#but i’m not looking to be *fixed* just helped out a little by the medical professional who is allegedly there to do so

[explode-this]

I am so fucking ✨annoyed✨ that 24 years after I got out my parent’s house my brain’s first reaction to anxiety and feeling like a shitty person for being slow and forgetful and in my own little world is is STILL “yeah you should just like… die” and I have to manually jiggle the handle on it and say “yeah no” or “stop that” or “bit dramatic” or “ughhhh come on,” like, can we just skip it, please?

(I am also annoyed that the last time I went to the doctor i answered the survey about depression symptoms by underestimating myself by 75% because that’s the sort of thing you do when you were raised to think you’re an attention seeker whenever you’re honest about your shitty interior monologue and doctors are technically authority figures to you and defying them in any meaningful way has never worked out so why bother being honest and she was pleased and said “that’s good” and in my head I was just like “yeah because whenever I ask about anti anxiety meds you just say ‘vitamins!’ or ‘your adhd meds should help with that” so there’s no point in reiterating that at this point I need a non-talk-therapy solution to my faulty brain wiring because I’m a fucking idiot who basically answered the mental health survey with two thumbs up and a star sticker”)

[luveline]

pls spencer and bombshell reader where she like sacrifices herself for him or does something outrageous for him. i love your weiting!! 💝

You don’t have any other choice, Spencer’s on the other roof being held in a chokehold by the UnSub —rational thinking goes out the window. He sees your face and, though he’s starting to look a little blue, gestures wildly for you to not do what you’re thinking. 

You jump. 

You take the landing hard —you ran hard, jumped harder, cringing as the grit of the rooftop tears through your shoulder. You roll into it. In one moment you’re standing, and then you’re knocking the assailant off of your boyfriend just before he falls unconscious. 

You forget everything you’re supposed to remember, flipping the UnSub without care onto his front, yanking his arms back, and cuffing him tightly. He’s a serial child murderer, so it’s kinder than he deserves. 

“Stay down,” you warn, cuffs so tight you can see the perp’s hand changing colour. You’ll have to fix that soon, but you have more important matters at hand. “Spencer?” 

His answer is hoarse, “Yeah.”

You leave the UnSub where he’s laid down and rush to Spencer. You drop to your knees beside him, alarmed that he’s still curled up and gasping. “Hey, hey, what can I do?” 

He grabs your arm and sucks in another breath. 

“Spencer?” 

“Why did you do that?” he asks. 

“What?” 

“What did you do to your arm? Does it hurt?” 

Spencer can barely breathe and he’s asking you if you’re okay. You can see the spots in his eyes. Fuck, he scared you. 

“I’m fine,” you say softly, holding him by the shoulders. “Take a deep breath, can you do that for me?” 

Your shoulder stings like you’d landed on glass and there’s an ache in your bones from the impact, but the source of your racing pulse is the look on his face, as though he might still pass out. You cringe at the sound of approaching footsteps, but it’s Morgan and Hotch making their way across the gravel top to help you. You turn back to Spencer in relief. 

He takes another huge breath. “Good job,” you say quietly, but saccharinely, rubbing his poor chest. “Do you want to sit up?” 

“I can’t.” 

“Okay. Alright. Just take a breath.” 

“Maybe you should take your own advice,” he croaks, putting his hand over your heart. 

“I’m fine.” 

“Just breathe.” He says your name like a secret. “Just breathe.” 

Of course. He’s lying on the ground panting for his life and he’s telling you to calm down. 

Morgan has the UnSub up and moving. Hotch kneels beside you both, face lined with poorly concealed stress. “You okay?” he asks. “Spencer?” 

“She jumped across the roof.” 

“Spencer.” You’re half wounded, half humoured. 

Hotch raises his eyebrows at you both. “Well, that’s ridiculous. Are you alright?” 

“I’m fine. Spencer almost got choked out.” 

Hotch looks as though he might give in and rub his face, but he pats your arm instead. “Okay. Reid, can you stand up?” 

“Tell her she can’t– can’t jump across rooftops,” Spencer says, suddenly full of indignation as he pushes up onto his elbows. He looks like he’s been hung upside down and shook. 

“Well, clearly I can.” 

“L/N shouldn’t be jumping across rooftops for any reason, but you’re both…” Hotch smiles wryly. “I almost said unharmed.” 

Spencer flops down onto his back. When he speaks, he sounds in a strange place, close to tears and laughing alike, “You have to look at her arm.” 

“I think you both need to see a medic, but first, why don’t we all calm down. Let’s regain our senses, and prevent any further unnecessary pain.” 

Spencer gives your leg an uncharacteristic whack. He’s so messed up from the chokehold that it’s more like a stroke, but you feel the tap for what it is. He’s saying Don’t do that to me again. 

“He really was gonna kill you,” you say, sorry. 

“I had it.” 

“Respectfully, baby, you did not.” 

[hotshotsxyz]

doctor, doctor, give me the news

(buddie) (1.4k words) (8x05 spec) y'all i think i kind of went off with this one

Tommy flinches. It’s a quick, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it thing that he quickly turns into a playful cringe, but for a second, it was real. It was real and Buck saw it and he doesn’t know how to unsee it.

He pulls his phone out and opens the camera so he can see it for himself, and okay, yeah, it’s not great. But also—they’re both firefighters. Buck’s seen way worse than swollen, red skin, and he’s sure Tommy has too.

“Afraid of the curse now?” he asks lightly instead of voicing the thought.

“Um, yeah, I think you’ve convinced me,” Tommy replies.

Buck squints at his own image. “What do you think it is?”

“Other than a curse?” Tommy asks.

Buck nods.

“Honestly, Evan, I have no idea. Maybe we should call in some back-up.”

“What?” Buck asks, brow furrowing. “Like some kind of curse breaker?”

Tommy snorts. “Like someone with a little more medical training,” he replies.

“Oh, yeah that—that’s probably a good idea,” Buck says. He feels himself flush even redder.

“You want me to call Hen? Or Chimney, maybe?” Tommy asks.

Buck shakes his head. “They’re taking the kids to a haunted hayride today. I’ll text Eddie.”

Tommy’s nose wrinkles a little, and Buck can’t help but wonder which part of what he just said Tommy didn’t like. He types out a quick message.

SOS. curse real. need paramedic diaz asap

Eddie’s reply is almost instantaneous and comes in three short messages.

not a paramedic

and curses aren’t real

I’m on my way

Buck looks up from his phone. “He’ll be here soon,” he says.

“That was fast,” Tommy observes.

Buck shrugs. For a second he considers sending Eddie a selfie, something to prepare him for the not-so-pleasant sight of his face, but he—

He kind of wants to see if Eddie flinches, too.

Eddie’s key turns in the lock and Tommy shoots Buck an odd look. He’d try to parse it, but he’s really starting to feel how much his face hurts and he kind of just wants Eddie to hurry up and fix it. He stands and walks past the stairs in time to see him shut the door.

“Ouch,” Eddie hisses as soon as he catches sight of whatever it is his face is doing now. It’s not a flinch. If anything, he sways forward like he might at a scene. Assessing. Ready to jump in as soon as he’s formed a plan.

“Yeah,” Buck says. “Told you I’m cursed.”

Eddie lets out a light laugh. “Mm, I think I’m supposed to be the one making the diagnosis here,” he says.

He ushers Buck to the kitchen table, sets his med kit down, and pulls out a chair for him.

“Gee,” Buck says, “A guy could get used to this kind of medical care.”

Eddie grins. “Doctor Diaz, at your service,” he says, holding out a hand for Buck to shake.

Buck huffs a soft laugh and takes it. “I’ll be a good patient, I promise,” he says.

“Don’t start lying to me now,” Eddie replies, eyes twinkling.

Across the table, Tommy chokes.

Buck drops Eddie’s hand and looks over at him. “You okay?” he asks.

“Mm,” Tommy hums. “Just uh—got some spit down the wrong pipe.”

Buck frowns but doesn’t push it any further. He looks back at Eddie and finds him rummaging through his kit with a pen light between his teeth. He makes a triumphant noise and turns to Buck.

“Alright, let’s see,” Eddie says softly.

He steps into the space between Buck’s legs, and Buck’s brain kind of just—freezes.

“Look up for me?” Eddie prompts, and when Buck doesn’t—can’t—immediately comply, Eddie presses two fingers beneath his chin and guides it up until suddenly the only thing Buck can see are Eddie’s eyes. “Thought you we’re going to be a good patient,” Eddie murmurs.

All at once, Buck’s brain unfreezes, skipping right past calm and into hyperdrive. Because—because—he’s looking at Eddie and Eddie’s thumb is skating across the skin that’s just beneath the worst of the swelling  and Buck can feel it and surely Eddie’s touched his face before except—except—no, Buck’s pretty sure he hasn’t but now that he has Buck’s never going to be able to forget the way it feels because he knows it should hurt, it should, but it doesn’t and he kind of never wants Eddie to stop touching him and that’s—that’s—

“—hurt?” Eddie asks, only Buck misses 90% of the question so instead of answering he hums vaguely and watches Eddie’s face twist in sympathy.

Eddie starts dabbing something on Buck’s face, hydrocortisone maybe, or triple anti-biotic—whatever it is it feels cool and nice and as Eddie concentrates on his task he bites down on his lip and suddenly Buck can’t look at anything else, can’t look at the furrow in Eddie’s brow can’t look at the ceiling can’t—

“You think he’ll live?” Tommy asks dryly.

Buck feels like he’s been doused with cold water.

Eddie’s lips, those lips that he still can’t bring himself to look away from, twitch into a small smile. “Depends,” he says. “Has anyone figured out how to break the curse?”

It punches a laugh out of Buck’s chest, the kind that comes out in a single syllable and with a rush of air. Eddie takes a step back and finally Buck feels like his brain is returning from the stratosphere, back to its baseline level of chaos.

“So—” Buck tries, but it comes out rough. He clears his throat. “What’s uh—what’s the diagnosis.”

Eddie frowns. “Honestly? It kind of looks like spider bites.”

Tommy’s chair clatters back, and when Buck looks over he’s suddenly standing.

“Babe?” Buck asks, but it feels gummy and unfamiliar in his mouth.

“I, um—not a fan of spiders,” he squeaks.

Eddie blows out a soft breath that Buck’s pretty sure only he could recognize as laughter.

“You don’t have to stick around,” Buck says, and he swears he means stick around the loft, but—but—“I’m okay, I’ve got the second best doctor in Los Angeles looking after me.”

“Second!” Eddie exclaims, mock affronted.

“Hen,” Buck replies with a shrug.

Eddie heaves a dramatic sigh. “You’re not wrong.”

Tommy looks between them, a deep furrow in his brow. “Yeah,” he says. “I’ll uh—I’ll head out.” He backs toward the door, then pauses as he gets a hand on the knob. “See you tomorrow?” he directs at Buck.

“’Course,” Buck replies, and he’s pretty sure if Tommy had asked him that this morning his reply would’ve sounded soft and sweet to his own ear, but now Buck doesn’t hear much of anything at all.

Tommy nods once, and then he’s gone.

Buck looks back at Eddie, and god, he tries. He tries so hard not to notice the long line of Eddie’s legs where he’s leaning against the table, not quite sitting on it. He tries not to think about that soft curl, the one that makes an appearance more often than not these days, the one that rests against his forehead. He wants—he doesn’t—Eddie’s not—

Buck stands abruptly, except Eddie never did take more than a step back and now they’re practically nose to nose and Buck isn’t sure if he’s still breathing. Eddie’s head tips to the side and Buck—there’s not a thing he can do to stop the freight train that is his imagination, and oh, he can see it. He can feel it.

All at once he’s sure that if Eddie Diaz were to lean in and kiss him—right now, or a year from now, or a decade—if Eddie kissed him, Buck would be ruined in every sense of the word. He’d never be able to kiss another person without seeing Eddie, feeling Eddie, tasting Eddie and—

He wouldn’t want to.

Buck takes a stumbling step back and knocks into his chair, making it clatter the same way Tommy’s had. And fuck, for a second he didn’t even—

“Buck?” Eddie asks, all concern and kindness and wide brown eyes.

“Fine!” Buck says. “I’m fine. You—you, uh—do you want—” Me? Us? Something terrifying and perfect and permanent and “—water?”

Eddie’s brows knit together. “Sure,” he says. “But sit back down. Let me get it.”

“Okay,” Buck breathes. He sinks into his chair.

Eddie grabs two glasses out of his cabinet without even pausing to think and fills them with the Brita he already knew was in Buck’s fridge and snags a coaster that he bought before placing one of the glasses in front of Buck.

“Seriously,” he says, settling into the chair closest to him and leaning forward, “are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Buck says, and he’s honest to god not even sure if he’s lying.

[girlgenius1111]

throw it all away

part 1 of 2 if no one is noticing any changes, there must not be a problem. but then, someone does notice. and there is a problem. that just isn't a reality you really feel like accepting. [putellas!reader]... alexia realizes you're struggling. how does she help you with something she doesn't understand? tw: this is a fic about r struggling with an ED. proceed with caution.

—

“You’ve lost weight.” 

It wasn’t said with an impressed nod or smile. It wasn’t said like a benchmark you’d met. It wasn’t said like it was a good thing.

Somehow, you knew it wouldn’t be. 

Instead, the physio’s voice was gentle, concerned. He spoke to you like he knew how you got here, but he couldn’t. How could he know?

No one noticed. Not your teammates, not your friends. Not Spain’s physios. Not even your sister. 

And that’s what you wanted. 

“Okay…” You said, like you didn‘t understand why he’d  brought this up. 

“Not a little weight. Enough that I’m concerned.” His eyes were squinted a little, like he was trying to see right through you. Still, you maintained your composure, kept your face blank. 

“Well, I didn’t have much of an off season. It’s been pretty nonstop even since the end of the league season. I’m just in shape.” 

He shook his head, now looking almost pityingly at you. “That’s what the issue is? You’re sure?” 

You did what you’d been doing for months: you lied. 

“Yep. Can’t think of anything else it could be.” Your tone was light, even as the weight of the unspoken words settled heavily on your chest. 

“We have to be careful with these things, you understand. We’ll change up your meal plan, and see how you are in a week. You’ll be on light training anyway, like the rest of the girls coming back. If it’s a matter of being overworked, we’ll get you back healthy in no time.”

