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cursedcola · 3 months ago

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Prompt: Couples will evidently begin to mimic their better half after some time. What traits do you steal from him, and vice versa? Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Characters: Everyone - because I want to and I’m amidst fleshing out all my Yuu/Character dynamics + designs Format: Headcannons. Masterlist: LinkedUP Parts: Heartslabyul | Savanaclaw (Here) | Octavinelle | Scarabia | Pomefiore | Ignihyde | Diasomnia A/N: Putting all my brain rot from my notes into something cohesive. Contrary to my love for ripping your hearts out, I've come with some fluff this time around. BTW you may or may not already do things mentioned - I write my works with a specific Yuu in mind for each character so this is based on them. Just a reminder.

Habits You Steal

Sleep like the Dead (Inherited): Nothing wakes you anymore. Leona is as "selfish" as they come, and has no regard for your schedule. He doesn't feel remorse for soaking up your time in the slightest. Why should he? Other people do it for 90% of the day. Take a load off, the bags under your eyes are unsightly. If he doesn't want to wake up in the morning? You ain't either. It's a done deal. If the building isn't up in flames then don't bother asking. Evidently, prolonged and frequent daytime siestas take their toll on your circadian rhythm. You now need just as - if not more - sleep than Leona. Napping out in public and at the rowdy Savanaclaw Dorm bestowed upon you a disturbance immunity. Ramshackle could be in the middle of a raid and you wouldn't move. Not unless something singed your skin or really did some damage. It's become an actual problem. Crewel is considering a sleep study.

"Oi, herbivore...stop squirming so much. You almost crushed my tail. Hah? Class? You don't need it. Just borrow notes from one of those little friends or make the cat go....fine. Gimmie your homework later. I can teach you a thing or two. That is, if you can handle it." <- Grim can't be trusted on his own? Not Leona's problem. You're half of a student. Half. Not full. Half. There's your loophole now go back to sleep. Yap any more and he'll roll on top of you. Good luck talking with a mouth full of hair.

Perfume (Developed): This comes about in an awkward manner. Beastmen have keen smell. It's a given. Bada bing, bada boom, Leona knows your scent. He could point out the Ramshackle Prefect from a half-mile radius. Now he's never said your scent is unpleasant. Quite the contrary, although the lion would never admit it. The issue here is that your scent acts as a calling card, and Leona is clingy. So you ask Vil for the most popular perfume, potion, cologne - whatever - and start wearing it to mask your scent. At least enough so Leona's de-buffed to a one-fourth mile radius. It doesn't work entirely. No perfume is that strong. It's also an active assault on Leona's nose...but it had to be done. Side note - this was his plan all along. He isn't keen on non-human folk sniffing you out easily. Beastmen, most Mermen, and even select Fae have keen noses. Not that his own scent isn't a deterrent, but some masking perfume is worth the occasional nose-shank if it keeps snickering busybodies off your tail when he isn't around.

"Here. Take this and throw out whatever crap it is you've got on. You want me to say it flat? You reek." <- Take the scent masking balm he's giving and don't shop retail ever again. His nose hairs are literally burning off. The balm costs more than your entire dorm to make, but Leona won't ever admit it. You have an ultimatum. It's either this, or wearing one of his old vests around Savanaclaw. Now unless you want to be twinning with him and Ruggie, do the man a favor and comply.

Hair Ties (Developed): Bless his genetics for that wonderful, silky mane - but he needs to tame it. With how smothering Leona can be, you end up with a mouthful of hair at least twice a day. Man is tall, and he loves using his prefect as a leaning post. Which is cute but he sheds. So your arm is perpetually wrapped with hair-ties 24/7 like a cased sausage, because every time you give him one it disappears. It's on purpose, of course. He also snaps them whenever you aren't paying attention. Spiteful bas-

Biting (Inherited): Biting is a common display of affection in beastfolk culture. Not that Leona ever bothered to tell you this. His little nips (in no small amount) were usually passed off as punishments for being annoying. A lie, naturally. One could say it’s the human equivalent of cute aggression? Yet it has more meaning since it’s reserved for close connections such as family and lover. Although drawing blood or leaving a mark behind is reserved for the latter. You had to learn all this from a textbook, of course. No one in Savanaclaw was going to butt into Leona’s affairs, and Ruggie found your ignorance a funny game to taunt his Housewarden with. You were on your own, on a quest to save your skin. Literally.

Regardless, it’s Leona’s way of affection. Bonus points since he can do it without you knowing why. It’s only natural that you return the favor, playing along whenever he has to hold composure. Acting as if you don’t know and relishing in his micro- reactions. It’s only a matter of time before he figures you out, but it’s so nice to have the upper hand for once.

"That's for showin' up late. Don't like it? Not my problem...yawn if is' so bad, just take my bandanna...Why do you care if it's got Savana colors? Ya spend enough time 'round here, no one's gonna say anything." <- If it really bothered you, he'd stop. King of consent and of reading body language. Otherwise it's a go-go. Also if someone did have a problem with you sporting Savanaclaw colors? He doesn't need to kick their ass. Beastfolk got better hearing than most, and if one of his overhears you getting shit for wearing their dorm's colors then the classic night raven pride will pop out.

Habits He Steals:

Vegetables (Inherited): Leona sticks to meat, cheese, bread, and more meat. Bring on the steak. Bring on the beef. Bring on the deluxe cutlet sandwiches. Savanaclaw's kitchen is the most costly of all the dorms purely for how much Beastmen eat. If Ruggie can guzzle down seven plates in a sitting yet still look like a stick? Imagine a Lion's appetite. No one knows how you managed to get this guy to eat a salad like a true herbivore, but it's a cold day in the Savanaclaw dormitory when Leona's facing down a spinach side-salad on top of his lunch. Meanwhile you're happily munching away at the table, picking random veggies off your own plate to put on his. Each instance accompanied by an agitated twitch of his tale, but the lion's eerily silent. Dire Crowley is right. The Ramshackle Prefect is a Beast Tamer indeed...

"Now I know you didn't just pick at my plate, herbivore. Your luck's running thin...Oi. That's enough. I'll sooner eat one of your limbs than another turnip" <- he, in fact, did eat the turnip. The threat scared his underclassmen so much, that seeing you come around still in one piece the next day earned you a warrior's respect.

Correspondence (Developed): Leona's used to getting a sea of letters from ministers, attendants, and a particular little menace back at the palace. Unless it was an urgent message - he'd let the letters go unchecked after skimming them. Replying always took too much effort, and he'd rather not encourage unexpected visits like during the annual Magiift tournament. That is until you start receiving them as well. Nowhere near the amount Leona deals with - but he'd rather die than have his family telling you things without the ability to intercept. Falena blackmails him into responding to Cheka's letters, or else the little furball is going to use you as a penpal for writing practice. Side Note 2.0 - regardless of Leona's 'cooperative' ways, you still write to the mini lion in 'secret'. He knows but gave up caring.

"Another one? Just toss the damn thing. No - hmph. Give me that. I'll respond, just don't start up the lecture." <- You always manage to find the letters Cheka sends over before Leona can get to them. It clicks that you're a middle-man once they start showing up at Ramshackle instead of his dorm. Leona can't wait too long to respond, otherwise you'll start harping him over how cute the kid's handwriting is or whatever picture he drew. He lets you keep them. Cheka's got his own exhibit on the Ramshackle fridge.

Accommodating (Developed): Leona’s not necessarily a ‘verbal’ communicator, despite his smart mouth that always manages to get the last word. He will not openly lend his aid without a bit of pressing before hand - his pride would never allow it. Take the three days you and Grim stayed in his dorm as an example. Inevitably you earned the right to crash in his room, but there was a roundabout to get there. Mainly for show, since in Savanaclaw things are earned not given. You also weren’t close back then. He wouldn’t go easy on anyone, even if they’re from a different dorm or stranded homeless by some octopunks.

The tides change for you, and only for you. His morals are held high, and his ability to treat a partner well is no exception. There is no glory in being above your supposed equal. Everything is shared. This means Leona’s room is now your room, just as Ramshackle is now partly his. He’s clearing some of his closet out, filling it with your stuff, and doing the same back at your place. Doesn’t even ask and doesn’t give a damn that there are dozens of open rooms. It’s the principle. Sharing a space is letting someone see your most vulnerable being. Not that he’d think you could ever do any significant damage (lies) - but considering he doesn’t want anyone within a five foot radius during his leisure time, Leona giving you open access speaks volumes.

"Hah? So what? It's not like I'm forcin' them into it. Got a problem with how I act? Enlighten me." == Talk about nonchalont. Leona is well aware of the imprint he's left on you. He sees it in the way you talk. The way you think. Not just in the chess matches he makes you sit through over and over. Round after round until you can put him into check. You're confident. You're demanding. You're ripe potential that he got to first before anyone else. You chose him, and no amount of backtalk on your end outshines that you like him enough to mimic his ways. The Ramshackle Prefect’s presence isn't something people can overlook anymore, and Leona is damn proud that he's left a mark.

