hips stuttered as he pushed into you deeply before painting your womb white. You cried out, letting your head rest against his shoulder as he moaned.

“Fuck, yer still so tight around my cock,” he hissed. Your walls fluttered. “Perfect little cunt, princess. Milkin’ me dry like a good girl.”

You whimpered as he slowly pulled out. Your legs went limp, falling from his waist.

“Can’t stand,” you mumbled, legs shaking with the weak attempt you made. Osamu held you up as he pulled his pants back up and pulled your panties back on.

“Come here, baby,” he said, swooping you up bridal style. “Let’s go home, princess.”

You nodded lamely as he carried you. You must’ve fallen asleep, because the next thing you heard was Osamu talking to your mother.

“She was practically dead on her feet,” Osamu said. “Fell asleep while I was counting the money.”

“You could’ve called, I would’ve brought the car,” your mom said. You felt Osamu shrug.

“It was no problem,” Osamu said.

“Well, go lay her down in her bed,” your mom said. “Then maybe she’ll be out for the rest of the night.” You frowned at her suggestive tone and cuddled deeper into Osamu’s chest.

“I’ll go lay her down,” Osamu said. He carried you down the hall and entered your bedroom carefully.

As he laid you down, you grabbed his arm and whined, “Don’t go.”

“I’m sorry, baby,” he whispered. “I gotta go to my own bed.”

“Don’t- Don’t fuck her,” you mumbled. “Please.”

“Don’t worry, princess,” he said, softly brushing your hair out of your face. “It’s only you from now on.” You nodded. Osamu kissed your forehead before leaving you alone.

You blinked once, twice, before you were asleep.

#cai writes #samu thoughts #tw cheating #miya osamu smut #osamu miya smut #haikyuu smut #timeskip miya osamu #miya osamu #osamu miya #tw:incest

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yersina · 2 years ago

Note

If you’re still looking for fic requests, how about Han Yoojin’s experience with his leg? How becoming newly disabled for the first time and having people look down on him not only because of his F class status, but also because he physically can’t work for that long before needing a break. His struggles to do simple things like walk to the bathroom, or running.

Then there’s the little things he does after regression because even with his leg healed he still operates with that mental pain. Leaning on things he’s next to, being amazed every time he runs after Peace, or a little sigh of relief every time he’s allowed to sit down.

(Sorry for being long winded, it’s just I always feel like canon could go more into Yoojin’s disability and how it affected him, because he had it for years and it definitely shaped how he currently interacts with the world.)

Yoojin sits in his hospital bed and thinks about his options for a long, long time.

See, this wouldn’t normally be an issue. Yoojin is very careful about budgeting his money: he makes sure to look up any existing information on the dungeons he’s planning on going into, he estimates how much he needs for the week or month or however long he’ll need to last until his next dungeon, he makes concessions for any armor or weapons that he’ll need to buy, he adds in whatever recovery items he’ll need afterwards, and he ensures that he meets that threshold while he’s in the dungeon.

And yet, here he is sitting on a hospital bed for the second time in as many months, almost too woozy from pain to properly sort through what his choices are now.

After all, no one pays a hunter that goes down at the beginning of a dungeon.

“Han Yoojin-nim,” a nurse greets, rapping politely on the door. After checking his IV and vitals, she nods to herself. “Your recovery is going as expected,” she says with a smile. Yoojin can’t bring himself to return it. “We usually try to operate as soon as possible, but it says on your records that you’re a hunter.”

“Yes.”

“We generally encourage hunters to purchase healing potions. They heal much more completely than conventional medicine now.”

Yoojin grits his teeth. He knows. “That’s… not an option for me right now,” he admits reluctantly. He bought a new weapon for this dungeon—he’s out of extra funds for at least a month or two.

There’s a downwards twist to her lips as she continues looking down at his file, one that tells Yoojin that she understands the situation that he’s in right now. “Surgery is the only other option then.”

It’s the answer that he expected, the conclusion that he’d come to a few moments before she’d walked into the room, but it’s still not what he wants to hear. “Fine,” he says, staring up at the ceiling. Surgery will be cheaper than a healing potion, even if the recovery period afterwards is much longer. He doesn’t have the money to support himself while he’s recovering. He’ll probably barely have enough to cover the surgery itself.

Fuck.

The nurse nods once perfunctorily. “We’ll schedule you for the surgery right away then. Have you already been briefed on all of the operations that we’ll need to do?”

“Yes.” And hadn’t that been a fun packet to read through. A comminuted break in his lower leg and a broken kneecap. Recovery might take anywhere from a few months to a year. Just his luck.

“If you need anything, you can always hit the call button.” She points to the remote on the bed next to his arm.

“Thank you,” he says, mostly too tired to be any ruder, and watches her shadow leave the room.

After another moment, he slowly reaches up and balls his fists into his eyes, needing the pressure to keep him grounded. Fuck. Fuck.

Someone had left his cellphone on the bedside table, and he can feel its presence mocking him even with his eyes closed and hunched over on the hospital bed. He knows it’s there, and he knows what he has to do. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t even entertain it as a possibility, but he’s genuinely not sure what he’s going to do once he’s out of the hospital.

Oh god, what is he going to do?

After his breathing calms down to a more reasonable tempo, he leaves one hand knuckling his eye ridge and uses the other to fumble for his phone. His thumb pauses over a contact that he hasn’t used in a long, long time.

He taps the contact.

The line rings for much longer than he expects it to. Not that that’s surprising anymore. The line connects. “Hyung, I told you to stop contacting me.”

Ah, the voice that he’s so missed hearing.

“Yoohyun,” he says. He wonders what he must sound like to Yoohyun. He wonders if Yoohyun can even hear the nuance in it anymore. “I need your help.”

The pause that comes is painfully long. Yoojin works on unraveling the hem of his hospital-issued blanket. “What happened?”

Yoojin takes a deep breath. “I was in a dungeon—”

“Didn’t I tell you to stop going into dungeons?” Yoohyun interrupts sharply.

Yoojin glares at the opposite wall. If Yoohyun just listened— “Regardless of whether you did, it’s not any of your business anymore.”

“Doesn’t it become my business when you call me to ask for help?”

This was a mistake. “Never mind,” Yoojin bites out, resigning himself to finding some other avenue of procuring money. He can try taking out a loan at the bank. If nothing else, he’s sure that there are people out there willing to lend to someone dripping with the sheer amount of desperation that Yoojin is.

He hangs up without waiting for any other acknowledgement from Yoohyun and ignores the one attempt at a call back afterwards.

Seok Simyeong unfortunately finds him a few hours after his operation. “Han Yoojin-ssi,” he says, like the name leaves a bad taste in his mouth.

Yoojin huffs as much of a laugh as he’s able to. The painkillers make him feel much better, but he’s also so tired. “Seok Simyeong-ssi,” he greets. It’s perhaps the most polite he’s ever been to the man, and it shows in Seok Simyeong’s expression. “Why are you here?”

“The guild leader told me that you called him recently,” he says, still lingering unpleasantly at the entrance of Yoojin’s room. Yoojin hopes that he gets chastised by a nurse for doing so. “I came to find out what you wanted.” And make sure you don’t bother him again goes unsaid.

Yoojin wheezes out another laugh and turns his head towards the window. Maybe if Seok Simyeong had showed up a day or even a few hours ago… Well, there’s no use in dwelling on ‘what if’s. “My surgery went smoothly,” he says, raising an arm as if to say ‘you see?’ “If Yoohyunnie wants to give me a few hundred for the next few months so I can eat, that would be good.” He’s not even being sarcastic. “Maybe throw in another hundred for delivery fees.”

Seok Simyeong presses his lips together like he’s trying to hide a frown. Yoojin wants to tell him that he ought to work on hiding his annoyance better, but that’s not really his problem, is it? “I’ll let him know,” he says stiffly. And then, just like that, he leaves.

Yoojin gives a mental shrug. Well, if he got what he came here for.

Sometime during his physical therapy in the weeks afterwards, Yoojin decides to wander over to the financial administration department of the hospital and finds out that his bill has been transferred to a different party and that any of his out-of-pocket costs will be covered. Yoojin looks down at the paperwork and can’t suppress a laugh.

So, good enough to pay for his hospital costs but not good enough to come and help his hyung with recovery, huh?

Recovery takes forever.

Yoojin hates every single second of it. Each moment that he spends languishing in boredom and pain is another moment he feels himself getting weaker and another notch on his anxiety towards going back to dungeoning. He has enough for now to keep himself afloat in relative comfort, but sooner or later he’ll have to return to being a working hunter, and there’s nothing that he dreads more.

Some days, he almost wishes that the pain never stops.

“Hey, Yoojin-ssi,” Kim Minchul booms, clapping a heavy hand to Yoojin’s shoulder enthusiastically. Yoojin hisses a curse when his knee buckles under the weight, enough that he stumbles over the even ground outside the dungeon gate. “Whoa, there! Still getting your feet back under you?”

Yoojin gives him a weak smile. There’s no furtive way to rub his knee to ease the ache, so he just leaves it, even though the pain is almost driving him to distraction. His doctor technically hasn’t cleared him for heavy physical activity yet (which, on a scale of fitness, probably lies somewhere below dungeoning), but Yoojin can’t wait any longer. “Not enough to keep me away.”

Kim Minchul beams. “That’s the spirit!” He gives Yoojin another painful slap on the back and wanders off to talk to the other party members.

Kim Minchul is one of the good ones, Yoojin thinks, wobbling over to the nearest chair-height surface and sitting down. It’s why Yoojin chose him as the leader of his first foray back into a dungeon. Yoojin needs someone who won’t mind picking up his slack—or, even if he did mind, be polite enough to not point it out.

The dungeon goes… fine. Painfully. Yoojin is usually flexible enough to switch between the watch group, which checks for any stragglers that the initial dungeon clearing team might have missed, and the mining group, which collects any items that might be valuable, but this time he’s firmly assigned to the mining team. Even that’s harder than it should be, and Yoojin begins lagging behind after an hour of work.

Three hours in, and he feels a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, Yoojin-ssi,” Kim Minchul says with a frown. “I think you should stop.”

Yoojin is drenched in sweat and is wishing desperately for some painkillers, but he can’t stop here. “I can keep going. We still have over half of the job left.” No matter how slow he’s going, it still has to be better than being down a person.

“We do, but I’m worried about your health.” Kim Minchul looks him up and down critically before nodding decisively. “I’m sending you home.” He must spot the look on Yoojin’s face because he adds, “I’ll make sure to send you your share, okay? Just go home and rest.”

So Yoojin goes.

A week later, he gets a check in the mail. It’s definitely less than he should’ve gotten for completing a job of that size, but it’s more than fair for the amount of work that he did. Fair, but still not enough.

Yoojin manages to stick it out for another month before he’s back to dungeoning, this time with someone who’s less likely to step in out of compassion.

Yoojin’s leg heals, eventually.

Yoojin’s knee does not.

“Post-traumatic arthritis,” his doctor explains after Yoojin finally gives in and schedules an appointment. “It’s not uncommon after knee injuries. It seems like you have a relatively mild case, thankfully. Try to keep your movement to a comfortable level, and come in again if the pain gets worse.”

And Yoojin tries, he really does. The idea of chronic pain for the rest of his life terrifies him whenever he stops to think about the possibility, and he wants to avoid it if at all possible.

He starts to learn his tells, the way his knee is sometimes stiffer than usual in the morning, or is more prone to buckling under his weight, or pops uncomfortably if he sits or walks for too long. It’s a slow, uncomfortable process, relearning his body like this, but he doesn’t have any other option other than to live with it, so he does.

It gentles, eventually, or maybe it becomes so familiar that it fades to the back of his mind. He learns to budget around his lower income, preferring to err on the side of whole and healthy than richer but debilitated. It sits between his shoulder blades like an itch, the idea that he’s not doing enough, but he grows used to the habit of letting his body decide what’s enough instead of his mind, and he tentatively decides that he’s healthier for it.

And then Yoohyun fucking goes and dies for him.

What the fuck.

The fact that he literally went back in time doesn’t really sink in until Yoojin’s second day back in the past, when he wakes up and shuffles to the bathroom, and doesn’t get an ache in his knee from standing in the shower.

Even then, he brushes it off as the start to a good day until it’s nearing bed time and he realizes that his knee hasn’t so much as twinged the entire day. Oh, right, he thinks faintly, hand clasped over the knee that fractures three years from now. That hasn’t happened yet.

Still, that moment of enlightenment isn’t enough to break years worth of habits. Yoohyun looks at him concernedly when he chooses to sit instead of stand most of the time, but he never comments on it. Yerim calls him an old man for holding on to the railing whenever they have to go up a flight of stairs. The first time that Yoojin goes for an entire day training (playing with) Peace, he’s genuinely shocked at the end from how good he feels. Tired, but bearable. Normal.

It takes no time at all to accumulate new injuries and wounds to make up for the ones that were washed away by time, but even after weeks and months, he never quite forgets this one that his body doesn’t bear anymore.

#definitelyhuman10 #sina writes #sctir #s classes that i raised #fanfiction #ngl I 100% forgot that was a thing that happened and was like ‘yoojin’s leg???’ when I got this ask #even tho I reference it in like every pre-reg scene that I write for the extra angst #i did a decent amount of research on the medical side of this #not only have I confirmed that I definitely do not want to be a doctor #this is also (probably mostly) medically accurate #probably.#my suspicion is that canon yj either had a comminuted (multiple) leg fracture that healed really well #or he used a really nice healing potion afterwards #for him to be able to brush it off this easily

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cowboyjen68 · 3 years ago

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hi! i was wondering if you had any advice about coming out? basically im a 20 year old lesbian and over the last month or so ive come out to some of my friends and people i know from university, but im having a bit of a hard time with that. ive hardly been able to tell people unless i was very very drunk or forced into it by either someone asking me or mentioning it in front of someone else.

its not that im not ready or something- im sure about being a lesbian and i feel a lot more at ease with those people ive told (especially when it comes to being friendly with men), but i find it so incredibly awkward to tell people, like i dont want it to be a big announcement or a big deal, but then it also is kind of a big deal to me and thats all very confusing and i dont quite know how to do this.

also, i feel very very emotional about being a lesbian and especially with the whole coming out thing, i pretty much start crying everytime i think of it. its pretty safe where i live so i know a lot of gay people (almost only men though- do you know what is up with that?) but most of them are really chill about all of it, could be because theyve been out longer or they dont know me that well, but i still feel a little weird for getting so emotional, is that a normal thing?

id appreciate any advice and i also wanted to say i love your blog. it always makes me feel hopeful and it makes me trust in the future and that things will fall into place somehow. also i hope its okay that it got a little long, i really needed to get some things off my chest and i dont really have anyone to ask for advice.

When I was still thinking about coming out, so college and a few years out of college I was going over a lot of things in my head. Who do I tell first? When do I tell first? How to I go about it? Do I come out at work? And many others. I ran over scenerios in my head.

I came out to Shawn long before I was read to really come out but coming out to Shawn let me get used to being out with at least one person.

After college, and once I had my own place and job I decided my parents would be the hardest to tell and the least likely to just sort of guess my sexuality. And, because I love and respected them I wanted them to know who I was and how I was going to love, it felt important to me.

After I came out to them everyone else seemed just a little easier because they were the wild card, I was not 100 percent sure how they would react and they mattered most to me. Friends etc who might have turned their back would hurt but not like loosing Mom and Dad, which I did not. They were pretty ok.

I told my siblings, a few close friends, my best friend from high school her parents, all my current friend group (they were not surprised at all) and a few other relatives. Most of them were pretty easy and certainly not as stressful as Mom and Dad.

In my public and daily life and my job I just decided to let things organically happen. I didn’t really come out so much as start to be intentional with my language. Refer to my girlfriend etc. I also received a necklace, which I still wear, from my friend Dan as a coming out gift (rainbow beads). I began to wear it all the time. Of course, as a butch, just naturally I am more likely to be clocked by others as a lesbian. For those who are not if can be a bit more of a balancing act of telling or not. And I recognize that.

Most of my early friends were gay men as well. I knew some bi women and a few lesbians but the majority of my close circle were gay men. Lesbian kind of intimidated me until I met my first girlfriend, she took me to a women’s festival and introduced me to all her lesbians friends. That friend circle stands today. I still love and enjoy being around the energy of gay men. They have their own unique power.

As to why you might know more gay men than lesbians. Older lesbians tend to sort of “retire” from public life, to refocus on their home, travel, partner and pets. Lesbians of all ages are, for some reason, often less social and spend time enhancing smaller interpersonal friend groups rather than getting out in public and expanding their group so you might have to work a bit hard to find them. They are out there, just less public, I can’t prove any of this, just an observation.

As are as work, people you meet, casual friends you don’t really have to tell them unless you want them to know. Don’t police your language and work the fact that you are a lesbian into everyday conversations, no coming out event needed and most people with hear it, accept it, and move on with life. In general people really don’t care much.

And yes, it is normal to get emotional about coming out, even after the 20th time. It takes energy to explain to every person you tell and you can be a bit emotionally over whelmed. You likely spend many years, lots of energy and time coming to terms with being a lesbian. You over came a world telling you lesbians aren’t real (it is a phase or you will find a nice man)and a society that tells a lot of lies about loving other women. (it is weird, not right, dirty, your love isn’t real, two women can’t share passion or you are just a man hater). Once you had the courage to climb over those obstacles by deciding to fully embrace your sexuality and the word lesbian. To like if not love that part of you. So your emotions can be everything from the shear joy of sharing that with people that are important to you to a bit of fear that they might reject something that is important to you.

I love being a lesbian. Lesbian positivity is my passion and I am often over whelmed by how lucky I am to be one. So much so that when others are like “um ok” it is disappointing., but understandable. So keep on loving who you are and knowing that you are the one who deserves to be the most happy about your good fortune, being born a lesbian.

The difficulty of coming out does fade and eventually you have to do it less and less and friends know and others find out in due time without your efforts.

My advice is don’t feel obligated to tell anyone. Don’t take other people’s support or disapproval too much to heart. You is who matters. Keep on loving your gay man friends and get out to more women centered/lesbian focused events like concerts, book readings, festivals and non profit fundraisers. Eventually you will make more lesbians friends.

#coming out #lesbian

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spencerspecifics · 4 years ago

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HI HI HI PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE WRITE MOREID AT PRIDE AND SOME PINING AND SPENCER THINKS DEREK IS STRAIGHT BUT HE ISN'T AND THEY KIIIITTTTTHHHHH

I absolutely love your energy fuck yes!! I’m so sorry this took forever, ive got school, work and some other personal things happening so I appreciate your patience!

No TW, B u t, a creep hits on Spencer at pride, so if that is upsetting please note that! Thanks :)

———————————————————————

Pride

———————————————————————

Garcia had been pestering Spencer about going to pride for the past week now, and it was slowly driving him insane.

He used almost every excuse he could think of. When he first turned her down, he had simply said, “Sorry, I’m going to be busy that week.” And of course, Garcia being Garcia, she stole his calendar to see what he was busy with (spoiler alert: he had nothing. Except a reminder to go grocery shopping, and email some professors and research scientists back).

So, she persisted, and he came up with a dozen more excuses; “I was considering flying out to see my mom”, “The local museum has a new interactive archeology exhibit for adults, and I want to learn more about ancient structures”, “I have to do a presentation on thermodynamics”.

None of those excuses work, as she sniffed out every lie, “Spencer, you hate flying to Vegas last minute, that archaeology exhibit has been open for months, and your calendar is empty!”

So with her persistence, and legitimate bullying, Spencer found himself finally agreeing. “Fine, but come over to my apartment before we leave so you can help me.” After all, he wasn’t really familiar with pride parades, and what the scene was like there. He was going to be a fish out of water, he already knew that for certain.

True to her word, Garcia showed up an hour before the pride parade was set to start, carrying a coffee in each hand- how she possibly knocked on his apartment door, Spencer didn’t know.

“I brought you a pick me up, that way you have no excuse to be in a bad mood!” She spoke in her signature sing song voice as Spencer let her inside, she barreled in like a hurricane. God, Spencer wasn’t ready for this.