He didn’t say what would happen if things didn’t go back to normal; if this wasn’t just being overworked. He didn’t need to. He was giving you a chance to correct this yourself before he has to involve the doctors and the coaches. And your sister. He was giving you a chance to fix this before it became a much, much bigger deal. 

As you left the medical room, you wished more than anything that this was a chance you could take, but you knew that it wasn’t. 

—

You knew the physio had opened his mouth a week later when he came out during a water break to pull Alexia, Irene, and Pere aside. He spoke to them quietly for a few minutes, all three of them furtively looking over at you every so often. You knew what you were in for when you got home; probably a very angry Alexia. Angry that you were jeopardizing your career and your health, throwing all your hard work away. For Alexia, football was the most important thing in the world. Sometimes it felt like it was more important than you, and you knew that she wouldn’t understand this. She would see what you were going through as a weakness, something you needed to quickly resolve, and get back to the most important thing. 

It was just that you weren’t capable of handling Angry Alexia right now. Not when you already felt kind of faint from training on an empty stomach, horribly grumpy because you were fucking hungry, and honestly still in denial that anything was wrong. It would lead to a whole blow up fight you didn’t want to get into, and as such, you weren’t looking forward to going home. Alexia surprised you. 

She’d started off angry, moving to stomp over, grab you, and haul you home so she could yell, when Irene grabbed her wrist and encouraged her to just listen for a second. 

“This is going to ruin her season.” Alexia seethed. “Does she not realize that she’s hurting the team?”

Irene regarded her incredulously for a moment, having to remind herself that the other woman’s brain just worked differently than hers. “Ale, she’s hurting herself. Whatever she’s doing isn’t a selfish decision she’s making. She’s sick.” 

Your sister grew quiet, chewing on her lip as she thought through Irene’s words. 

“You can’t yell, Ale. You can’t be mad at her. She needs help, and she isn’t going to want to accept it. You have to be careful with this, gentle and patient and kind. Okay?” Irene said, staring hard at her co captain. 

“Yeah.” Alexia said quietly. “Pedro, do you know why… or how?” 

Pedro shook his head, worry clouding his face. “I asked her about it a week ago, and she pretended she had no idea what I was talking about. I told her she had a week to get back on track, but she didn’t. I don’t know how, or why. Those are both questions for your sister.” 

Alexia nodded, her gaze stuck on where you were stretching, just inside the gym tent. “Pere, can we go? I need to talk to her, and I know there needs to be a conversation with everyone, but she’ll just feel cornered if that’s where we start. I want to take her home to talk.” 

Pere agreed immediately, telling Alexia to take as much time as she needed, and reach out to the club for any help they could provide at all. Irene walked with the blonde in the direction of the tent, her arm slung across Alexia’s shoulders. 

“She isn’t going to want to talk to me.” Alexia murmured. “She hates talking about her feelings, especially with me.” 

Irene frowned. “You’re her sister. She trusts you more than she trusts anyone. Just stay calm and don’t get angry. I know when you worry you tend to get angry, but try not to let that happen. It won’t help.” 

Alexia nodded, having arrived at the entryway of the gym. Irene patted her on the back, telling her to call if she needed help, before she headed inside. She called you over, receiving a few odd looks from her teammates at the strange tone of her voice. 

Your sister could see how terrified you looked, even from all the way across the gym. Her heart clenched at the brave face you were trying to put on; it didn’t hide how scared you were.  

“Yeah?” You said, trying to act casual as you walked over to your sister, even though you felt kind of dizzy, and your head was pounding with a headache, not to mention the anxiety that was coursing through your veins. 

“We’re going home, we need to talk.” Her tone wasn’t clipped or sharp like you expected it to be. Her face wasn’t set with anger, her hands weren’t clenched into fists at her side. She looked strangely… calm. 

“Talk? About what?” You questioned, feeling defensive even if your sister wasn’t mad. 

“We’ll talk about it when we’re home. Let’s go.” With that, she led you out of the tent, back towards the main building. You stumbled slightly, the dizziness and nerves combining to make you a bit unsteady. 

Your sister steadied you, both her hands on her shoulders. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?” 

If you’d had any hopes that Alexia didn’t know what was going on, those disappeared. Her eyes flitted over you, her grip strong, as if she was worried you’d collapse or something. 

“Nothing. I’m fine.” Your voice was shaking, for a reason you weren’t quite sure of. 

Alexia softened, surprising you as she wrapped her arms around you tightly, pulling you into a hug. It was nice, comforting, and you sank into it, taking just a moment to allow yourself to be weak. 

It wasn’t comforting for your sister. Suddenly, all she could feel was the bones of your spine, more pronounced than they should be. It was a noticeable difference, and she knew that it likely felt more dramatic than it really was, considering the information the physio had given her, that this wasn’t that bad yet, that it was fixable. Still, your sister wanted to cry at how small you seemed against her. 

More than that, she wanted to cry that she hadn’t noticed this happening. 

—

You kept waiting for her to blow up. All the way to the locker room and to the car, all the way home, but she didn’t. She watched you carefully out of the corner of her eye, she carried your bag for you, and she insisted you drink an entire water bottle on the drive home. Alexia was worried, more than she was upset, and that was beginning to terrify you. 

She didn’t even really talk upon arriving home. She just set your bag down, looking around for Olga like the brunette would have all the answers to fix this. 

“Go shower, we can talk after, okay?” Alexia said over her shoulder, disappearing in the direction of the office Olga worked out of during the day. 

As you headed up the stairs, you wondered if the screen still slid out from your window as easily as it used to, when sneaking out was a bit of a habit. 

You wondered if your body could even take the jump down to the ground underneath your window. You wondered whether you even cared, if it meant that you’d get away from this conversation, escape the walls closing in around you.

—

Downstairs, Alexia was pacing a hole in the rug spread across the office floor. Olga was watching her march back and forth, waiting for her girlfriend to talk herself out, which she didn’t seem anywhere close to doing. 

“How could I miss this? Do I not pay enough attention? Is this my fault? Have I pushed her too hard? How long has this been going on? How did no one notice before now? What if-”

Olga stood, grabbing her girlfriend’s hands and putting her movements to a stop. “Amor, take a second. Relax. None of these questions need to be answered right now.” 

Alexia leaned almost imperceptibly into her girlfriend’s touch, desperate for anyone to tell her what to do here. 

“We need to talk to her. That’s where we start, and that is going to be hard, Ale. She probably doesn’t want to hear anything we have to say about this, and she might lash out, but you have to remember how much she must be hurting right now. You have to be patient, okay?” 

Alexia nodded her jaw tightening as her resolve strengthened. She’d be the most patient person in the world, if that’s what you needed. She’d do anything you needed her to, but the possibility that this wasn’t something that she could fix for you was terrifying her. She just wanted to help. 

—

When you came back downstairs after your shower, you knew you were in for an intervention. Ale and Olga were sitting on the couch next to each other, speaking in hushed tones. You approached them warily, sitting in the armchair across from the couch. 

Your sister took a deep breath, her eyes scanning over the piece of paper on the sofa next to her. It was a few notes that Pedro had given her, a few reminders she had for herself, and a few that Olga had added. 

Don’t get angry. She needs help, she doesn’t need your anger. 

Don’t push too hard, but don’t let her off with excuses.

 Be firm, but be kind. 

Don’t threaten to tell Mami, because she’ll just run. 

“I’m not mad.” Alexia started. Now that you were sure she wasn’t going to yell at you, you realized how much easier that would have been. You hated the concern on her face, the worry in her eyes. “You were looking at me earlier like I’d be mad at you, but I’m not mad.”

“Why would you be mad?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest. Playing dumb always infuriated your sister, yet this time, she didn’t take the bait. 

“I talked to Pedro and Pere earlier. Pedro has some concerns, about you.” Your sister paused, looking at her girlfriend next to her, as if for reassurance. Olga nodded encouragingly, and Alexia straightened up. “I think you know what these concerns are, hermana.”

“I don’t.” You said quickly. “And I don’t appreciate you talking about me behind my back.” 

“You do.” Alexia said, still annoyingly calmly. 

“I really don’t, Alexia.” 

“Pequeña, please. I know that you aren’t okay. You don’t have to lie to me about that.” 

You wilted a little, eyes anywhere but on your sister, but she leaned forward, seeing an opportunity; a fracture in your walls. 

“I want you to be okay. I want you to get better, healthier.” Alexia said gently, her eyes flickering to the piece of paper in front of her every so often. It was a mix of her handwriting and Olga’s, though you couldn’t make out what it said. 

“I am better. I am healthier, Ale.” You argued weakly, finally looking at your sister. You half believed yourself, half knew that you were very far from healthy, the two conflicting sides waging war in your head. Would it be easier to admit defeat? To break down and let your sister fix you? You found that you didn’t really want to be fixed.

“Hermanita, this isn’t okay. You can’t keep going like this. It’s not safe.”

You shook your head defiantly, a single tear tracking down your cheek. “Alexia, I’m fine. You don’t need to worry.”

You didn’t think about the times you’ve cried yourself to sleep after having no choice but to eat a full dinner. You didn’t think about the way everything is just a touch more exhausting, now. You couldn’t think about that, you wouldn’t. You were fine. Why couldn’t Alexia see that? 

She just stared at you, blinking rapidly. Fighting back tears, you realized with a start. Her hand gripped Olga’s tightly, and you couldn’t fight the wave of guilt that hit you like a truck. She was worried, and you knew she should be. Somewhere deep inside, you knew. And that was the most terrifying part. 

“Cariño, I am so worried. You aren’t okay, I don’t understand how you can’t see that. You are an athlete, you know you need to fuel your body in the right way. You know this isn’t normal. Can’t you admit that?”

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, for the first time showing even a hint of emotion. It wasn’t anger, or sadness. It was fear. 

“I have it under control, Ale. I promise you, it’s under control.” Your voice wobbled, no confidence at all behind your words. Alexia shut her eyes tightly for a minute before blinking then open and looking at you in a much more intense way. 

“I don’t believe you.” 

You stood up, feeling a flare of anger surge through you. “I don’t care what you believe.” Moving to walk out the front door, though not sure where you were going, you froze at the sound of Alexia’s voice behind you. 

“You can leave, but we’re still going to have this conversation. I can wait, but the sooner we talk, the sooner you’ll be allowed back at training, and back on the team sheet.” 

You whirled around, hands balling into fists at your sides. “Since when am I off the team sheet?!” 

“Since today.” Alexia didn’t raise her voice to match yours, and she didn’t stand either. She remained sitting next to Olga, both of them looking at you so sympathetically, it made you want to sprint out of the house that instant. 

“How could you do that?” 

Alexia almost flinched at the genuinely betrayed tone of your voice, but she just shook her head. 

“I didn’t do anything, pequeña. The physios and Pere made this decision themselves, based off the information they have.” She replied, nodding towards the chair across from her again. “The only way you’re being allowed anywhere near training is if you talk.” 

“I don’t want to talk about this.” You snapped, throwing yourself down in the chair. 

“Well, we have to. I won’t watch you hurt yourself like this without saying anything.”

You flinched like she’d struck you. “I am not hurting myself, Alexia. I have it under control, it’s not dangerous, it’s not anything. It’s fine.” 

“You are hurting yourself. I don’t know how, but I know that you are. Whatever you are doing to make sure your body doesn’t gain weight is hurting you!” 

"You're being ridiculous, Alexia. Completely ridiculous." You spat back.

Nothing Alexia was saying was working. You remained just as defiant, just as frustrated. Nostrils flaring, hands clenched into fists, you refused to back down. 

Olga squeezed her girlfriend's hand, the blonde falling silent as she did so. 

“Pequeña, listen to me. We both love you so much. You are my sister, maybe not by blood, but in all the ways that count. And when you care about someone, it’s so hard to watch them go through something like this.”  

Olga’s voice was soft and gentle and somehow, the most threatening thing you’d heard. It was the way she looked at you, the way she spoke; like she knew what she was about to say would challenge you. 

“If this was anyone else doing what you’re doing, you’d have something to say. If this was a friend or a teammate, and you saw them doing this, you’d do something. Am I wrong?”

You found that you couldn’t lie, so you just shook your head. 

“Give yourself that same kindness. Give yourself that same love and care. You would get someone else help if they needed it, no matter what. Can you let us help you?”

Another tear ran down your cheek, your lip trembling as you fought to hold back your sobs. Only Olga’s hand in hers kept Alexia from leaping over the coffee table and pulling you into a hug. 

“I’m scared. I don’t want to.” You said finally. Your eyes fixed on Olga, refusing to look over at your sister and see the disappointment you knew was simmering. 

“But you need to. And you know you need to.” Olga said carefully. She watched as an array of emotions flashed across your face, until you finally landed on… resigned. 

“I… I don’t know where to start.” 

“That’s okay!” Alexia jumped in. “You don’t need to know. We can take it one step at a time. We’ll get through this, hermanita, I promise.” 

The way Alexia was talking made your stomach twist. There was no ‘we’ here. Alexia didn’t close her eyes when she got dressed in the morning, didn’t turn her back to the mirror before she showered. She didn’t have to come up with excuses to go to the bathroom after a big meal, she didn’t know exactly how to move her food around her plate to look like she’d eaten more than she had. Alexia loved you, and you had no doubt that this was hurting her, but there was no comparison to what you’d been putting yourself through. Alexia couldn’t fix this for you, couldn’t even really fix it with you. It was something you had to entirely be committed to, recovery, something that would take strength from the deepest parts of you. Alexia couldn’t promise that you’d get through it. It wasn’t up to her.

You didn’t say any of that to your sister. What good would that have done? Instead, you dropped your head into your hands, and tried to breathe. You still couldn’t quite believe this was happening, and a part of you wished you’d wake up and it would all be some horrible dream, and no one would actually know. Another part of you, though, felt like sobbing in relief that someone had finally noticed. 

Unbeknownst to you, Alexia and Olga were having a silent conversation. Alexia wanted to drag you into the kitchen and make you eat lunch, since she was absolutely sure that you hadn’t had breakfast. She wanted to talk, and talk some more, and find you a therapist, and call her Mami and tell her what was going on. She wanted to do every little thing she could think of, because she was sure if she tried hard enough, she could control this enough for you to be okay.