Habits You Steal:

Extreme Couponing/Haggling (Inherited): If you do not think Ruggie spends his Sunday mornings going through sales ads? You are sorely mistaken. This man is an absolute menace when it comes to hitting the market and squeezing a shop-keep for everything they are worth. Sam fears no creature in all of Twisted Wonderland aside from this particular hyena. Screw fighting blot - grab some popcorn and kick back to observe the game of verbal chess those two engage in every week. It's more entertaining than any battle or show. You will become Ruggie's apprentice. Ain't no partner of his going through life without the ability to haggle. Sam stands no chance.

“Ya get this week’s ad? Good. C’mon over and we’ll get the clippings going. I think I saw somethin’ about a buy-one get-two on those candies ya like. Maybe if your nice enough, I’ll shmooze Sam for a bonus!” <- Ruggie honestly enjoys having a coupon buddy. He makes a show about how you take too long, and that if you don’t wake up early then he won’t stick around! Can’t miss the sale, so he isn’t lying there. Except he does grab what you need on the off chance you do miss the meetup. Side note - he doesn’t just take an apprentice without ulterior motives. This is all in preparation for you to handle the slum markets. If you can’t fight off a few broke students, then you won’t last a day back home.

"Shishishishi" (Inherited): There is no escaping it. For the countless times you've poked fun at his little wheezy laugh - imagine the utter mortification when it came not from him! No no. From you. It's unconscious and in the moment you don't recognize anything wrong. You were only laughing over a won victory against Sam. That new lamp you wanted for your work-desk finally within reach, and 70% off no less! Said conman looks at you with eyes blown wide, because great seven there are two of them now. It takes a moment for self-awareness to hit, but you're too late. Two fuzzy-satellites atop a mop of shaggy blonde curls perk up, and your laugh from before echoes from the original culprit's mouth.

“I heard that! You’re doin’ it wrong. Gotta put more air, Shishishi~” <- Ruggie’s a taunting little turd on a good day. Be prepared. You won’t be living this down. Karma’s a bitch, ain’t it? Next thing is to train ya in the art of sticky fingers - no? Ugh. Fine. Ya Goodie-Goodie.

Hands Up! (Inherited): Ruggie has a very unique way of standing. Hands behind his head, laced together to support his neck. One hip normally supports most of his weight, and he's always in a deep-slouch. Bro doesn’t need to cast ‘Laugh With Me’ for his movements to be mirrored, because you’re already following along without realizing. Leona finds the mimicry unsettling. Take that freaky shit out of his line of sight.

Habits He Steals:

Sharing Food (Developed): This is the inner hyena coming out. Just like in the slums, it's demanded to share amongst your own. He might be a sleaze to other people, but not to you. This also backfires into Ruggie thinking that what's yours is his as well - but that's not the point. He'll plop down next to you at dinner and wordlessly offer up half of his meal. You need more meat on those bones, he'll say if protested. In turn he'll then take half of your dessert. It's a sign of trust, instinctively believing that whatever's on your plate is safe to eat. Yet also shows that he's taken you as one of his - and that's a privilege no one at NRC has. No strings attached because everything you both have is shared. On a side note, you'll never be-rid of Ruggie once this comes to pass.

Shared Wardrobe (Developed): Again with the collective treasure hoard, but with a twist. Ruggie can essentially squeeze into most clothing or modify them to his needs. If it works, then it works. So he'll happily offer up any modified dregs he has for your usage, and in turn he will claim whatever clothes you aren't overly attached to. There is also the matter of scent, of course. Ruggie is the type of person to cut up one of your old pajama shirts and fashion arm-bands, making sure to have one knotted around his bicep at all times. You in turn are welcome to swipe his bandanna at your leisure in place of that tacky uniform tie.

“Hey…you seen my blaz - hah? Uh, nevermind. I’ll go grab somethin’ else. Where’d ya leave the heavier coat Gran sent over. Forget it, I’ll just go check myself” <- The first time you snag one of his oversized blazers or hoodies gets him. It gets him bad. Sharing with Leona was one thing but, c'mon. Warn a guy would ya? You're so lucky he's an opportunist on quick feet, so of course he’ll take the chance to steal something you wear often. Ruggie’s great at brushing off any taunts or quips. Being Leona’s right hand gets him stable back at Savanclaw, but that doesn’t take away years of being the underdog. Whether the other beastfolk stare at him openly brandishing your clothes means little, if anything, he enjoys it. Cause once again the underdog’s got a top prize.

Caffeine Addiction (Inherited): Ruggie spends more time and effort running around than most. His *hobby* is doing part-time work. Those overpriced sugar-loaded drinks never appealed to him because why waste money when powering through is just as effective? Or chugging some ice water? Yet you seemingly always have some sort of caffeine to make it through the hell NRC dishes out, and Ruggie being a mooch is always there to steal at least 1/3 of it. Now he’s trained and gets extremely sluggish around mid-day without a dose. It’s your fault if he falls off his broom during spelldrive practice.

"Wha'cha trying to say with that tone, huh? Think I'm not good enough? 's that it? There're way worse chumps to take after. Way I see it? They're learnin' how to make it in this world, sha ha ah! So thanks!...eh, why're you still here? Shoo already." == Considering rumors never have anything good to say about Ruggie's attitude, he's not dumb enough to take the little 'compliment' as genuine. More like as a backhanded sight towards your relationship. Rugs could care less about what those nobodies have to say. Not like they've got anything he's after, just some busybodies that scurry off with their tail between their legs when things get rough. Even if you catch word of it, Ruggie ain't going to get pissy because they're right. Everything they're saying is right, he is rubbing off on you. He is actively trying to. Life isn't a peach and it's not like he's strong enough to protect you from the hardships. It'll be a big laugh if you pull that righteous crap and try to defend his honor, though. Someone better get it on camera.

Habits You Steal:

Paternal Disappointment (Inherited): There was a time, a simpler time, a Jack-less time...when you were a fool. No. You are one to this day, but it is better tamed under Jack's strict aura of perpetual disappointment. Once on the side of being scolded with Ace and Deuce, you are now the one doing the scolding. You are not fun anymore. There is a stick shoved so far up your ass, and it's now part of your internal organ system. Ace dubs you a traitor, as does Grim. You've gone to the dark side in exchange for the morally sound wolfboy to offer cuddles and the occasional snack. I'm sorry to tell you this dear prefect but you've become....*gasp* the (mom/dad) friend.

“Boring? Who said you were boring?…don’t listen to those jerks. You’ve always had a good head on your shoulders. They’re just upset that they can’t get away with murder anymore - Uh, not t-that I was jealous or anything! Don't get the wrong idea! . Hmph.” <- Jack doesn’t take offense when others call him names, but he doesn’t like when you’re brought into it. At all. Especially because he used to be jealous how you, Ace, Grim and Deuce were more tight-knit than with any of the other first years. Like a pack. That behavior is childish, and Jack hates that he used to think that way. As if your attention was something he had to fight over. It's not like he wanted the same bond you shared with those three either, that's friendship and he wanted more. By being with you, Jack knew that it was going to put him on a different tier than the others. That's just what happens. Part of him feels guilty that you might be losing face because of him. His reputation isn’t bad, but he does have a resting angry face. Reassure him in turn and Jack will be over the moon. Any happier and his wagging tail can become a makeshift duster for the dorm (Were he on earth, he’d definitely get the nickname ‘tails’. After the sonic character, just to clarify)

Meal Prep (Inherited): This is actually an amazing influence and is wonderful for someone on a tight-schedule. You're not going to be eating high-protein meals every night, neither wasting away in an attempt to chug down pre-workout shakes. That's on Jack and Jack alone. Helping him prep meals is a nice touch and a pleasant evening spent together once a week. You don't become strict with it, but Jack does convince you to at least prepare some of your favorite dishes as snacks/emergency meals. He also constantly shoves energy water and vitamins in your bag. No more cup-noodle or scrap sandwiches on those nights you don't reach the mess hall on time. Now you have balanced meals, and get to flaunt matching containers with your boyfriend. Very cute. Everyone hates both of you.

"Uh...are all those stickers really necessary? I know we agreed on matching boxes but this is a bit...No! I'm not embarrassed! Gah, just keep it to a minimum. Nothing that falls off or sparkles." <- He is flustered beyond compare after every track meet. At first he barely bat an eye, thinking nothing of the orange bento box with chibi-cactus stickers and his name written in bold bubble lettering on top. You decorated it just for him, and if it meant you would carry around a spare meal then that's even more incentive. Yet the smell of fresh food attracts jocks after a meet like nothing else, and the teasing was relentless. It isn't enough to stop him from enjoying his meal, though.