“Thanks..” Spencer decided to reply with that lame response, and not with what he was actually thinking. He took the coffee from her wordlessly as she stepped in further, going to sit down on his couch.

“You excited?” Garcia asked as she set her cup down on his cluttered coffee table. Reid just shrugged, “I don’t know. I don’t do great with crowds.”

“But you do great with disarming murderers?” “You know that’s different-” Spencer said, doing his best to argue, “Reid it is literally not. Both are anxiety inducing, but one is life or death, and it’s not pride. So you can do this.”

Spencer sighed, resigning himself to not arguing with Garcia. Because she was right, though at times her arguments sounded wild. He just had to get over this anxiety and show up at pride, he could do this, right?

Wrong. So, very, wrong. They had left his apartment with thirty minutes to spare, deciding to walk over to where pride was being held- as it was only a few blocks away in a public park.

And as soon as they got there, Spencer wanted out. There were so many people, more than he estimated (and his estimations were usually spot on.), and there was just chaos everywhere. Music, dancing, shouting, singing, drag queens running around happily. Spencer wasn’t sure what to do. He was out of his element.

Garcia seemed to sense that, though, as she dragged Spencer over to some stalls that sold pride flags, pins, and other miscellaneous pride related things.

“C’mon Reid, why don’t you look around and find something you like?” She offered up, something for him to do- something for him to stay busy with. He could do that. Spencer nodded simply, Garcia stayed by his side- looking at pride related wear for herself.

Spencer ended up deciding on a small pin that simply said; “love all”, planning to stick it on his messenger bag strap. Garcia bought a pin as well, but hers just had her pronouns on them; “she/her/hers”.

Looking at all the pride apparel was a good distraction for Spencer, he felt a lot more calmer now- though that didn’t stop him from feeling like he stuck out like a sore thumb. He’s just not familiar with this world, and it’s awkward to suddenly be in the middle of it.

Spencer was in the middle of looking at another booth that sold flags, possibly considering buying himself a small one to stick in his pencil cup at work, because Garcia left him to go compliment a drag queen- when a voice broke through.

“Hey, pretty boy!”

That was a voice all too familiar, what on earth was Morgan doing here? Spencer looked up at him as he made his way towards him. “Hey,” Spencer spoke awkwardly. Not sure what to say.

Spencer was gay. He was fine with admitting he was gay, but he hadn’t really told the team. He thought they figured it out on their own. And they probably had, but still, having his coworker see him at a pride event- it was anxiety inducing.

“What’re- what’re you doing here?” Spencer asked, stumbling over his words as he dropped the small flag he was holding back onto the vendors table.

“Oh, well I’m on the local PFLAG committee. I’m just here to hand out flyers and stuff. But I’m glad to see you’re here, I’m guessing Garcia’s here too?” He asked Spencer casually, as if he hadn’t just dropped a bomb on Spencer.

He was on the PFLAG committee? Why? To help queer people, obviously, but that had to mean he was gay or something- Spencer couldn’t stop his mind from coming up with every possible answer to why Derek was on the committee.

Spencer just nodded in response, he moved himself back from the vendors table to get out of the way, so other customers could look at the flags being sold.

“Yeah, she’s- there.” Reid pointed her out, as if on cue she came out of the thick crowd that had started to gather back up, the parade portion of pride had concluded by now, and people were coming over to the vendors section.

“Hey, Babygirl!” Derek called over to her, and Garcia somehow lit up with a smile brighter than the one she was wearing before, “Well, hey!” She responded enthusiastically, walking up swiftly to give Derek a quick embrace, which he happily returned.

“I wasn’t sure how long you were staying for, but I’m glad I caught you!” Garcia started rambling to Derek, about how the drag queen she met was so nice; “Her name was Mysteria Hysteria. Isn’t that genius?”.

Spencer just stepped back from them both, not sure what to do, not sure if he fully belonged. Pride was a nice event, it was. But the longer he stood around, the more he felt like he should be leaving. Everyone was laughing and smiling, everyone was just happy. And Spencer couldn’t stop racking his brain. In the beginning, he couldn’t stop thinking because of his anxiety, but now he was searching his brain for a reason why Derek was here and what it meant.

Of course, a stupid large portion of Spencer’s mind went to “maybe Morgan likes men”, and then an even larger and stupider portion of his mind had the absurdity to think; “maybe he’s interested in me”. Which Spencer did not even want to remotely entertain, because if he fell down that rabbit hole, he’d never climb back out.

Because yes, he did like Derek. He liked him a lot, the start for his liking towards the man was innocuous enough- which is why it was a problem for Spencer. He didn’t realized he liked Morgan until it was too late. And now he had been battling these feelings for years. Spencer wasn’t ever going to act on them, he just had to live with them- which he had been doing, which he has been content with. But this new information, about Morgan being here, being part of PFLAG- it was going to make Reid’s mind implode in on itself.

Reid decided the best thing was to say; “I’m gonna get some water, I’ll be back.” To which Derek and Garcia both nodded to, and Spencer was off, away from the vendors stand and the only two people he knew at pride.

And while that was a good thing, it was simultaneously not so good. Because now he was alone, overwhelmed, and thinking too much. And now he had a task to do, find himself some water.

That task seemed to be more difficult than anticipated, as the prides layout was a confusing maze, spencer had to pass in front of a group of drag queens in order to get to the food trucks that were on site- but he eventually got there.

He walked up to the first food truck he saw, it didn’t matter what they sold, he wasn’t getting it.

“What can I get for you?” The cashier asked him, “Just a water, please.” He ordered, the cashier nodded and pulled a bottle out from a cooler that was nearby within the truck, handing it over to spencer as they told him his total, a dollar twenty five. Spencer paid quickly, stepping back and away from the food truck, as he wasn’t sure where else to go now. He didn’t want to go back towards Derek or Garcia, he honestly wanted to go home.

He just needed a minute, some space and time to breathe and relax. He was stressing himself out. And about what? Nothing of goddamn importance, just a stupid crush he had been living with for a while now.

Spencer had been leaning against the back the food truck for not long, only a couple of minutes as he was absorbed in thought as he fiddled with the cap on the water bottle.

He was doing his best to follow the grounding techniques he had learned, something to help him calm down, when suddenly- a stranger emerged out of the crowd.

“Hey there, handsome.” The man said confidently as he strode up to introduce himself Spencer. Spencer looked up to meet his eyes, the man in question was a fine looking guy, chiseled jawline, long shoulder length hair, a bit of facial stubble. He was handsome. “Hello,” Spencer answered hollowly in response. In an ordinary situation, he would try and seem more lively- but he wasn’t in a normal situation, not at all.

The anxiety of attending pride was stress enough on its own, but now knowing the guy he had been drooling over for years was here- and worked as a PFLAG volunteer? It was enough to make him lose his mind.

The man didn’t seem to notice Spencer’s empty response, however, as he answered suavely in response; “I couldn’t help but notice you from across the way. I’m Fabian,” Thankfully, the man- Fabian, didn’t stick his hand out for a handshake, instead casually pushing his hair back a bit.

“I’m Spencer,” Reid replied simply, knowing it was best to ride this odd social interaction out, rather than try and fight it. “That’s a lovely name,” Fabian complimented, “Is this your first time at pride, Spencer?” He asked him casually, taking a step forward, closer to Spencer. He was all too confident for Spencer, he too comfortable with invading Spencer’s space. If Spencer could’ve, he would’ve stepped back.

“Uh, yeah. My friend dragged me along.” Reid explained, twisting the bottle cap back onto his half empty water bottle. Fabian nodded, “Your boyfriend didn’t take you?” Fabian asked him. That was a leading question, Spencer had alarm bells ringing in his head the second he heard it. “No. He- um- he met up with us here.” Spencer replied unconvincingly, Fabian obviously did not believe a word he said.

“Well,” Fabian took another step forward, practically blocking Reid in against the back of the food truck, leaning in farther to whisper in Spencer’s ear; “I don’t see him around. So, why don’t you and I get out of here? Hm?”

Spencer wasn’t sure of what to do. He wanted to kick this guy in the crotch and just book it, but he wasn’t sure if his FBI status would protect him in this scenario. He wasn’t sure what could protect him in this scenario.

“Pretty boy! There you are!” A saving grace broke through, and suddenly Fabian was stepping back, and Morgan was walking up.

Thank god, thank fucking god, that’s all Spencer could manage to think as Derek came to stand beside him. “Hey, babe.” Spencer said, cringing at his voice, at what he just said. But that feeling only lasted for a moment as Fabian was still standing right there, staring them both down now.

Spencer could only throw his wish in the sky and hope Derek caught it coming down, ‘please catch along to why I’m calling you babe’ Reid was trying to say.

And Derek caught it, “Hey, baby, was worried about you. Who’s your friend?” He said in his smooth voice, a voice Spencer couldn’t forget. He especially couldn’t forget now, being called ‘baby’ was something Spencer especially could not forget.

“I’m Fabian, you’re Spencer’s boyfriend?” Fabian asked, as if them both calling each other ‘babe’ counted for nothing. “Yeah, I’m Derek.” Morgan responded simply, sliding his hand around Spencer’s waist as if to prove a point. Fabian just nodded, looking between Spencer and Derek one last time before talking; “Well, it was nice to meet you, I’ve gotta get going. See you.”

And then, he was off, fast walking away from Derek and Reid, escaping the terrible situation he had created. Fabian quickly disappeared into the thick crowd, and by then Spencer had his hand squeezing his water bottle all too tightly- as evident by the terrible crunch sound it made. He was too anxious to let go.

“Hey, are you okay?” Derek asked him softly, pulling his hand away from Spencer’s waist. “Can we find somewhere else- can we go sit down?” Spencer asked him quickly. Reid didn’t want to talk about it right this second, right where it had happened. He wanted to leave, he wanted to leave pride and never come back.

Derek didn’t ask a single follow up question as he led Reid away from the food trucks, taking him back towards the vendors stands, and then a bit further back, into the normal-not-so-pride-parade-filled park area. Somewhere less stressful, less scary.

“What did that guy want?” Derek asked Spencer casually as they made their way towards a bench that was sat under a large oak tree. Spencer didn’t speak right away, instead he waited until they were seated to start talking.

“He was trying to flirt, but then he wanted me to leave with him.” Spencer explained as he took a deep breath in, just being away from all the loud sounds and sights was helping him calm down. Derek rubbed Spencer’s back in slow, circular motions as Spencer kept talking.

“He was a classic example of a narcissistic personality, it just made me so uncomfortable- he invaded my space.”

“He was a creep, Reid. Simple as that,” Derek kept rubbing Spencer’s back slowly, Spencer nodded. “I know. Sorry, it shook me up.” Spencer attempted to apologized, and Derek was immediately having none of that.

“Reid, no. Don’t apologize for that, don’t you dare. He was a creep, I’m sorry you got caught up with him. It’s okay if you’re shaken up. We can stay here until you feel up to going back, or we can leave. But I’m not leaving you.”

And so they sat for a good amount of time on that park bench, at one point Derek stopped rubbing Spencer’s back, instead just keeping his arm stretched out against the back of the bench and against Spencer’s back. Spencer loved it, but he knew if he thought about it for too long he wouldn’t be able to stop thinking. That was his biggest problem, he couldn’t stop thinking.

He had to know, he decided, he couldn’t just wonder why Derek was on the committee for PFLAG. He wanted to know, he had to.

“Derek?” He spoke up softly, sounds of laughing and shouting and music were still heard in the distance, but they were safe from the sounds under the tree. “Mhm?” Derek hummed in response, looking up at the aforementioned tree that was providing shade for them.

His eyes were tracing the way the branches curved and bent around each other, it was something he did to pass the time. Spencer thought he was extraordinary for it, Derek loved to see where things went; he was curious- after all these years, and all the bad they had seen together, Derek still loved to search and find the beauty.

“Why are you on the PFLAG committee ?” Spencer asked him, it was thankfully an innocuous enough ask to not draw too much of Derek profilings side out to pry apart his question. Derek shrugged, and was quiet for a second before responding, “I know what it’s like to be a scared kid, unsure of his identity. If I can help someone through that, that’s all that matters. Same reason I’m in the BAU, to help people.”

Spencer stayed quiet, Derek’s reason was so sincere and so sweet and kind- and only driving him to think further. Was Derek still unsure of his identity? Was he an ally? Why did he have to make Spencer swoon so hard without even trying?

“So, you’re just an ally?” Spencer approached Derek carefully with that question, not wanting to impose or be rude- but just feign simple curiosity, praying Derek wasn’t using his profiling skills right now to decode Spencer’s fake motive.

Derek didn’t notice, thankfully, as he chuckled lowly in response; “No, pretty boy, I’m bisexual. I don’t really tell the team, but it’s not confidential information. Plus, Garcia found Grindr on my phone. Can’t hide anything from that girl.”

Spencer nodded, mumbling something in response about how Garcia had hacked his email to make sure he was free for pride. And then, the two fell into silence again. But it didn’t last for long, because Derek wanted to know just as much, why was Spencer here?

“What about you, Reid?” Derek asked him cautiously, the way you approach a puppy you find on the side of the road. Calm and slow, trying to get him to trust him bit by bit. “What about me?” Spencer asked, not wanting to answer anything about himself unless Derek was specific.

“Are you an ally?” Morgan asked him, leaving the question open ended. Spencer could say as little or as much as he wanted. This is how you get him to open up, Derek knew that for a fact. “Um.. yeah, I mean- who isn’t? I just- I have to be. I’m.. gay.” Spencer admitted all too awkwardly, not at all in a normal fashion. But nothing about Spencer was in normal fashion.

Derek nodded slowly, not responding as he stared back up, tracing his eyes over the tree branches yet again.

A few hours had passed, Spencer and Derek eventually left their peaceful bench under the large oak tree, and instead moved back towards the parking lot.

“Garcia’s got a ride home already- I think she got that drag queen to get her home.” Derek explained as they approached his truck, Spencer nodded as he followed Derek. “Anyways,” Derek continued speaking, “I can give you a ride home. Let’s get going.”

“You don’t have to-“ Spencer started, Derek immediately shut him down. “I want to, c’mon. It’s late, you’re tired. I know you are. Let me take you home.” Spencer just nodded in agreement, he couldn’t argue with Derek, even if he did try. Morgan was a stubborn man.

So, Spencer followed Derek into his truck, and they sat in comfortable silence as they started on their journey back to Spencer’s safe space, his apartment.

By the time Derek pulled his truck into the apartments parking lot, Spencer knew something was just the slightest bit wrong. Derek had barely spoken for the entire ride, and usually he loves to say something, to make Spencer smile or laugh, or even just nod and mumble in agreement. But he had done none of that on the way to Spencers.

“Are you alright?” Spencer asked, turning to face Derek as he put the vehicle in park. Derek didn’t meet his eyes, staring at the steering wheel instead as he spoke; “Yeah. Sorry. I’m just thinking.”

“About what?” Spencer pried, absentmindedly unbuckling his seatbelt as he spoke, “About today.” Derek said, not explaining further. “Was today bad?”

Derek shook his head, “No. It started weird, it’s ending pretty good, though. But I’m gonna regret today forever if I don’t do something right now.”

Now, Spencer was confused. Not sure at all what Derek could be talking about, “What do you mean?” He asked, voice quieter than before.

Derek said nothing as he unbuckled his own seatbelt, turning to face Spencer as well, and then he leaned in- closer than they had ever been before. Their noses were almost touching, and Spencer didn’t move. Instead, he watched Derek’s eyes expectantly.

Then, Derek broke through, they were no longer intersecting each other’s personal space- now they were fully destroying each other’s atmospheres. Derek’s lips were on Spencer’s, a chaste, soft, quick kiss- something Spencer would have wanted to go for a lot longer. But then, he pulled away just as fast.

“...That’s what I meant..” He mumbled after a second, looking back towards the steering wheel, looking away from Spencer- and more importantly, not seeing the smile on Spencer’s face.

Spencer couldn’t help it. He knew it was terrible to be smiling right now- he should jump and say something to fix what was happening. But he had to smile, he couldn’t believe that had actually just happened, his brain was still computing and re-circuiting, trying to savor the memory and not forget how Derek’s lips felt against his.

Spencer dragged himself out of his own head quickly, though. He did all he could think of to do in the moment, get Derek back. “Morgan.” Spencer said, tugging on Derek’s sleeve as he did so, forcing him to look back at Spencer and meet his eyes again.

But Spencer didn’t say anything, and he didn’t give Derek the chance to speak, either. Instead, he leant forward, pressing his lips against Derek’s. This is all he had wanted to know for the longest time, and now he had it.

Maybe pride wasn’t so bad after all, you just have to be with the right people for it to work out.

———————————————————————

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stolen-pen-name23 · 3 years ago

Note

If you feel like it, maybe "You have to help(/save) him! Please!" referring to Anakin, for either Ahsoka about her Master or Obi-Wan about his Padawan?

Thank you for the prompt! I went with Obi-Wan and Anakin as his padawan! // from these prompts // prompts now closed

---

Obi-Wan can sense Anakin weakening with every hour that passes.

The boy is limp in his arms and Obi-Wan is constantly pushing against their young bond to make sure that it still exists — that Anakin still lives.

“You have to stay with me, Padawan,” Obi-Wan says, his voice betraying his own fears. “Come on, keep your eyes open.”

“Can’t,” Anakin murmurs.

“Yes, you can,” Obi-Wan insists. “Just open your eyes. Look at me.”

“Hurts. Don’t feel good.”

“I know, but you have to hang in there. We’re almost out of here,” Obi-Wan says, hoping he is right.

Evidently, Anakin can sense that it is only that — a hope.

“You don’t know that,” Anakin says. “You don’t even know where we are.”

The boy has him there. He can only guess which direction to go, relying heavily on the Force and hoping that his intuition is correct.

Being lost in the jungle is not the ideal situation. Being lost in the jungle with a young Padawan is an even less ideal situation. Being lost in the jungle with a young and very sick Padawan with no supplies? Well, that is just bad luck.

Very bad luck.

Their ship crashed days ago. Obi-Wan got away unscathed, but Anakin received a nasty gash on his arm — a nasty gash that is now infected. Anakin’s feverish skin burns so hot, Obi-Wan can feel it through his tunics.

Obi-Wan had been able to salvage some water and a little bit of food from the wreckage. The food ran out two days ago and the water ran out this morning. Every stream and babbling brook he passes tempts him, but he resists the urge to drink. Obi-Wan did not have any iodine to treat the water, and even though his mouth feels like it is stuffed with cotton, he knows making himself sick with unclean water will only serve to make the situation worse.

He growls in frustration. Without bacta, without water, without antibiotics, Anakin will not make it to tomorrow. Without water, Obi-Wan will not make it much longer than that.

Obi-Wan keeps moving forward and prays it is the right direction.

His prayers are answered. Or at least, he hopes they are. The forest thins slightly and his eyes land on a rudimentary palisade. Behind it, he can see the sloping arches of roofs.

Obi-Wan finds himself once again praying to the Force. This time, he prays the people living behind those walls are friendly. He conceals his lightsaber in his robe and follows the palisade until he comes across a gate with a metal latch. Tossing Anakin over his shoulder, his shaking fingers work the gate’s handle until it swings open.

The jungle has been cleared to make way for homes and buildings. They are not as advanced as anything that would be found on Coruscant, but they are not as underdeveloped as the rotting palisades or the surrounding jungle environment would have led Obi-Wan to believe.

It is evening, and presumably, a quiet one as no one appears on the gravel streets. Obi-Wan once again relies on his intuition to select a small house. He stumbles over to it and bangs on the door.

No answer.

His fist connects with the hardwood. The last shreds of Obi-Wan’s hope exist behind that door, and the thought of carrying on in search of help somewhere else after coming so far is nearly enough to bring him to his knees. He extends his hand to knock a third time when the door swings open.

“Hello?” a middle-aged man asks, confusion and caution guarding his expression. Obi-Wan can hardly blame him, but desperation has replaced decorum for the time being.