Olga knew better. She looked at you and could tell that you were barely restraining yourself from curling up into a ball and crying. She knew trying to make you eat a full meal in the way Alexia intended to right now would push you too hard. She knew that you needed time and space to process and breathe. The brunette could see how easily you’d be overwhelmed here, and it was this knowledge that had her firmly telling Alexia what she was to do. 

“Go upstairs and shower. I’ve got her.” She whispered, kissing Alexia’s cheek softly. 

Her girlfriend looked at her in confusion, both of them exchanging a few glances before Alexia gave in. 

“Please try to get her to eat something.” The blonde whispered back, standing and beginning to head upstairs. She paused at your chair, opening her mouth to say something before thinking better of it. Instead, she just kissed the crown of your head and headed upstairs. 

Only once Olga heard the shower turn on upstairs did she finally move, walking around the coffee table and crouching in front of you. 

“Nena?” She called softly. 

You looked up apprehensively. 

“What do you need right now? You tell me, and that’s what we’ll do.” 

Control. Olga was giving you control, but you didn’t know what to do with it. You felt overwhelmingly lost, not even sure if you could put one foot in front of the other without someone telling you how to. 

“I… don’t know.” You replied, shrugging your shoulders. 

“That’s okay.” Olga assured you. “We don’t have to talk any more today, but I’d like you to try to eat something. It doesn’t have to be big, or a whole meal, but something. Is there anything you’d like?” 

No, there wasn’t, you wanted to snap. That was part of the problem. Instead of snapping, though, you found yourself thinking. “Protein shake?” You requested shakily. 

Olga nodded, smiling proudly at you. “Protein shake and a piece of toast, I think.” 

You found yourself agreeing, somehow, rising from your chair and following Olga into the kitchen. You tried to think of what would be worse; eating or talking. Both seemed like pretty abysmal choices, but Olga set your small meal down in front of you, and you knew there wasn’t really a choice. As quickly as it had been handed over to you, you felt the control slipping out of your grasp. The shower turned off upstairs, and you reached for the glass, bracing yourself for everything you were about to feel, and everything Alexia was probably about to say.

—

back in my two parter era. let me know what you all think :)

[moonstruckme]

since it's currently flooding where i live, i'm gonna request firefighter!marauders or emt!marauders (whatever works) saving reader who is trapped in her house with the flood being past the chest or something

andddddd reader has asthma, if ur okay with that? (i have terrible asthma and it's so so annoying honestly)

anyway, thank you for writing all of these fics of yours! they are all so amazing!!!

(also, can i be 🌼 anon?)

Hi lovely, thanks for letting me do just James for this! And ofc you can be that anon <3

cw: water rescue, asthma attack, I did do research but I feel like this can’t be accurate so sorry about that

firefighter!James x fem!reader ♡ 589 words

You wait until you hear the boat motors getting close again before you start to crawl out the window. 

“There!” you hear someone shout, and you nearly collapse with the relief of not having to use your air to call out. The boat rumbles closer, and then a fireman with sweetheart eyes and a mop of curly hair crushing out from beneath his helmet is reaching for you with both hands. 

“Hi, there,” he says, grabbing you around the waist and lifting you the rest of the way out. You brace yourself by putting your hands on his shoulders (his very impressive shoulders, you can’t help but notice, which make you remember how your own clothes are stuck damply to your skin from the chest down). Your lungs burn beneath his hands, no better or worse for his touch. “Is it just you in there?” 

“Yeah,” you wheeze. Another firefighter settles one of those aluminum blankets you’re always seeing on TV around your shoulders. “Just me.” 

“Alright,” he says, dark eyes growing troubled as he processes your onerous breaths. “Are you okay?” 

The pain in your chest worsens as you forcibly expel another breath, dragging in a hasty inhale. “My inhaler got ruined.” 

The man’s expression clears just before his brow creases. “You’re having an asthma attack?”

You nod urgently. 

“Alright, okay. Come here, let’s sit down.” 

He pulls you to the back of the boat, guiding you down onto the rubbery floor while someone else passes him a medical bag. Your knees fold towards your chest automatically, some useless instinct to protect the part of you that’s hurting. It does nothing. 

“Have you had asthma attacks before?” he asks you, digging through the bag. Someone starts driving the boat forward. You start to relax when you see him pull out a mask attached to an air compressor, your salvation.

“Yes.” 

“Compared to the other attacks you’ve had before, how badly would you rate this one on a scale of one to ten?” 

“Six.” You answer without hesitating, familiar with this line of questioning. 

“Alright, lovely.” He finishes affixing the hose to the nebulizer, setting the mask to your face and turning on the air compressor. “Just breathe in for me.” 

You do. The relief isn’t instant, but it may as well be. You feel heaps better just knowing the medicine is working. 

You must look visibly calmer, because the man across from you smiles. It looks at home on his face, and the little crinkles which appear at the corners of his eyes suggest he does it often. 

“There we go,” he encourages. You hope your expression conveys the appropriate gratitude as you take the mask from him, holding it to your own face. “I’m James. You were trapped in there for a while, huh?” 

You nod, and he laughs at your weary look. 

“I’m sorry.” James gives your shoulder a friendly squeeze. His face is remarkably cheery for someone who’s been tasked with boating around and rescuing people all day; then again, as a rescuee, you can see the value of a bright spot in the murk left behind by the floor. As soon as you get this mask off, you think you owe him about a million thanks. “I’m sure it’s been really difficult, but we’ve got food here you can have in a bit, and that thermal blanket should help warm you up quickly enough. Just keep breathing into that thing for another few minutes, love, and then we’ll get you all fixed up.”

[cloudybarnes]

bella donna

Pairing: theodore nott x reader

Summary: a sick night in bed calls for your cute boyfriend to come in and take care of you

Word Count: 800+

Masterlist

✰  ✰  ✰

Nothing was helping.

The soup burned your tongue, the medication didn’t cure your stuffy nose, and your throat felt like it was on fire.

You felt like total shit right about now. 

“I’m sorry mi amore.” Theodore said as he wrung out a wet rag to place on your forehead. You were laid up in your bed, covers drawn to your chin as a chill wracked through you. 

Theo sat on a small stool next to your bed. He was being the sweetest boyfriend ever. He waited on you hand and foot for everything you needed. 

He was the one to make the soup and fetch the medicine and rags for your head. 

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry about, Theo,” you mumbled. “You’ve done literally everything right for me.”

He smiled softly, then just as quickly, his smile fell. “I just can’t believe how suddenly this came about. Something must be going around; I heard Draco coughing in class yesterday, he must be the one who got you sick.”

You chuckled but were soon thrown into a fit of coughs. The coughing was so bad, you had to sit yourself up in order to catch your breath. 

“Mio dio,” he softly said. “My poor baby.” Theo rubbed your back as you caught your breath. You smiled at him, grateful for his being here. 

“What would I do without you, Theo?” 

He smiled and left a tender kiss on your forehead. The action was so soft and sweet, your eyes involuntarily closed, a soft smile adorning your lips. Theo really was something special. While most may find him to be a brute and hard to get on with, you’d only ever seen the kind, caring boy standing in front of you. 

“The real question,” he replied, “is how could I ever live without you?”

You giggled as Theo led you from your seated position to lay down. 

“You need your rest, sweetheart. Don’t waste all of your energy sitting up.”

You nodded and let Theo guide you down. You sniffled, but all that did was send more mucus to your throat, causing it to hurt worse. A whimper came from your lips without meaning to. 

“What hurts now, dolcezza?” He felt your forehead with the back of his hand, and gently picked up the discarded rag to dunk it in the bucket of ice water on the floor. 

“Just everything: my head, my throat, my nose, it all just sucks,” you said. “At least I have you to take care of me.”

Theo smiled, his eyes alive with love for you. “I’ll always be here to take care of you, even when you’re snotty and coughing on me.” He teased as he wrung out the ice rag and placed it back on your forehead. 

“Hey!” You whined with a teasing smile. “I didn’t cough on you, just in your general direction.”

“Oh, so that’s how we’re describing it, now, huh bella donna?” 

You gave a health-hearted smile and shifted a little in bed. “I don't feel very pretty right now. I’m all snotted up and it feels like I’ve been hit by a truck.”

“I think you look beautiful, (Y/N). Fully and truly, you are the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

Your heart swelled. You had the sweetest boyfriend in the world. Theo never failed to make you smile and make you feel beautiful, even when you felt far from it. 

Slowly, as to not hurt the ache in your head, you pushed yourself up into a seated position. 

Theo started to fix the pillows so they would accommodate your upright position. “This okay, amore?”

You smiled down at him. Never had you felt more in love with this boy than you did just then. “It’s perfect, my love. Everything you do is just perfect, Theo. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

A pink hue tinted your boyfriend's cheeks as a smile crept onto his face. “You’re everything to me, (Y/N). I would do anything for you. Something as simple as taking care of you while you’re not feeling good is my job as your lover.” 

You didn’t think your heart could take anymore sweetest from him. “Come ‘ere,” you mumbled as you patted the empty side of the bed. “‘wanna lay with you for a little while.”

Theo walked around the bed and climbed into the empty space. He fit perfectly in the bed, like it was made to accompany him. 

You pushed him to lay down so you could rest your tired head on his chest. He lightly chuckled at your movement, and pulled you close to him. His arms wrapped around you as your fist held onto the fabric of his shirt. 

“I love you, (Y/N),” he mumbled. 

You smiled, closing your eyes. Right before sleep pulled you in, you responded, “I love you most, Theo.”

[igotanidea]

The little bean: Anthony Bridgerton x pregnant!wife!reader

A/N: So..... After my "Too much" series I've been asked to do something with Antony and pregnancy trope. And since 1) I got baby fever and 2) Bridgertons are back, there is no better time than now.

***

“Y/N, my love, what are you doing?”

“I’m holding a book…?”

Ever since Y/N found out she was pregnant with the heir (which she would rather address as her precious little baby, instead of giving him titles before he or she was even born) Anthony entered right into an overprotective mood. If anything he would just keep her home, away from any prying eyes, that – in his opinion – might somehow take a look inside, at his baby and perhaps, see the little one before it came into the view of a proud viscount father.

Y/N could barely walk around the Bridgerton household, let alone the garden, without her husband chasing after her with a very concerned look, ready to carry her wherever she wished, just so that her feet wouldn’t touch the ground.

There were so many dangers on the way after all.

Wild animals. (i.e. bees, dogs and strays cats)

Speeding carriages.

Stones on which she might trip and fall.

Too much sun.

Too little sun.

And worst of all-

Members of the ton.

It was merely the first trimester and viscountess was torn between calming Anthony down (tactfully avoiding the information that the next months will be much more challenging) or just rushing away to her mother-in-law (yet, again) to seek aid in keeping him in check.

And just when she thought the oldest Bridgerton could not get any more obsessive, he took the lecture she was reading out of her hands.

“My dear, you cannot carry such weights. It’s straining and I am to protect you from threats.”

“It’s a book…” she frowned a little, but not without a hint of amusement in her voice

“It’s heavy.”  

“It's a 200 page novel…”

“It’s heavy.” Anthony’s voice was gentle, but firm. Both demanding and pleading.

“Anthony…”

“Y/N.”

“I can hold my own book.”

“We got servants for that.  In fact – let me call upon your maid and –“ he started walking towards the door in sheer purpose to liberate his dearest wife from the unnecessary burden.

Nonetheless his dearest wife had quite a different plan, reaching to grab his hand and stopping him in his tracks.

“My love. Please, come. Let us sit.” She guided him to the ottoman, still keeping the soft touch that was grounding to him.

Much to her surprise Anthony rushed to the furniture first, fixing pillows and blankets so Y/N could sit comfortably. And apparently that word, in his language, meant sitting half a meter in the air, covered from head to toe, regardless of the perfect spring weather outside.

“Here. Perfect.” He flashed a perfect smile, content with the spot he made for her.

“Anthony…”

“Yes, my love?” as he spun around meeting with her desperate look, the smile slowly disappeared from his face. “Y/N? Are you not feeling well?” Anthony grabbed both her hands in his, searching her face for any symptoms of malaise, dizziness, nausea. “Do you need some water? Or-“

“No, no, Anthony, please just listen to me for a moment-“

“Perhaps I should call upon Daphne, she already had a child of her own and she would be of help. Or maybe my mother could-“

“Anthony!” she laughed whole-heartedly at his  feverishness “I am not going to give birth in the fourth month of pregnancy! Please just calm down.”

“Just say a word and I’ll call for a medic immediately. Do not fret my dearest, I will take the best care of you. I swear on my life that-“

At that moment Y/N used the most effective way to stop his blubbering in the form of putting his hand on her slightly rounded belly in which their baby was healthily growing.

“Shh.” She whispered, putting her own palm on top of Anthony's, calming him down, letting him caress the stomach in hope to make him calm down. “It’s okay. Everything’s okay. I don’t need medic. Nor your mother. And certainly not your younger sister. I am feeling good and the only thing that concerns me is my husband's distress over nothing.”

“Nothing? You are carrying our baby!”

“And our baby needs his father to stop fretting.”

“But-“

“Here!” her eyes grew wide as she guided his hand to another place “did you feel it?”

“Was it--?” Anthony’s face expression mirrored the one of his wife.

“It kicked…” she whispered as their gazes met and for a second that extended into eternity, they just kept looking into each other’s eyes expressing so many feelings.

And then, almost as if in a dream, Anthony fell to his knees in front of Y/N, pressing his head into her belly.

“Our baby.” He whispered, kissing her body through the material of the dress. “our little baby.” He wrapped arms around her midsection with his ear pressed to the home of the child, almost hoping to hear him or her inside.

“Our baby…” she repeated with tears in her eyes. Despite knowing and obviously – feeling the imminent arrival of the new family member it was the first time she actually felt and knew. And it was beautiful. Her little bean was really there. Growing and waiting for the right moment to appear in the world, landing right into the waiting, safe arms of loving mother and father.      

“Do you think it can hear us?” Anthony pressed one ear to her stomach, his entire face lighting up at the possibility.

“Depends.” She chuckled

“On what?” his eyes travelled up to meet hers.

“If I say yes, will that mean you start talking to my insides?”

Anthony smirked.

“I will do that, even if you say no.”

“Then why the question?”

“Testing your knowledge.”

“I am not a doctor, Anthony. My expertise in the area might be a little limited.”

“Very well. Then give me an answer as a mother, not a medic.”