Lint Roller (Developed): Leona sheds, but Jack? He is like owning six full-grown huskies. He apologizes profusely for the shedding, especially since the NRC uniforms are black. You run through lint rollers like Deuce runs through eggs. It isn't Jack's fault, but man. Ramshackle collects both dust and fur bunnies these days.

Habits He Steals:

Piggy-Back(Developed):Jack carries you everywhere. He's normally very patient but when there's a place to be? Well, he wants to get there on time. Jack has a strict bedtime at 10:00pm sharp and so his free hours are scarce. Do you want enough time to enjoy the lakeside as planned? If so, hop on his back so no time is wasted. Jack also pressures you to join him for morning and evening jogs. He refuses to give up his diligence, but also is acutely aware that there is little spare time he can afford you during the week. Either you have to keep up with him, or you're getting used as a makeshift weight and being hauled across campus. Relationships need quality time to grow and this is the perfect excuse to hog your attention for two hours every day. Not that he'd admit it, but the swish of his tail while you chat is enough to tell Jack's enjoying his runs much more than before.

"Are you comfortable? Just let me know if I'm going too quick. I'll try not to jostle you around too much...if you're tired then take a nap. I'll wake you when we're back home." <- He'd prefer if you didn't sleep. It messes with your circadian rhythm, but the whole point of this is to help you relax. Just knowing you're with him is enough to make Jack happy. Rain or shine, no excuses. If it's cold he'll let you use his hair to block out the chill, although he'd never let you out in anything less than the proper gear. Even if he joins Deuce or Vil on occasion - you're his favorite running partner.

Safety (Developed): Jack asks you to text him twice a day. Once in-between class, even though you’ll be spending lunch together, and once before bed at 9:30pm. The morning isn’t needed since he’s your alarm clock. He understands that as a prefect, you don’t have a curfew like the majority of students. Yet he is communicative with concerns about you being outside of Ramshackle late after dark. Even when you were just friends, hearing the story of when A-Deuce hauled you to that abandoned mine in the middle of the night? The blot monster and how close it came to you guys not making it? Magic or not, that would worry anyone with common sense. It doesn’t help that Ramshackle has no security beyond its resident ghosts.

"- and you just went with them? Because the headmaster told you to? Are you insane!?...No. You're right. What's done is done. Just...call me if something like that ever happens again." <- Thank the seven Jack's hair is already white.

Jack never thought he’d care this much about anyone. When your partner is a walking heart-attack, in the best way possible mind you, one just wants some piece of mind.

Covering Ears (Inherited): It's a natural response to cover your ears when frightened. Like when watching a scary movie and you don't want to hear what comes next. Jack covers his ears because they're sensitive, and loud noises can cause a migraine quicker than anything else. Especially when they're sudden. His hearing is more sensitive than most, being a wolf beastman. It's almost on par with Leona's. Yet his first instinct when there is a loud noise is to cover your ears instead of his. Even though you're human, the instinct to protect them takes over. It's also his way of being within arm's reach in case of a threat. You must be scared being in a new place. Jack will never let himself forget that. Nor how brave you are for continuing on regardless.

"What a relief...huh? Nah, I didn't say anything. Isn't there a test coming up in Alchemy next week? Want to hit the books together?" == The type to divert the topic as quick as possible, on the chance that he lets too much slip. Needless to say that Jack is relieved to hear that you're mimicking him on an unconscious level. It means that you trust him. That you respect him and see him as an equal. It's the biggest compliment Jack can ever ask for. If people are automatically associating you together, then it means he's done his job. You're part of his pack - and outsiders can recognize it at first glance. He'll do a good job at hiding how happy it made him, but expect that tail to wag at torpedo speed the next time he sees you.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst x reader #twst imagines #twst scenarios #leona kingscholar #jack howl #ruggie bucchi #leona kingscholar x reader #jack howl x reader #ruggie bucchi x reader #this...took a lot longer than i intended #it was hard to pick without going too in detail with who i view as 'yuu' for each character

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cocklessboy · 1 year ago

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The biggest male privilege I have so far encountered is going to the doctor.

I lived as a woman for 35 years. I have a lifetime of chronic health issues including chronic pain, chronic fatigue, respiratory issues, and neurodivergence (autistic + ADHD). There's so much wrong with my body and brain that I have never dared to make a single list of it to show a doctor because I was so sure I would be sent directly to a psychologist specializing in hypochondria (sorry, "anxiety") without getting a single test done.

And I was right. Anytime I ever tried to bring up even one of my health issues, every doctor's initial reaction was, at best, to look at me with doubt. A raised eyebrow. A seemingly casual, offhand question about whether I'd ever been diagnosed with an anxiety disorder. Even female doctors!

We're not talking about super rare symptoms here either. Joint pain. Chronic joint pain since I was about 19 years old. Back pain. Trouble breathing. Allergy-like reactions to things that aren't typically allergens. Headaches. Brain fog. Severe insomnia. Sensitivity to cold and heat.

There's a lot more going on than that, but those were the things I thought I might be able to at least get some acknowledgement of. Some tests, at least. But 90% of the time I was told to go home, rest, take a few days off work, take some benzos (which they'd throw at me without hesitation), just chill out a bit, you'll be fine. Anxiety can cause all kinds of odd symptoms.

Anyone female-presenting reading this is surely nodding along. Yup, that's just how doctors are.

Except...

I started transitioning about 2.5 years ago. At this point I have a beard, male pattern baldness, a deep voice, and a flat chest. All of my doctors know that I'm trans because I still haven't managed to get all the paperwork legally changed, but when they look at me, even if they knew me as female at first, they see a man.

I knew men didn't face the same hurdles when it came to health care, but I had no idea it was this different.

The last time I saw my GP (a man, fairly young, 30s or so), I mentioned chronic pain, and he was concerned to see that it wasn't represented in my file. Previous doctors hadn't even bothered to write it down. He pushed his next appointment back to spend nearly an hour with me going through my entire body while I described every type of chronic pain I had, how long I'd had it, what causes I was aware of. He asked me if I had any theories as to why I had so much pain and looked at me with concerned expectation, hoping I might have a starting point for him. He immediately drew up referrals for pain specialists (a profession I didn't even know existed till that moment) and physical therapy. He said depending on how it goes, he may need to help me get on some degree of disability assistance from the government, since I obviously shouldn't be trying to work full-time under these circumstances.

Never a glimmer of doubt in his eye. Never did he so much as mention the word "anxiety".

There's also my psychiatrist. He diagnosed me with ADHD last year (meeting me as a man from the start, though he knew I was trans). He never doubted my symptoms or medical history. He also took my pain and sleep issues seriously from the start and has been trying to help me find medications to help both those things while I go through the long process of seeing other specialists. I've had bad reactions to almost everything I've tried, because that's what always happens. Sometimes it seems like I'm allergic to the whole world.

And then, just a few days ago, the most shocking thing happened. I'd been wondering for a while if I might have a mast cell condition like MCAS, having read a lot of informative posts by @thebibliosphere which sounded a little too relatable. Another friend suggested it might explain some of my problems, so I decided to mention it to the psychiatrist, fully prepared to laugh it off. Yeah, a friend thinks I might have it, I'm not convinced though.

His response? That's an interesting theory. It would be difficult to test for especially in this country, but that's no reason not to try treatments and see if they are helpful. He adjusted his medication recommendations immediately based on this suggestion. He's researching an elimination diet to diagnose my food sensitivities.

I casually mentioned MCAS, something routinely dismissed by doctors with female patients, and he instantly took the possibility seriously.

That's it. I've reached peak male privilege. There is nothing else that could happen that could be more insane than that.

I literally keep having to hold myself back from apologizing or hedging or trying to frame my theories as someone else's idea lest I be dismissed as a hypochondriac. I told the doctor I'd like to make a big list of every health issue I have, diagnosed and undiagnosed, every theory I've been given or come up with myself, and every medication I've tried and my reactions to it - something I've never done because I knew for a fact no doctor would take me seriously if they saw such a list all at once. He said it was a good idea and could be very helpful.

Female-presenting people are of course not going to be surprised by any of this, but in my experience, male-presenting people often are. When you've never had a doctor scoff at you, laugh at you, literally say "I won't consider that possibility until you've been cleared by a psychologist" for the most mundane of health problems, it might be hard to imagine just how demoralizing it is. How scary it becomes going to the doctor. How you can internalize the idea that you're just imagining things, making a big deal out of nothing.

Now that I'm visibly a man, all of my doctors are suddenly very concerned about the fact that I've been simply living like this for nearly four decades with no help. And I know how many women will have to go their whole lives never getting that help simply because of sexism in the medical field.