“You have to help him,” Obi-Wan pleads with the stranger. “Please. He’s sick, he’s injured and…”

Obi-Wan sways — thirst, hunger, and exhaustion seemingly catching up with him now that he has found some help.

“We have a healer in town,” the man says without questioning the mud-covered man standing at his doorstep. “Come, it seems you both need it.”

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan says gratefully. He shifts Anakin off of his shoulder and back into his arms.

“I can take him,” the man offers.

Something protective rears its head inside of Obi-Wan. “No, I’ve got him,” he says suspiciously.

The man raises his hands in surrender. “Let me know if you change your mind. You’re not looking too good is all.”

“I’m fine. It’s him who needs help.”

“I’d say you both do. Can I ask what happened?”

“Our ship crashed and we got lost. He’s hurt and I can feel him slipping away and it’s my…”

Obi-Wan can’t finish the thought. His voice is thick with emotion from the stress of the whole debacle and the fear that Anakin very well might not make it even when they do get to the healer.

“You don’t have to talk about it. Sounds like you’ve been through quite a lot. Let’s just find that healer alright?”

Obi-Wan nodded, grateful for the kindness of strangers.

The man leads Obi-Wan to a small, but sturdy-looking building. They rush in and find the healer that was promised.

“Please help him,” Obi-Wan practically begs. “He needs help.”

“Come, young one, bring him here,” the healer responds, gesturing to a bed. “Lay him down. I’ll take a look at him.”

Obi-Wan sets Anakin down and takes a stumbling step backward. The man grips his shoulders and steadies him.

“Are you alright?” he asks, but his voice sounds like it’s underwater.

“Help him… you have to…” Obi-Wan’s knees buckle and he can vaguely feel large hands grab hold of him before he hits the floor.

His legs drag useless and limp underneath him as he is pulled across the room and laid down on a soft surface.

“Anakin…” he murmurs one last time before falling into unconsciousness.

***

When Obi-Wan wakes, he bolts up where he sits. His chest heaves up and down rapidly. To his side, Anakin lays pale and still as death.

“Anakin?” he asks, panic curling into his voice, his lungs, his very soul. “Anakin please.”

“He’s alive,” the healer from before says as she enters the room.

Obi-Wan’s fears are only partially alleviated. “Will he stay that way?”

“The infection was aggressive, but I have him on strong antibiotics. He is stable and will be fine as long as you keep him on the antibiotics, keep the wound clean and keep him hydrated.”

Obi-Wan lets out a deep breath.

“Now as for you,” the healer says accusingly. “Your blood sugar was very low. You were very dehydrated as well.”

“We were lost. We ran out of supplies,” Obi-Wan offers as defense.

“Really? The boy was not nearly as dehydrated as you were.”

Obi-Wan swallows thickly. “He needed the water more than me. He was sick. I needed him to stay alive.”

“If you died of thirst before him, neither of you would have made it.”

Obi-Wan looks down in shame. “He needs to live,” Obi-Wan says, offering the reasoning for a second time. He cannot call it an excuse because he means every word of it.

“Very well. Just be more careful with yourself next time? He needs you too, you know?.”

Obi-Wan feels a lump form in his throat. “I will.”

There is a pause and Obi-Wan starts to sense a trepidation coming from the woman.

“I know what you are,” the healer says, glancing over at a side table where Obi-Wan’s lightsaber lay. She must have found it while he was unconscious.

“Oh?” Obi-Wan questions, unsure if the people of this planet are for or against the Jedi. Obi-Wan really hopes this isn’t one of those planets that believes the Jedi practice witchcraft and ought to be burned at the stake.

“The people around here don’t really care for your kind.”

So much for that.

Obi-Wan’s chest tightens at the confirmation of his suspicions.

“We sent off one of our own to the Order years ago,” the woman explains. “She died on a mission. It was a long time ago, but this is a small community. It’s hard to forget.”

Obi-Wan wonders if it was a Jedi he knew, or if it was a Jedi who died before he was even born.

“I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan says. It is all he has to offer at the moment.

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep your identity quiet.”

Relief pours into his veins. “Can I ask why?”

She gestures to Anakin. “I would hate whatever family he has left to find out he died on a mission. It’s a tragic thing.” the healer says. “Besides, it is my job to heal, no matter what you are.”

“You’re honorable.”

“I’m just a healer,” she said, brushing him off. “I have already gone to the liberty of contacting your Order. They will come for you and your apprentice tomorrow. Just don’t try to leave here before they come to pick you up. I can’t protect you once you leave these halls.”

The tightness in Obi-Wan’s chest loosens somewhat.

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan says, “for your kindness and for your discretion.”

“Of course. Just don’t make a habit of crash landing on my planet.”

“I’ll do my best,” Obi-Wan says with a weak smile.

The healer leaves and Obi-Wan is left alone with Anakin. He stares at the child lying still in the bed beside him and has to watch for the slight rise and fall of his chest to reassure himself that the boy is, in fact, alive.

Obi-Wan swings his legs over the side of the bed and drags his IV along with him so that he can stand beside Anakin. His legs still feel shaky and his body weakened, but he refuses to leave Anakin’s side.

Eventually, he finds a chair to drag over and sit in. He grabs Anakin’s hand and rubs his knuckles with his thumb. Anakin’s hand is still small and soft with youth. It does not yet have calluses formed from years of wielding a lightsaber as Obi-Wan’s do.

He’s still innocent.

Obi-Wan tries not to think about how close he was to losing Anakin. He doesn’t think he could have taken it — not so soon after his Master and well… it would have been an awfully cruel thing to lose two members of his lineage in the span of a few months.

A soft groan escapes the child’s lips and Obi-Wan perks up.

“Anakin?”

Anakin scrunches his face up in discomfort.

“Wait here, I’ll find the healer and then—” The little hand squeezes Obi-Wan’s tighter, stopping him in his tracks.

“Master…” Anakin murmurs. He squints and blinks a few times. Anakin’s eyes focus on him and Obi-Wan could swear he saw them light up just the slightest bit.

“Master?” Anakin asks. “Where are we? What happened? Why am I…”

“Shhh,” Obi-Wan says, slowing Anakin down before he can get himself worked up. “You’re safe now. We found our way out of the jungle. We’re going to go home soon.”

Anakin nods, but remains silent

“Talk to me, Anakin. Does it hurt? Are you in pain?”

“No… I mean… a little. Don’t feel that good.”

Guilt pools in Obi-Wan’s stomach and he takes a shuddering breath. “I’m sorry, Anakin. For all of this.”

“Why? You got us out,” Anakin says. “You saved us.”

Obi-Wan looks away. “I also crashed the ship. If I hadn’t, we wouldn’t have… you wouldn’t have…”

His eyes sting and he blinks rapidly.

“Doesn’t matter,” Anakin says, and he is so sure of himself Obi-Wan almost feels some of the guilt melt away. “You got us out didn’t you? And I’m going to be okay. Really.”

“You’re okay,” Obi-Wan says softly, reaffirming it to himself.

“What about you?” Anakin asks.

“What about me?”

Owlish eyes blink up at him. “Are you going to be okay?”

Obi-Wan squeezes Anakin’s hand.

“Yes, Padawan. I’m going to be okay.”

#prompts now closed #thanks for the prompt!#my writing #anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi

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princessmyriad · 2 years ago

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Any systems out there that have maybe advice or anecdotes about non-corporeal alters, please if you feel comfortable sharing im in a tight spot and could use guidance:

So, I am a ghost. When we were little our hosts had always been human, during our teen years i co-hosted with a human. During our late teens/early 20s i was considered less of a co-host and more of just only being out when we interacted with our abuser, and the human co-host became the only host for a while. Since then that human is no longer host and isnt able to be considered co-host anymore (atleast not for the forseeable future until we get therapy and can unpack some stuff for her) and the role of host falls solely on me. The ghosty hostess with the mostess 😎

So basically tl;dr the first part, ive been in the body fairly often before but its only the last few months i have been here all the time with 'just me' (obv not including random switches/lurking but like i mean in a sense of the body primarily belonging only to me without a break.)

The body deals with a l o t of chronic pain.

Basically i had some thoughts recently where i couldnt tell if i could feel the body pains more these days just because i dont have a co-host/have someone to take it from me when its overwhelming, or because im becoming more connected with the idea of having physicality? Or the pain is just worse/increased because whatever is causing the pain hasnt been medically adressed and my condition has decreased. I have recently stopped taking my uh, 🍀 medication due to financial reasons and since not having it the body just feels worse and worse every day, i honestly didnt realise just how much it was doing for me in regards to just like. Allowing me to go for a tiny 10min slow paced walk without wishing to scream and howl in pain with every step. To let me function, essentially, on a physical pain management scale.

The last two ideas stress me out. I still feel like a ghost, not to get too personal but my ghost form wasnt formed out of a near death experience it was out of a need to have certain words and events 'go through me,' and a deep connected sense of lonelyness and abandonment like those things and people and places who are gone and forgotten. And i carry much trauma related to those feelings which i will not be going into detail about here. But the thought that i have been in this body so long by myself, and have over the last few years found friends and connections to other physical people i want to be around, couldve caused/be causing me to slowly become less ghost and more physically real? That scares and worries me. I still very much feel like i need to be ghost to stop us getting hurt in that way. I worry if i become corporeal, it will be easy for other people to hurt us in that same way again. I worry if i am corporeal that i will have to deal with the bodys physical pains much more intensely than i already do if i am so connected to it, and that i cannot do what i do best to allow painful things to pass through me. Like im made of nothing but smoke because i essentially am. Thats my entire reason for being. I worry if this is the case and im becoming a more physical embodiment of my former self that its out of my control and i dont get a choice. Because i would chose to stay ghost if i could.

The other option is also scary. The body is only 24 years old dude. It shouldnt hurt this much all the time over comparatively small tasks. Or no tasks. It shouldnt hurt this much just to be 'alive'. And if it is because the condition has progressed since the last time i was aware of the body for real and ive gotten worse? Thats almost too much to think about. How quickly is it progressing? Why cant i do anything to stop it? Why wont doctors do anything to stop it, or atleast identify it so i can work on managing it myself? Ive only ever split once (personally i mean not as a system) and the poor entity is full of medical trauma. It makes it so hard to keep going to doctors to keep begging them to take me seriously when they never do. Its so much pain and effort (let alone money) and exhaustion just to get to a doctor. Not even a specialist just a gp. Only for them to tell me every time that i brush my hair and dress nicely and usually wear makeup and i couldn't possibly be struggling in any way, especially physically. Its too much effort, more effort than its worth for that. So i dont really go to a doctor any more, but i need to, i need just one of them to take me fucking seriously. Because i have no good way of knowing if this pain seems so new and intense to me because im more 'real' (physical) than i ever was, or because there is more pain.

Both options suck

So yeah idk any ghostly entities or fluid/non-corporeal/shadow type alters, do you have advice how to tell if you might be becoming physical? Or those of you who used to be floaty who did transition into a more 'sturdy' being, what did it feel like? When did you know you werent the concept of see-through anymore? Do you prefer not having a graspable form? How has this change benefited your sys?

Idk i have a lot of questions just any sort of advice might be helpful here bc im having a rough time lately managing physical body pain in relation to the literal reason i exist and if i still exist like that.

#thats so fkn long im so sorry i so rarely post actual longform stuff on here but ive been thinking about lots lately #plus this is my blog i get to talk about my stuff here. this is my blog i have to keep reminding myself the social rules ive built myself #do not have to apply here. i can be a nuisance on my own damn blog if i wish #im also sorry idk how to do a readmore tho #i tried. i do not know if it will work its the first one ive done and i am on mobile app so im just reslly sorry if it doesnt work #and you get this huge text wall comin at ya #thats a lot of personal stuff i fe a bit weord abt posting so much private stuff openly but i needed to get these thoughts out #in a way where i can maybe get advice without judgement and not just a one sided journaling entry #personal #did #osdd #tw: death mention #tw: abuse mention #tw: drug mention #endos dni #tw: split mention #? idk what to tag as trigger warnings theres a lot of heavy implied stuff here but no actual real details i think #tw: ghosts #gross fuck you if you expect me to tw my fucking self but also. like i get it. i get not everyones cool with ghosts #bc theyre so often linked with deathy concepts #tw: trauma #tw: trauma mention #again not specifically with detail but i just dont wanna upset unprepared folks #next question for myself. if i click dont allow reblogs can people still reply? we will find tf out i suppose #if youre 'endo' you will be immediately blocked upon my finding this out or if youre just a dick about this post or my situation in general #im in a bad place. i have zero fucking tolerance for any kind of hate or even criticism right now. friendly discussions please only #im happy for you to share your stories if you think it relates or you might have insight into my situation #and im asking for advice so unless its very obviously unsolicited or unapplicable to situations like this(airy alters becoming less airy)#please feel free to share whatever you think might help or work within context #system

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harryhandstan · 4 years ago

Text

gotta get better

gif credit

This concept has been in my head for a while now and it took me like a month to write and edit and just get it all out! I had surgery two years ago today and it was one of the most emotional, stressful experiences of my life simply bc I’m just a big baby lol. This is just something to celebrate that day and the fact that I’m still so happy it’s all over! Fluffy af as usual cause that’s all I know how to write. :)

Thankful to @bfharry and @bopbopstyles for not only inspiring me with their amazing writing but pushing me towards finishing this and reaching (even going over) my personal 5k goal! I appreciate you both so much!!

I recently saw a post about tagging triggers properly so I’m gonna do it that way but if I do it wrong or it doesn’t work PLEASE let me know and I will fix it immediately (just want to be sure all my bases are covered)

// needles tw, pills tw (prescription), anxiety tw // (if I missed anything I should’ve tagged please please let me know!!) and I’m sure there are some medical inaccuracies bc that whole day is kind of a blur for me haha

as always likes/rbs/comments are welcome but absolutely not necessary :)

final word count: 7.1k

"Y'nervous, angel?"

"Hmm?"

"Bout to chew your finger off. I know there can't be much of a nail left."

Your hand drops back to your lap. You hadn't even realized you were doing it. A bad habit of the nervous child you thought you'd long forgotten. He offers his left hand and you accept it, thumb swiping over the cross painted across his skin. He knows it's one of your favorites and you're thankful for the comfort. You don't know how many times he'd teased you about how you would eventually rub it off one day and he'd have to get it redone.

"S'a routine surgery, I bet they do them all day. You're gonna be fine."

You'd been over all this a thousand times before. Harry had to ban you from looking up the procedure online at one point. You became obsessive with worry. What if you're still awake when they cut into you and you can't talk? What if you feel everything and can't tell anyone? What if you don't wake up? He had shot down every one of your horrifying theories.

"How much longer before they take me back?"

"Nurse said it would be about 10 minutes when we checked in. Shouldn't be too much longer. Want me to check the board again?"

Checking in had only consisted of a nurse taking your name and giving you your bracelet for the day with an ID number. The number would help Harry stay updated on where you were throughout the whole process. The "board" was simply a tv mounted to the wall that frequently cycled through each patient's last name and ID number.

"No, no," You cling to his sleeve like a desperate child, "Don't leave again. She said they wouldn't update anything until I went back anyway."

Harry had left you only briefly when you first arrived. Hands in his pockets, wandering around like a lost child around the big, open expanse of the waiting room. He stayed where you could see him and the whole time you had anxiously chewed your bottom lip until he returned. You hated it, but you knew he was just as nervous as you. So you let him have that moment. To check his surroundings and release some of the nerves so he could come back to you, calm and cool as always.

When the nurse does call your name, you almost jump out of your skin. You freeze, unable to move. Harry stands and flashes the nurse a quick smile before turning back to you and offering his hand.

You shake your head, "I can't do this, H. I feel like I'm gonna throw up if I move."

"You're not, promise. Remember those breathing exercises we practiced? Do those. C'mon..deep breath in. Pause. Slowly let it out. Do it while we walk."

Slow deep breath in. Pause. Slowly let it out.

You remember how silly you felt the first time you did it. How it made you giggle at first. This is never going to work. But eventually it did. Anytime you got upset or started to overthink about this day, Harry made you stop whatever you were doing and sit down. Breathe.

It was a little difficult to do while walking. Your body wanted to pause your steps when your breath paused, but Harry tugged you along, you almost hiding behind him until you made it through a set of heavy wooden doors to a small space with a hospital bed and a curtain drawn in front of it.

The IV had had been your biggest dread, the fear overriding any logic that it was something you needed, instead of something the nurses decided to do simply to torture you.

Your face twists into a wince of pain when the needle goes into your vein, Harry standing over you, his face a mirror of your own as you squeeze his hand. When the nurse pulls away with a triumphant "all done!" you flash a look of surprise between your arm and Harry.

"Not that bad, eh? Think ya overreacted a bit about how bad that was gonna be?" He raises his eyebrows, waiting for you to shoot him a nasty look for teasing you.

"Maybe a little." You pinch your index finger and thumb together, indicating a minimal amount.

"Tiny bit more, babe," Another nurse appears from around the curtain and he laughs before speaking to her, "it's all she's worried about all morning."

"Honestly that's everyone's least favorite part. The rest of the day should be aces if you can handle that!"

Harry settles himself into a chair while the nurse goes through a myriad of questions. Any other surgeries? Allergies to medications you know of? Do you smoke? Drink?

Harry snorts when you say no to drinking, but quickly clasps his hand over his mouth when the nurse's head snaps to look between you and him.

"The occasional drink is fine, no worries. Nothing this morning though, right?"

"No, ma'am."

Your eyes meet his, a mischievous grin still plastered across his face. He mumbles a quick "sorry" while you try to pull your concentration back towards the nurse and the remainder of her questions.

"Alright, time for the good stuff," she passes you a small clear cup with two white pills, "First one is just something to keep you calm and relaxed, second one is to prevent any pain after the procedure. They'll give you something to make you sleepy when you get to the OR, but this might make you a bit loopy for now."

"This should be fun." Harry claps his hand in front of him, rubbing them together quickly. He leans forward in his chair, as if ready for a show.

"Yeah? Is she a happy drunk?"

Harry had only ever experienced you high on any sort of prescription medication once, almost a year ago when you went on a girl's trip with your best friend and twisted your ankle in an attempt to make it back to her car after dinner out one night. You calling him from an unknown ER in the middle of the night had terrified him enough to start packing a bag to fly to you before your best friend could grab your phone and assure him you were fine and she would put you on a plane home to him in two days as planned. He had teased you endlessly when he picked you up from the airport and for the next few days afterwards as you limped around on a bruised, ACE bandage wrapped foot.

But after too many wine drunk nights to count, he had enough stories to humiliate you with and the thought of any one of them being told now had you sinking further into the hospital bed.

"You could say that. Last time she.." His voice trails off at the sight of your eyes, wide as saucers, begging him to stop.

The nurse grins, her face kind and sympathetic to your silent cry for help.

"We're a little behind schedule this morning so it may be about 20 minutes before they come transport you, okay?" You nod, the effects of the sedative already working its way through your system, "Keep an eye on her? Make sure she behaves?"

"Yeah, I got her. We'll be fine, thank you so much." He's closer now, standing next to you again, a hand sliding up your arm to settle on your shoulder. You manage a thumbs up and a sleepy "thank you" as an affirmation that you appreciate all she's done for you.

"You're more than welcome. You'll have a different set of nurses in recovery but if you need anything until they come get you, just let me know, alright?"

"We will, thanks." His thumb ghosts across the front of your collarbone, the lightest of touches to soothe you, his eyes still focused on the nurse.

"Good luck! You're gonna do just fine, I promise."

The second she's around the curtain, Harry nudges you lightly, "Scoot."

"Huh? What do you mean..Harry, there's not enough room for you in this bed." Your head feels too light to deal with his nonsense now.

"Yeah there is if you scoot. C'mon. Hurry before we get caught. M’supposed to be keeping an eye on you, remember? Gotta make sure you don't fall outta the bed."

He's already wedged himself next to you, trying to make his tall frame fit into the limited space.

You move over as much as you can, the rail of the bed poking into your hip.