“Yes. Yes, I think it can hear us.” She cupped Anthony’s cheek in the affectionate gesture. There was something utterly heartening in seeing him like this. Holding her (and/or the baby) like she was the most precious thing in the world, needing the assurance that his child was already reaching to him.

That it could hear him, even if it wasn’t even born yet. Hoping for the love of the Lord that it was truly happening. That in a few months, that were going to pass by with extraordinary speed, the little one, a girl or a boy, would take a corporal form. That the viscount would not only be a noble and a husband but would also take on the new role – a father. A protector. Caregiver. A teacher, guardian and a guide. That somehow – his life would be complete. He’ll have his own little family. Something that was nearly impossible to him a few years prior.

And now-

“Anthony…” Y/N whispered, wiping a single tear from his eyes. “Sweetheart, what is wrong?”

“Nothing. Nothing is wrong, love. It’s all perfect.”

“Then why are you-?”

“I’m not.” He cleared his throat and gathered himself.

“Of course not.” She laughed softly brushing his hair. “But if you’d want to actually talk to the baby, that would stay in this little circle.”

Anthony smiled lovingly, grateful for having his miracle of a woman in his life. She understood him so perfectly well.

“We’re waiting for you, little one.” He whispered against her attire, with a little muffled voice, be it from emotions or closeness of his lips on her body. “You are already loved by two people, with more to come.”

‘You can say it Anthony…” Y/N whispered, knowing what he was holding back.

“I love you my little one.” The viscount whispered with the softest voice, caressing the place where the kick was previously felt.

And they stood like that for a while longer, enjoying that moment of joy and thinking about the future that looked quite bright. 

[wooziorgans]

Woozi as a doctor??? Giving massages? New gose hits hard

— physical therapist!woozi

god he’s SO HOT HELP.

warnings: reader was in a car accident. jihoon definitely violates some,,, things. moderate medical malpractice (getting dicked down during an appointment). unprotected sex. mild ass play. not medically accurate i have no idea how this shit works. DONT TRY N SEDUCE UR DOCTORS!!!

after you hydroplaned on the highway, totalling your car, your insurance (surprisingly) opted to cover your physical therapy.

and by god if you weren’t going milk that opportunity for all it was worth.

that’s how you found yourself at a holistic physical therapy clinic. the highest rated one in busan, being seen by their best doctor.

“doctor lee will see you now.” the receptionist smiled at you. the green walls of the clinic were earthy and warm. the general vibe was quite comforting and pleasant; it’s the kind of place you’d want to get better in. your knee clicks uncomfortably as you walk.

you push the door open to his office, and out of everything you could’ve expected, you didn’t expect to see a young man, barely into his thirties with his sleeves rolled up and rimless glasses sitting on his face. his grown out dark hair frames his face perfectly, and on first impression, the only thing you notice about him is how undeniably handsome he is.

“you must be my four o’clock. y/n?” his voice is low and kind, his smile wide on his face. he speaks with the regions dialect, and though you’re used to it, it makes something inside of you twist. you swallow nervously.

“yes, that’s me.” your own smile is tight.

“i’m doctor lee, but please call me jihoon. the doctor title makes me feel old. have a seat.” he gestures laughing quietly, and you take a seat in the large leather chair. he pulls up a stool to sit next to you. “from what i can see from your chart, you were in a car accident?” jihoon asks carefully.

you nod, unable to look at him. “i see. and you had some torn ligaments that healed, but now you’re having issues with mobility and have some clicking in your left hip and knee, correct?” his voice is so soft and careful, and you can immediately get the impression that he cares about his patients. that’s probably why he’s the top rated doctor in all of busan.

“yeah. uh, i definitely shouldn’t be in this much pain after two months so i went to my doctor and he referred me here.” you laugh nervously. jihoon smiles at you reassuringly.

“well, how about i get you to stand up for me so i can do an assessment and i’ll see what i can do for you?” you nod, standing, and jihoon starts to scan over your body. he immediately starts to take you in, eyes analyzing your lower half. “is it okay if i touch you? just to see your hip alignment?” he asks, crouching down to the ground.

“yeah.” the doctors hands find your hips soon after. he squeezes and pokes, asks repeatedly if the pressure of his touch hurts you at all. his hands move down the side of your legs to your knees where he does the same thing

“from what i can see, your hip alignment is off. same with your knee. it would be a relatively easy fix, but because of your torn ligaments we have to be more careful. i think the best plan of action is to go over some exercises for you to do at home and then we’ll go over what needs to be done when you’re here.” the doctor sits back down on his stool as he gestures for you to take a seat again.

jihoon jumps right into it, directing you in various exercises to help with your mobility. he talks to you the whole time, asking about your accident, what you do for work, if you’ve lived in busan your whole life. you answer him earnestly, still a little shy because of the situation your in.

you never were fond of doctors, and jihoon seems to pick up on that as he keeps the conversation light and comfortable. he moved you to a big table, and has you lay down so he can work on your hip.

“this might hurt. i’m sorry in advance. it should just be a lot of pressure.” his hands press lightly against your hip at first as he lets you adjust to the pressure. then his whole body weight comes down in the same spot, and you yelp loudly, biting your lip as you try not to swear.

he chuckles softly, body still leaning over you so his voice is right in your ear. “don’t worry, this room is sound proof.” you laugh through the pain, but the relief feels almost immediate. your hip isn’t as stiff.

jihoon continues working on you until the end of your session, and when you stand you feel a little lighter. he smiles at you, wishing you well for the week.

and so your first session ends with doctor lee, and you leave his office with a stack of papers and another appointment booked for next week.

session after session with jihoon, your body starts to return to how it was before your accident.

the appointments are comfortable, and after six months, you’re able to joke around with your doctor. maybe it’s because he’s quite young, and you’re young, that his conversation begins to feel natural.

it feels like you’re almost friends, meeting up once a week to hang out while he abuses you in ways that have you cursing and calling him colourful names. he always laughs it off, knows not to take anything you say too personally.

jihoon is a good doctor, but him being hot is posing quite the issue. you can’t help but stare at his exposed forearms when you enter his office. jihoon pretends not to notice, but over the few months he’s been working on you, he can’t help how interesting he finds you. and beautiful.

he thinks you’re beautiful too.

“you’re doing a lot better, y/n.” jihoon smiles at you, and you smile back, feeling the change in your body. you flex your knee as if to test his words, and the bones don’t grind uncomfortably. “honestly, i think we only have about a month left of sessions together. and then you’ll be free of me.” you roll your eyes at him.

“oh no. whatever will i do?” you jest. he laughs.

“don’t go and get yourself injured again just to spend time with me.” he flicks through your chart. “is your back pain getting any better? i thought i was from your hip but it might be something else.” his eyebrows are furrowed, glasses slipping down his nose as he scans over the sheets of paper attached to his clip board.

“it’s migrated lower. i think it’s my tail bone but i don’t know.” you offer. he’s the doctor, but you know your body. jihoon told you that a few sessions in; that your opinion mattered to the direction of your treatment.

“you mind if i check? if that’s the case it’ll be a quick adjustment. it’s possible it got jacked up when you messed up your hip.” he’s teasing you, about to call you old, which is almost ironic considering he’s in his thirties, and you’re not. you just shake your head at him, climbing up onto the table you’ve grown so familiar with.

jihoon presses lightly at the bottom of your spine, carefully pushing your hoodie up to directly feel the contour of your bones. he sighs. “i’m gonna have to move your sweats out of that way to check your tailbone. the fabrics too thick for me to really feel it. this okay?” you feel his fingers hook under the band of your sweats and you nod, humming softly as you push away any and all unholy thoughts you’re having right now.

jihoon pulls both your sweatpants and underwear down, to the middle of your ass. the elastic band keeps them down as two of his fingers trail lower down your back. you shiver, and jihoon does a good job at ignoring it as his fingers dip in between your ass cheeks. he presses down on the tip of your tailbone and you flinch.

“oh, yeah. that’s not supposed to feel like that.” he sighs, gently rubbing over the bone with his fingers. “it’s sticking out too much. i think you dislocated it.”

“y-you can dislocate a tailbone?” you stutter. his fingers are far too low for comfort.

“yes. you said you fell when you were doing your knee exercises. that’s probably how.” jihoon’s fingers graze over the bone carefully, and you shiver again. this causes his fingers to slide further down, tips brushing over the tight muscle of your asshole.

both you and jihoon freeze. he doesn’t know what to do so he removes his hand and says nothing. he cracks his fingers softly. “adjustment time.” he speaks lowly as he places his hand flat on your ass. one of his knees finds itself between your legs as he braces himself to make the adjustment.

its procedure. he’s done this dozens of times before, but something feels different this time. jihoon’s knee presses against the bottom of your ass, dangerously close to your core as he presses down.

the initial adjustment makes you yelp in pain before you laugh it off. “good. one more.” he praises, and if he doesn’t stop talking in that low tone you’re going to end up soaking this table.

the second adjustment rocks your hips into the table, moving your whole body up and then back down. he accidentally grinds you against his knee, and the table, and the sound you make this time is strained and breathy. an involuntary moan falls from your lips as you close your eyes. jihoon freezes again. “y/n? what was that?” he asks carefully. he knows what it was.

“i- uh, i didn’t mean to- fuck.” your voice is suddenly whiny, and that’s when it fully clicks.

“oh.” jihoon briefly removes his hands from your ass, before he palms one of your cheeks. “i see.” he squeezes carefully. you arch into his touch, and though you can’t see him, he smirks.

“i’m sorry, i really didn’t mean to react like that. it’s just—” jihoon’s other hand finds your other cheek as he pulls your sweats down a little further.

you’re still trying to defend yourself, maintain professional integrity for him, even though you’ve been painfully obvious in the way you stare at him and check him out. “please forgive me if i’ve read into this wrong, but i’m under the impression that you’re into me. is that correct?” jihoon leans down, right next to your ear as he speaks. his breath hits your neck and you shiver. you nod. “good, because it’s been absolute torture having to work on your hips with this ass on display for me every single week.” he rubs your ass with both hands, leaning down further to kiss your neck softly.

you whine, leaning into his touch. his lips are soft against your neck as he pecks at it lightly. “jihoon,” you whine softly, hands gripping at nothing.

“do you want this?” he pulls away from your neck to ask you. you whine out a yes, and jihoon flips you over onto your back in one quick motion.

you gasp at the sheer strength of him. it’s not entirely shocking, not when you’ve seen his forearms out at every single appointment. but he’s far stronger than you expected. jihoon slides off the table, towering over you. you lean up, grabbing at the collar of his shirt to pull him down to kiss you.

the kiss is electric, full of tongue and spit as all the weeks of checking each other out come to a head. you tug at the belt loops on his slacks, hands sliding over his leather belt. jihoon chuckles against your lips, pulling you to sit up before he unfastens his belt.

jihoon slides himself in between your legs, thigh pressing against your core as you grind against him. he pulls his belt free from his pants, popping the button on his pressed slacks as he continues to lick into your mouth. you whine against his lips and he chuckles softly, undoing his zipper. he pushes his pants down to his ankles, not bothering to step out of them as he manhandles you back into the padded table.

“lay back for me, baby.” he purrs, lips leaving yours to find your neck again. you do as he says, resting your weight on your elbows so you can get a better look at him. with strong hands, his lifts your legs up, grabbing the band of your sweats which had slipped further down your ass with all the movement. he pulls them down to your knees, pushing your thighs apart as he watches the way your pussy seems to throb in the cool air of his office.

jihoon swears under his breath as he licks his fingers to run them over your folds. you whine, eyes closing and jihoon tuts. “look at me.” you do as he says, watching him as he pushes two fingers inside of you. “so fucking wet for me.” he curses as your body pulls his fingers inside with ease.

he fuck you with two digits, watching your reactions carefully, drinking in every single moan and whine you try to silence. as much as he’d love to make you cum on his fingers, your time is quite constrained with your hour appointment, so he pulls them out, sticking them in his own mouth to lick them clean.

jihoon moans around his fingers, using his other hand to pull his boxers down and give his cock a few lazy strokes. your knees block the view, so you look to the side to see him touching himself. his cock is large and thick in his hand, and your mouth waters at the sight of it.

jihoon smirks, stepping forward a few steps to rub his tip through your folds. you whine, breathy pants the only sound you’re capable of making. “god, just fuck me. please.” you plead, and jihoon smirks again but listens to you.

jihoon lines himself up and pushes his tip in. the stretch burns, so he gives you a few moments to adjust. “so fucking big, my god.” you hiss, lip between your teeth as you adjust to the stretch of him. when you give him a silent nod to go ahead and move, he pushes in further, sheathing his cock in your warm walls.

jihoon hisses, eyes fluttering shut. he pushes his glasses back up on his face, hand anchoring down on the back of your thigh as he slides back out. his face is flushed as he pants. you’re so warm and wet; he won’t last long. “you’re so tight, baby. fuck, you’re gonna kill me.” he pants, thrusting back into you.

he sets a fast pace, the sound of skin on skin echoing through out his office. you’re barely there; hardly coherent as his thick cock drags against your walls, his tip brushing against your spot with each thrust.

jihoon’s thumb flattens down on your clit, and it’s too much. you pull him back down for a kiss, which he returns eagerly, as your walls tighten around him. you moan into his mouth, hand finding his hair to pull him in closer. his thumb rubs circles over the swollen nerve and you shudder as a long moan leaves your lips.

you cum around his cock, the added wetness help him slide into you to fuck you through your orgasm. you tighten around him impossibly more, and that sends jihoon over the edge.

his hips stutter as he cums inside of you. he pants against your mouth, sighing contentedly as he comes down with you. his cock slips out of you once the final drop is milked from his cock, and he plants a delicate kiss to your forehead.

jihoon’s quick to pull his boxers and slacks back up as you catch your breath. he massages your thigh carefully, watching the way his cum slowly leaks out of you and drips onto the padded table. “c’mon baby. let me help you get your pants back up.” your sweats are still at your knees, and you comply, lifting you hips for him to pull them back over your ass. you sigh, unable to look at him.

jihoon leaves you to go to his desk, pulling out a business card and a pen as he writes something down on it. “we’re almost out of time for today, but call me before our next appointment. i’d like to take you to dinner.” he presents the card to you with two fingers, and you take it hesitantly before you nod and get off the table. “i’m serious. it’ll be a date. if you want.” your lack of response seems to have jihoon on edge.

you smile softly at his sudden nerves. “i’d like that. thank you.” you grab your bag and head out of his office without turning back. you don’t see jihoon punch the air in victory.