If you know a doctor, show them this story. Even if they are female. Even if they consider themselves leftists and feminists and allies. Ask them to really, truly, deep down, consider whether they really treat their male and female patients the same. Suggest that the next time they hear a valid complaint from a male patient, imagine they were a woman and consider whether you'd take it seriously. The next time they hear a frivolous-sounding complaint from a female patient, imagine they were a man and consider whether it would sound more credible.

It's hard to unlearn these biases. But it simply has to be done. I've lived both sides of this issue. And every doctor insists they treat their male and female patients the same. But some of the doctors astonished that I didn't get better care in the past are the same doctors who dismissed me before.

I'm glad I'm getting the care I need, even if it is several decades late. And I'm angry that it took so long. And I'm furious that most female-presenting people will never have this chance.

#transgender #queer #transmasc #lgbtqia+#trans man #sexism #medical sexism #feminism #male privilege

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drchucktingle · 15 days ago

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a moment to check the gears and cogs

feel like i want to talk a little on the message of a recent post because i think it is an important point. when i say that you do not need to QUALIFY OR DEFEND your love of tinglers or my work in general, i am pointing out an interesting social anomaly that happens with my art and with queer art.

as an autistic buckaroo i notice patterns, and on social media i see them a lot. little phrases that come up again and again with my art. ‘yes THAT chuck tingle’ ‘its ACTUALLY good’ ’my favorite author i have never read’ ‘so bad its good’. these are always added after a POSITIVE comment about me

they also all have something in common. they are trying to distance the posters SINCERE JOY and give them an out socially. it is very very very subtle, but they are all saying ‘yes i like this but here is a sliver of acknowledgment that it is also weird or bad or ironic. in not REALLY fully in'

essentially these are added because it means the poster can escape their very real joy if needed. try applying these phrases to any other popular author. its much more subtle with the first two: ‘i liked all fours by miranda july, yes THAT miranda july. its ACTUALLY good’. what does this imply?

the other examples are a little more blatant but lets try them with other authors anyway. imagine saying ‘youre my favorite author i have never read’ to stephen king. would you EVER say that to someone? what does that imply? how about 'i love your books theyre so bad theyre good'. horrifyingly rude

lets dive into saying 'CHUCK TINGLE is my favorite author i have never read’ sounds unusual when substituting other authors because theyre usually not queer or autistic or making outsider art. to be blunt, why CHUCK gets it all the time is because it really means 'i like chuck tingle but im not gay’

while we have mostly culturally evolved past the idea that saying ‘no homo’ is some kind of joke, that FEELING is still around. it has just burrowed a little deeper. honestly it might never go away, or at least take centuries. remember these people GENUINELY LIKE MY BOOKS but feel they MUST qualify

should also be pointed out that LEFT and LIBERAL people are the ones who say this stuff to chuck. they do not MEAN to harm, and if you ask them directly how they feel about queer or neurodivergent people they would not express the same opinion as their subliminal comments might imply

the final elephant trotting by is while some of this is homophobia and fear of a neurodivergent other, it is also just plain old IRONY POISONING. its conditioning from being raised on an internet where sincerity was ‘cringe' and loving something was a weakness or joke. these problems work in tandem

so whats the point? what can we do? first of all, just recognizing these patterns is a start. i didnt HAVE to write all of this today but i think its important to be aware and to look inward and think about the gears and cogs that churn behind the things we say. NEXT step is trying to push past it

if you have done these things in the past, i want you to know i am NOT AT ALL UPSET. i am not mad or hurt and i do not think any less of you. you can trot by my side any day and you are trying your best to prove love. we are ALL just tryin our best, just consider this a friendly chat between buds

proving love can happen in BIG WAYS and it can happen in SMALL WAYS that we barely see. just take a moment and think ‘WHY am i saying this? WHY am i in this pattern to distance myself from outsider or queer art?’ a little moment of consideration goes a LONG way buckaroos. LOVE IS REAL

#chuck tingle #love is real #buckaroo lifestyle #irony poisoning

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a-b-riddle · 8 months ago

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Part Four

Can't stop thinking about reader losing her cool.

"So we're closed, John." You said, trying to be cordial.

"Is that all you have to fucking say?" He practically growled before huffing. A humorless chuckle rumbling out of his chest. "I suppose not since you won't respond to any of us."

"Don't do that." You said taking a step back. Trying to create some distance between you and him. John would never physically hurt you. That much you knew.

"What?" He asked. His voice rising as he stepped closer to you. "Be angry that you pulled that shit and then left? Stopped talking to us. Changed your fucking locks. Last thing we even knew about you was that you got on a fucking plane and left. Even your friends wouldn't tell us anything besides that you were okay." "Which considering this came out of bloody nowhere, I find it highly unlikely that you are in any way 'okay'."

You took a deep breath. You wouldn't be intimidated. You wouldn't clam up. You wouldn't cry. You won't go back on your decision. You will be cordial and polite and not unleash everything you want to.

"I understand you might be upset, but it's for the best. It wasn't working out and I wanted to end on somewhat good terms. I would appreciate it if you lowered your voice and stopped speaking to me in that way." You could barely recognize your voice. It sounded so scripted. So robotic. But it was something you had been telling yourself. Excuses you had been telling yourself.

Because if you told yourself the truth. The picture you would paint would tell a different story. It wouldn't highlight the fact that John spoke to you like he was one of your men or that Johnny had the emotional capacity of a teaspoon. It wouldn't show what a flake Kyle was or that Simon was well and truly a mean-spirited person.

It would show how you weren't worth it. Four possible men. Four possibilities of happily ever after and none of them chose you. That no one ever did and no one ever would. You weren't worth it. You weren't loveable.

It wasn't right, but it was what the voices had been telling you late in the night. When you would crawl into your cold bed. The silence of the room not filled with John's steady breathing or the sound of Kyle's heartbeat as you laid you head on his chest. The absence of Johnny's occasional snoring or whatever Simon was watching playing in the background of your dreams.

In the void, all your dark thoughts came back at you.

"Upset?" He asked, his voice still louder than you would have liked. "An understatement considering the stunt you pulled."

"You think it was a stunt?"

"So Johnny thought with his dick and didn't plan things out. You should have told him instead of crying to Simon and then pulling this shit." "Christ, I knew you were still young, but I didn't take you for that immature."

"You know what?" "I'm done." "I am so fucking sick of making excuses for you all." "You want to act like I'm the immature one, John?" "You are 35-year-old man who cannot separate his work from his work like. You have continuously talked to and down to me like I am one of your men, only to turn around and always blame your shitty fucking attitude on work. I get that your job is stressful, but I did not sign up to be your verbal fucking punching bag."

"And this come and fucking go incident with Johnny. It has been a consistent issue with him coming over just to fuck. I've asked him for that last six months that 'hey, we've been seeing each other for a year and a half, I would love to meet your family' and suddenly the dates stop. He doesn't ask to see me until after 7 PM. He brings food occasionally, fucks me and leaves. Sometimes before I even wake up."

"And the only reason Kyle is the person I am the least pissed off with is because I haven't even seen him." You took a step closer, not noticing how the anger in John's eyes had softened. "I have not seen Kyle in weeks, to no fault of my own. I stopped reaching out to make dinner plans after the third time he canceled on a date night when I was either on my way or already at the restaurant."

"And Simon?" You scoffed. "Well, it doesn't really matter. After all, as he said I get mine. You all make me cum which is supposed to magically erase how shitty you've all been as partners. It's supposed to erase the nights I've cried myself to sleep debating on whether or not there was something wrong with me. How I'm not good enough to meet anyone else in your lives like some dirty fucking secret. How none of you can even bother to pencil me for a group dinner so I can tell you a publishing house picked up my book. How at some point you all stopped caring or maybe never did."

You took a breath. Blinking quickly to keep the tears at bay.

You wouldn't cry. You wouldn't cry.

"As Simon said it best, I should have known that spreading my legs wouldn’t end with one of you putting a ring on your finger.”

For once, John was silent. Unsure of what to say. An apology starting to form at the tip of his tongue before realizing 'sorry' wouldn't cut it. Not this time.

Had he really been that sharp with you? He knew that there were times he had gotten short, but he almost always apologized immediately after. If not at the very moment he took in your crest-fallen face, then definitely later. But he almost always told you he was sorry. Didn't he?

"So as I said," you swallowed down the lump in your throat. "I'm closed. We're done. Now get out." Your face held no sadness. Even though your eyes were nearly full to the brim with unshed tears, you weren't sad.

You were finally angry.