He tucks one arm behind your head, the other one thrown behind his own as a cushion.

"You feel more relaxed now, lovie?"

You scrunch down in the bed, just enough that you can tuck your head under his other arm, "A little. I don't feel sleepy enough though," Your eyes dart up, seeking the comfort of his face, "I'm scared, H."

"I know you are, baby," the hand behind your head shifts to cup around your arm, pulling you closer, "Just pretend you're home with me and we're taking a nice little nap together, yeah?"

"But you won't be there with me, not really."

"I'll be there when you wake up though. First thing you'll see when you open your eyes, promise." He runs a finger along the curve of your nose, "Close your eyes. Try to sleep, hmm?"

You shake your head, turning towards him to hide your face in his side, inhaling his scent.

"Want me to turn the light off? Would that help?"

"No," You toss the arm that isn't trapped between you two over him, holding tightly to his shirt, "Stay."

"Alright, then. We'll just wait," He tilts his head to rest closer to yours, "Have you thought about what you want to eat after?"

"Not really. M'too nervous to think about food."

"We'll think of something good. Whatever you want."

"You're gonna get us in trouble, better scoot back to your corner like a good boy." Your words come out unintentionally slurred and you weakly push yourself up and away from him as he slides off. He doesn't sit though, just stands near you, an anxious look flashing across his features.

"Hey, c'mere. Gonna be fine, routine surgery, remember?" You stretch your arms out to him, a plea to be near his warmth again.

He sits on the edge of the bed, facing you. You tug lightly at the sleeve of his cardigan, a feeble attempt to pull him closer. He indulges you, his brow still creased with distress.

"Know ya gonna be fine, just hate you have to go through it at all. Wish I could take it from you without all this." He gestures to the IV he knows you despise so much.

"You have helped take it from me. All the sleepless nights you spent up with me, holding my hair back when I got sick. All the days after when I was too drained to get out of bed. You were there for as much of it as you could be. And you pushed me to go see the surgeon in the first place. You've helped me more than you give yourself credit for."

His fingers intertwine in yours, the pad of his thumb soothing over the front of your hand.

"Make sure you keep my phone with you, my mom will probably call you every 30 minutes for updates." A yawn stretches across your face, "She has your number too, bullied me into giving it to her last week when I called to tell her about the surgery."

He nods, patting his pocket to make sure both phones are still nestled there together.

Another yawn threatens to escape and you muffle it this time, more content to fight sleep to stare at Harry; his hair a perfect mess of curls under the harsh brightness of the hospital lighting. His face is more relaxed now, his eyes still focused on your fingers tangled together. He catches you, your eyes glazed over, too heavy and threatening to close.

"Darling, please close your eyes. I can see how tired you are," His fingertips sweep delicately over your nose again, as if he was lulling a baby to sleep, "You don't have to stay awake for me."

"Closing my eyes for just a second, alright? Not because you told me to though. I want to. Wake me up in 2 hours, don't wanna sleep too long."

Your eyes are already drifting closed, the last thing you hear is a chuckle; effortless, light as air, "I will, promise."

Soft kisses pressed across your face, "Sweet dreams, love."

His voice is the first you hear as you wake up in the dimly lit recovery room. Well, really it was more like a big cubicle, another space with a curtain drawn in front of it. Even with the floaty, dreamy feeling flowing through your system, you can still detect the worry in his voice.

"Harry?" It takes your mind a minute to catch up and process where you are and what had happened.

Oh yeah. Surgery day. No more annoying gallbladder. No more sleepless nights. Freedom to eat what you want and not be haunted by nausea and sickness from what you ate.

"How are you feeling? Any pain?" Suddenly a nurse in bright blue scrubs is there, way too animated and loud at the moment, "Pain scale 1-10?"

"I don't have any pain. Zero." You're aware of how high you sound and a giggle escapes through the haze. That earns you a smile from Harry, one that lights up his whole face and makes his dimples shine through.

"Awesome! Well then as soon as you're good and awake we're gonna get this IV out and go over some paperwork for both of you to sign. I want you to drink something for me too, so what would you like?"

You request a ginger ale and as soon as the nurse leaves to retrieve it for you, Harry scoots the chair he's sitting in as close to the bed as possible.

"How long was I out?"

"Couple of hours," He absentmindedly fixes your hair, looping various curls back around to their respective places, "Took a little longer than expected, you had a small infection so they had to make sure it hadn't spread."

"How much longer?"

"Long enough you had us all slightly worried." His hand trails down your cheek to cup your chin gently, urging you to look at him, "You sure you're not in pain? Now's not the time to do that stubbornly brave thing you do where you pretend nothing's wrong."

"I feel fine, really. Just a little tired, ready to go home."

He studies your face, trying to find any trace of dishonesty. When he's satisfied you're being truthful, he stands and extracts your phone from his pocket.

"Already talked to ya mum, but your co-workers were all texting you, asking how you were. Figured you'd want to handle that yourself, didn't know how much detail you would want to give them."

"Did you give my mother all the details? Infection and everything?"

"Um, no. I knew better than to do that. Promised her you would call when I got you settled at home."

"You promised or she demanded?"

"Okay..she politely asked that you call her when we get home."

"That sounds more like her." You roll your eyes, pushing yourself so you're sitting more upright in the bed.

"She just worries about you." He adjusts the pillow behind you, fluffing and tucking it where you direct it, against your lower back.

"I know. I'll FaceTime her when we get home to prove I'm alive."

"It's been a while since we've seen them, maybe we should plan a visit?" He plops himself back in the chair, leaning back as far as he can go; hands behind his head, eyes closed. You'd both gotten very little sleep the night before, you were too anxious and he was too gracious to let you suffer alone.

"Oh please, I'm lucky I even got time off to do this. My boss would never allow another break so soon."

"Maybe for the holidays?"

"Maybe..but only if you can go with me, you know they love you more than me by now anyway."

"They do not," He peeks one eye open at you, "They love us both equally."

You shoot a quick text to your co-workers, using the group chat between the few of you to make it easier.

I'm out! Feeling okay for now but that might change later lol

The nurse is back, apologizing for taking so long, "We've been so behind all day, it's crazy busy. I had to wait for your doctor to sign off on your release." She hands you a can of ginger ale, white bendy straw already poised and ready for you.

"Just need you to sign here," She holds a clipboard and a pen out to you and you balance the can dangerously in one hand while you scribble something that resembles your signature. Close enough. She gestures for you to pass the clipboard to Harry, "His signature goes under yours, just says he's responsible for you for the next few hours until everything wears off."

"This means I'm the boss, right?" He leans over to grab the board, a wink thrown in your direction. He's enjoying himself way too much at the thought of being in control of you for the next few hours. Smug son of a bitch.

She takes the clipboard back and pulls off a yellow sheet of paper, "This is just your copy of what you signed, and also has post op instructions for your bandages. Your prescription's been sent to the pharmacy, and there's a brief summary of pain management information on the bottom there just in case you need it."

"Thank you." You transfer it right to Harry's waiting hand, knowing he'll be the one surveying every word, making sure you follow everything to the letter.

"I know you mentioned earlier having a little bit of a drive home, so probably once you get her some food and pick up her prescriptions, it'll be time for another round of meds. Okay?" She turns to you again, "I know it sounds silly, but one of the most important things after this particular surgery is lots of walking. Otherwise you'll be miserable. Rest for a while when you get home, then get up every 10 minutes or so until bedtime. Don't let her skip that part, alright? Very important."

"I heard you weren't a big fan of this thing," She nods towards the IV in your right forearm, "So this'll probably be the best part of this whole process for you. We'll get this out and then you can get changed and we'll get someone to wheel you down and out of here, alright? Don't look and you won't even know when it's gone."

"Hey, think about what you want to eat, huh? Your first freedom meal. Yay!" He slips his hand into your left, raising your connected hands victoriously. You didn't think it was possible for you to love him anymore until this moment. The way he could so easily erase your fear was one of his many gifts you adored him for, "What are we having, babe?"

You don't even hesitate before answering, "Pizza, from Milano's. It's my favorite, other than that one place in Italy you took me to. Please? Oh and one of their salads, with the little bread knots on the side!"

He glances at the nurse, awaiting a reprimand for your meal choice.

"As your nurse, I feel I should remind you that while you can have anything you feel like eating, we usually recommend something small and light at first. Broth or soup with some toast, maybe. The salad may be fine, but the pizza might be a little heavy. Taking it slow would be best. But everyone is different."

"So..just cheese then? Maybe some mushrooms?"

You let your head fall back against the pillow, a foggy haze settling over you, "Plain cheese, no mushrooms."

"Alright, sounds good. Why don't I go call it in and pull the car around? Meet you out front?" He leans closer, a quick peck to your cheek before pulling his hand loose from yours and turning to leave.

"Hey, wait," You attempt to tug at his wrist, but fail, your brain still set to slow-motion. He takes pity on you and returns to your side, "Let's eat there. It's in the mall so we can window shop after we eat."

"You sure? You still seem a bit tipsy, honey."

You don't feel tipsy. Just tired, and hungry. Very hungry. As if on cue, your stomach makes a remarkably loud noise; an objection at not being fed for the past 12 hours.

"Alright, alright, calm down. " You let out an embarrassed groan when you realize he's talking to your stomach, "We'll eat there."

He kisses you again, closer to your mouth, "Missed."

"I did, huh?" He chuckles, close enough to your face now your noses are almost touching, "Let's try again."

This time his lips meet yours and you know he missed on purpose the first time by how amused he looks when he pulls away.

"One more for luck?" You can't resist letting the back of your hand wander over his face, before resting the palm of your hand against his cheek.

"I think I can handle that," He smiles before landing another quick peck to your lips, "Be good for the nurse while I'm gone. I'll have the getaway car ready in 10, yeah?"

You're certain Harry would have fed you if you would have let him, right here in the mall food court in front of everyone. But you refuse, insisting even, on carrying your own tray to the table. He chuckles when you pull your phone out of your sweater pocket to take a picture of your food, quickly uploading it to Facebook.

He watches you closely as you take the first bite, even pulling his own phone out to sneak a photo of you when you temporarily close your eyes to appreciate the indulgence of being able to eat one of your favorite foods again; free from that anxious feeling of whether or not it would settle right with your body later. You open your eyes the very moment after he captured the image.

"Harry!"

"You just looked so happy! I couldn't help it. You know I'll never post it anyway. Snagged a few of you earlier in your little blue cap they made you wear too." He flips back through to show you. You try to snatch the phone away, but he's too quick to pull his hand back and stash his phone in his pocket.

"When??"

"After you fell asleep, right before they came to take you back."

He takes a bite from his own generous slice of pizza in front of him before gesturing to your tray, "How is it?"

"Amazing. Even better than before, if possible."

His smile is bright, loving the satisfaction of seeing you actually enjoy food again.

Your plan to walk around the mall was cut short, you could barely make it through one store without yawning. You cling to Harry most of the way back to the car, his arm securely wrapped around you to keep you steady.

You doze off on the drive home, and when your eyes flutter open you find him opening the passenger door, offering a hand to help lift you out of the car and up the stairs into the house. Your foot stumbles on the first step, failing to make contact and you almost fall back.

"Easy," He giggles, an arm thrown behind your back to catch you before encouraging softly, "Try again."

When he's confident you're stable enough on your feet, he lets go to unlock the door.

You're greeted by a bouquet of flowers, a colorful arrangement of roses and lilies from Harry's band mates. You immediately recognize Sarah's handwriting on the card and make a mental note to shoot everyone a thank you text later. You don't know if it's the medication still in your system, the exhaustion of the day, or the overwhelming amount of love that makes you teary eyed.

Harry stands behind you as you admire the flowers and the card, arms curving around to hug you, careful of the large bandage on your upper abdomen and the two smaller steri-strips on your right side.

"How did they know pink roses were my favorite?"

"They love you, peach." He rests his chin on your shoulder, "Besides, you've only mentioned growing up with a pink rose bush in your Nanna's garden about a hundred times."

"I always loved it. Still do."

Your mind travels back to your earliest memories spent there; summers when you practically lived at the small house on the hill. Helping pick tomatoes and peppers from the garden, too warm afternoons spent with a book in your lap under the shade of a peach tree, your grandfather's corny jokes and loving smile. Your Nanna's too generous portions of food contributing to the few extra curves you still carried with you to this day.

You don't even notice the tears at first. They slip down your cheeks and land on his arm. Once you realize, you try to quickly wipe them away, but Harry sees.

"Hey..c'mon, I think your high's wearing off a bit, bub. Pajamas, meds, nap. Sound good?" He turns you to face him, using the sleeve of his shirt to brush away any tears that still linger at the corner of your eyes.

"What time is it?"

"Almost 3..why?"

"No nap. I'll never sleep tonight, and you know how grumpy I get when my sleep schedule is thrown off." Even with your declaration of not wanting a nap, you can't help but rub your eyes, a weak attempt to keep yourself awake. Any resolve Harry had to try to convince you to nap melts away. A smirk on his face, he knows you'll eventually crash later, most likely on his chest or in his arms. He's content to let you be stubborn for now.

"Okay, then. New plan. Pajamas, meds, movie. Better?"

"Better. You get everything ready and pick the movie while I change?"

"You don't wanna pick the movie?"

You wave him off, already shuffling towards the bedroom, "You're the boss today, remember?"

You take your time gathering what you need to get cozy for the rest of the day, selecting an oversized, well-worn tie dye t-shirt and leggings from your dresser. You even take a moment to dip into Harry's extensive sweatshirt collection, grabbing your favorite one. It's amazingly soft and still smells of him, a faint scent of his cologne and well..just Harry. You couldn't imagine anything more comforting.

In your pursuit to feel more lucid, you venture into the bathroom, taking a moment to wash your face. The cool water instantly refreshes you and pushes you closer to feeling like yourself again. Wanting your hair out of your face, you pluck a scrunchy from your shared collection of hair accessories. You quickly recognize that your arms still have that too heavy feeling of unconsciousness and after a few attempts to gather your curls into some sort of up-do, you give up and loop the accessory around your wrist to try again later.

Harry senses your frustration when you find him in the kitchen, two small green pill bottles sitting on the counter in front of him. He's already filled your favorite cup with ice water, and you gratefully take it and drink from it.

"What's wrong?" His brow creases with concern and you feel guilty for making him worry over something so silly.

"Nothing..just wanted my hair up out of my face but my arms wouldn't cooperate." You try to laugh it off to put him more at ease, "It's not a big deal."

You know it's only the weariness of the day still making you feel so emotional, clear-headed you would not be upset over something so small.

"Here. Let me try." He slides the scrunchy from your wrist and pulls you closer to him, moving behind you to gently work long fingers through your hair, gathering it all in a loose ponytail on top of your head before securing it around a few times with the scrunchy.

You let your shoulders drop with a deep sigh when he's done, it was such a simple thing, but it made you feel so much lighter. He spins you around to face him, a charming gleam of pride at his handiwork adorning his face, "Too tight?"

"No. Much better. Thank you, Harry. You take such good care of me always, but today..I don't know what I would've done without you. I made such a big fuss and probably made you miserable with all of my worrying." You're suddenly very aware that you are rambling, but when you catch a glimpse of his face, his smile is wide. So bright that the skin around his eyes is crinkling.

He leans towards you, lips stopping whatever words may have come next, arms wrapping around you to pull you closer in a soft, warm embrace. When he pulls away, his eyes bore right into yours, and your heart swells with more love than you could ever imagine having for one person. But he wasn't just any person. He was your person, your whole word staring back at you.

"I'm SO proud of you. You've been so strong today, always knew you had that strength in you, but seeing you take that leap of faith..doing something you knew you should despite your fear, that's all you, love. I can't take any credit for that. You've made me anything but miserable, trust me."

His face is still close enough to yours that you nudge forward, pressing your forehead to his, a silent appreciation of his affection.

"Any pain yet?" He pulls back, a thumb across your cheek, eyes still locked on yours.

"My head kind of hurts? And I still just feel kind of..drunk."

"You have always been a bit of a lightweight, babe. And a thief too, I see. S'that my sweatshirt?"

"Have not!" You swat playfully at his arm, "Maybe. Is that my hair clip in your hair?"

"Possibly." His eyes dart up to the swoop of curls on top of his head, a black plastic clip twisting it back and away from his face.

"Guess we're even then."

"S'pose we are." He tries to keep his eyes narrowed in a mock attempt of annoyance, but it quickly fades into laughter.

You decide against FaceTiming your family, hoping that hearing your voice will be enough. It seems to satisfy them at least for the rest of the day. You assure them that Harry is taking very good care of you and that everything went as smooth as could be expected.

He raises one eyebrow at you as you hang up, "As smooth as expected, huh? You aren't going to tell them the truth?"

"What's to tell? I had an infection and now it's gone. I'm fine, there's no sense in worrying them. We can give them the full story later."

He shrugs, fingers working to open one of the green pill bottles before passing one of the white pills to you, "For your headache, lovie. There's something here for nausea too if you need it. M'worried the pizza might've been too much. Maybe you should take one of these..just in case?"

"Harry, I promise I will tell you if I feel anything other than fine." Your hand runs from his shoulder down his bicep, squeezing gently, "Besides, I cannot take a whole one of those. If you think I'm a lightweight now..I'll sleep for the whole week if I take that."

He slips the bottle in his pocket, pulling you in to press a kiss to the top of your head, "We'll keep it close just in case, okay?"

"Sounds good," Your hand trails back up to his neck to work fingers through his hair, "Hey, thought we were watching a movie? What'd you pick?"

"Thought we could decide together. C'mon, let's get you comfy in bed."

"Ever the gentleman, always trying to get me in your bed."

"Hey! I am a perfect gentleman, thank you very much," He chuckles, a hand coming to rest on the small of your back, "Just thought you'd be more comfortable, you can prop up and stretch your feet out."

You let him tug you along for the second time today, thankful it's the luxury of your shared bed you get to settle into this time. He tucks you in softly, propping pillows behind your back and head.

"Comfy? Need anything else?"

"No, just need you to quit babying me so much and relax with me for a bit."

"Since when am I not allowed to baby you?"

You roll your eyes, "Never said you weren't allowed. Just want you to stop worrying so much, that's all."

"Good. Cause y'are my baby," No matter how many times you'd heard him say it before, it never failed to make you blush, "Do anything for you, y'know that, right?"

"I know," You look down at your hands, trying to slow your racing heart, "You never let me forget."

"Hey," He pokes your cheek, pulling your gaze back up to him, "I love you."

"I love you more, H."

He kisses your forehead, "Impossible. I love you most."

The reference to one of your favorite movies has you smiling at him, that dreamy feeling falling over you again, "Can we watch Tangled?"

"Sure, princess."

He sinks next to you, head propped up on your shoulder, navigating easily through Disney+ to find your requested movie.

Your eyes drift closed right about the time the lanterns are being released in the sky, a moment that normally leaves your face wet with tears, the soft vibrations of Harry humming along the perfect lullaby to push you further into your dream.

He wakes you later in the evening.

"Dinner's on the table if you want to join me."

"Time's it?" Your voice is still heavy with sleep.

"7. You were sleeping so deeply I didn't want to wake you, thought your body could use the extra sleep today."

"Yeah. It was nice, thank you." You stretch your arms forward, reaching for his hands to help pull you up.

"How do you feel?"

"A little sore. More sober, for sure."

Dinner is simple; a bowl of plain broth, salad, and toast. Exactly what the nurse suggested earlier. There's even a warm mug of tea waiting for you.

"With honey for my honey," He's so proud of his cheesy expression of love you cannot help but smile.

You look at him curiously when he sits next to you, the same boring meal set out for himself.

"Harry..you can eat what you want, babe. Seriously you've done enough today, more than enough to be supportive. It wouldn't hurt my feelings if you made yourself something different."

"Nah. S'fine. We're in this together, yeah?"

You raise your eyebrows at him playfully, "Did you have an organ snatched from your body today?"

"No, I didn't." He laughs, "I just meant food wise, love. It's vegetable broth, by the way, hope that's alright."

"It's perfect."