“well. looks like our time here is up. you’ve been a lovely patient.” jihoon smiles, clip board in hand.

“it’s been a pleasure, doctor lee.” you smirk, finger trailing over his collar bone through his shirt.

“oh, don’t you start.” he scoffs, but he’s smiling at you fondly, cheeks on full display as his eyes crinkle.

“we’re still on for dinner at seven, right?” you ask, already knowing the answer.

“of course, love. i’ll pick you up. i was thinking about a movie and maybe a back massage at my place after? if you’re okay with that.” jihoon can’t take his eyes off you.

“you know i’m always down for a back massage from you.” you peck his cheek.

“i swear you just use me for my physical therapy perks.” he rolls his eyes at you fondly.

“maybe i do.” your boyfriend laughs before he kisses you softly.

[atskiruma]

Dr. Curly

assigned as the tulpar’s personal secondary mechanic it’s always important to remember that romantical relationships between crew-mates are strictly forbidden

a/n: a curly x reader, pre-collision curly, a little nsfw but nothing goes into detail, reader is 18+, not proof-read, not the biggest fan of this one but ill see everyone elses opinion

second-person POV, no pronouns used

I could feel the excruciating headache I had push against my eyes as I listened to Daisuke attempt to explain new slang to Swansea. The older man simply ignoring the young boy as he read over the manual for a broken part needing new installation in the medical bay.

It felt like the daytime screen in the lobby was brighter than usual, or maybe that was just my headache intensifying my vision. Whatever it was, it hurt. I could feel Anya burning a hole in the front of my skull at the same time, after already declining her offer of medical help when I had first walked through the electronic doors.

“So when you do something awesome, that’s when you’d say-” Daisuke couldn’t finish before Swansea had already slammed his paper onto the table. The sound making me flinch.

“Let’s go, boy,” Swansea said in a flat tone, also rubbing his eyeballs from what I assume was irritation from Daisuke’s voice and exhaustion from having to do his job. I watched the two walk out of the bay and into the hallway, turning back to see Anya still looking at me.

“Anya, I appreciate the concern but I’m fine,” I said, giving her the best apologetic look I could muster at the moment. I could tell she wasn’t going to budge when her brows remained in the same downward position.

“Please, all you need are some painkillers and I could easily retrieve them for you.” She pleaded, just as Jimmy and Curly walked through the door. Curly’s concerned stare was the first thing my eyes caught.

“You need painkillers? Why?” His baby-blue eyes set on me, occasionally flickering to Anya for answers. Jimmy spoke before either of us could answer, “Who wouldn’t on this hell-ship.” His gruff voice spoke as he sat down at the table with almost a ragdoll force. Anya had seemed to seize up, from what, I was unsure.

“Painkillers for a headache, but I’m fine Curly. I’ll ride it out.” I said, looking at him sideways with my hand shading the top of my eyes from the bright fluorescents. Curly almost mimicked Anya’s stare, “Why? Why not take something to get rid of it?” He spoke softly, stepping beside me to grab the top of my upper arm.

“Come on, we can go into the medical bay and get you fixed up,” Curly said as I looked at him from my chair. We kept eye contact for a few more minutes as I pursed my lips in denial, finally, I reluctantly agreed. “Fine.”

The walk to the med-bay was short. Curly still had his large hand wrapped around my arm, keeping a steady pace to lead me.

“Don’t you have important captain duties to do?” I said, my eyes glancing down to his touch and then towards the back of his head. He turned his face to me and smiled, “Of course, keeping my crew in check is one of them, which I’m doing right now.” I stared at his smile and then looked down at our shoes while we kept walking.

When we reached the medical room, Curly hadn’t taken his hand off me until he lightly pushed me to sit on a bed. Daisuke’s head popped out from one of the curtains covering the other side of the bay. “What seems to be the problem, Nurse Curly?” Daisuke spoke with a goofy smile taking over his features. However, it was kept short when Swansea pulled him back to working on the mechanical issue.

Curly breathed a laugh through his nose and stood in front of me. I looked up at him through my eyelashes and spoke, “You could of just handed me the bottle.”

“As a responsible nurse, I need to make sure my patient’s injuries are completely notified to ensure a speedy and professional recovery.” He said, reaching over to grab a clipboard from the wheely table.

I felt my eyelids droop in disappointment as what was going to happen next was clear as day. Curly ran a finger through his fluffy blonde hair as he spoke, “How would you rate your pain on a one to ten scale?”

“Three.” I mumbled.

“How would you describe your injury pain level in one word?” His eyes looked into mine.

“Can I use two?”

“Sure.”

“Mildly irritating.”

“Hmm.” He hummed, as the sound of a pencil scratching paper sounded through the silence. Occasionally a loud tinkering sound would cut through our conversation, followed by Swansea’s swearing and Daisuke’s audible wince. Other than that, a clock ticked in the white noise.

Curly was tall, I had to strain my neck to look up at him as I sat on the medical bed. Not only that, but he was close to me too. Closer than someone would usually stand.

“An awful lot of writing for a patient who only has a headache,” I said, swinging my legs. Curly kept quiet for only a few seconds longer, “I’m prioritizing your care.”

Before he could continue this play, Swansea’s voice cut through the air. “Christ sake, go get me the utility bag near the pods.”

Daisuke responded, “Um, you moved that, remember? I touched it to do that thing and you got all mad so you-”

Swansea’s lack of response was followed by dragging footsteps that carried out of the room, “Let’s go.” Daisuke followed and I watched them both leave. The door closing automatically with more force than it usually had. Curly didn’t seem to notice it but I kept my eyes on it a little longer in confusion.

My glare was forced away when he spoke up again, “Alright, I’ve finished my report.” His blue eyes looked at mine. “You’re suffering from… a headache.”

I stared back at him, “I would have never guessed.”

He smiled his charming smile and laughed his captivating laugh. Turning to get the painkillers from the cabinet. Not hesitating for a moment, he knew where they were the whole time. A breath of annoyance flew from my nose as I took the bottle from his hands, shaking two little white pills into my hand. All I needed now was a glass of water.

Curly was one step ahead of me, “Does my patient need water? Stay here, I’ll get you a glass.”

“Thank you, Doctor Curly,” I said lowly, a smile attempting to break onto my face.

Since the sink in the medical bay broke a while ago and Swansea claimed that it was, “the last thing on his list of things to fix,” it remained broken. As Curly turned and headed to walk out the door, his adventure was left short when he hit the automatic door head-on.

My eyes raised when my concerns from early were confirmed. Curly placed a hand on the door and attempted to slide it with force. “That’s odd,” he mumbled.

“You don’t think Swansea shut off the power because he planned on fixing that busted door next, do you?” it was known the med-bay door wasn’t up to code, but it was known to be shoved down the old mechanic’s list just like the poor sink was.

“That could be a reason..” Curly trailed off as his attention was focused on trying to open it. He seemed to come up with a solution when he turned back to me. “Don’t you handle these sorts of things too?”

I shook my head softly, “I handle lights and pipes, I’ve got no experience with the panel like Swansea. I don’t even know where it is.” My expression turned fearful when Curly looked away, locked in a room with my captain was not on my bucket-list. A slight blush coated my cheeks as I turned my head away from his view to look elsewhere.

Just when it couldn’t get any worse, the lights in the room dimmed as the night-time mode began to slowly start for the ship. I prayed that Swansea would see this and come back to close up his project for the day.

It was silent as Curly turned to think of a solution. All I could do was twiddle my fingers anxiously while my head came up blank for ways to help. I could see in my peripheral that he was occasionally glancing at me.

“Can you use your code scanner for some emergency-open-the-door thing?” I said still looking away from his handsome face. Curly shook his head, “Even if so, I don’t have my code scanner.” He pats his pants pockets. My eyes glanced at the motion and almost immediately looked away.

He sighed and walked over, I followed his every movement. “Mind if I sit next to you? I’ve got a feeling we’ll be here for a while.” Again, I had to crank my head to look up at him.

“Of course,” I responded, watching as Curly sat close next to me on the medical bed. His body causing it to dip slightly from the change of weight. The smell of the captain’s cologne filled my nose as I kept my head low.

“Hows your headache?” He said softly, I turned to see his face was close, only faltering a little bit, I responded, “It’s better, especially with Daisuke not in my ear.” Curly chuckled at my response.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled, an apologetic look on his features. “What for?” I asked.

“If I hadn’t roped you into a stupid joke we probably would have left before Swansea and Daisuke. We wouldn't be stuck here.” Curly said.

“It’s okay you didn-” He interuppted me, “I wanted to spend a little more time alone with you, even though we weren't technically alone.”

I didn’t know how to respond, “You wanted to spend time alone with me?” He nodded in response without saying anything. My ears picked up the clock ticking in the background as my senses heightened to his confession.

His hand reached up and the back of it touched my cheek softly, I flinched a little from the sudden contact, our eyes never left each other. It felt like hours waiting for him to say something, but it was only seconds. “Are you oblivious or just hoping it’s not what you think it is?”

“What?” I said, shocked.

“Hm?” He responded, patient.

I blinked, he wasn’t going to elaborate. “What do you mean Captain Curly?” I said softly. He stared at me and rubbed his mouth with his hand. “Come on, you’re gonna make a poor man say it out loud?”

I nodded my head slowly in hopes he’d continue. Curly sighed heavily and looked around. His fingers tapped his knees.

“One could say you’ve grabbed my attention.” He spoke in a soft, low voice. I don’t think I blinked while waiting for him to continue. “I’m just hoping you’ll reciprocate my feelings. Don’t you notice how much I steal you away from others?”

The dimmed light, along with the silence of a quiet ship made this moment even more heavy. I could hear my breathing with how hyperfocused I was.

“I…”

“I didn’t look much into it, Curly, I didn’t believe I was your type.” Was the only thing I could respond with. His face contorted into a confused smile. “What made you believe that?”

We were cut short when a knocking sound broke the moment. Anya’s voice came from outside the door. “Are you guys okay in there? I tried to open the door earlier but I couldn't budge it, I brought Swansea…”

“And me!” Daisuke’s voice murmured through the door.

“And Daisuke…” Her soft voice continued.

“Alright, alright, move it,” Swansea spoke.

Even though my head turned to the door when they spoke, Curly never looked away from me. I frantically looked back into his blue eyes. “Curly…” I couldn’t think of what to say to the sudden confession.

“Can I kiss you before it’s too late?” He asked slowly and hesitantly. My heart picked up in beats as I nodded lightly.

Curly’s face came close to mine before I pushed forward a little and connected our lips. The soft plush of his overpowering mine kept my heart beating a million miles an hour. They moved together in a motion that felt like the last piece of a puzzle. The scruff of his beard scratched against my face as we moved together. Just as quick as it started, it ended, and an audible smack of our lips disconnecting sounded through the air.

I felt breathless as I stared at him with my mouth slightly agape. Curly seemed fine, his eyes droopy as he stared at me, in fact, he looked like he wanted to do it again but was cut short when the door flew open.

My eyes shot to the 3… no, wait, Jimmy was just far in the back. The 4 people standing at the doorway. Anya clasped her hands together while Daisuke beamed a smile.

Swansea gruffed, “Finally, save it for you two to get stuck in here.” I gaped, “You left us here!” The old man would never admit when he’s wrong.

“Curly?” Jimmy spoke, it was then I realized the Captain hadn’t stopped looking at me this whole time. I blushed and stood up.

“Thank you, Swansea,” I said quickly while barreling out of the room and past everyone.

“Oh! Your headache!” Anya said urgently.

“It’s fine!” I yelled down the hallway to my quarters.

Anya, Daisuke, Jimmy, and Swansea all turned to Curly. Only to be met with a big smile on his face. “Thank you, Swansea, you’ve done great work.” Curly said, patting the old man on the shoulder and walking in the same direction to the quarters.

“What’s with the pep in his step?” Jimmy said.

[flawdchaos]

Opposites Do Attract

Gale ‘Buck’ Cleven x Reader

Word Count - 915

Based off of this request - Can I request a Buck x reader, where the reader is very extroverted, maybe even the opposite of Buck, but they fit so well together. They could be going out for drinks or her meeting the boys or something similar.

Anyone who met Buck Cleven and Y/N Y/L/N at Thorpe Abbotts shared a common thought - they were an unexpected pair. It had become all too common for the newcomers to assume Y/N was with Bucky with her loud, bubbly energy and it almost seemed brash for cool, calm, collected Buck to be with Ken Lemmons loudest female mechanic but damn, did it work. They had met one morning as Y/N was going over some last minute inspections on Buck’s plane for his daily missions.

“How’s she looking, ma’am?” his voice startled her, her head hitting against the plane’s metal.

“Good lord!” she exclaimed. “Give a girl a warning before you sneak up like that.” she complained, rubbing the back of her head. She fully stepped from under the plane's wings and caught a glimpse of the man behind the voice. Her eyes widened once she noticed a Major was standing before her awaiting her response. “Major Cleven” right hand flying to her forehead to salute “Plane is all ready, sir.”

“No need to salute, ma’am. Thank you for taking such good care of her. I put her through hell.” Buck spoke as he opened the plane’s hatch to stow his bag and she couldn’t stop the scoff that left her mouth. “I think that’s an understatement, sir.”

Most of the guys probably wouldn’t have taken this kind of attitude, per se, from a mechanic - let alone a woman- but he couldn’t care less. The sight of her almost made him want to laugh. There she stood, hip jutted out and hand secured atop it, eyes squinting up at him most likely awaiting some sort of angry remark but all he could do was shuffle the toothpick around in his mouth and nod in agreement. “I’ll be waiting to fix her right back up for ya later, Major.”

The couple had been sealed since. When Buck finally caved and spilled the beans about a woman to Bucky, he thought John was going to have a medical emergency right there in the mess hall.

“You have a woman and you just now think to bring it up?” Bucky said, astonished. “I didn’t want you to scare her away.” Buck quipped. If he only knew.

“Well.” Bucky clapped his hand on his friend's shoulder. “When am I gonna meet this mysterious young lady?” he urged, squeezing his hands down before an idea crossed his mind “Bring her to the pub tomorrow!”