#captain john price #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #call of duty #john soap mactavish #angst #angst with a happy ending

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3verythingiknowaboutlove · 1 month ago

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first fall of snow

how spencer guesses you're pregnant before you actually tell him

fluff word count: 1390 warnings & tags & stuff: pregnant reader, slight issues with mother mentioned?, non-graphic vomiting, mentions/allusions to winter holidays being celebrated, kinda spencer's pov but still 2nd pov, reader is scared spencer will leave her lol, anxious!reader in general, mentions of death?, probably medical inaccuracies ive never been pregnant author's note: hiiii i'm forcing myself to post this because if i don't then i'll never post and i'm being BRAVE. i hope it can be a little comforting maybe. i've realllyyyy been struggling with my take on spencer's characterization lately soo this was kinda like a bootcamp/exercise situation into his mind and less an expression of my writing skills, iykwim. let me know your thoughts if u have any! i love you & have a splendid day!!

Spencer is walking—speed walking—toward his car, away from the case he just finished, away from serial killers and guns and geographical profiling and death.

He places his feet carefully on the snow-covered sidewalk with each step, the cold air biting at his face. He barely notices it, absorbed in the path ahead, as the snow provides a satisfying crunch underfoot—a nice background to his perpetually racing mind.

He doesn’t like the winter. It’s always too harsh outdoors, and too stuffy indoors, and he’s trapped in a suffocating haze no matter where he goes.

His phone starts to vibrate gently in his pocket, interrupting his racing thoughts for a split second. His pace falters as he pulls it free, a quick smile tugging at the corner of his lips when he sees it’s your name on the screen.

“Hi. How are you?” he asks after picking up, watching his breath come out in puffs of vapor in the cold air.

Winters, however, have gotten progressively better each year he spends with you.

“...I’m okay,” you say, though the crack in your voice reveals the all-consuming ache in your bones and mind.

“No. You’re overwhelmed,” he guesses in his matter-of-fact way, voice gentle. You huff out a soft laugh at his ability to read you, never getting old.

“Yeah, I guess. A little. The holiday season, you know. Are you on your way home?” you ask, voice softer now. You’re sitting on the couch of yours and Spencer’s cozy apartment, wrestling with a blanket to cover your lap, and bouncing your leg relentlessly.

“I’m walking to the car now. Hey, have you done the crossword today?” Spencer asks, words a familiar, tender remedy for your nerves. You told him a long time ago that hearing his voice makes you feel better, and there are times, like these, where he just knows it’s what you need. You rest our head on the arm of the couch, curling up.

“No, I didn’t have the time. Why?”

“There was an interesting question about causes of death in Shakespeare plays, but they completely messed up the part of speech. It read, ‘Popular ways to die by the hands of England’s national poet’. I thought it was ‘poisons’ at first, but it was actually ‘stabbed’, even though the correct answer grammatically should’ve been ‘stabs’ or ‘stabbings’,” he says, his car now in sight through the steady sprinkle of snow coming down. “Do you think I should send an email to let them know? I guess stabbing does make more sense, though, versus poison, because throughout his works, thirty characters out of his 74 that died were stabbed compared to only four that were poisoned. Three were stabbed and poisoned. Did you know that two were actually baked into pies, which is a-”

“Oh my god, the pie,” you groan, cutting him off mid-sentence, sitting up hastily, the blanket falling to the floor.

“Pie?”

“Yeah. My mom coerced me into making it to bring tomorrow.” You pad over to the kitchen and crouch down to peek through the hazy glass of the oven, inspecting it. “Oh,” you murmur. “It’s…not pretty.”

He sandwiches the phone in between his ear and shoulder, gently opening the door to his car to sit down as he listens to you. He turns the heat on, exhaling in an exhausted relief, hovering his hand over where the air comes out.

“Can you tell me what it looks like? Maybe I can help,” he suggests, leaning back against the headrest and letting his eyes close for a second. You put the phone on speaker, setting it on the counter as you bend down to take it out. “Don’t burn yourself,” he adds, hearing what you’re doing.

“I’m not going to burn my-” you cut yourself off with a huff. “Whatever. It’s just really messy. There’s like… liquid overflowing where the lattice should be.”

He hums. “How long has it been cooking for?”

“45 minutes. My mom sent me this one ancient recipe that I had to use written on parchment paper from like 70 years ago, and it does not have a bake time listed, so I’m just eyeballing it.”

“Okay. You could either put it back in the oven in hopes that more of the liquid will evaporate, or you can leave it out to cool down and hopefully thicken,” he says.

“What do you think I should do?”

“I think you sound exhausted and need your sleep.”

You sigh, staring at your mess of a pie, hopes that you’ll appease your mother this year slipping further and further away, soon to be completely buried by the snow.

“Hey. I’m sure it’ll taste really good. Besides, people still liked Shakespeare, and he wrote about much worse pies than you could ever make.”

A smile pulls at your lips.

“Yeah. Okay. I’ll just leave it out to cool and head to bed. Will you stay on the phone a little longer?” you ask, padding over to your shared bedroom.

“Of course.”

He doesn’t start driving as you talk, not when nearly 2000 people die per year due to driving on icy roads, and two thirds of them were people who were reported to not be paying close enough attention.

And especially not when 54 hours ago on your last phone call, he noticed a drastic shift in your behavior, and was quickly able to tell that you were pregnant.

He had too much waiting for him at home to be spinning out on black ice because he was talking to you and not watching the road.

He chooses instead to look outside at the falling snow, blanketing the city, his city, the very first for D.C. to have this winter out of the septillion snowflakes planet earth receives each year.

…

Spencer gets home a little later that night, holding another pint of cherries in his hands. Not for the pie—which he turns to see resting on the stove and winces slightly at—but for you.

Cherries, with their 342 mg of potassium per cup, help replenish lost electrolytes and can soothe nausea.

He’s expecting it to start any day now.

He quietly steps into the bedroom, setting his bag by the door to be dealt with tomorrow. The soft glow of the lamp that was left on, presumably for him by your endlessly considerate heart, provides just enough light so he can get changed. He then finally clambers into bed next to you, one hand reaching out to lace in your hair, moving his fingers to gently scratch by the nape of your neck. He lifts the other to rest, like you're made of a delicate china, on your lower stomach, sighing in pure relief the second it makes contact.

You turn sleepily, humming when you’re met with the sight of him. “Spence,” you murmur, contented.

“Hi. I really didn’t mean to wake you up. I’m sorry,” he says, so quietly.

“I'm glad you did. I like it when you wake me.” You tuck yourself closer to him. “I love you.” His hand comes to trace gentle patterns all over your back and arm, and he gives you a little kiss, adoringly.

“Go back to sleep. I love you.”

You let your eyes shut once again, this time much easier now that he’s with you. You inhale his scent, which you swear could repair anything broken or lost in this world. You exhale, wondering if he’d still hold you the same way after learning that you’re carrying his child.

It’s a scary thought, but you’re comforted by his warm touch, pushing you farther out into the deep sea of sleep.

Once your breaths get steady and your mouth parts slightly, he adds, in a whisper, “Both.”

…

The next morning, when you’re hunched over the toilet bowl, Spencer is there with you, rubbing your back and wiping your teary eyes. You look up to him after brushing your teeth, and no words are exchanged. He tugs you into his arms, silently quelling any of the countless anxieties swarming your mind, at least in this moment.

His hand comes up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. He lets it rest there, cupping your jaw.

“Let’s go shopping after breakfast today, okay? You need prenatal vitamins.” He presses a soft kiss to your forehead.

“And a new pie.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #fanfic #piper’s works

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itsrlymine · 2 months ago

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Manifesting and Why Feelings Don’t Matter. They Never Did.

Some of you care way too much about your feelings for me and honestly…. It’s annoying. Feelings got y’all in a chokehold yet they have nothing to do with you getting your desires. Your feelings didn’t stop your sp from coming back and treating how you wanted them to. Your feelings didn’t change the fact that you got the house/apartment you have always wanted. Your feelings didn’t change the fact that you still reconciled with an old friend from years ago who barely even remembers the disagreement. Whether positive or not, it’s all about the meaning you give them.

“I want to manifest sp back but I don’t feel like—.“

“I want to make money without working but I feel guilty and—.“

“I know I can manifest whatever I want but what if I feel uncomfort—.“

SHUT UP AND JUST KNOW YOU HAVE WHAT YOU WANT. KNOW IT NOW

No matter how you "feel", you are still the creator of your experience.

If you are feeling nervous about getting a certain desire, who cares? It’s yours anyways.

If you are feeling scared about something not happening, who cares? You got it and it happened anyways.

If you are feeling like you don’t know how to manifest and create your reality, who cares? You are still creating even if it’s something you don’t want. Just change your perspective.

Your feelings aren’t your enemies but they are also not your God. At all. You are and you can dictate whether or not the “feelings” you have matter. They don’t but you can also use them to your advantage. I’ve been angry about tons of things before and instead of focusing that anger on the situation at hand, I focused it towards what I wanted to happen instead.