You nudge him lightly, an elbow to his side, shifting closer to ask for a kiss. He meets you the rest of the way, lips planted firmly on yours. When you don't pull away, he quickly adds another.

After dinner is done and you have another round of meds, the two of you end up in an awkward ball of cuddles on the couch. Harry flips through the channels on the tv before finding a show you both agree on.

But you're too restless, unable to find a position comfortable enough for you. You shift a few times, finally giving up and letting out a frustrated groan before tossing the blanket off the both of you and springing up and off the couch.

Harry doesn't panic, just grabs your hand before you can get too far away or lose your balance, keeping his voice low when he asks, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing hurts. I just can't get comfortable, and I don't feel right."

"What doesn't feel right, angel? Explain."

"I don't feel like myself. I don't know how to explain it. Just feel off."

He sees you're on the verge of tears and ascends from his spot on the couch, arms quickly enveloping you before placing a finger under your chin to pull your face up to look at him.

"It's probably gonna take a day or so to adjust, baby. Yes it was a minor surgery but it was a major change to your body." He's bending now to look right into your eyes, searching them, "How can we fix it tonight, hmm? What do you need?"

Tears are free flowing, falling on the front of your t-shirt and down to the floor.

"Take your time. Breathe." A large hand smoothing warm circles firmly across your back; a balm for your restless spirit.

You pause, deep breath in before slowly letting it out, "I think I just need to move around for a bit."

"Let's go for a walk, eh? A quick one and then back to bed. Your mind needs more rest. How's that sound?" He taps your forehead softly.

"Okay, yeah." You nod your head, an approval of his plan.

"Don't worry about it, okay? Everything's gonna be fine. You're gonna be fine."

You nod again, scared your voice will break if you try to speak. He knew that those words held a lot of weight for you, he'd repeated them often throughout this whole process and to hear them now was a reminder of how safe you were. That with him, you would always be safe and loved.

Being dark outside meant you gracelessly padding through the house, up and down the hallway a few times and back to the living room. Harry stays close, encouraging you along with little claps and kisses to motivate you. When your stomach starts to feel uneasy, he urges you once again to take something for nausea. You agree to take a half a pill, knowing it'll help you sleep.

Despite the nap you had earlier and only being awake for a couple of hours, it doesn't take much convincing for you to settle back into bed.

"Harry?"

"Hmm?"

He's already reclined next to you, book in hand, the soft light from the lamp illuminating one side of his face. You're smushed against him, drifting between that sweet space of almost asleep and wanting to stay awake to enjoy any spare moment you get with him. His hand working through your hair helps push you towards the former of the two.

"I'm sorry to be such a burden today," Your words are slurring together but you continue on, just needing to get your thoughts out before he can stop you, "I don't deserve you and I shouldn't have overreacted so much about something so simple."

"Hey, none of that now," He lays the book on the nightstand, careful to save his place for later before pulling you closer to him, "You were not, nor have you ever been a burden to me. Just because you needed a little extra help today does not mean you aren't deserving of me or my love. You will never have to earn that. It's yours, always has been, will be as long as you decide to keep me around."

"Thank you. For all of it. I'll always want you."

"Always? Y'might change your mind someday, angel."

"I won't. Promise."

"Yeah? Me either."

A kiss laid delicately to the top of your head has your eyes dangerously close to falling shut again before another thought navigates its way through your mind and out of your mouth before you can stop it.

"H..what am I gonna do with a full week off from work?"

"Let me take care of you?"

And that's exactly what he does.

Mornings spent sleeping in, late breakfasts made together and afternoon walks. Evenings consisting of the two of you preparing dinner together or ordering takeout from some of the forbidden places you couldn't eat from before. Mugs of herbal tea before early bedtimes, you sweetly falling asleep to the sound of his voice reading to you most nights.

But his favorite part was that the scent of lavender was no longer cursed for you. Some nights before your surgery, when you simply could not fall asleep the pain was so unbearable, you would fill the tub with hot water and lavender scented bubbles to try to calm yourself enough to be able to drift off afterwards. It never worked, the heat always doing more harm than good. Harry would always be waiting for you, open arms and a soft towel to wrap you in.

So the smell became one you hated, memories of sleepless nights and nausea. But now you were free to use it again for what you always loved it for before it was cursed. In your body wash, lotion, even your laundry detergent; spreading the scent all over your shared space in as many ways as you could.

He even mentions it one night after dinner, when the two of you are pressed impossibly close together on the couch. His nose buried into your neck, inhaling deeply, pulling away to announce, "You smell like you again, love. Missed it so much." He burrows back in, placing kisses from your neck to your shoulder, ignoring your giggles and protests of how much it tickles.

A week later, the alarm wakes you sooner than you've become accustomed to, reminding you of your return to work. Harry's arm thrown over your waist pulls you closer as you try to leave the bed, a sleepy "Don't go." mumbled in your ear.

You do your best to peel yourself away from him, admitting silently to yourself how much harder it is for you to leave the warmth of your bed as it is for him to let you go.

2 years later, you have a scar you swear didn't heal right, and a man who loves you even more because of it.

#harry styles imagine #harry x reader #my writing #so happy this is finally done and being posted!#soooooo many times I almost just deleted it bc I didn't know how to feel about it #but anyway hope y'all enjoy!

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prurientpuddlejumper · 3 years ago

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A Lipless Face That I Want to Marry, Ch. 16

<- Part 15 | Part 17 ->

Summary: A flirtatious moment in the hospital garden turns sour.

Warnings: Brief nsfw themes, injury-recovery angst, post-traumatic stress/flashbacks, graphic past injuries, KISSING, hurt/comfort. Love and fluff.

3,700 words

After being gutted left him with a limp, a cane, and an overbearing sense of weakness, Frederick Chilton began copying Hannibal Lecter. His patterned suits, his clean-shaven face. The mimicry wasn’t deliberate exactly, but he looked to a man who radiated calm dignity and strength, and tried to capture some of it for his own.

It didn’t work. Frederick Chilton was still Frederick Chilton.

But shaving the beard did make him look younger. The razor glided over his smooth cheek as he cut through the facial hair that had grown unruly in the hospital. A new man stared back at him. One not traumatized by Gideon’s knife.

Only a few months later, he was shot in the face, and let the stubble grow back to distract from the scar. To obscure the hollowing where maxillary bone was missing. Like a chameleon, Frederick was always changing—hairstyles, wardrobes, colognes—always imitating someone, drawing the eye away from a flaw, never comfortable with himself. Ever improving. Refining. Hiding.

Every day, the burn ward’s physical therapists had him using one exercise machine or another. A pedaling machine lowered over his bed so he could build muscle while lying on his back before he was able to walk. The next step was a tall, rolling frame that he strapped into like a fighter pilot hanging from a parachute harness, which allowed him to take a few weightless steps. His legs shook. His feet did not know how to align themselves on the ground anymore. He hissed curses when you cheered him on just for shuffling one foot forward along the smooth grey linoleum.

One damned foot.

As if he couldn’t walk before. As if one shaking, machine-assisted step was an accomplishment. He was an overgrown baby in a Jumperoo.

While he could not walk on his own yet, he could get into and out of a wheelchair without screaming bloody murder. This allowed him a new level of freedom, if not autonomy. He still required two nurses to lower him into the chair. Still needed help getting to the bathroom. But he could at least use the bathroom instead of a bedpan and catheter.

Healing came at a cost.

Until now, he had caught flashes of his reflection in polished surfaces. Warped teeth in a metal IV pole. The fuzzy silhouette of a mask in the black of his computer screen.

He stood with his hands on the bathroom sink, staring. The nurse at his left elbow tugged him, told him it was time to sit back down in the chair. He needed support to stand, a babysitter to ensure he didn’t fall, and she was tired of waiting.

The thing staring back at him did not move.

When he took the compression mask off for the one hour per day he was allowed to remove it for cleaning, he somehow expected to find his own face beneath it. Skin. What he saw was a stranger. Gnarled scars made an uneven backdrop for one dead blue eye and a skeletal grimace. His own bones were buried somewhere underneath like bedrock, but the flesh was rearranged and distorted.

If he had met this man a year ago, Dr. Chilton would have felt inward pride at his ability not to sicken at the sight. He would have shaken his hand with a smug, professional detachment that said, “I am accustomed to horrific things in my line of work—abnormal psychiatry. This does not shock me as it would a layperson.”

He was a creature to be pitied.

Then a familiar reflection appeared out of the blind spot of his left side. Your image wrapped its hand behind the broken stranger, and he felt it land on his lower back. Warm. Comforting as your face, which was knit with worry. You told the nurse you could handle it from here, and she retreated out to his room.

When she was gone, Frederick began to laugh, dark and cruel, eyes never leaving the matching set staring cruelly back.

“What is it?” you asked, tightening your grip on his arm as he began to tremble.

“Do you think I look younger without a beard?”

The laugh cracked in his throat. His shoulders heaved as he finally looked away. It was too embarrassing to watch a grown man cry.

***

The heat of July was not easy on a body that could no longer sweat and was covered head to toe in a compression suit, but Frederick Chilton was thrilled to be outside. As the automatic sliding doors opened, he breathed in deeply through the nose and exhaled the spinning summer fragrances with a blissful sigh.

You resisted the urge to tease him. Of the pair, you were the more outdoorsy by far, and the last time you dragged him camping, he’d managed to complain the entire two days. He was not, generally, one to appreciate sunshine and birdsong. But this was different.

It was his first time away from the lifeless hospital air—the same smells day after day—in four months.

Now a breeze hit his face—a breeze! He had forgotten what that felt like—and brought with it the smell of cut grass and flowers, and exhaust fumes from the nearby roadways. The scent of gasoline urged his stomach to wring itself empty, but it was faint and easy enough to shake off as sparrows chirped and flitted about the hospital’s “meditation garden.”

Gently curving paths snaked through the landscaping of lush greenery and small trees. Few flowers were planted, out of respect for patients with allergies, but a fountain at the center babbled soothingly. The walkways were wide and smoothly paved, so the grey wheels of the hospital-issue wheelchair rolled over them easily, performing their function despite being over-worked and worn down, not unlike the staff. The black rubber handle grips had a dull patina from hundreds of hands, yours being the latest to circle around them as you pushed.

It was nice to have a private courtyard to enjoy the fresh air without the eyes of the general public watching.

Frederick was able to wear clothes from home now, but they had to be loose-fitting and short-sleeved to not interfere with his treatment. In a navy polo shirt and athletic shorts, he felt horrifically under-dressed, and did not want to be seen that way. The fashion crime was almost as bad as the face he could not bear looking at.

An elderly patient and what appeared to be her adult daughter sat on one of the benches between two daylily patches, blooming garishly cheerful red and gold. The daughter looked up, and Chilton looked away.

“You are certain you checked the bedroom closet? Left-hand side, second drawer to the bottom?” he asked again, agitation rising.

He was looking for the more fashionable Chino shorts he rarely wore, preferring to overheat in long pants than expose his pale, door-knob knees to imagined ridicule. You told him the housekeeper must have misplaced them.

He clenched his fist as tightly as the pink, shiny-scarred claw could manage and went on a gruff, impotent rant about the help growing careless without him to keep them in check. (If anything, the “help” were desperate to keep you in check without him there to manage your habit of leaving everything out—your clothes on a chair, the cereal box on the counter.)

“I know, I know. Awful,” you nodded along to the music of his words, if not the lyrics. You wished he would change the subject, but he pressed on with his investigation of the Case of the Missing Shorts.

“Mrs. Pérez brought a load of laundry down from the bedroom last Wednesday,” he noted. Frederick had taken to watching the security feeds remotely from his laptop. “Has she been using the cheap dry cleaner on Cherry Street instead of the good one so she can skim the difference? I have explicitly instructed the staff not to use them—they have lost or ruined several articles over the years. Inform Mrs. Pérez that I will not stand for lazy—what?”

Your tense smile began emanating a tenser whine.

It was rather suspicious.

Frederick watched you for a moment, puzzled, and then resumed, “The new security guard shares my pant size. Perhaps—”

“I DID IT. I brought them to Good Will.”

“You what?!”

Clicking the wheelchair brake, you doubled over the back of it, laughing at your childish ruse and how seriously Frederick had taken it. God, the man could never let anything go! “Over a year ago! You never wore them!”

“Come here.” His clipped tone did not invite argument.

You walked around to the front of his chair, the repentant pout on your face strongly undermined by rounded cheeks that were barely holding back a chuckle.

He growled with affectionate anger—the kind where he wanted to grab behind your knees and pull you into his lap, telling you with a low purr exactly how much trouble you were in. Except at the moment, your weight crashing onto his skinny, bony lap would have bruised a femur and torn five stitches. And if he was not confident enough for a kiss, he was in no condition to promise punishments of that nature.

So he gave your rump a sharp smack and tried to make his mouth smirk in that playfully disdainful way that said, “I love you, but I am going to kill you. You know that, right?” Sometimes wanting to kill someone can be such a personal, intimate love language.

“Doctor Chilton!” you gasped, feigning shock. “Such a naughty patient. I have told you time and again, this is simply unprofessional.”

The old woman and daughter had moved on, leaving you alone in the garden.

He let out a soft huff of amusement, catching on to the new game you were playing. Back when he was the administrator of the BSHCI, you would often saunter into his office playing the oversexed patient to his sleazy therapist. Now the roles were reversed.

“You protest,” he said in a low, lecherous tone, “and yet you continue to lavish extra attention on me. Do not think I have not noticed.”

“I don’t know what you could mean,” you deflected coyly. “Please keep your hands to yourself, sir.”

He grabbed your hand and spun you to face him, skeletal fingers interlocking with yours. Even through the compression glove, you could feel how skinny they had become, knobby knuckles protruding.

“Doctor,” he corrected.

You swallowed. “Doctor.”

“Why deny it? You guard all my treatments for yourself like a prize when other nurses could do it. You crawl into my bed to warm me with your body heat—hardly standard practice. I think you like the attention,” he said, giving your ass another lurid slap.

“D-Doctor! I’m not supposed to—we’re not supposed to…”

“If you worked at my hospital, I would fire you for such fraternization. Yet you call me unprofessional.” His hand still rested on your ass.

“You would fire me, doctor? Why fire me when there is so much I could offer?”

“And what is it you would offer me?” he asked, voice thick with meaning. His fingers kneaded the fat of your ass gently. It would have been harder, more possessive, if his hands were at full strength.

Not long ago, getting an erection had been painful, though he’d had several corrective surgeries since then, and the grafting had time to heal. Perhaps the sunlight was sparking him back to life. He was in a flirtatious mood—more excited than you’d seen him in a long time, and you were not about to tell him to slow down.

“Anything you want, doctor.” You lowered yourself in front of his chair, kneeling between his legs and looking up at him expectantly.

His Adam’s apple bobbed.

No one else was in the garden, and statues and shrubberies hid it from the road, but it was not entirely private. Anyone could walk in or see from a window of the tall buildings. You were just pretending. You weren’t going to slip his cock out right there and suck it for all the world to see. And yet… it had been so long. The thought of your moist lips closing over his lonely, aching hardness, your head bobbing in his lap…

“You… are fascinated with me, nurse,” he observed, licking his non-lips. His composure was holding, but barely. “You have seen many patients, but never one as badly burned, have you?”

“No.”

“Does it excite you?”

You took a moment before answering. Part of him resented you for still finding him attractive. At his lowest, he even blamed you for wanting these brutal injuries to happen. A bird sang a few metallic notes on a nearby branch before fluttering down to drink from the fountain. You stroked the top of his narrow thighs, careful not to push too far by going near his cock, but he showed no sign of hesitation today. The heat in his eyes as he watched you was not accusing, but hungry.

“Yes,” you panted. “You are striking. I’ve never met anyone so strong, so resilient.”

“Do you dream of kissing me? Your most striking patient?”

“Yes.”

The sun beat down hotter, but it was only your own internal temperature rising. The birds seemed to pause in their songs, and the leaves on the trees ceased to flutter.

You had waited so long—was he really asking?

His gloved hand reached down between his legs, and nailless pink fingertips stroked the side of your face thoughtfully a few times. Then he motioned you to get up off your knees, offering his hand as a symbolic gesture only. You put some of your weight on the padded rubber armrest as you stood.

“It will not be pleasant. For either party, I imagine,” he said, breaking character.

“It will be for me.” Your voice was soft.

“I do not know what to do like this. Mash my teeth against your face?”

You laughed a little. It was probably more nuanced than that, but that sounded basically accurate. “We’ll find out together.”

He looked off into the distance, toward the humming road weaving through the city. A warm breeze brought the smell of sea off the harbor: salty, humid, and stagnant with rotted fish and garbage. “The memory of your lips against mine is already fading,” he said. “That memory is all I have left of them. Whatever this will be, it will not feel the same.”

“I know.” You rested a hand on his shoulder. The dark blue polo was informal for his old life, but the woven cotton texture was rich compared to the thin hospital gowns you were used to him wearing. The last kiss you shared with Frederick was preserved behind a glass display case in your memory palace. A new kiss might break the hermetic seal. You could forget what it felt like to kiss him before. But it seemed worth the price to build new memories—a future just as full of love as the past.

He looked up at you like a broken ceramic being pieced back together with gold. His eyes shone with love, but his shoulders were slumped low.

“You may say I’m a slutty nurse for wanting to kiss my patient, but you’re to blame!” you said, playing the game again. “How could I resist your charm? I bet you seduce every nurse—I’m only your latest conquest!”

A smile tugged the corner of his mouth.

“No, my dear,” he purred, grabbing your arm and pulling you down to him until your face was inches from his. “Only you. I only want you.”

“Can I kiss you?”

He breathed in. He nodded.

You leaned the final inch down, and pressed your lips to his teeth.

The Red Dragon’s teeth sunk through flesh and tore deep. Coppery blood flooded his mouth, the taste so metallic and strong it drowned out almost everything else out—the pain, the unnatural tearing, little pops of veins, ligaments, and muscles stretching to their limits before giving up, his own screams. The truth of his face with all its illusions of grandeur was revealed before him: it was just meat. Nothing but raw, shredded meat.

“NO!” he screamed, and pushed you hard.

It was different than the peevish denials other times you’d tried to kiss. He pushed you away with so much force you staggered backward, and his wheelchair nearly tipped over. It reared on two wheels like a panicked horse and would have fallen except the worn brake gave way, and he shot backward several feet until the vacant bench stopped the chair’s momentum.

“No, no! Get away! No!” he begged no one, shaking and thrashing so violently he risked ripping his healing scars.

His back, legs, and arms were glued to the wheelchair, and he couldn’t escape. No—could have if he were desperate enough, strong enough. But he was terrified of ripping his skin off. The thought made him break out in a cold sweat and made it difficult to think straight. Dear god, he was afraid something happened to his back. Of being disfigured again.

He was afraid to die, but he dreaded even more the thought of surviving yet again to find another piece taken from him.

Not another. Not again.

If he cooperated, he had to be spared this time. He would cooperate. Do everything The Red Dragon said, and fate would be merciful. He had to go home. He had to go home. To see you again. It was not fair that he survived two attempts on his life only to die here. It was not fair! He was going to get married to the love of his life. Things were finally going right. The Dragon’s shadow fell over him. The acrid stench of his breath as he leaned down toward Frederick’s mouth—

“Frederick!”

You ran after him and tried to restrain him before he climbed out of the wheelchair and fell to the pavement, but it only made him struggle harder. Fuck. You weren’t sure if touching him again was a good idea, but you didn’t know what else to do. He was going to hurt himself.

“Shh, I’m here.”

Crouching next to him, you tried to keep him seated, murmuring soft, reassuring words. Eventually, he stopped thrashing to escape, his jerking limbs resigning themselves to passive trembling. His eyes were open, but they didn’t see you. They didn’t see anything but a dark room with a flickering projector.

You laid your head on his lap. “I’m right here. It’s OK. You’re safe, Frederick. You’re safe. Shh, shh...”