______

If Buck could have taken a picture of the looks on the boys’ faces when he walked in with Y/N on his arm, he would have framed it and taken it with him on every flight he ventured out on. “Well I’ll be damned, Buck.” Bucky uttered, for once in his life he was almost speechless. Almost.

“I’d suggest you pick your jaw up off the floor, Major. I’d sure hate for you to swallow a bug.” She teased and the entire table erupted in laughter. Buck couldn’t help the small smile that broke out on his own face, a sense of pride soaring through his body. Bucky took a long swig of his drink before retorting. “Seems you’ve got yourself a jokester, Buck.” He nodded. “She’s a little more than that.”

“Wait, ain’t you the girl who works with Lemmons?” Blakely spoke, realization washing over the faces of a few of the men. “Yeah! You’re the girl who fixed my landing gear the other day.” Brady sat up, pointing at the girl standing firm besides Buck.

“You’re welcome by the way.” she waved her hand towards him. “Actually, everyone is welcome. You can thank me for getting you up in the air in the first place. Now I’m getting a drink. Keep the gossip to a minimum while I’m gone, now.” She turned, patting Buck on the chest. “You want something, baby?” looking up at her doe eyed boyfriend. “Just a Coke for me, honey.” She jokingly saluted, walking off towards the bar.

____

Buck had full confidence Y/N would fit in with his crew of men. Whether most of them had realized it before or not, she was the sole reason they were able to make it off the ground in the first place. He couldn’t help but say it almost made his heart swell with pride watching her interact with his friends. “Should I sing?” Bucky’s voice broke through his train of thought, hands tapping against his arm chair. There wasn’t time for him to protest before Y/N jumped up from her place on his lap. “Let’s go, Bucky!” Y/N’s laughed.

He couldn’t explain the feeling that was coursing through his body but as he watched his best friend - more so a brother at this point - and his newfound love sharing a laugh together over the less than perfect singing, he only grew more confident in his relationship. Many would describe Buck Cleven as a many of very little words but if anyone asked about Y/N, his Y/N, he didn’t think there were enough words in the dictionary to explain just how he felt.

Once the song stopped and the singing duo had left the stage, Buck watched as Y/N headed to the bar and Bucky made his way back to him.

“Buck, I gotta say -“ pausing to take a drink of his whisky. “You’ve found yourself a keeper. You two couldn’t be any more opposite but man, does it work.”

[hysteria-things]

Ok so this is a fluff request based off the new podcast eher Matt got cramps and was in pain (sad Ik) so basically after the podcast Matt calls his girlfriend (the reader) and asks his gf to bring some medicine and when she gets there he takes it and he’s still hurting so they cuddle and she’s like “Ik pretty boy I’m sorry try to go to sleep” and pretty/sweet boy kink basically thanks!

BACK PAIN

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠:matt x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: there’s been this sharp pain in matt’s lower back during the podcast. however, you come to the rescue once they’re done recording.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: FLUFF, swearing, pain

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 661

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: i did not mean for this to take so long anon but i hope you like it!

bottles of different varieties of medications stare back at you. you’re at the drug store, scanning the shelf to find some ibuprofen or something.

matt’s been texting you ever since they started recording the new cut the camera podcast video. he’s been saying that his lower back is killing him, and he asked you to pick up some painkillers.

you scan a bottle before officially making it your final choice along with a tube of icy hot just in case, and you walk to the self-checkout to pay for it.

before you head back to their house, you stop at mcdonald’s to pick up some food for him. it won’t help with the pain, but you’re sure it’ll make his mood better.

don’t worry, you didn’t forget about the other two. you got them fries.

it’s not a far drive back to the triplets. you park outside of their house, grab all of the belongings from your trip, and lock the car doors.

you make your way to the front door and open it, walking up the stairs into their living room/kitchen. nick and chris are there at the island, grinning once they see you. “hey, y/n.” chris greets, his eyes immediately shooting down to the mcdonald’s bag.

“hi, guys.” you take your shoes off and shuffle over to them. “don’t worry. i got you something, too.”

they gasp once you pull out the french fries, taking them from your hand. “thank you, future sister-in-law.” nick starts, nudging his head toward the hallway. “i hope you can fix him.”

you shrug. “that’s the plan.”

sighing, you walk down the hall and knock at matt’s door as you’re opening it slightly. “can i come in?”

“yeah,” he says, stepping inside and closing the door. you pout, seeing him practically curled up under the blankets. the only light in the room is the TV with spongebob portrayed on it.

you sit next to him on the bed, firstly unpacking the food. “i don’t know if you’re hungry, but i got you a ten-piece with a root beer.” you say, placing it on the nightstand.

then, you reach into the medicine bag. you open the ibuprofen and take two out, placing them on the plastic lid of the drink. “take those.” you turn your head to look at his face, and he’s already staring at you in awe.

he loves you so much.

five spongebob episodes later, you can tell he’s still jittery by the way he keeps shuffling beside you. he’s eaten a little, but not as much. “is the ibuprofen helping?”

“no.” he says annoyed. “it still hurts and i don’t fucking know why.”

“i know, i’m sorry, handsome. sit up,” you demand, and he’s hesitant before doing so.

he sighs. “i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to sound like that. i’m just annoyed that i don’t know what’s wrong.”

you smile softly, kissing his shoulder. “it’s okay. you probably pulled something.”

lifting his shirt, he groans when he raises his arms for you to take it off. he doesn’t question you, though.

you press down on the spot he told you that hurts, and his muscles tense at the suddenness. you can feel the knot.

“jesus, matt.” you move your thumbs over the spot. “you’re tight right here.”

you continue to rub with your palm and fingers, massaging the area to loosen it up a bit. his head falls, exhaling deeply and closing his eyes.

you take the icy hot and put some on your hand, rubbing it onto his back. “this should help.” you say, leaning him back so you can hold him. his head rests on your chest. “it’ll be like a heating pad and ease the pain.”

“thank you.” he whispers. “you should be a doctor.”

you laugh, kissing his head. “try to go to sleep, pretty boy. the stress won’t help with the pain, either.”

he hums, nuzzling more into you until you hear soft snores moments later.

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @hearts4chris @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @mayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld @alorsxsturn @txssvx @sttzee @multiluvr @delilahprentiss @matthewsspecial @sturnolio-luvs @sturniolho @suga-daddy-69 @tworosesblackthorn @luckistar-posts @gnxosblog @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloslurps @tylerthecreatorsrealwife @flowerxbunnie @imaslut4kehlani @sturniolosandmoree @hertvgirl @whoreforchrissturniolo @r4iyaa @sturniolotriplettoplover @mattybswife @freshsturns @loverrsposts @saturncanyon @elliesturniolo1 @tpvmz @user283926392 @lalalands86 @sukiipjs

[turtletaubwrites]

Bend Until You Break ~ Part 1

Thank you for this request from the lovely @anemptypuddingcup for a Yandere!Law that the Reader goes to for help with a serious health condition, only for Law to take a liking to her... I swear I will write sweet Law one of these days, but for now please enjoy Yandere!Law. This contains !!DARK CONTENT!! so please check the warnings, and skip this one if it may be triggering or uncomfortable for you. This one's for us hypermobile baddies out there. 🥄

Pairings: YANDERE!Trafalgar Law x Fem!Reader

Bend Until You Break ~ Masterlist

Word Count: 2679

Ao3 Link

Summary: You have struggled with mystery pains and injuries for most of your life, and had resigned yourself to suffer after every doctor told you there was nothing wrong. But when a world renowned doctor/pirate comes to town to offer aid in exchange for supplies, you decide to give hope one more chance. Maybe you'll finally find a doctor you can trust.

Rating/Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, DARK CONTENT, DUBCON, Dubious Consent, Swearing, Eventual Smut, Yandere, Manipulation, Power Imbalance, Hypermobility, Medical Examination, Medical Trauma, Medical Conditions, Chronic Pain, Injury, Physical Disability, Physical Therapy, Doctor/Patient, Abuse of Authority, Kidnapping, Possessive Behavior, Other Additional Tags to be Added, (Reader is described as having hair "above her shoulders" that she can brush)

A/N: This chapter is SFW, but I'm adding in many tags to start out with since this mini series will contain heavy/dark content. PLEASE heed the tags, and do not read this fic if you aren't comfortable with these topics. Some of these medical issues may or may not have come from personal experience 🙃

Extra A/N: I am not a doctor, and this is not meant to be educational, or to contain any health advice. Please seek a health professional. Hopefully you'll have better luck than Reader 🙄

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 |

I should just leave. He’ll just tell me the same things. It’s a waste of time. 

You were close to convincing yourself to walk away, especially as the discomfort and pain of standing in one place for so long started radiating up your body. 

The line got shorter, and you stretched and bounced, trying to hang onto a sliver of hope.

“Hello, how’s your day going?”

A talking polar bear in an orange jumpsuit waved at you from behind a small table, handing you a clipboard. 

“I-I’m well thanks. How…”

“Good! It’s always nice when the captain can help people. He’s the best! Just fill that out, and he’ll be with you soon.”

Looking at the form brought you out of the shock of speaking to a bear. Instead, it filled you with intense frustration, until you were practically boiling in your skin.

‘Rate your pain from 1-10.’

How the fuck am I supposed to rate all the different types of pain I’m in on any given day?

‘Circle the parts of the body where you are experiencing pain.’

I could put circles over so many things. Might as well circle the whole fucking chart, and have them call me a liar.

‘List your diagnoses, and family medical history.’

I don’t have one, doctors never find anything. Mom has some similar symptoms, but they're so mild that she's never tried to get a diagnosis. You’re the one who’s supposed to figure this out!

You resisted the urge to vent your anger onto the page, bullshitting your way through instead. You tried to write in the most convincing way to get this new doctor to take you seriously. 

This new doctor. “The Surgeon of Death.” A fucking pirate. 

But he was supposed to be the best, and he was here on your shitty little island for a couple of weeks, trading medical treatment for the town's supplies. You had already heard reports of “miracles,” that he could perform surgeries in an instant, that he could fix anyone. 

Please fix me.

This was it. You couldn’t take anymore trying after this. Just trying to get a doctor to listen to or believe you was almost worse than the daily pain. Almost.

“Miss Y/N? The captain is ready for you now. My name is Bepo, by the way,” the bear grinned as he took the clipboard from your clammy hands. At least you hoped it was a grin.

He handed the form back to you as he led you through the dimly lit hallways of this strange submarine. It felt like you’d entered some other realm, an underworld, on your way to strike a deal with a demon. 

As long as he can fix me…

“Here you are,” Bepo motioned as he opened a large metal door. “You’re in great hands.”

Hands. 

Hands were the first things you noticed as you entered the examination room. 

Those hands were tensed over the back of a rolling chair, gripping the thin padding as if waiting for you so he could sit down. 

Long fingers mesmerized you, tattoos etched along the back of each hand. And as you stepped into the well lit room, you saw the word “death,” spelled out across both sets of those fingers. 

The sound of his throat clearing snapped your eyes to his, your skin flushing as you realized he’d been speaking to you. 

As you realized how fucking gorgeous he was. His black hair looked a bit mussed, but it only added to the effect, along with his goatee, and his dark, pretty eyes.

Already more useful than my other doctors. Easy on the eyes. 

“May I look at your form, miss?”

‘Oh, of course,'' you stuttered, thrusting the paper toward him. “I’m Y/N.”

“Dr. Trafalgar. You can take a seat.”

Well, his bedside manner seems pretty standard, you thought with a small sigh, sitting down on the familiar crinkly paper covering the exam table. 

He circled behind you to close the door, and what sounded like a lock clicking into place had your heart rate spiking. 

“Stand up, please,” he said firmly, your form still unseen in his hand. 

“Oh, sorry. I thought you said–”

“Walk to the corner, and sit back down, please.”

His voice was unreal. You would have jumped through hoops for him anyway, praying that any doctor would listen. 

But his command seemed to curl into your brain, and you followed it immediately. 

“Why are you favoring that hip?”

“Oh, it…” 

Here’s where your credibility would fall apart. Your nails dug into your palms as you willed him to believe you.

“Sometimes if I stand too quickly, it feels loose. Sometimes it pops, and is so painful that I can’t put any weight on it.”

He stared at you for a moment, and you fought not to recite a list of excuses, to try to explain why it hurts when you’d never been injured before. 

“And your right knee?”

“Oh, it’s not bad right now. It used to swell sometimes, and was really painful. But it’s not as bad as it used to be.”

“Did you sustain any injuries?”

“N-No. None that I can recall.”

His lips quirked a bit before he reviewed your chart.

Believe me. Believe me. Believe me.

“You’ve reported your shoulders as being your most pressing concern. Why is that?”

His eyes were almost painfully sharp as he scanned you, focusing on your face as you answered him. He’d sat backwards on the rolling chair, his arms folded across the back with his legs spread wide to either side.

“They’ve been acting up recently. They often feel… loose. That’s how it feels to me. Sometimes if I move a certain way it almost feels like they pop out of place. But I can still move them after, it’s just incredibly painful. And then it’s weak, and I can barely hold anything.”

“What are some of the activities that have caused this to happen?”

He was impossible to read. But you couldn’t lie. He wouldn’t be able to help you if you lied.

“Um, brushing my hair. Taking off a jacket. P-Putting a sports bra on.”

“Did you used to have longer hair?”

“What?”

“Do you keep your hair above your shoulders to prevent shoulder pain? Or does brushing it still cause issues at this length?”

“Oh. Yes, actually. I used to have much longer hair.”

“I imagine you’ve adjusted many aspects of your life to cope with this pain.” 

Warmth flowed into that deep voice, and you shivered as you watched him steeple his fingers against his lips for a moment. 

“If you are comfortable, I would like to run through a few simple movements to check your flexibility. Many of which you can do on your own, but I will check in again if you are comfortable with me touching you for the others. You can always let me know if you would like to stop.”

“Okay.”

The doctor dug through a drawer to pull out a clear measuring device, almost like two rulers connected at one end. He adjusted it, creating an angle before setting it aside. 

He never picked up the device again, and you fought not to shake. He looked at your elbows, your knees, your thumbs, your pinkies, frowning slightly as you followed his instructions.

“Now, please bend over, and try to touch your toes. Just go as far as you– hm.”