“F*ck this! I’m literally getting what I want. I have that sh*it right now what am I even talking about “getting” for???? That sh*t is in my freakin face!!”

If you want to feel anything, feel peace. When I say feel, I don’t mean create or conjure up an emotion within yourself. By feeling, just still your thoughts and mind. There you will find peace— your true essence. Be comfortable there whether it’s for two seconds or two hours. From that peace is where all creation springs. Remind yourself of who you are and know it will never change. You are still in control.

What you say goes, not what you feel. You can experience all the human emotions —energies in motion— you want or don’t want but at the end of the day none of that matters. Why? Because you create. You choose. Not your feelings. Not your emotions. Even physical sensations don’t hold any power until you give them power. I’ve healed myself a number of times from different pains whether it was cramps, headaches, stomachaches or toothaches and even healing my second ACL faster than the first by thinking as the person who doesn’t feel pain anymore/is healed. It is truly easier said than done because it’s done and easy asf to say. Be so serious. Divorce your feelings, take your ring back and decide who you are in spite of them!

And don’t let me get started on y’all that let the 3d make you feel a certain way. You are allowing that the 3d to dictate how you feel and keeping yourself in a perpetual cycle you don’t want to be in. Stop it. Get help. Help yourself.

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caramelkoo · 3 months ago

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be still my heart — jjk [one]

the one in which you get a sex dream about the grouchy hockey player you work for.

genre : childhood best friends to frenemies to lovers, physical therapist!reader x hockey player!jungkook, slow burn, smut, fluff, angst

word count : 5.2k

chapter warnings : strong language, mature, slight smut (because im a tease), reader’s name is Destiny, jungkook is a bit grumpy towards her (she makes him nervous leave my boy alone), fat shaming (not by any of the main characters), oc had daddy issues, mentions of allergy. that’s about it, please let me know if i missed something.

a/n : here it isssssss drumrolls please because im so excited for this. jungkook as a hockey player??? *deep breaths* enjoy my lovely people. you’re so so loved. asks, reblogs and likes are much appreciated. kisses <3

read part two here

˚୨୧⋆｡˚

“Babe, you know you're not going to win right? Don't be wasting your breath.” Bella challenges.

You’re sitting on the chair in your office going through the personnel file of the players. Verifying their names with their contact numbers and photographs which, you’re not going to lie, look like mugshots. Jeez, does smiling a little bit cost them? Anyways, once you’re done you close the file and look up at your assistant bickering with her boyfriend. Phone pressed against her ear.

You mime hanging up the call and she lifts her index finger, indicating for you to wait. She throws in words like hmmm, yeah, you don’t know what you’re saying, yeah i love you too. Once she’s done, she drops the phone on the glass table in front of you and leans back in her chair.

“He thinks I will let him get away with anything just because I love him”

You chuckle, “What’s going on?”

“You know, I’ve been wanting a cat for so long I even made a pinterest board for that. Last Sunday he surprised me with one and when I told him that I lowkey manifested it, he was not having it. I even showed him the mood board and I NEVER show it to anyone. Evil eye is real.” she all but cries out.

That’s Bella for you. Highly spiritual and a firm believer of the universe. She claims that everything happens for a reason. She’s like a little ball of sunshine. Ever since you joined the Ice Dominators’ hockey team as a physical therapist, she’s been assisting you and you couldn’t be more thankful seeing the lack of female workers here. Seriously, there's no other female worker here except yourself and Bella which is so diabolical to you.

And it’s not like the men on the hockey team are a bunch of misogynist jerks. On the contrary, they act like they’ve known you for years. It didn't take you long to feel like home here. They are obedient, friendly and pretty nice. Few of them are married with kids while the rest of them remain single. They’re not like a bunch of teenagers, they know what they’re doing.

Except one, what’s his name? Jeon Jungkook. You would describe that man as crude and closed off to a pathological degree. You still remember when you asked him to come to your office so you can look at any possible previous injuries, he lied to your fucking face. Claiming he doesn’t have any when you could clearly see him hobbling sometimes just a tiny bit when he walked away. Years and years of dedication towards your studies have made you capable enough to catch that it is an old injury.

Despite your better judgment, you blamed it on the fact that his team lost the game that day. Poor guy was having a bad day and took it out on you. Big deal.

“Earth to Destiny” Bella waves a hand close to your face and you shake your head as you look at her.

“Leave the poor man alone” You plead and then ask, “Any details about the new player? I’ll have to add it in the file”

“Not yet, as far as I know they’re still contemplating the guy named Park Jimin or something”

That gets you real quick. Park Jimin. The name feels like acid on your tongue .The last game being unsatisfactorily resulted in the federation trading one of the players. It was cruel but was done for the better. Bound to happen sooner or later. You had expected it but what you had not expected was you both sharing a same room, sharing the same air.

“Alright then. We’ll cross that bridge when it’s—”

Knock, knock

“Miss Kim, sorry to interrupt but the manager is asking for you” Taehyung’s head pokes through the door.

You stand, picking up the file and sliding it into the tableside drawer, running a free hand over your scrubs. Bella does the same as she plucks her phone from the table and puts it inside her back pocket.

You look at him. “Sure Tae, thank you for informing”

He flashes you a quick, pretty smile before leaving. Bella turns to you with a worried look on her face.

“What do you think it is for?”

You bite your lip. “I have no idea. I wanna say it's about the new player but who knows?”

You hope it is and as unfortunate as it is for you to discuss him, you will have to hold your own. You know better than to be invited into the manager’s office. Though, judging by the temperament of him you would not predict anything. Last time when he called you, it was about Jeon Jerk, asking you to be more serious about your job as if it was your fault the man spared you the necessary details.

The asshole asked YOU to do your job better by virtue of HIS player not being sweet enough to listen. Maybe, there is indeed a misogynistic asshole going around and it’s the manager. No wonder women don’t volunteer to work for him.

Since, You love your job —god knows you wanna keep doing it— you kept quiet and took every jab he threw at you.

“Wait, Do I have time to pray? Should I pray?” she’s clearly panicking and you pat her on the shoulder.

“Just hope my job is still intact” you say, warily reaching for your purse. You both head out.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚

“Miss Kim, have a seat” James nods at the chair before him.

Once you’re settled, he continues, “I asked for you to join me here regarding the upcoming game. Care to fill in about the status of injury assessment?"

You clear your throat, “Absolutely, I was planning on getting on that today”

“Well, I would love for you to do it soon as you know we have a new player in the team with us now”

You jerk, leaning forward. “We do?”

“Yes, and if you can please hurry with the assessment I would be grateful. You can do that right? Not too much of a work for you, eh?”

Someone give him a medal from the way he's trying to hide the venom in his voice.

“Sure I can” you give him a firm nod.

James Adams is an entitled, self centered asshole who thinks he’s above everyone else just because of his position. You reckon he does anything for the team besides talking bullshit. He kind of reminds you of your dad who also has the nasty habit of thinking the world of himself.

You’re all about self love but when that self love turns into chronically demeaning everybody in their close proximity, it boils your blood. This man in front of you is no better than your father. What's that saying? Out of the frying pan into the fire.

So you say nothing further and excuse yourself. You would have barfed in his face if you stayed there a second longer. Actually that's not a very bad idea. Bella is standing outside waiting for you as you close the door behind yourself.

“What did he say?”

You bark, “Bunch of horseshit”

“Typical”

˚୨୧⋆｡˚

Jungkook

There is a buzzing noise somewhere around Jungkook. Fuck, his head hurts. He frantically searches for his phone, still not opening his eyes. When he finds it, he slides his thumb on the screen and picks up the call.

“Dude, how big do you want your coffin to be?” He loves his best friend but right now he would rather be sleeping than listen to him bark in his own ear.

He finally squints his eyes open, “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Have you looked at the time?” says Taehyung.

“What time- FUCK!!!” he shrieks as he looks at the clock.

Somebody kill him right now. No wait, he’s gonna die either way so why bother. If he didn’t scream loud enough before, he does now. He all but jumps off the bed when he sees the blondie on the other side sleeping like she fucking owns it, wearing nothing but a thong. She must have heard him malfunctioning because soon she stirs, groaning as she slowly wakes up like a Disney princess. Who the heck is she and how did she get in here? Then it comes to him.

“Please Jungkook just take me to your room and fuck me. Show me what those hockey hands are capable of.”

He wants to swallow a fistful of iron nails. Speaking straight from his shoulders, he has made plenty of bad decisions throughout his career and this is not his first time bringing a puck bunny up to his room but it has never come to this. Missing his hockey practice because he was too exhausted to get his sweet ass up and run to the academy.