It took several minutes, but his breathing began to slow, and he began to calm down. His fingers found your hair and stroked it, mindlessly running over the contour of your scalp. Familiarity. Recognizing you, he grasped at your shirt to draw you closer, clutching you like a teddy bear to his chest. It was an awkward angle, but you shifted so your butt was partially supported by the bench he’d crashed into, and used the chair’s armrest to hold yourself in the bent position. Frankly, even if every muscle in your body cramped up, you weren’t going to leave him as long as he needed to hold onto you.

Finally, he whimpered your name and asked what happened.

“I… kissed you. I’m sorry.”

“Oh.”

He sniffed and wiped his face, which he discovered was soaked with tears, and looked off into the trees. You sat back onto the bench, straightening your crooked spine, but keeping a firm hold on his hand, staying close as he returned to reality. He would be embarrassed. Add this to the growing list of Ways Frederick Chilton is Broken and Useless. But for now, the humiliation was dulled by the fact that he was not in that room again, with the projector flickering. You stayed that way for a while, sitting in the dappled shade of the garden and the warm breeze, the fountain burbling a constant, relaxing, tuneless song.

“The last man to bring his lips to mine bit them off.”

“I’m so sorry, Frederick. I shouldn’t have been so stupid...”

He squeezed your hand. Straightened up in his chair. “I heard the FBI has the video. Have you watched it?”

You shook your head, then quickly added, “No,” aloud, knowing his vision was poor and still focused on the tree branches swaying and morphing in the wind. Jack Crawford had offered, but you didn’t want to see it. You couldn’t bear to.

It had been hard enough hearing him describe how Francis Dolarhyde glued him naked to his grandmother’s wheelchair and made him watch macabre home movies of the families he had slaughtered. His voice was too calm, too distant from the memory as he dictated graphic details for the Journal of Psychology, desperate to tell his story, grab his fame before he died.

You should have known how your mouth coming at his would make him feel. You were so caught up in your romantic imaginings, you forgot how kiss-like that moment of horror must have been, just before the pain.

The nightmare his life had been for months already, and would continue to be. The scar tissue that wouldn’t fully mature for two years. Two years wearing a compression suit to help them heal. Years of follow-up procedures so that he can continue to move. To breathe. To hear. Longer until he could get a new face. His entire life altered forever.

It started with a kiss.

“We don’t have to kiss. I should never have pushed you to,” you apologized, wincing preemptively.

You expected him to be angry. To sarcastically tell you, “Now you decide we don’t have to? Now that it is too late? What fine timing.”

“I am not weak,” he bristled instead, but his agitation only spanned the length of a breath. He squeezed your hand softly, and pulled you halfway into his chair to wrap his arms around your waist and back. “I did not think that would happen either,” he spoke comfortingly into your hair. “Attempting it for the first time in a wheelchair was a mistake. I should have been more aware of that, but I grow tired of not being able to show my affection. You are not the only one impatient for my recovery, darling. I want to try again.”

“Now?” You pulled back, widening your eyes at him.

“No,” he said plainly. “I think not.”

• ● • ━━━━━─ ••●•• ─━━━━━ • ● •

@beccabarba / @itsjustmyfantasyroom / @thatesqcrush / @dianilaws / @permanentlydizzy / @mrsrafaelbarba / @madamsnape921 / @astrangegirlsmind / @neely1177 / @onerestein / @dreamlover31 / @isvvc-pvscvl / @shroomiehomie / @storiesofsvu / @welcometothemxdhouse / @feedthemadness-sweetie / @law-nerd105 / @amelia-song-pond / @michael-rooker / @xecq / @madpanda75 / @alwaysachorusgirl / @bananas-pajamas / @leanor-min / @mad-girl-without-a-box / @katierpblogg / @worldofvixen / @sassyada / @barbingchilton

#Frederick Chilton x reader #my writing

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dxmedstudent · 4 years ago

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After years of taking likely tens of thousands of blood tests and cannulas, it happened. I got a needlestick injury from a HIV positive patient.

But this isn't a sad post, it's a grateful one.

I'm grateful that my patient; a young person with every right to a bright future, has had access to these treatments. Their viral load was recently undetectable; my chance of catching HIV from them is very very low, due to the wonders of modern medicine, and the hard work of my patient. Acccess to good support and treatment not only helps patients, it helps those close to them, and ultimately those looking after them, too.

After a nice chat with my lovely occy health team, I'm taking post exposure prophylaxis to reduce that risk further, because I want to protect myself but also my BF and any kids I have, should I have them. I want to protect my patients and I want to avoid carrying it with me forever, if I can. But I know that we have good treatment and that it is no longer a death sentence.

Modern medicine has made a vaccine for hepatitis B. It's found a cure for hepatitis C. It's delivered medications that allow HIV positive people to reduce their viral level until it's undetectable and they can no longer transmit the illness to their partners. It's absolutely transformed life for HIV patients and granted an almost average life for most patients. We have medications to decrease your chance of getting it, before or after you are exposed. I can't stress how wonderful this all is, compared to what we were facing a few decades ago. Maybe one day we'll have better treatment, or a vaccine, or a cure.

PEP (in my case truvada and raltegravir) is known for its GI side effects; I'm facing a month of nausea and sleep upset; though Ive gotten through the worst of it now. Most days it's fine, and some days I can barely keep my meal down and the nausea is unpredictable. It's very hard to take the medicine at the same time every day, particularly when you switch from night shifts to days etc. Taking medicine etc every day isn't easy, so we really need to appteciate how much our patients do.

But I'm lucky to get this chance. Around the world most people don't get to prevent their infection or mitigate risks once they are exposed.

I'm grateful that we understand HIV better, and that we are learning to stigmatise it less than before. I have a supportive family and partner who arent treating me any differently. 30 years ago HIV would have been equated with deviancy and caused people to be ostracised. It still is, in many communities. The LGBTQ community has had to work hard for much of the progress we've made, and many people around the world continue to try to make HIV transmission a thing of the past.

I thought hard about sharing this bit of my life; it's a part of working in healthcare we can't avoid, and I want to do my bit to end the stigma against those with HIV.

I have my blood tests in a couple of months' time, so we'll see what happens. But I feel lucky to have had the chance to do my best.

#personal #my life #hiv

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knightartorius · 3 years ago

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wwdits 4x1 countdown!

the long post where i document every day until wwdits returns on july 12! all 60 days of misery, pain, hardship, love, joy, and innocence all in one place. why did i do this you ask? ………………..

60:

WWDITS ANNOUNCED NANDERMO REAL WE WON YES. YES. JULY 12 SAVE THE DATE. YES. YES. YES wwdits is upon us soon. i feel nothing but joy. WWDITS WWDITS YEAHHH

59:

The excruciatingly long wait until July 12 has hit. It’s starting to look dim. I am unsure if I will even live to see it.

58:

i started this on day 59 because i needed a way to get the absolute amount of soot off my heart from the 60 day wait and it is STILL day 59 as im writing this and i just cant wait til day 58 to say that im fucking dying. i cant. and theres going to be another wait for ofmd eventually and oh my goddd. im such an impatient person and i cant. its currently day 58 and i am watching flight of the conchords to cope

57:

i have decided to watch one critical role episode every day which will occupy about 25 days worth of my time. this may vary with school and summer break but i need a distraction. i am rewatching ofmd for the first time in a little while. this is terrible… i have school today as well which is stunting my coping abilities. not good. havent once been able to focus on anything because my head is just critrole ofmd wwdits on repeat i am dying… my critrole pacing is also already so off, im on like episode 4 and i shouldve only finished 2 or something like that. but i cant help but have the cliffhangers resolved

56:

day 56 has begun, and im starting to realize how fucking long this post is gonna be. and how long the wait really is.. obviously when you think of 60 days as 2 months it feels like not all that long, but when you break it down into days, and hours of days, thinking each time you update this post and whatnot, it makes it feel much longer. in better news, only 3 more days of school left!

55:

this being the last week of school might be slowing down time. it feels like the longest week on the fucking planet… after days 57-53 this should be smooth sailing. anyway speaking of school nobody is taking this shit seriously anymore, nobody is here and ive just been playing minecraft in class

54:

unsure if im now behind on critrole because i had to spend hours working on a “group” project from complete scratch due at *checks watch* 11:59 because my partner ghosted me… i also have another project due at *checks watch* 11:59 today and i wont be getting home to work on it until 8. this is pretty great idk. why did all this stuff fall on the last week of school im more stressed than ive ever been on a “chill week.” maybe if wwdits was back itd be better

53:

IVE BEEN SO BUSY ALL DAY RHAT I TOTALLY FORGOT TO UPDATE HII.. SCHOOL ENDED TODAY!! i finished me projects and all…very proud of myself for getting through this week kinda ok? forgot to add yesterday that in class we wrote letters to ourselves as graduates in english and i mentioned both ofmd and wwdits… more than once like they were plot points..loved writing it too. but yes summer is officially upon me!!!!!!! yeah baby

52:

first day of summer has sucked. woke up far too early (who wakes up at 7 in the summertime like the sun hadnt even risen) and now im sick..life is pain quote the nun

51:

so i absolutely underestimated how sick i was gonna get towards the end of the day, to the point where i only have a very hazy memory of the entire evening.. but its 1 am and i woke up from a nap i presume and i feel a lot better now. definitely a few days behind on critical role too, havent had any time to watch in between being sick as FUCK and school. we are almost through the first ten days of the wwdits wajt though!!!! im so excited im also getting a new phone today, ive had the same one for 4/5 years now and shes starting to be a little shit so. GOT THE NEW PHONE! (iphone 13) it is so smooth and the camera BUMPIN… it fits in me hand nice too. lord how i needed this baby. i also watched 25 minutes of morbius too, and its..absolutely unwatchable so i turned it off. i cant even watch it as a joke

50:

TEN DAYS DOWN!!!!!!!!!! the impossible task is starting to look…possible! in fifty days ill have the pleasure of saying…nandermo is real. but for now, all i can say is nandermo will be real in 50 days. im also starting to feel a little better? my throat is still killing me though. the one issue i have with this phone is that “autistics for otori emu” use to fit perfectly in one line of text but now its like

AUTISTICS FOR OTORI

EMU

and its kinda ugly. ill never change it though

49:

LOVE AND THUNDER JULY 8…july is gonna be a big month for taika god damn anyway I CANT WAIT!!!!! i wanna see this movie so bad….AHH.. also lowkey been inactive at the moment. not sure why

48:

watched the lighthouse last night, it was lowkey gay porn but i loved it. certified really good movie. anyway, im in a movie watching era of this countdown. except i watch like 1 movie a day every night. tonights is everything everywhere all at once! im very excited i hope i cry. didnt cry but still really enjoyed the movie! i wish they took a more “you dont have to forgive your parents” approach, cause they kinda just ignored the fact that evelynn was the one who broke joy, and her breaking joy fractured her in every universe… and like yeah joy was able to heal and forgive but she shouldnt have to forgive her mother just because she saved her. a lot of people with trauma have it in our brains (especially those of us with parental trauma) that we have to forgive our abusers and media rarely ever empowers those of us who are unable to simply forgive and forget, and this movie had the perfect opportunity to do that, but in a sense im glad they didnt also

47:

its morbin time. not really anything to say today, but its been cloudy for the past week and im wondering when im gonna get to see the sun again. the countdown is smooth sailing otherwise! OH WAIT ive been playing life is strange true colors and its been..fun?? idk ive also been playing the sims for fun again too which .. it has been ages since… i have a “legacy” going kinda but the first gens story is pretty fucked up so im just having fun with mods really

46:

kissed ryan and its the only choice ive been 100% confident about in this game. i love ryan. hes my one true love. they dont make men like this in the real. im also gonna retry watching morbius im obsessed with this movie + my bff is graduating today im so happy for him

OKAY MAYDAY THE WWDITS EPISODE TITLES JUST RELEASED AND. WE ARE 95 DAYS AWAY FROMA “The Wedding” it could be nandermo. it could and im scared (KITE FROM THE FUTURE: its not nandermo nandor is marrying a woman??)

45:

these past 5 days have been going so fast im scared. too fast almost. in like 30 minutes were gonna have wwdits 4 like it was nothing. also rewatching morbius second night in a row because my friend wants to watch it with me. hes morbing out oh my god oh shit. okay we ended up not watching morbius but i watched wwdits (2005) and 1) taika hot 2) the montage of people calling them fags is so..timely idk. but for everyone who always says “ah nz is so progressive” and acts like conservatism doesnt exist there and idolizes the countrys politics… reality check please. 3) taika hot like all the letterboxd review are about his hair and shit and yea i agree completely. but i made a post to my instagram story and tldr it was about how the wwdits franchise kinda encapsulates the changes in perception of queerness throughout the 21st century and honestly its one of the most interesting aspects to me while consuming all wwdits content

44:

hunt for the wilderpeople is a movie that i watched that broke me a bit. i didnt cry or anything of the sort but god i loved ever second of it. how will i live. anyway i think im officially over the ofmd grief but rather im shocked that the show still hasnt been renewed..not in like an awww boo hoo but like..what the fuck is hbo doing (KITE 3 DAYS IN THE FUTURE HERE: THIS IS SO FUNNY. THEY WERE WAITING UNTIL PRIDE MONTH)

43:

watching both top gun movies, was inspired by flight of the conchords. will be back. ok i only watched the og top gun but i did thoroughly enjoy it, and damn that movie is beautiful if nothing else + american psycho. and american psycho i loved a lot. also if youre wondering why im watching so many movies its a summer goal of mine to watch a lot of movies because i notoriously dont like movies as an artistic means and have watched like barely any movies proportionate to my lifespan and im trying to change that. i still dont like movies really but…oh well im glad im using this to watch some good films. my letterboxd is kite4444_1 if you were interested in seeing my ratings (they are wonky…and 3 means i liked/enjoyed it btw)

theres also a meteor shower tonight (allegedly) so im sitting outside at 1 am viewing the sky, ive seen 1 so far so dub! rare once in a lifetime experience in the wwdits countdown

42:

i really dont know how to break the meteor shower stuff up but its 1:30 am so its officially day 42. i saw 4 big meteors, a lot of little guys, and 1 orange fella so i consider this a big win.. i also just enjoyed sitting outside and watching the sky, i should do that more often honestly. literally did nothing today! W

41:

its pride month! happy pride month. also one month closer til wwdits..dub OH MY FUCJING GOD I JUST GOT THE NEWS. YES. YES. YES. YES OH MY GOD YES YES YES YES YES IM LITERALLY CRYING IM BESIDE MYSELF WITH JOY AND EVTASY I CANT oh my god i cant wait until i have an ofmd countdown god is so fucking real best day of my life nobody understands my joy rn GOD im crying so hard incant i cant i cant i just cried so hard IM CRYING AGAIN it’s definitely been like an hour or something but i cant think. i cant feel. hello #BestDayEver

season 2 requests:

1) bearded stede. dgaf if rhys says he cant grow a beard hes lying

2) jim and jackie romantic interactions… i read the vico interview and when they said maybe jim will find someone else during their separation to olu…my mind went bonkers

3) mary gets many gfs and they are poly and in love. doug is also in the polycule

4) izzy, jim, lucius, ivan, frenchie, fang need to be BESTIES. BFFs4L. and izzy and lucius you already know i want them together idc

KITE VS RAINBOW CAPITALISM: RAINBOW CAPITALISM WON

40:

ANOTHER TEN DAYS DOWN!!!!!!! YEAHHHH soon there will be no time left.. what the hell! pride month really is off to a great start and im ecstatic.. still not over the sheer high of ofmd 2 announcement but it also makes me fear season 2s existence. BUT GOD I CANT WAIT UNTIL I HAVE ANOTHER COUNTDOWN entiled “Ofmd 2 countdown” its going to be glorious and im going to be fucking FERAL. FERALLL!!!!

39:

watching muppets treasure island and ofmd season 2 looks CRAZY… anyway im watching this because apparently black sails has prior reading and i was not watching some old movie or the novel so muppets treasure island it is. i also need to stop writing these entries early in the morning (it is 1:45 am) because it throws my rhythm off..in better news though its all been good, im going to the beach tomorrow oh fuck it just hit me im going to the beach at peak ofmd fixation..its going to be all i think about NEVERMIND ITS ONLY FRIDAY I THOUGHT IT WAS SATURDAY? not going to the beach tomorrow cause we leave sunday im an idiot

38:

god i cant wait to go to the beach i need it. no pirate bullshit but i need to be one with the sea its been over a year since ive been there gah…my mom keeps being weird about it but you will not ruin my fun beach adventures!! i will walk for miles in one direction listening to music or something or talking to myself without a care in the world because i am one with the oceanside. i will cry for no reason walking my dog and thinking wow. this is what stede wouldve wanted. i cant wait to spend the next 4 days pacing with the sand between my toes as i ponder season 2 and what explorations of heartbreak means for each character. i will cry

also im on episode 3 of black sails and this shit is DRAMA??? like ofmg i was not ready also what is the ofmd/muppets treasure island/black sails pipeline because ive seen multiple fans with muppets treasure island profile pictures and how did i manage to fall down the same fucking hole

37:

BEACH DAYY!!!!!!! i cannot wait til we get there holy fuck [ x ] <- pics here! i also went and updated the layout of this post so ideally its easier to look at i REALLY need to stop writing these at 1/2 am because whyd i wake up and learn we aren’t even going until wednesday and my mom isnt even sure we can get reservations..if i dont go to the beach ill die like actually ill perish

WAIIITTTT WWDITS TEASER DROPPED [ x ] oh my god?????? this is the most unhinged the show has ever been and i cant wait

36:

nobody told me black sails was gay…like super gay this is insane. everyone is bisexual and they were so real for that. anyway im very much enjoying watching because the drama is real

also wwdits poster..wow 2 days in a row theyve been giving us content also renewed for seasons 5 & 6?!?!? idk why i had it in my head that season 4 was going to be the end but YES wwdits is goijg with me to college W…also on that note its crazy to me that ofmd and the like arent going to be finished until im in college…wow…im getting old

35:

we are almost halfway through the wait! god damn the past 25 days have felt almost nonexistent but regardless… beach tmw!!!!! for real this time. and as i said i will be at peace. i always thought if they were real id be a mermaid. and ill probably reincarnate as a lobster or something of the like.. i am one with the sea

also ever since that article about taika being a failure or sellout or whatever (i didnt read the article) made the typo calling jemaine “jermaine” i have carried the torch. he is now jermaine clement to me

34:

beach day beach day beach day… i cant wait for this “getting-to-beach” arc to end because this has went on for far too long… anyway, im gonna finish black sails either today or tomorrow and wow! what an adventure. the worlds longest origin story. i have enjoyed every minute of it!