Your palms were flat on the ground, just as they’d always been able to go. You could even put the back of your hands down, and stretch them along the ground behind you if you wanted to. 

“Doctor?”

“You can take a seat.”

Wincing as you sat, you shook out your legs, feeling his eyes as he watched your every movement. 

He stood, towering over you as he came close.

“For this next part of the examination, I will be touching you with my hands, and in some cases leaning or holding parts of your body against mine so that I can check the range of motion in your joints. I may also massage certain tight muscles to help you relax as we move through the problem areas. You have quite the list for us to get through, but if at any time you wish for us to stop, just let me know. Do you understand?”

“I do,” you breathed, your face angled up to meet his.

“Do you consent to me touching you?”

His voice came out softer once again, and you couldn’t hold in a shiver as you consented.

Those fingers…

His long fingers were so gentle as they crept across your body, testing, pushing, pulling. You fought to listen to his commands, pushing against or holding your body how he told you. 

“I imagine that seeking treatment has been challenging for you,” he rasped as he leaned over your face, his fingers gently massaging your shoulders. 

The pain and pleasure of his hands testing you had brought up a strangely emotional pressure, almost like tears in your throat.

“It has.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N. It must be incredibly difficult to suffer so much pain, and not be believed.”

You started to nod to keep your voice from cracking, but he pressed his fingers into your skin just a bit.

“Can you keep still for me,” he whispered, and it sounded so close that you opened your eyes.

“Just relax,” the doctor soothed as he stepped away, pulling a few tissues out to press against your cheeks and temples, catching the tears that had spilled when you’d opened your burning eyes.

“I’m sorry, doc–”

“No need to be sorry, Y/N. You have been suffering, been living with pain for years. It’s all those doctors that left you like this that should feel ashamed.”

His fingers had returned to your body, still relaxing, and testing.

“Thank you, doctor.”

“Please, call me Law.”

He was pressing gently along your collarbones as his name rolled over you, a small sound escaping your throat as you melted beneath him. 

“Do you have a good support system? People in your life that can help you with this?”

“I mean, my mom and my boyfriend help me. They’re supportive.”

He took those fingers away, and you mourned them, wishing you could feel that soothing touch forever.

“I’m going to test your hips now, Y/N. Please tell me if you experience any pain.”

“Okay,” you agreed, feeling self conscious of your breathy voice. His words just kept pouring over you, his voice so relaxing, so good. 

“How does that feel, Y/N?”

“Fine.”

He had your leg stretched along his torso, your foot dangling over his shoulder. You clamped your eyes shut. The sight of him between your spread legs, pushing your leg toward you, had you biting your lip, trying not to make any more embarrassing noises. 

“How’s this?”

“Fine.”

He hadn’t gotten close to your limit, but he went agonizingly slow. You could feel his firm abs warming your thigh through your clothes, his thin shirt not doing much to keep the press of him at bay. 

“You said that your mom and your boyfriend support you. How do they do that?”

“Oh, uh,” you shook your head, trying to focus on the question, and not the gentle rocking motion he’d started as he pushed you even further.

“They help me when… They help me when I’m having bad days. They listen. They both do little different things when things are bad.”

“How’s this?”

“Still fine.”

“You can go further?”

“Yeah, I can–,” you had reached for your thigh, planning to pull it toward your chest to show him, but his eyes above you stopped you before his voice did. 

“I’ll get you there, Y/N. You can hurt yourself if you rush. Can you take it slow for me?”

“Perfect,” he praised when you nodded, still gently rocking your body forward and back as he pushed, finally reaching the limit. 

“That is quite the range of motion,” he noted, carefully laying that leg down to move to the other side. “May I?”

He set himself up again, moving slow as he used his body to stretch you.

“You said that they help you on bad days, is that right?”

Meeting his sharp eyes, you took a minute to understand.

“Yes, they do.”

His face tilted a bit as he pressed closer. He started that gentle rocking motion, almost thrusting against you to help your body relax. 

“But Y/N, from what I’ve seen today, it seems like all of your days are bad. Aren’t they?”

“I…”

“All these years with no one to believe you. It must be hard to believe yourself sometimes. Do you think they really believe you, Y/N? Do they believe how much pain you’re in as you struggle through each day? As you stand up too fast, or brush your hair? Do you think they understand?”

He’d pushed closer, looming over you as he held your thigh against him. 

“Why are you–”

“I need to make sure that my patients have the support systems they need.”

His voice had smoothed back now, from almost heated to cool and detached.

He’s the only person that’s ever seemed like they understand. He must believe me. Of course he would be passionate about it, he’s a doctor. A doctor that believes me.

Closer and closer, his eyes watching yours.

“Do they believe you?”

“I think,” you started, eyes wide as you fought more tears, “I think they try to believe me. They just… They don’t know what it’s like. They don’t understand.”

“How’s this?”

“It’s fine.”

“Alright, last push.”

Your thigh was pressed between your bodies, and he stayed there.

“Does this hurt, Y/N,” he rasped, his breath warming your face. 

“No.”

He helped you stretch your leg out on the table, sitting backwards in the rolling chair before he told you to sit up.

“I believe I understand the cause of your pain, and why you’ve had a difficult time obtaining a diagnosis.”

“Can you fix it?”

Your thrill of excitement got caught in your throat at the look in his eyes, his palm up to halt your questions. 

“I believe it may be a connective tissue disorder, which would explain your hypermobility, as well as the complications you’ve had with many parts of your body. You've already met the criteria for one type based on our examination today. I would like you to come back tomorrow so that we can review more of your symptoms to be sure, and to discuss treatments.”

“You can do surgery, right? Can you fix it?”

You had gestured to him, your body panicking with failing hope. A gasp left your throat as those tattooed fingers caught your hand, his thumb rubbing over your skin as his voice went low.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. This is not a condition that can be cured,” he confessed, squeezing your hand as your body slumped. “Connective tissues run throughout our entire body, and if I am correct, yours may be weaker than most. 'Loose,' as you said. Unfortunately, there is no known way to repair or replace those tissues.”

A weight fell over you, and you found yourself not quite in your body. Your body that you’d fought so hard to fix.

That can never be fixed.

The doctor pressed your hand between his, smoothing over and warming your fingers until you were present enough to meet his eyes.

“It may not be curable, Y/N, but it can be managed. You don’t need to suffer alone in such pain like you have been. I’ll do everything I can to ensure that things are better for you. Do you trust me?”

There was something so intense about his face. The way he looked at you felt heavy, like he really did see the weight you’d carried all these years. You sank into those gray eyes, and realized you did.

“I trust you, Doctor.”

“Please. Y/N,” he hummed, releasing your hand, “call me, Law.”

Likes and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you so much!

a/n: Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! Welcome to my frustration with the health care system 😅

Tag List: @shewrites02 | @jadeddangel

Part 2

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 |

[yurinaa-world]

hello, can I request Jing Yuan, Caelus and Welt with an injury prone reader who constantly hides and dismisses their injuries? (Getting hit by falling objects, being the unfortunate victim of harsh attacks, Getting shoved down a flight of stairs by accident or tripping over objects)

Despite the fast reflexes developed to avoid a good chunk of injuries, they still get hurt to the point of needing medical aid (bloody head, heavy bleeding ext.) and are unable to tell immediately due to their high pain tolerance. Even then, reader avoid being healed like the the plague and running off to tend to their injuries on their own. If they wake up in a hospital, they will sneak out of said hospital and dismiss concerns of their Injuries when found.

Reader will say "oh its just a scratch" as if their arm hadn't been nearly mauled by a bear.

Thanks,

Characters: Jing Yuan, Dan Heng, and Welt yang x Gender-neutral Reader

Synopsis: reader who get injured easily, but dismisses it

Warnings: Fluff and spelling mistakes, mentions of blood, stitches, wounds/injuries

Notes: sorry I don't write for Cealus so I replaced him with Dan Heng if you don't mind

𝒥𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒴𝓊𝒶𝓃

You’ve been avoiding him for a while; anytime you see him around the corner, you run the opposite way. You were injured from a pretty nasty fight with monsters, but knowing Jing Yuan, you would have to wait a good 5 hours to heal up properly so he wouldn’t notice the injury and force you into the hospital, and you would rather deal with it yourself. One thing is that he doesn’t take your word on you dismissing your injuries. Don’t believe he doesn’t notice since you always do the same thing when this happens.

You also go to the guest bathroom to stitch and clean yourself up properly, especially making sure that the servants won’t tell Jing Yuan, yet some little stitching does. You might as well go through the guest window instead of the door (which you did go through a handful of times).

You have to clean the evidence, like scrubbing down everything to make sure not even a drop of blood is left behind, and burn the cloth that had all your blood on it along with stings and needles used for your stitches (anything you used to clean your wounds).

All that’s left is to face him, which is another annoying problem.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

+(Bonus blurb)

You lay back against the headboard of your shared bed. stretching your shoulder and sighing, feeling the little sting from the stitches that you did yourself for a couple of hours. “Is something wrong with your shoulder?” Jing Yuan asks while reading his book.

He didn’t even glance up from the text in front of him. You looked down at your shoulder, the very tint of where the stitches are. “Oh no, I’m fine, just stiff is all." “Are you sure?" "yeah,” you nodded, sweating a little.

"I didn’t see you today,” he commented, saying it in an unusual tone that made you look over at him. It was an expression you never thought he would wear—blank, almost mad, or not wanting to say anything.

“Ah, I stayed home,” you replied, looking away. “The servants informed me that you went out and then came back home bloody.” Oh, you gotta be kidding about those damn snitches!

you thought, but instead just smiled nervously at Jing Yuan. He finally closed his book and looked up at you, his gold eyes freaking at you.

“well?”

"I tripped!"

“You can’t fool me," he stated flatly, crossing his arms around his chest and face and switching to his smirk, making a whole change in the atmosphere, and you couldn’t help but shiver.

"Fine," you huffed, rolling your eyes. "I got a little hurt and fixed myself with stitches. “I’m perfectly fine, though!" You added trying to play off your injury.

“What shall I do with you? Maybe tie you up?”

“Tie me up?! Over this!”

“Sounds fitting for you.”

𝒟𝒶𝓃 𝐻𝑒𝓃𝑔

You avoid everyone like plague and stay in your room, locking your door and not letting anyone in. It takes you such a long time to stitch up and clean up your wounds. If March knows, and even if you asked her to keep it away from Dan Heng,  she just can’t keep her mouth shut.

Whenever you do get hurt in front of him, you immediately tell him you're fine and avoid any help from him, even if you look like you got jumped by 15 different people.

There have been times you forgot to lock your door, which happens when you run into your room cleaning up your very messed-up wounds without more of your blood ruining your floor.

But also the part about having a big mouth and your door being unlocked—yeah,  him seeing your trashy, shaky hand trying to stitch yourself up freaks him out that he has to help you.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

+(Bonus blurb)

You groan in annoyance, sitting at your little two-seat table, medkit on your table, trying your best to pull string in the skin of your arm without causing more damage than necessary. needle going through your skin with the rest of the string in your mouth. Your lips tug on the thread, and you feel the tug in your teeth.

“What are you doing?” You hear Dan Heng say something, making you stop in your tracks as you attempt to pull the string out of your mouth. You sigh, turning around to face Dan Heng. "Uh, Dan Heng, what are you doing here?" you sweat. “March said you weren’t feeling well and I should check on you; it looks like she’s right." stupid march! “You don’t need to bother,” yet he doesn’t listen to you.

He goes over to your chair beside the one you were in, pulling it up so that he is sitting next to you, taking your arm with trashy stitches on it, removing it, and cutting it off for a fresh new start.

"You shouldn’t have the string in your mouth; germs could transfer to the wound and give you an infection.”

He scolded gently, cleaning up the wound, taking the string, and gently taking your arm, slowly taking the needle and gently pulling it through your skin, being careful not to tear the flesh.

“Dr. Dan Heng, you really do know everything." You laugh slightly while watching him work his magic on your arm.

“Dr. Dan Heng? It’s good to know about this stuff when it comes to you,” he shrugs nonchalantly. He completely fixes your arm, and you look at your cleaned arm with an impressed look.

“Thank you, Dan Heng.”

𝒲𝑒𝓁𝓉 𝓎𝒶𝓃𝑔

You worry a lot about him; you can’t even hide it or play it off with him; he can just see the slight change in your body, your stunning white walking, or how you clutch at your shoulder and go to change bandages, and even more blood starts to soak out.

While you are sleeping together, he wakes up to a weird feeling, turning the lamp to see a little pool of blood by the shoulder and the shoulder of your clothes, also stained in crimson red, while you look so uncomfortable by the wet feeling.

He wakes you up, and you fix up while you're still half asleep, not knowing what’s even happening as he cleans the sheets, wounds, and clothes to make sure your blood doesn’t leak out again.

if you liked this, consider tipping me on ko-fi! it'd mean a lot!

[crossingthedreams]

medication — gregory house x f!reader

a/n: posting this late, as always, for @angstober day 06 — medication. this is inspired by a real life scenario that happened with someone I know. please, if you’re suffering through any sort of violence, reach the authorities. I am not, nor will ever be, specialized help, but I am available to listen in my dm’s should anyone need to vent. always, always, always put your safety and well being first. 

summary: you meet your former lover once more, but in the worst possible scenario. 

word count: 584

warnings: domestic violence. angst. horrible relationship dynamics. mentions of family death. abortion. mentions of past relationships. reader is injured. 

TRIGGER WARNING. Domestic violence. Abortion. Please proceed with care. 

“You should leave him”.

You couldn’t bring yourself to look at the man at the door. Instead, you kept your gaze fixed on the medication falling in small drops from the transparent package into your veins. 

Hospital rooms had such a surreal vibe to them. Nothing seemed real, as if the words you uttered in there weren’t important and would have no impact on your actual day-to-day life. 

It was why you brought yourself to say, still not taking your eyes from the clear medication. “I wish I could”. 

You heard his steps approaching, hitting the floor rhythmically with his cane. 

His staff must have been so confused when he decided to be the attending doctor on your case. It was almost funny imagining the reactions, even though you never met the three young doctors working under his wing. 

You weren’t a mystery, and your case was just boring. You fell down the stairs and broke a couple of ribs, and got a black eye in the process. Nothing much, right? 

Wrong. And Gregory House saw right through you. 