Taehyung screams from the other side of the line, “Are you there? Hello?”

Shit, he forgot he was on a call.

“I’ll be there soon. Cover for me until then.” With that he presses the red circular button and ends the call with him muttering some curses.

He glances back at the blondie, “Why are you not gone yet?”

She’s looking at him with those fuck me eyes she had last night but right now when he’s well aware of the fact that he’s in hot water, they don’t do shit to him. Coach will have his head on a platter today for sure. Honestly, they wouldn’t have done shit to him if it was not for the great deal of alcohol last night.

“I thought of you as a morning sex person” she twirls a strand of hair with her finger, sitting up now. Her tits hang free and he can see his hickeys decorating her chest.

He wants to laugh. She’s not even close to his type. His type is the woman in blue scrubs with her brunette hair slicked back in a ponytail. His type is the woman who looks like she could be watching grass grow rather than to look at him. His type is the woman who walks into a room and lights it up. His type is the woman who is too bright for him and his mundane personality, who has a face worth millions. His type is Kim Destiny.

“No need to waste your precious time thinking about me. You can go”

He places his phone back on the table and saunters over to the bathroom, not bothering looking back at her. He has boundaries and he intends to keep it that way.

He quickly goes through his routine of taking a shower, making a cup of coffee, sliding into a pair of sweatpants and the Ice Dominator’s jersey with his name on the back. Not in that order, of course.

The girl is thankfully gone by the time he finishes. Once he’s done with his coffee he picks up the car keys and a protein bar from the kitchen counter and heads to the academy hoping his limbs remain intact by the time he’s home.

The Academy is bustling as usual with players keeping themselves busy with hockey and their gym sessions. He heads straight for the rink not even bothering to change into the uniform. He needs to see for himself that everybody is still on the ice. Everything comes after that.

Surprisingly, he sees not a single guy when he reaches there. His heartbeat stops.

“Hey Pixie, where are the boys? Did they already leave?” he asks the brunette kid who looks like he just saw a ghost. Or it’s just Jungkook who he saw.

He shakes his head, “They’re all in the gym. The doc called them earlier, said she had something important to get done with them”

Jungkook gives him a quick thanks and walks towards the gym. What could be so important that she had to call the boys mid practice? Is someone hurt? Is she hurt? His heart leaps in hid throat as he runs. Fuck, please let him be wrong.

The first thing that he sees as he enters the room full of equipment are his teammates. Taehyung and Yoongi are in the corner lifting weights, Namjoon is using the treadmill as he runs on it. The rest of the boys are all scattered around doing their own thing. He still can’t find Destiny anywhere but her assistant, Bella, is talking to Namjoon while holding a file so he lets out a sigh, relieved that nobody is in fact hurt and in need of help.

“Do you wanna get a tattoo on the peni— oh look who’s here. Jeon Jungkook as I live and breathe.”

Taehyung drops the weight on the ground before walking up to him. He’s dressed in a black tee and sports shorts. The man looks good in everything. Bet he’d look in a sack too.

“Whoa!! Why do you look like you wanna kill somebody or wanna get killed? Is everything okay?”

Jungkook lets his face relax, focusing more on the eyebrows which had gone tensed due to his unnecessary anxiety. “Yeah, all’s good. The practice ended early?”

“The practice ended just on time. It’s you who’s late” he pats my shoulder.

He runs his fingers through his hair and walks towards the bench, dropping his bag on it. Taehyung follows him ignoring Yoongi who’s calling him back for the weightlifting.

“Doc wanted to assess our injuries for the last time before our game if you’re curious which, I know you are. You’re always curious about her”

He winks at Jungkook and he punches him on the chest. Taehyung laughs as he rubs the spot.

“Keep your voice down, will you?”

Bella’s voice echoes across the room, “Jeon, you’re up next”

He takes out his water bottle, takes a swig and stands. A wince leaves him as he gets a flashback of the last time he had to face her. It didn’t go very well and he’s sure she hates him now. He would too. After all, he not only talked to her rudely but also lied through his teeth about his injury. It’s pretty old so he had not felt the need to mention it.

He sees a guy coming out of the office just before he’s about to enter. He has brown hair long enough to reach the nape of his neck. Even from where Jungkook’s standing, he can say the man doesn’t reach above his shoulders. Who the fuck is he? Oh wait, he must be the new player that got traded down here. The guy must have sensed him making a hole through his head by the way he’s staring because he’s begins walking towards him with a bright grin.

“Hey man, you must be Jeon Jungkook? Heard a lot about you. I’m Park Jimin” He holds out his hand, asking Jungkook to shake it and he gives it a firm handshake. Word to the wise : never give someone a weak handshake. His grandfather has been asking him to do that ever since he was 15, said it doesn’t leave a strong impression and he’s be lying if he says he was wrong.

He offers Jimin a nod, “Nice to meet you. Excited to get on the rink with you.”

He takes his hand back. “Oh the feeling is mutual but—”

“Jungkook, please join me inside”

Destiny’s voice cuts him off as she looks over to both of them with an eerie expression on her face. Her eyes bounce between them, resting a second longer on Jimin. Does she know him? Do they have a history? Wait, are they a thing? Even if they are, why does it bother him? Jungkook couldn’t care less about the pretty physical therapist who wears her blue scrubs like armor and white crocs with strawberries on them.

He gives Jimin another nod and follows her into the office. Although, he’s not sure if a massage table and a stool resting beside it counts as an office. The room which she works in is much better. This one is just for examinations and massage therapy so he guesses it doesn’t need that much of an upgrade.

She gestures towards the table, “Please sit”

He says nothing and settles himself up, clearing his throat.

“Look I know we got off on the wrong foot last time and it could have gone so much better, but we can still start over right?”

Destiny takes a deep breath, filling her chest with air. She’s wearing her hair in a bun today. It sits at the top of her head and some strands are set loose cascading down her face. God, she’s pretty.

He looks down and back up at her. “Sure”

Her face shows her annoyance with the one word response. He doesn't blame her. He'd be pissed too.

She’s quiet for a moment, “Why don’t you tell me about your knee injury to start with?”

“What are you talking about?”

She sighs, “You know what I’m talking about Jungkook. Please don’t make me work for it. It’s my job to know about your past and present injuries, if any. The manager has already given me crap about it”

He freezes. His hackles rising and his relaxed face long gone.

“What did he say?”

“Nothing”

He levels her with a stern face, “What.did.he.say?”

She’s not obligated to answer him. Hell, she could just slap him in the face and leave but he needs to know what went down with that son of a bitch. When and if she decides to let him in the details and it turns out something wicked, he’s gonna hunt that man down and make his life miserable.

Much to his surprise, she takes a step back and starts talking. "He called me in his office today and," she halts,

"Well let's just say there were some words thrown around which clearly meant he thinks of me as a feather brained bitch"

He might look unbothered from outside but the indignation inside him could just about burn the whole city down. He tries to keep calm and pries some more.

His jaw clenches. "What else?"

Destiny shakes her head, shuffling on her feet. “Jungkook it’s really not that seriou—”

“It is serious. You work for us, you tolerate our asses and in return if we fail to give you the respect which, you deserve by the way cause it’s the bare minimum, we might as well save everyone’s time and money by giving all of this up.”

“Why do you care?” she shakes her head.

He takes a step forward, “Because you— Because you work for us, Destiny. You look out for our bodies, our injuries, our fuckups. Is that not enough?”

She barely reaches his shoulders. It’s cute how she has to crane her neck up in order to look him in the eye. She keeps looking at him for a long minute, searching his face.

“You think I don’t know that? Do you really think I don’t have what it takes to ask for my own dignity?”

He takes a long step back. This conversation was as unforeseen as they come. The room gets filled with heavy silence and he can hear Destiny’s heavy breath. He can tell she’s trying to calm herself as if his words have blindsided her.

Needless to say she’s a tad bit taken aback. Jungkook would be too if someone who never bothered to speak a word to him and when he did, there was nothing pleasant about his tone suddenly started to care.

But that’s where she’s wrong, nothing about his care or concern for her is sudden. He still remembers the day she accidentally drank the almond smoothie Bella brought not knowing the fact that she’s allergic to it. She’d started choking the second it went down her throat. He also remembers how Yoongi injected the epipen against her thigh as she came back to life.

Meanwhile, he stood behind shaking in his goddamn boots. Too scared to let her out of his sight and too pathetic to hold her close. Yeah, he’s not proud of that.

He sighs, “You know that’s not what I meant—”

Namjoon walks inside with a hand towel around his neck “Doc, you about done? The boys are being incorrigible over there. If you don’t hurry, one of them is gonna call a tattoo artist and get their dick tattooed. Right here”

The room falls silent.

“Jesus” she looks over to where the guys are bickering about something, propping her hands on her hips. “Yeah, give me a minute.”