33:

i finished black sails! also here are those beach pictures i promised [ x ]. other than that this trip has so far been pretty uneventful (not saying it will ever be eventful) but i am enjoying the sea view

also rumor has it ofmd season 2 should be airing around june/july of next year which is so insanely far but also very close. its also going to be insane comfort for me after i graduate i can tell +£~£

32:

going on a bender of listening to old 90s alternative rock songs i havent heard since i was like 10. and i still know 97% of the lyrics to all of these songs… my music taste has come a long way really. hot take though i dont understand why people bend over backwards to defend bjorks racism because her music is not even that good?? what is the appeal here. let her go

31:

havent had much to say recently but today is my last day at the beach… but now we are for real for real close to reaching that halfway point… i am quite geeked if i do say so myself

30:

WE ARE OFFICIALLY HALFWAY THROUGH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! YEAHHHYHHHHHH BABY its been a long ass thirty days but im sure that its going to go by fast now? also because we seem to be getting a lot of random content (not just for wwdits but yk).. im quite ecstatic. i cant wait for my silly little tv show

later tonight i have a music listening event with my friend and i have to choose 5 albums for us to listen to and so far i have and otherwise i have zero idea

jyocho - the beautiful cycle of terminal

イツエ (itsue) - いくつもの絵 / many pictures

ABBA - voulez-vous

never mind apparently! it was supposed to start about 2 hours ago and im like 80% sure im getting stood up! oh well. i say oh well because im a bit used to it but also im fairly upset because i was really looking forward to thissss ahhhh

29:

getting stood up aside i think im sick AGAIN???? i think ive been sick like 50 times this entire countdown but also i have like 5 chronic illnesses and so it could be one of them. besides i feel bad but not too bad so ill live

i woke up with a super weird tender rash on the palm of my hand and???? what the hell. god is spiting me now that the countdown is on the downward path

28:

nah not sick but i was not feeling hot yesterday. im very excited though because my broccoli plants are looking very healthy after the trip (i was a bit worried theyd fucking die) but they are taking to the environment quite nicely. on the contrary i planted SIX cucumber plants and they are taking over my entire garden like a goddamn parasite. i dont even need tgat many cucumbers why did i plant six oh my god. also my onions should be harvestable soon… if youre wondering what all plants im growing: cucumbers broccoli red pepper onion spinach & carrots. very nature over here

also i am plugging flight of the conchords as one of my albums..! pay me jemaine

27:

DIDNT UPDATE AT ALL TODAY??? but omg my cucumbers were ready for harvest and theyre HUGE. i also started a worm bin today and i had to collect 2 worms on my own i hope they enjoy having sex and shitting for me but yeah. this is a beautiful thing. overall a great day i very much enjoy getting gritty in the garden

also fun sketchful.io night with my friend and now we have official plans to meet irl come january!!!!!! fat fucking double you

26:

do tumblr posts have a word limit…i feel like i mentioned this before but it comes more of a growing concern every single day. otherwise its a good day except me waking up to my dog having a seizure because i overslept my alarm for giving him his meds. in case you were wondering hes completely fine just a normal hiccup

also bios dont have a word limit either do they.. also layout change! i changed the color yesterday but today i moved the rant bio to be under the cut because i just cant part with it

25:

watched thor ragnarok so im officially up to date for love and thunder. i love korg no im not biased but also everyone who was like thor and bruce have serious couple energy are so right its such a shame he wont be in love and thunder. the “rom com” aspect with jane peter and bruce would be so hectic but also so good?!!? havent been hyped for a marvel movie since endgame im so excited

introducing a new conflict: me trying to watch fotc live in london without paying for hbo max. this has been an uphill battle and i signed up for the apple one free trial which gives me free apple tv and they said they had live in london on there BUT NO IT REDIRECTS YOU TO HULU AND HBOMAX. now you may be thinking “just sign up for hulu free trial” BUT HULU DOESNT HAVE IT EITHER WITHOUT YOU PAYING FOR THE HBO ADDON!!!! also i tried literally every pirating website i know and nothing. i feel like im fighting a goddamn war just to watch live in london idk

ok update: its currently 2:55 am and i found it on the pirate bay but obviously thats a torrenting thingy so tomorrow evening im going to relearn how to torrent so i can watch it. also last time i downloaded utorrent it absolutely wrecked my computer, managed to uninstall it but its still fucked up but oh well! anything for fotc

adding onto an already incredibly hectic log, i ended up not downloading it today because i didnt feel like getting out my laptop charger. it was one of those incredibly lazy days. but man if theres one thing this post is gonna do, its gonna make me realize how much of my summer i am spending RELAXING. its well deserved and this is my last high school summer so i should definitely waste the most i can because ill never get this again, but like.. come august the regret is gonna be reallllll….

24:

another day of completely forgetting to update this! im getting back into terraria and that has kept me mostly entertained all day. im so bad at it but i used to be cracked (kinda. i never got to hardmode cause flesh but)

to add, i have a 4 day streak going of eating toast late at night. the first 2 days it was tuna on this asiago cheese loaf and these past 2 days have been cinnamon butter on sourdough. very real

23:

days are flying by! wow. but my sleep schedule is so off it’s ridiculous. but today was even less eventful than yesterday, except i think im finally in my terraria groove and i even beat the eye of cthulhu + i wanna fight skeletron but like, i have no idea where his temple is and ive went so far in both directions

22:

i have whipped cthulhu’s ass thrice. he doesn’t even stand a chance! but i did attempt skeletron and got whooped so hard it’s ridiculous?? did they buff him since i last played like 5 years ago. also attempted the eater of worlds twice for some scales so i can make demonite equipment and CHRIST i keep having like sensory overload. also sorry for making three consecutive short posts where i exclusively talk about terraria but that is all im doing so we! will! have! to! deal!

also sometimes its so hard to tell if i wrote already. like i have no recollection of writing today but i think i did??? did i????

21:

21 days? THREE WEEKS?? three weeks ???? three weeks!!! i really am so excited. also i might be going to see lightyear soon with some of my friends who i haven’t seen in like 3/4 years! definitely not the most hype movie we couldve went to see but idc chris evans keke palmer and taika are all in there and thats all i care about. mm

I DREAMT ABOUT S2E1 of ofmd that they like released episode 1 early and it was so funny. i don’t remember much about it but stede and ed werent in the episode at all (but blackbeard was in the last like 15 minutes of an hour long episode, but i didnt even watch that part because of dream logic) and i don’t remember much at all but someone was in a white void with john silver. a completely different show. and they had to complete some kind of bullshit puzzle it was great the rest of the dream was mostly on the deserted island with the rest of the revenge and jim was there too but hell i dont know it was such a mess

also i never mentioned it but i watched guns akimbo like 2 days ago and jesus christ i haven’t recovered. the pacing never slows down and its balls like the movie is hot balls but it was so insane that like. i havent recovered

20:

TWENTY!!! FORTY DAYS DOWN WOWZA. that’s literally insane. its doggy bath day for me so im bathing the dog and he hates it but boo hoo stinky dog. maybe dont pee on yourself so often

also the plans are saturday!! i cant wait. and these are actually definitely go through so WWWWW

TRAILER DROP!!! WE GOT IT. POLYAMORY?!?! YES!! excited. thats all i can say

19:

time to get a little sad and vulnerable. got out of the house for the first time in awhile to go to my nana’s, she passed in late february and we’ve been working to sell the house and had a cleaning crew finish everything up before contracts were signed with realtors. and it was hella gutting seeing a home that has so many childhood memories emptied…or gutted i guess you could say, and today is the last day i’ll ever step foot in that house and it’s literally crazy. i dont regret not going up there as often as i could or anything but it is quite a sad conclusion to come to. it was a pretty productive day too, and im proud of myself! especially because ive been conscious about my productivity, motivation, and the like. so yay!

18:

i regret updating the tumblr app so bad..its so ugly now and theres so much to look at for what..i also woke up to some of the worst news imaginable for us americans, and like…idk

17:

yesterday was rough but i cant wait to see my bsfs so good vibes. great vibes even

it was fun!!!!!!!!!!! lightyear was..bad? it was very mid. but taika…so thats better. i gave it a 2/5 on letterboxd and the extra star was for taika so. but i feel so relieved i get to see them again because it really has been so long.. none of us have seen each other since we were 14!!!!!!!!! now we’re basically grown?!?!?

also ive been watching greys anatomy trying to catch up (for japril) and this show is so good but also extremely garbage… what do you mean deluca got stabbed in between episodes?? also these topical covid episodes are so tired and this is only episode 7 of a 20 episode season. if this whole season is covid themed ill kill myself because ive already heard the same spiel about feeling isolated and lonely and whatever. like yeah, everyone watching knows that, we all lived through the worst of it and have to deal with an unfinished aftermath. im so glad i waited to watch this because if at the high of the pandemic i tuned into this shit id be so over the show. but im attached to these characters and the neverending drama. im eating the tom and teddy stuff up!!!! i do want them to be together, i love tom and he deserves teddy. i quite like owen too and i feel bad for screwing him after he put in so much effort to make it work for teddy but thats exactly it. he shouldnt have to put up with her bs anymore (i like teddy too but girl)

16:

bored out of my mind.. so bored. thats all i can say today. bored.. i think im gonna force myself to start drawing again because i havent in months. i was in a bad burnout after art class so yk

15:

GIVE IT UP FOR DAY 15!!!!!!! but KORACICK AND JACKSON LEFTttttt…. you can understand my pain. obviously it was for a good cause but goddammit!!!!!! ill miss you tom.. gone but never forgotten

14:

its day 13 but i completely forgot to update. it skipped my mind completely. i can’t remember anything that happened yesterday but teo weeks!!!!! two weeks left

13:

day 14 was an absolute blunder on my part. i knew missing a day was bound to happen eventually but man. that shows just how uneventful my days have been. i redownloaded genshin and this game is so boring even though i have all the inazuma and chasm stuff to do…but i hit 698?k with childe ult and that. makes me happy! back when i was into the game i was on a road to 1 million and this gets me about 7/10 of the way through…. im not p2w too so

I DISNT EVEN SKIP DAY 14. IM SO CONFUSED RN. YESTERDAY WAS DAY 14. IT IS DAY 13. god im such an idiot but im not going ro backspace any of this… late night phone call watching sing 2 and i got my best friend to watch some ofmd with me!! we are up to episode 6 but he fell asleep and i am so tored. also rsd is so awful like i love this show to death and when he doesnt laugh at something i want to cackle at i feel like im being stabbed brutally in the stomach? pretty sure hes enjoying it though. i feel glee! but the best part comes when i get to talk about every interview ive read, the story of how rhys was casted, because ive already had the honor of sharing tidbits like izzy canonically being the one who put the bows in eds beard in e5, and rhys taking sailing lessons while taika couldnt even read blackbeards wikia page… autism won today.

sing 2 was also an absolute blast, my friend asked if the little koala dude was voiced by the “guy who plays eddie from ofmd.” i was deeply confused, turns out he affectionately named stede ‘eddie,’ and no rhys does not voice buster moon. matthew mcconaughey does and he isnt even kiwi……. also i am like a rhys detector because that man is the voice of my conscious. it was a really great movie tho, like bono was in there and ??????? i love the sing franchise

12:

HAPPY JULY!!!!!!!! we are so close now. 1 week until thor, 12 days until wwdits, 4 months until greys anatomy, and about 1 year until omfd. its like everything is happening soon! also maybe i should stop thinking about time passing in my life relative to media i enjoy… but also it makes me happy. i watched boy (the taika movie) and that was another banger. taikas best talent isnt directing its finding insanely talented kids. boy is tonally similar to hunt for the wilderpeople but personally it lacks something in comparison? if i had to guess its because wilderpeople builds on family dynamics in a positive light while boy explores parental idolization and its wayyy too relatable at some points. its still a great film though 4.5/10 on letterboxd

11:

I think i counted the days wrong…? and now im weirdly confused and scared because it’s currently the 2nd and this is day..11? meaning this will end on the 13th as opposed to the 12th. this is so fucking scuffed and im not gonna edit anything i just have to live with my mistakes. maybe i really did miss day 14 though. im so confused?????? what happened. what went wrong.

anyway WE FINISHED OFMD TOGETHER!!!! he is not an izzy fan and im glad. hes also a jim/olu supremacist which like…yeah so true? now i just need to get him to watch wwdits and everything will be solved in the world probably

10:

TEN DAYS!!!!! (actually 9.) or maybe this is accurate but it goes to like 12:00 am july 13 which doesnt really count

anyway 5 am thoughts: been thinking about boy again and its growing very fond in my mind. i think letting the ending sit with me was for the better and i love this movie a lot more now (and i already loved it lots.) how cute

watched mysterious skin and damn. in life youre either a neil or a brian and i am a brian so hard. nothing really remarkable to say today

I DIDNT EVEN FUCK UP THE TIMING… the issue is that i always update this at like 5 am the next day and it throws everything off for me.. otherwise its the fourth of july i guess? nobody really celebrates this holiday anyway. its an excuse to grill and set off illegal fireworks and nobosy is thinking about the revolutionary war… also a bit of a rough time sociopolitically in the usa rn so. extra bunk holiday… i fixed up these star leds that have just been hanging on my wall for like 2 years and it added so much ambiance i love how my room looks now! its great

forgot to update again except this time 2 days in a row hahahahahahahaha i was writing out the july fourth thing yesterday but got distracted and it never saved. i pulled itto today though!!!!!!’ im so happy but rest in peace to the next banner because im definitely not getting whatever character is on it. genshin is occupying my brain again and i dont like the inazuma lore but the characters have grown on me (mainly people i can associate with ayaka because shes one of my favorite characters all time) but others still have the personality of like a wet rag (cough raiden yae kokomi and gorou) IF YOUR FAV IS ON THAT LIST, FIGHT ME! id like to be proven wrong honestly! i want to like the characters! otherwise ONE WEEK! ONE WEEK! YEAH YEAHHH

thor tmw!!!!! yeahhhhhhhh

that being all i wrote today tells so much. burn out isnt really the word because that seems like a real big overestimate but i am a bit exhausted of updating this, especially when i have to rack my brain for things to write? and i feel like im letting myself and others (despite me talking to a brick wall with this post basically) by not providing any interesting content in here. like that span of me playing terraria. how boring. and recently it’s been similarly dull. but luckily we’re coming to a quick end to this timeline with only a big 6 days left!

its also a real struggle to scroll all the way down. thor today! thor soon. 2 hours until thor! yay. but also woke up to some terrible news that my dog *COULD* have cancer, we wont know really for another 2 weeks and then we wont know for certain until after a biopsy. sucks like shit though, that dog is like a brother to me. but…thor! thor is getting me through this

ITS SO GOOD. and say what you want taika did put gay sex in the marvel movie. korgdwayne forever. i cant even begin to comprehend how much i enjoyed that like tis so real. i am biased i am. but also i dont care what cishet people have to say about this movie. the queer rep was there and frankly its all i ever wanted/ask for

OOPSIE DAISIE FORGOT TO UPDATE AGAIN. yesterday was fun. thor is my whole brain rn. thats all

3 days left is so crazy. like this has been 58 days of sheer insanity and its coming to a close.

late night/early morning thoughts: im in such a prison built by internalized ableism and i know unmasking is possible but i never see myself able to escape this endless fucking nightmare. i want to be unashamed about all my autistic traits but its unbelievably difficult.. and so many people who i love and who love me don’t really know me even if they talk to me every single day because i barely know myself because of how far buried he is. and so thats another thing ill have to deal with

talking about anything is so difficult for me to do. crossing the barrier of mentioning anything im watching or reading is like climbing mount everest especially to people i havent known basically my entire life and its so awful? i wish it wasnt such a struggle to be. even when im not talking and if im just thinking about a hf/si i feel so awful and like im failing and i cant take much more of this. any of it, the shame, the self deprecation, anything

SAW TOP GUN MAVERICK FINALLY!! im so glad i got to see it during the countdown its definitely part of the character arc ive went on throughout this post. what a tonal shift from yesterday also but wow only 2 days left! ive seen so many movies now… all i think of is movies anymore…. but its been a really good span of days recently i feel like summer is finally looking up! and soon wwdits is gonna be back with us like wow!!!! so much to look forward to im very excited. im always fucking excited for anything and everything. woo!!!

what can i say that hasnt already been said, what a fuckin journey this has been and its soon gonna come to fruition. and also what a better way to send this off than I AM SICK AGAIN. thats the spirit of the countdown really. today is a chill day and tomorrow im gonna rewatch the 2014 movie for vibe reasons but like. im so happy and proud. wooooooo!!!!!

also i love walking around the house and hearing ra ra rasputin blaring loud on the tv cause the wwdits trailer. it makes me happy but im also remindes like oh shit this show is on cable tv. weird feeling? havent watched a show on cable in so long

ITS OVER. THE WAIT IS OVER! i said most of the “sappy” shit yesterday but now its all official. im not gonna keep this going in between weekly episodes as a cheap way to keep this going. its over today. TODAY! gonna rewatch the movie in a bit probably just to get in a really vampiric mood but also the moon is full tonight iirc? what a coincidence (probably)

Well folks. thats the end there! just watched episode 3 so its exactly a week after this countdown so i think its a better time to write the conclusion, because its weird that it just cuts off. but there isnt a conclusion cause i already wrote it on days 1 & 0. see you next year when ofmd s2 is announced!

#kstposts #countdown #slowly melting…into a pile of melted me #aka: kite keeps a 60 day diary

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a-square-minus-one · 3 years ago

Text

Honey 10

Thank you for those who have stuck to this progressing story. Here is the new chapter. You can find the whole story on AO3 and fanfic.

I killed him.

Raven wakes up long before the team realizes she has. She can’t even register the itchy hospital bed sheets on top of her; her limbs are glued to the cot. Her chest expands as she breathes but she’d struggle less breathing underwater.

Malchior was a disgusting being. Intent to create chaos wherever he went. His only goal was to wreak havoc because he could and because no one could stop him. His life’s work was figuring out ways he could outdo his last destructive feat. His eyes only twinkled when he was asserting his dominance over something.

And she had killed him.

Or at least, separated his consciousness from its physical manifestation.

Or can you even separate that?

She made his limbs stop working.

His mouth would no longer form incantations.

Where would his thoughts go?

Would he be able to sort them or even hear them?

Or were they just whispers on another plane of existence?

Nausea makes Raven sit abruptly, the IV tugging painfully in her arm. She feels more than tastes the vomit fly out of her mouth. Chunks of yellow bits propel out onto the floor next to her, right by Starfire’s purple boots. Starfire is quick to move Raven’s hair out of the way, despite the fact that doing so sinks her boots right into the undigested food. A few tears escape Raven’s eyes.

“Star…” she groans, making a feeble attempt to push Starfire out the way but the alien just shushes her and rubs her hand over Raven’s back. A green hand extends a plastic cup of water towards her.

“Small sips,” Gar reminds her. She takes the cup out of his hands and raises it to her lips. Raven stiffens when he moves closer, replacing Starfire’s hands with his own. She stares over the rim of the cup at his torso, feeling her eyebrows crinkling. He picks up the hair from her neck. She hears a snap and feels her hair moving left to right. Then he’s at a reasonable distance again. She places a hand on her warm, now bare, neck.

“You-” she clears her throat. “-you can tie a ponytail?”

“Can’t you?” Garfield asks, looking incredibly amused. She feels her face heat up as she places the water on the tray next to her and lays back on the cot. She looks to Star’s boots and then to her face.

“I’m so-”

“Shh I will be hearing none of that friend,” Starfire says, handing Raven a wipe. Raven wipes off one side of her lips. Her hand pauses when she gets to the other side.

“How many civilians?” Raven asks, her fingers trembling behind the tissue. Garfield immediately straightens out his relaxed shoulders. His jaw tightens. Starfire looks down to her feet. Raven turns to Cyborg.

“Two.”

Two fingers touch her lips as the contents of her stomach turn again. Her eyes well up as she swallows around the undigested food rising in her esophagus.

“Ages?” she asks in an almost imperceptible voice.

No one answers.

She clenches her fingers around the wipe and presses it to her forehead.

“Ages?” she pleads.

“54 and 65,” Cyborg says; his rage is like a hot iron in her side. Raven feels Starfire’s despair pelting her on the other side like an open waterfall. Garfield’s emotions are all sharp corners and metal bristles. She can’t even bear to approach the edges of it for fear that she’ll pop and everything will come pouring out of her. She sinks back into her cot trying to tighten her core under the pressure of all their emotions. She almost finds balance in the current until she senses something, like seaweed twisting on her toes when she’s swimming in the ocean.

“You’re not telling me something,” she says, eyeing Garfield who hasn’t looked her way since tying up her hair. She almost didn’t want to ask considering how tenuous her hold on herself is.

“There was a six year old boy,” Nightwing says, entering the room with arms crossed over his chest. He leans against the doorframe of the med bay. Raven lets out a long breath. She spends a lot of her life thinking about how she breathes. Breathing is the first step to meditation. Right now she wonders what it would be like to be trapped at the end of a long exhale.

“He-”

“Is in ICU,” Nightwing finishes. She brings knees to her chest and sinks her head into them, gripping the fitted sheet on the cot. Her throat is one fire.

“We have to visit the family,” she says, looking at her team members. Everyone pauses.

“We did,” Garfield says, scratching the back of his neck the way he does when he’s pensive or nervous. Raven squints her eyes. She lays her legs flat on the cot.