“Sure” and with that he walks away.

She picks up a blue file from the stool, not looking at him. Why is she not looking at him?

“If you don’t want to tell me about your injury right now, that’s fine. Since, I know it’s pretty old and It’s unlikely that you’re gonna get affected by it in the upcoming games, there’s no need to worry. However, I would still suggest you be careful. Anything can happen out there and your knee is in a vulnerable position. Don’t pick unnecessary fights, don’t let the opponent know your weak link.”

She glances at him, dropping the file back to where it was.

“You can go”

Without a preamble, he heads outside, passing Taehyung. He hears him cracking a joke about penis tattoos and piercings with his girlfriend’s name on it. Destiny cracks up and Jungkook wonders if she would have done the same, had he been the one cracking the joke. Only, he doesn’t crack jokes. Not around her at least. It’s not like he's some grumpy bastard who wants nothing to do with anybody around him and thinks of him as omniscient.

There’s just something about Destiny which puts him at loss of words. Knotting his tongue it in such a way where he can’t get an expression out. Only look at her and god, does he look at her. He's not stupid. He knows it’s a crush but she’s like a mirage to him. She’s unreachable, forbidden and so fucking beautiful.

Does he want to make her his? Yes, Is he going to risk his career and hers over it? Absolutely not. So, he makes use of the only right nobody can take away from him. Not even her. Admire her from afar. Fantasize more about tasting her, licking her slender neck and worshipping the ground that she walks on and one day if she lets him, Jungkook will do anything to turn all of that into reality.

He finds Yoongi seated on of the benches, scrolling on his phone.

Facing him, Jungkook speaks in a low voice. "Do you have any idea where James is?"

˚୨୧⋆｡˚

Destiny

Never have you ever wanted to run away as much as you did when you saw Jimin in front of yourself, standing all tall and proud. You had wished it to be a dream, wished you just had a nightmare about him joining the same team you happen to work with but reality is a goddamn bitch and it bites hard when it does. He had grown out his hair longer but he still has the same smile, same eyes and the same charm he used on you back then. Park Jimin is a man people don’t ever forget once they see him. He has an aura which traps everyone so hard they can never escape. How do you know? You have been a victim yourself.

You meticulously go through the consequences and eventualities of being in the same room as him again. You seeing him everyday and him reminding you of every single detail you have tried so hard forgetting about, the boys finding out about you both and putting you through the wringer or worse, him. The possibilities are endless and you feel the sudden urge to square everything with him.

Contrary to what you had thought, he reacted pretty normally when he saw you as if somebody had already told him about you. You had expected him to get shocked or at the very least pretend to be shocked.

Having said that, he just gave you a single nod as if you're someone he passes by every morning at the park. Are you this forgettable? Are you someone people just brush aside like that? Your father’s words echo in your ears like loud drums,

“You know, nobody will love you if you keep looking like this. Eat less”

“Girl, do you ever stop eating? Every time I see you, you're stuffing something in that mouth of yours!!”

“Don’t come running back at me when no guy gives a shit about you”

You were 10 and he was an asshole. He still is.

Thanks to him, you now have a tendency to cook when you're stressed over anything. It brings you comfort and diverts your mind from the excessive overthinking. You would go bald if it puts the voices into silent mode.

After already wasting half of your life speculating what to eat, counting calories and whatnot, you came to the terms that you can’t actually operate that way and began eating whatever the fuck you wanted. Yet still, you need to go a long way in order to fully love yourself and your body. It's a journey and you're moving ahead step by step. One day at a time.

One would even say you're hot. You have received compliments from several people over the course of time except you don’t have a thigh gap, your arms jiggle and you also happen to have a love handle. You would have adored them if it wasn’t for your dad making you feel shitty about having them.

A knock on your door stops you midway as you're kneading the dough. Biscuit runs over to you, jumping on the counter.

“Coming”

The knock comes back again, this time slightly louder.

“Oh my god wait I’m coming”

The door swings open and you gasp. “Mina?”

She passes by you, dragging her suitcase along with her.

“Hey bestie”

You close the door and follow her further into the hall. “What’s going on? What’s with the suitcase?”

Your best friend’s sudden arrival must have caught you by slight surprise but your cat is rather pleased to see her. Traitor. She starts clawing at her feet excitedly.

“What a good girl you are? Yes, you are” Mina coos at her and then glances up at you from where she has biscuit nestled in her lap,

“I need a place to live for a few days because my shitty boss kept rejecting all my articles and I really wanna bring her something worth the front page. Apparently, writing about the famous coffee shop around the corner and their secret ingredient being maple syrup wasn’t good enough.”

You round the counter and continue kneading the dough for your strawberry pie. It’s not unlikely for Mina to show up unannounced. In fact, she has done that plenty of times but the suitcase was never involved. This one is new.

“So you decided to barge in here without even asking?” You tease.

She flashes you a dramatic look. “Look at us, Destiny. Aren’t we the same girls who giggled about living together after college? With matching slippers and movie marathons?”

“Okay okay you dramatic bitch. How long are you here for?”

Biscuit runs to do her business and she gets up, setting her suitcase to the side.

She sighs, “Not sure. As long as it takes me to come up with a new topic to write about–HEY— why don’t I just write on the hockey team you work with? What are they called? Ice…ice”

“Ice Dominators” you fill in for her.

She slaps her thigh. “That’s the one”

You shrug, “I mean you can, but you’ll have to call in on the coach first. He operates everything inside and outside the team”

Coach Ian is too nice to turn her request down. He’s one of the most genuine people in the federation. Maybe this is why the team is so strong and united. He respects every single boy and receives it tenfold. It's a mutual thing.

“Shit, How come I didn’t think about that” she bites her lip, her enthusiasm replaced by nervousness.

“Don’t worry. He won’t make you work for it. Ian is as nice as they come” you assure.

She takes a deep breath and lets it out. As you watch, she opens your fridge, taking out the box of frozen blueberries and pops one into her mouth.

“Do you want me to give you a hand?” she mumbles while chewing.

You point towards the bathroom, “Go and take a shower, right now. You stinky”

You duck the blueberry she throws your way, laughing as you do. Giving your cheek one last kiss, she excuses herself.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚

Warm hands roam over your thigh, squeezing them. You muffle your moan with your palm and take every thrust.

“Yeah, you like that? You like how I’m pounding into this ass right now?”

You gasp.

“Such a good girl” he praises.

The man behind you presses a kiss to your naked shoulder as he rasps in your ears, “Were you walking around all day dripping for me?”

He pulls his cock out and thrusts again. You meet him with equal passion and hunger.

“Tell me”

You nod.

“I need your words, Destiny”

You cry out, “Yes Oh god, Yes. I wanted you in me so bad”

He cups your pussy and rubs your clit with his palm until you're rolling your eyes to the back of your head and squirming. Thrust after thrust he brings you to your sweet release while talking dirty things in your ear. You're about to melt into a puddle of goo. He’s got you totally at his mercy.

“So beautiful like this. Taking my cock so well huh?”

“Ahh it feels so good, right there. Just right there, don’t stop”

He bites down your shoulder, “Come for me and let everyone outside hear the name you’re screaming, you dirty whore”

Your heartbeat picks up as you squeeze him with the tight ring of muscle, orgasm crashing over.

“FUCK. Oh my god Jungkook!!”

Your eyes fling open and you sit up so fast your head starts spinning. Everything around you is pitch black. Wait, where am you?

Mina is at your side in an instant, “Destiny, are you okay babe?”

You look around and release a sigh of relief. You run your fingers through your hair, ruffling them.

“Yeah um… I’m fine. It was just a bad dream. Go back to sleep.”

Except it wasn’t. It was one hell of a dream where you were getting fucked into oblivion by your player. You're not even going to lie and say that you didn’t like it. C’mon you're a woman of needs, it’s just that, him fulfilling those needs was not on the cards for you even if it wasn't real.

You check the time on your phone and wince at the bright light flashing up at you. It’s 2:45 am and you just had a back breaking sex dream about a man who you want nothing to do with. Who, as beautiful as he is, annoys the hell out of you with those one word replies and grumpy face. An edgy feeling threatens to rise.

Oh god it’s going to be awkward now. It’s only normal to walk on eggshells around someone people have these sort of dreams about. You have read your fair share of books where the female character gets a sex dream about a man and then they don’t talk to each other for the rest of their lives. Okay, that's a bit of a stretch but it might as well not be.

Yeah, you admit you guys don’t talk to each other a lot as it is, or are longtime best friends tiptoeing around their feelings, but you're afraid you're gonna have to ignore him forever for the sake of your own sanity.

I’m so fucked. You think.

tags - @httpjeonlicious @lovingkoalaface @rpwprpwprpwprw

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