“I have to visit the families,” she says, shifting to get up. Garfield quickly puts his hands on her shins and she almost kicks him off in surprise.

“You can’t,” Garfield says.

“Why not?”

“The public doesn’t love us right now,” Nightwing says, moving from his position at the door.

Then she feels it, pressing against her. Fire, all around her, filling the gaps between her fingertips, licking up the back of her knees. She almost gasps at the intensity of it.

“You’re angry,” she says, quickly looking up at Nightwing. A few strands of her hair have escaped the ponytail Garfield made for her. Starfire steps forward.

“We all are,” she says. Raven doesn’t look her way, keeping her eyes locked on the immobile Nightwing. This is a different anger. Nightwing knows she knows; their bond hasn’t faded in the years since she went into his mind.

“Where’s Malchior, Raven? Nightwing asks, his index finger twitching against his bicep. The fire around her stops all together. Something cool, fragile, and thin settles over them like a layer of frost on water. Then Raven makes the mistake of looking down. A fireball hits her in the chest like a cannon, she tumbles backwards on the cot.

“Damnit Raven!” Nightwing says. She looks up at his face, now red underneath his mask.

“Yo dude, chill out. She just woke up,” Garfield says. Nightwing whips towards him, his index finger inches away from Garfield’s chest. Raven is ashamed that she feels immediate relief at Garfield’s expense.

“How about instead of worrying about Raven you explain to me where the hell all the animosity for me came from?” Nightwing says, leaning much too far into Garfield’s personal bubble. Garfield leans back and tilts his head.

“Dude, clearly that wasn’t me.”

“So what you’re saying is that you’re not you when you transform into other animals?” Nightwing poses this as a question but the fact that each word is coming out like hisses between his clenched teeth makes it seem like he has already decided his answer.

“You know this isn’t just one of my other animal forms and could you check your tone?” Garfield asks. Raven feels his irritation like pricks from a cactus. She wiggles her fingers.

“Everytime the Beast has been present, I have been targeted,” Nightwing’s tone is even when he says this but punctuated in a manner that suggests he has ruminated on this and has already come to his own conclusions. His words sound rehearsed.

“That’s just not true and either way I’ve shown you for years that I’ve been able to control my powers as much as everyone else on the team, if not better.”

“You weren’t able to two days ago.”

“We don’t fight magical dragons everyday,” Garfield bites out and Nightwing swivels towards Raven again.

“And apparently we never will again!” Spit flies out of Nightwing’s mouth as he leans over the end of Raven’s cot. She sits up straight even though Nightwing’s words land heavy like a punch to her stomach.

“Almost sounds like you’re going to miss him,” Raven hisses back. Nightwing’s face is so red that Raven is sure it will explode off of his body.

“How can you be so desensitized to the loss of a life?”

“Jesus Nightwing relax! It isn’t like she hunted this man down, which is more than I can say about you and Slade...every six months...like clockwork!”

“And yet he’s still alive.” The muscles on Nightwing’s neck are straining as he turns towards Garfield, bumping his chest a little. Any other man would have taken a step back and on any other occasion Garfield would too but right then, he doesn’t.

“Is that because you haven’t tried or because you’ve never gotten close enough,” Garfield says, jutting his own chest outwards so it bumps Nightwing’s.

“Much closer than you did when he turned Terra into stone.”

“Dude what in the actual fuck?” Garfield growls.

“That is quite enough!” Starfire yells, wedging herself between the pair. “You have both done the crossing of the line! Friend Raven is barely recovered!”

Neither man stands down, glaring at each other over Starfire’s shoulders. “Are you going to arrest me Richard?” Raven asks, chin tilted upwards. Nightwing turns away from Starfire and removes his hand from his utility belt.

“He will do no such thing-” Starfire starts.

“You’re not being fair,” he says. Raven tilts her chin higher and arches an eyebrow.

“If you are not going to arrest me then we have more important things to talk about right now than any morally ambiguous decisions I made that there is no way I can undo,” Raven mumbles. “Even if I really wanted to.”

Nightwing runs a hand through his hair then drops both of his hands on his hips. He’s looking her in the eyes. Anyone else wouldn’t be able to tell because of his mask but she knows he is. He’s trying to consolidate all his anger into a concentrated cube. She respects the effort. Garfield, who is hunched over like his spine is ready to break through the skin of his back, clearly does not.

“We have two of your brothers in custody. Lust and Gluttony. I will be handling interrogations. You can watch from another room. ”

Raven sucks in her bottom lip. She knows her brothers better than Nightwing but she’s on thin ice with him as is. She’d have to let him cool down a little before she can get anywhere near that room.

“If you’re going in alone, I need to heavily armor you.”

Nightwing shrugs stiffly. She nods.

Behind Nightwing, Garfield takes his exit; his anger is radiating off of him like an electric heater. Nightwing looks after him, his lips in a straight line but doesn’t try to stop him.

“How much of a dick was I?” Nightwing asks once Garfield has left the room.

“12/10 bro,” Cyborg says, rubbing his forehead. Nightwing cringes.

“I’m going to go talk to him,” Raven says, looking at Cyborg and then towards her IV. Cyborg looks hesitant at first but eventually sighs and does as he’s told.

...........................................................................

“This is very carnivalesque.” Raven says as she sits next to Garfield on the roof. Garfield raises an eyebrow at her “Usually you’re the one who comes to see me on the roof.”

“What?” Garfield asks.

“Nothing,” Raven says, looking down at her feet. She’s not as good as he is at this.

“You should be in the med bay for observations.”

“With all the healing it would be very hard to kill me,” she says. She feels a few fat drops of rain smack her cheek but Garfield doesn’t flinch so she stays put. Raven looks up at the thick clouds moving in the sky.

“Do you think you’ll die like the rest of us?” Garfield asks. Random. Raven hums. “I mean your father...sorry I know it’s a touchy subject-”

“No, go ahead,” Raven says, keeping her eyes on the sky. A warmth spreads in her chest like when she drinks hot tea. It’s been nice for her to see how delicate Garfield is with her boundaries in the last couple of years.

“Trigon is immortal. Does that make you immortal too?” he asks.

“I really hope not,” Raven mumbles immediately. “I’m not a god.”

Her mind immediately goes to Malchior’s lifeless body beneath her.

“Don’t lose any sleep over him,” Garfield says. Raven hums again. “Malchior. That’s who you’re thinking about, right?”

Raven looks away from the sky. Garfield’s lashes are dark and long. He’s green almost everywhere but around his pupils there is a rim of orange that she’s always been fascinated by.

“I took his life away,” she says, curling up her bare toes. “I-I’m afraid…”

“You don’t have to tell me,” Garfield interrupts softly. She feels the warmths curl through her insides again. She has to break eye contact.

“I don’t know if I made the right choice. It kind of feels...heavy? If that makes sense.”

“It makes sense.”

It grows quiet again.

“Nightwing was more angry at me than he was at you,” she says. Silence.

A few drops of water land on her thighs. She’s getting a little cold now. She had only come out in the oversized t-shirt she was wearing in the med bay. She thinks it’s Cyborg’s. It fits her like a dress.

“I think he might be right.”

Raven looks up at him, ready to protest. The protests die on her lips when she makes eye contact.

“I keep banking on the fact that I can control the Beast but it kind of sucks. He’s pulling at me all the time.”

“He doesn’t like Nightwing?”

“...He doesn’t like Nightwing’s power over me. Doesn’t like that he’s the one who calls the shots. Which is the complete opposite of me. Usually Nightwing and Cyborg are the ones measuring their dicks to see who gets to be boss.”

Raven snorts.

“Would it be so bad to let him out every once and a while? What else could he want?” Raven asks. Garfield presses his lips together. And his silence stretches like cheese. Just when she thinks it's about the tear, it stretches some more. For much longer than it should. She can’t pinpoint exactly what changes but she is suddenly hyper aware of how long she’s been looking into his eyes. She isn’t about to let on that she noticed the shift though because that would mean that it actually happened.

But maybe she should move?

Or look down?

Why isn’t he saying anything?

Did he lean forward?

Breathe Raven.

She inhales sharply.

There is a flash of lighting in her peripheral vision.

He doesn’t break eye contact.

“Can I see the scar The Beast left?” he finally whispers, keeping eye contact. Oh, that’s what he was thinking about.

She can’t think straight. What did I think he was thinking about? She pulls up her shirt without a second thought, looking down with him...

Then screams internally when she remembers she isn’t wearing any pants.

She freezes. Thunder rumbles.

He doesn’t say anything. She wonders if she’d hear him anyway over the long ‘AGHH!’ reverberating in her head.

She looks up at him; he hasn’t said anything about her lack of pants. Instead he’s staring intently at her side, eyebrows furrowed and bottom lip wedged between his teeth.

Breathe. The team has changed in front of each other before. No big deal.

She wishes she can get a clear read on his emotions but she can barely get a hold on hers.

Then he reaches out his fingertips and slowly runs over the ridges of the three bumpy stripes on her side.

This time she actually shrieks out loud, dropping her shirt immediately. A few rocks on the shore explode into a million little fragments. He pulls his hands away like he just accidentally touched a stove.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry! Jesus, I don’t know why I did that,” he squeals immediately, running a hand through his hair roughly.

Aghhhhhh

“No! It’s... um...fine.Your fingers were just cold.”

The skin around her scars is burning.

Aghhhh .

He shuts his eyes so tightly that she can see little wrinkles at the edges of them. It looks like he wants to turn into a mosquito and fly away. She stays quiet. He places a hand over his eyes.

“Listen...I...I’m sorry about that. The touching,” his voice squeaks. He clears his throat. “But also giving you the scar in the first place.”

He reluctantly moves his hands away and looks at her again.

“I’m serious. I don’t want to hurt Nightwing. I don’t want to ever hurt you,” Garfield says, his skin changing from brown to green as his blush fades.

Agggghhhhh.

She hums.

Not the right response.

He sucks his lips into his mouth, face getting incredibly brown just as it was resuming its original shade.

“I-” he starts.

She looks at him.

He looks at her.

He flies away.

#bbrae

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jasontoddiefor · 4 years ago

Text

Summary: Obi-Wan is up late studying and his new Padawan sleeps next to him on their sofa. AN: @thenegoteator enables all my wishes for smol Padawan Anakin and Obi-Wan bonding so I hope you like this! Read on AO3!

Despite common misconceptions, the Jedi temple at night was still as busy as it was during the daytime. The many nocturnal members of the Order went about their daily life, training, teaching, learning, preparing for missions, and tracking down wayward Padawans deep in the temple building. Not as seldomly as they’d like to, they also sent one of their diurnal Jedi, awake despite their rhythm, to bed.

Sleep eluded them all often enough, visions and twisted dreams keeping them awake and as such, they all took care to ensure they did get a healthy dosage of sleep.

This was the precise reason Obi-Wan Kenobi was not in the archives but in his quarters.

He yawned for what felt like the twentieth time in the past ten minutes, staring at the light screen of his datapad.

It was the only source of light illuminating the dark room and consequently hurting his eyes. Obi-Wan could have turned on the main lights, but he hadn’t really expected to still be sitting here at this hour.

He should have gone to bed about four hours ago or so, he wasn’t entirely sure how much time had passed and hesitated at checking the chronometer, but Obi-Wan also still was about two hours of work away from where he wanted to be with his thesis paper.

He didn’t have the time to sleep. Staying awake was an entirely reasonable course of action.

He reached for his cup of tea, black as the deepest voids of space. It wasn’t his favorite by any kind, but it did its job at keeping him awake better than any of his favorite teas or kaf did. When he raised his cup to his lips, he noticed that not only it was cold, but also almost empty. He could have sworn he had made it just ten minutes ago.

Displeased he set it on the living room table and sighed. Right, only about ten pages and a conclusion to go. Obi-Wan was able to work through those pages without any tea keeping him alert. He could, of course, get up and make himself another cup, but that also meant moving his small companion out of the way and possibly startling him awake.

Obi-Wan looked down at his lap where his Padawan was dead to the world, the rise and fall of the bundle being the only sign that Anakin was asleep. Obi-Wan could hardly see Anakin, wrapped up in three blankets as he was. Obi-Wan doubted that Anakin would learn to sleep with less than three layers any time soon.

His only visible feature was his crown of messy golden locks. Anakin had been up until just two hours ago, working on his own homework first, then had continued working on his sheer endless numbers of mouse droids and, when even that hadn’t kept him busy anymore, he had started drawing. Only after he had gotten too tired to hold onto his pencil had he started pestering Obi-Wan with questions about his paper until he had fallen asleep. At first, Anakin had been leaning against Obi-Wan’s shoulder, but the longer the night had gotten, the more did he slip off until he had ended up dropping into Obi-Wan’s lap where he was now snoring lightly.

Obi-Wan smiled at his Padawan, then gently so he wouldn’t wake him, ran his fingers through his hair. Anakin’s hair was surprisingly soft and, when the boy remembered to shower, smelled of spring flowers instead of motor oil.

He had a Padawan.

A small, cute, kind, and good-hearted Padawan who deserved a world that would treat him gently and the best of teachers who could guide him well.

And Obi-Wan had no idea how to handle him. He was doing his best and he was quite sure that he was at least on the right track, but he definitely could improve still.

But first, he had a paper to finish.

It was ridiculous.

He had been supposed to be done with it months ago. When his Master and he had been called to Naboo, Obi-Wan had just started writing it, a vague thesis in mind and some literature assembled. Most of the work had been in his head and constituted of the endless discussions Qui-Gon and he had had about the true nature of the Force. They had spent years discussing what it felt like what its purpose was – It was a heavy topic, and Obi-Wan could have gone with an easier one such as the traffic laws in Coruscant’s lower levels, but instead he had chosen to go with such a research-heavy field.

It was a chore and a half to work on this paper. Not so much writing the paper in and of itself, Obi-Wan happened to be one of those bastards who enjoyed writing up reports and forcing people to go through his elaborations on the banalest of topics. Handing his papers in had always been his utmost delight. There were very few sights that could compare to someone seeing that they’d have to proofread his paper.

No, the problem with his theses was the agonizing pain that came with every revisit to all the memories he had made with his Master. Getting even half a sentence transferred to the datapad was an ordeal Obi-Wan had never experienced before. Whenever he had to look up literature, he felt as if Qui-Gon was standing right beside him, commenting on the material, or quizzing him on it.

Qui-Gon would have a lot to say about his paper: Obi-Wan could just picture him making one remark after another, grilling him about every sentence and pointing out every flaw in his argumentation. Obi-Wan would hate every second of it, disagree with Qui-Gon on at least 215 accounts, but in the end, he’d hold his paper in his hands and could say that it had been a job well done indeed.

His Master would be proud.

His Master wasn’t here to see it.

Anakin whimpered.

Obi-Wan looked down at his Padawan again and soothingly ran his fingers through his hair again, sending him reassurance over their bond, hoping his emotions would reach his young charge even when he was asleep. Anakin, for all that he enjoyed talking a lot, was a very quiet child when he wanted to be. He didn’t make a lot of noise when he moved through their quarters, he hardly made any noise when he was sleeping. He didn’t let out a single cry despite the nightmares that must be haunting him now.

Obi-Wan began to hum a melody that had been sung to him in the creche. It was meant to calm children down during or after nightmares. Obi-Wan had always been prone to such, visions of darkness, death, and decay haunting him. Soon after he began singing, his Padawan calmed down and returned to an easy sleep.

Obi-Wan smiled down at Anakin’s form. It was nice that at least one of them could catch a couple of hours of sweet rest.

Sighing, Obi-Wan focused on the text on his datapad and began re-reading his last paragraphs.

He hadn’t typed anything that made any sense for the couple last hours. It was ridiculous.

“I should stop,” Obi-Wan muttered. “This is useless when I’m tired.”

Frustrated, he saved the document and then turned out the datapad, leaving himself in total darkness with only the weight of Anakin as a gentle reminder that he wasn’t truly lonely.

For a moment Obi-Wan contemplated just staying like this and sleeping here. He didn’t want to move, he was semi-comfortable, and Anakin by his side was more than enough comfort.

But he did have a bed with a good mattress, and so did Anakin. As his Master, Obi-Wan should set a good precedent for Anakin and follow healthy habits, avoid falling asleep on the sofa where his neck would make him pay for it in the morning.

Slowly, Obi-Wan pushed Anakin of his lap. The boy grumbled and Obi-Wan froze, not daring to move an inch. He breathed in and out, once twice, but Anakin kept on sleeping, still knocked out. Obi-Wan suppressed a laugh and then stood up in one swift move. Once standing, he cracked his bones and neck so that the stiffness would disappear from his body. If he didn’t take care of his body now, it would come back to haunt him when he attempted any of his usual Ataru sequences.

Not that Obi-Wan had been doing many of those lately. Form IV had become uncomfortable since Naboo, but he had yet to find something easier. A few of the Soresu practitioners had pointed out that he seemed to be well suited to it, but Obi-Wan wasn’t sure.

Sighing yet once more and putting the thought aside for another day, he then turned around to his Padawan and scooped him up in his arms. It was good that Anakin was so small still and didn’t weigh too much. With the boy settled in his arms, drooling on Obi-Wan’s shoulder, he walked past the many datapads spread across the ground and carried Anakin to his room. He opened up the room and danced past the various droid parts carelessly thrown everywhere until he reached Anakin’s bed. With careless use of the Force, he threw back Anakin’s other two blankets before setting the boy down. He considered moving Anakin out of the cocoon to spread out the blankets properly but figured it wasn’t worth the effort. He’d just roll himself up in them again. Instead, he grabbed the two remaining blankets and tugged him in, his covers secured so that no air would get in.

“Good night, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said and turned around to leave.

He had not stepped two feet away from the door when he heard a soft, “Obi?”

Anakin had woken up.

“Yes, Anakin?” Obi-Wan looked at his Padawan again who was now staring at him with his bright blue eyes and the kind of look that Obi-Wan knew he wouldn’t be able to deny him anything.

“Can you sleep here tonight?”

“I-“ Obi-Wan hesitated for a split-second. He had his own bed to return to, one that was made for an adult and not a child, with his own blanket and pillows.

“Sure,” Obi-Wan agreed and kicked off his slippers so he could crawl into bed with Anakin. His Padawan made space for him, but the moment Obi-Wan was also under the covers, Anakin pressed himself against him, somehow already having untangled his limbs from his blankets so he could stick his cold feet and hands beneath Obi-Wan’s war robes. Obi-Wan hissed at the cold contact and shot Anakin a look.

“You are a menace,” he told the boy seriously, but Anakin only giggled, seeing through his ruse.

“Nuhu, I’m cold,” he replied and promptly moved his hands just below Obi-Wan’s ribs where Anakin knew he was ticklish.

Obi-Wan jumped up, all signs of exhaustion were forgotten. Oh, it was on.

“You will regret this!” He declared dramatically and began tickling Anakin, who let out high-pitched shrieks in between his joyful laughs.

“Mercy! Obi-Wan I can’t-” Anakin begged as the rest of his sentence was swallowed by his giggles.

Obi-Wan stopped for a moment and thoughtfully crossed his arms, giving Anakin a minute to recuperate. “Oh? On what grounds!”

“Uuh,” Anakin pouted. “It’s late?” He suggested “And we should sleep. And I won’t make you cold again.”

“That’s a lie,” Obi-Wan pointed out, already knowing that Anakin would stick his freezing hands beneath his shirt.

Anakin shrugged easily and grinned at Obi-Wan. “Yeah.”

Well, at least his Padawan was honest enough to admit to it.

“Alright, let’s sleep then,” Obi-Wan said and laid down again next to Anakin. He pulled the many blankets over them both and wiggled underneath them until he was comfortable. The bed really was a little small for them both, but there was no helping it. Perhaps they should just sleep in Obi-Wan’s the next time.

“Night, Obi-Wan,” Anakin muttered and yawned.

“Good night, Anakin.”

He tugged Anakin’s head under his chin and sooner than he could count, they were asleep.

#star wars #Anakin Skywalker #obi wan kenobi #fanfic #everything is SOFT #and WHOLESOME #flufftober

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