He knew very well you didn’t fall, and he knew that black eye was a result of a very specific injury. 

In all the years he’d known your family, he never would have imagined you would lie for a man who was hurting you. 

The thing is, he didn’t know the whole story. The nuances, the finances. The reasons why you couldn’t just get up and leave. You didn’t deserve to leave.

You turned your face towards him. He was close enough now, so much so you could see the specks of light green in the baby blue of his eyes. He put a folder carefully on the movable table in front of you, and seemed to ponder on what to say next. 

You didn’t want to hear it. “There’s a lot of strings attached”, you simply said, hoping this would end the matter once and for all. “You knew my father and you are a smart guy, you can figure it out”.

“You’re pregnant.”

“No, I’m not.”

He tilted his head. “Sorry, who is the doctor here again?”

You shook your head, as if the motion itself could stop reality. Your eyes filled with tears, but you didn’t want to cry. Not here, not in front of him.

“You don’t have to go through with this. And I mean both the pregnancy and whatever hell you are living back home”, he said in the sweetest way he knew how. He took a small bottle from his coat and held it out in front of you. “Take one pill, and he’ll never know. Doctor-patient confidentiality”.

You smiled a little, mostly because of his tone. House never tried to be funny, but at least he was trying to lighten the mood.

“Your father was a terrible man, and I hated him almost as much as he hated me. Of course, he didn’t sleep with my daughter, so there’s that”.

You rolled your eyes, which hurt due to the bruises. But still, the small smile lingered. House brought up the torrid affair you two shared before your father passed very rarely, and never without a motive.

“You should leave him, kid”, he repeated. Your smile faded, and your face showed only pain. “If you ever need anything, you have my number, my work address and my home address. Call me”. 

He left the bottle of medication on the table before leaving. Confidently for once, you took it. 

[novashelby]

Just Breathe-A Jonathan Crane x Fem!Reader Smut MDNI. 18+

Pairing: Jonathan CraneXFem!Reader-Patient

Prompt: I used number 65

Warnings: Mentions of depression and anxiety, medication, use of drugs, dub-con. Fingering (f receiving). Age gap? Reader is unknown adult age, but Jonathan is older.

Summary: Dr. Crane's patient has been having a hard time climaxing after taking a SSRI. So, he gives her an experimental drug to help her climax.

Word Count: 3.7k

A/N: This is a request by @futurefamousdeadmusician. They had given me the prompt, but allowed me the creative freedom. I hope you enjoy it. :) Please comment and reblog. Likes are kind, but I'd really appreciate if you can at least reblog. Rebloging allows an author's work to circulate.

She wasn’t his usual type of patient; small and meek. A simple diagnosis of general anxiety. Nothing a little pill couldn’t fix. The previous appointment he pulled out his pad and wrote down a low dose prescription of sertraline. Something he often started patients on. And so, when she came in the next appointment with a very typical problem, he was not surprised. Dr. Crane took off his dark rimmed glasses and leaned back, one leg crossed over the other. He listened intently and with genuine interest, watching her fiddle with the fraying hems of her sleeves. Many assumed he was all arrogance and no compassion. That was hardly the truth. Dr. Crane cared quite deeply about his patients. Perhaps just in a different way. 

“Are you nervous?” he asked, eying her picking at loose threads. Her fingernails scraped and pulled, causing balls of lint to flutter on the ground. His eyes watched as they drifted in the air. “You seem on edge.” It wasn’t anything new in her case; on edge and small. Though, the twitching in her wrist was new. She swallowed, stopping the shaking in her knee. Looking up at him, she took a deep sigh. 

“Mike and I had our first intimate date,” she said with a crooked, unsure smile. 

Curious, he arched his brows. “And how did that go? Michael…the boy from your university course, correct?” He wrote it down in his notebook for future reference. 

Shrugged, she winced a bit and shyly responded, “it didn’t…it didn’t go anywhere.” Her cheeks turned a shameful rosy red and she averted her attention off the side. It was not an unusual side effect. In fact, it was almost expected with SSRIs at this point. Dr. Crane noted in his file; the patient is struggling with intimacy-possible side effects from medication. “He was getting frustrated with me. I couldn’t…couldn’t…finish?” she questioned, looking back up at him. Poor girl looked so ashamed and embarrassed, her cute bottom lip pouting out. 

“I see,” he said, thumb playing with the pen in his hand. Click. Click. Click. “Well, it is a normal response to the medication. Lower libido and difficulty reaching climax. Have you tried to talk to Michael about this?” 

She shook her head. “Hasn’t answered any of my texts.”

Dr. Craned sighed and offered a consolidating smile. “I’m sorry.”

“Dr. Crane, am I just going to be like this everyday for the rest of my life?” she asked after a random moment of silence. It took him by surprise when she stood, taking a deep inhale and holding it before letting it out with a stream of words. “I just…I feel so fucking useless!” His eyes followed as she passed about the small, dimly lit office. “Like I can’t function. For one fucking day.” Pausing, she turned on her heels and faced him, eyes peering down. “Like, it isn’t possible, right? No one can possibly be like this forever, right?” Dr. Crane put aside his notes and stood. Perhaps it was a little unprofessional, but he gently put his hands over her arms, thumbs running circles. It took her a second to come in focus, but when she did, she looked into his eyes and asked, “Dr. Crane, I want to feel human-”

“You feel nothing, but human,” he responded, gently. “Being human is feeling anxious, scared, happy, nervous. Don't worry.” His hand went up to her cheek. “We can adjust your medication and change the dosage. I can…hmm.” He stopped mid thought when it hit him. “There is something I could try. Would you mind grabbing your belongings? We will actually head to the examination room-no, no, nothing at all to be afraid of.” The girl shivered in his arms, hesitating at the threshold of the door. He flicked off the lights and had to rest his hand on her lower back to shimmy her out. “We will go downstairs. Ah!” He walked over to the check in desk. “Linda, I will need you to cancel my appointments, and why don’t you take the rest of the day?”

Linda, the aging receptionist, took a moment to realize she was getting a free afternoon. In glee, she said, “oh, of course, Dr. Crane. Thank you!” 

He nodded. “Just remember to cancel those appointments and reschedule for Friday. I’ll switch around my shift at Arkham.” His eyes drifted back to the nervous girl, still fiddling with her sweater sleeves. “Just this way,” he whispered, smiling down at her. “Be Careful going down the steps. They’re a bit steep.” And he was right. She felt one wrong step and she would tumble down. Gripping the wooden railing, she climbed down sideways. Unlike Dr. Crane, who knew each step as if he had them mapped out in his brain. 

When they both reached downstairs, he flicked on a light. When her eyes adjusted, she was surprised to see a rather modern examination room; marble floor, medical bed, and metal cabinets. “Do you often bring patients down here, Dr. Crane?” Her eyes scanned the room when she saw four straps on the bed. She hated to admit it, but her brain instantly went to serial killer. He chuckled, placing a hand on her shoulder. 

“Don’t worry,” he said, as he was walking to a cabinet, unlocking it with a set of keys. “Those aren’t for you. Sit on the gurney please. I have to get you a waiver.” His fingers skimmed over the packets before pulling out a single piece of paper. “Ah! Here we are! No need to fear, it is only precautionary and customary.” Handing her the pen, he prompted her to sign it. Her fingers lingered over the pen, hesitantly taking it to sign.

“What are we going to do?” she asked, brows knitted.

He smiled, and cupped her cheek. “I will explain it to you in a moment, but I’d like you to sign it first. Just in case.” She nodded and skimmed over the words, not registering anything before shoving it back to him. Dr. Crane had never given her a reason not to trust him. “Good girl.” Good girl? A lump formed in the back of her throat as those words did something to her. His whole demeanor changed. The way he spoke was smooth and less professional and clinical. And this ascertain possessiveness clung to the words good girl. When she embarrassingly looked away, his hand was back at her cheek, pushing her to look at him. He was closing the gap between them. “Have I ever given you a reason not to be safe with me? Have I not always done what was right for you? Hm? You will be trying a new drug.” 

“A new drug?” she asked, wincing. “Shouldn’t I withdraw from the other one? Has it been tested? Approved by the FDA?” Ignoring her questions, he simply chuckled and pinched her chin before turning his back going to another file cabinet. Out he pulled a syringe and a vial filled with a purple liquid. 

“It’s a new erectile dysfunction treatment for men,” he explained, turning his head up to draw a syringe. “But it hasn’t been tested on a woman yet, and perhaps I am a bit curious. It won’t hurt you. I’m just curious if it will work.” He turned back to her, the syringe now filled with the purple liquid. She hated shots, but started to roll up her sleeve. “I’ll give you a lesser dose,” he lied, smirking to himself. It was a higher dose mixed with many other components that were known to mess with a woman’s senses.”

“I hate shots,” she explained, showing him her bare arm. 

Dr. Crane chuckled, and said, “actually, it doesn't go in your arm. Rest. Lie on your back.” When she went to open her mouth, he explained, “it goes in your upper thigh. I’ll need to take off your pants. Is that alright?” She contemplated for a second, eyes looking back to the restraints. Have I ever given you a reason not to be safe with me? She started to slide off the gurney, mumbling about how her session was over and how she needed to get home. Dr. Crane’s cool, collected exterior tensed, and the hands that were once gently touching her, were rougher. “Ah, ah, ah. You know the expression that a doctor knows best.” He grabbed her upper arms and pushed her back down.

“Dr. Crane,” she said, mustering up the courage to sound a bit more curt and direct. “I’d like to go home, please.” He wouldn’t budge, eyes peering down at her. The syringe was right there wedged between his index and middle finger.

He slowly smirked, noticing how she kept looking at the restraints. He could read her easily. Knowing what was traveling through her mind, he whispered seductively in her ear. “I will use those if I have to, but if you are a good girl, I won’t. So, please, rest.” He eased her back down on the gurney and guided her to lay flat down. “I’m a doctor,” was his explanation for playing with the button on her pants. “This is nothing short of clinical for me.” Though it was true in a sense, it was still all erotic to him. Having a young woman so helplessly at his mercy in the name of his experiments, He was sure that she wouldn’t last his fear toxin, but luckily for her, he enjoyed a dabble in other areas. Including that of an arousal drug used for men. It wasn’t his, however, but a colleagues….He was simply using it as a side project in benefit of having his name on another paper. Her legs squeezed shut, preventing the ease of pulling them down, Jonathan laughed. “Come now,” he tisked, sliding a hand between her thigh and pulling them apart with ease. 

“It’s just a little uncomfortable,” she said, looking up at him with these pathetic doe-like eyes. Oh, how he had to fake sympathy; lip pouting and head tilted. Awww, I know. It is all so scary. Tell me exactly what you are fearful of? Swallowing, her eyes glanced over at the brown leather straps. “You’ll kill me.”

“How silly,” he said. “What use would I have of you then? Dead? Ah, you young women and your obsession with the grotesque and morbid. Would you believe I am actually helping you?” His cool fingers hooked around the waistband of her jeans and pulled down to her knees. Grabbing an alcohol wipe, he cleaned a small patch near the pelvic area instead of the thigh, where he originally said. When the needle came in closer, she winced, trying to push away slightly. Jonathan pulled away, frowning. His other hand reached out and caressed her cheek. In the softest voice, he cooed, “I know, baby, I know. I’m right here, just breathe.” When the word baby laced within his sentence, she felt an ache in her stomach. It was mixed with sickness and…and that odd sensation that young girls get when they notice their first crush. Almost like a cramp and tingle. Baby? Her eyes glossed as she eased for him. “Good girl. Now, it won’t even hurt…ah! See?! So distracted, you hardly felt the tiny prick, sweetheart.” He was right, she hardly felt the prick. 

“What will happen now?” she asked, watching the ceiling. 

“You may feel a bit warm,” he explained, tossing the syringe and gloves away in a red bin for hazards. Instead of allowing her to leave, he took a seat on the stool, and watched her. “For men, they start to feel a bit of a tingle. An uncontrollable urge, if you will. Of course,” he paused, grinning at her. “An erection and if the sex is of standards, a very satiable climax. However! This is the first time it’s been tested on a female, but I expect the results to be on par-”

“W-what?” she asked, embarrassed. “Dr. Crane. I will do that here?”

Brows arched, he asked, “had you not read the waiver form thoroughly? I’m a bit disappointed, sweetheart. However, yes, you will go through the full trial here.” 

She tried to sit up, but got a bit dizzy and laid back down. “B-but in front of you?”

“It’s all clinical,” he explained. “But, because you hadn’t read the waiver, I want to reinforce that you should allow your body to feel exactly what it wants to feel. That you should relax into the urges and intrusive thoughts. Suppressing it will only make you worse. How are you feeling?” She hummed, wiggling her hands and feets. 

“Just a bit warm is all,” she explained, turning to glance at him, finding it funny that he wasn’t writing anything down. He wasn’t observing her as she imagined a doctor conducting an experiment. Instead, he was simply staring. When she went to sit up, that is when an overwhelming cold sweat hit her, knocking the breath from her lungs. “Shit,” she cursed under breath, closing her eyes. She wasn’t only warm, but hot. Almost like a dripping fever. 

“It’s only sixty-five in here,” he pointed out, amused. “It’s alright…how does your mouth feel?”

“Dry,” she croaked out, feeling her tongue turn to sandpaper. Sweat was forming at her temples and her heart was racing in a way she never felt. 

“Would you like some water?” he asked, sliding from the stool and walking to the sink. He filled a plastic cup with some water and turned to her, dipping his fingers in the cup. “Open your mouth…ahhh, good girl.” He dipped his fingers in her mouth, and there was something in her that turned absolutely feral. Intrigued, he observed how she reached up and hungrily sucked at his fingers, tongue swirling. She refused to let them go, whining when he pulled them away. “Your eyes are quite hazy,” he teased, pressing his fingers against her neck to feel her rising pulse. Her inhibitions were going down, he noted, and watched as whatever she was feeling turned into a survival need. She was hungry for something and she couldn’t comprehend. Sitting up a bit, mouth wide open and tongue out like a bitch in heat. She followed his hand before sucking in his fingers. Bobbing her head, she moaned as if she was pleasuring his cock. “The need for oral stimulation,” he commented before asking, “how hot are you out of ten?” Funny enough, she put up her fingers instead of releasing him. Eight. “Hmm, I see…there you go, sweety. You can take them deeper if you wish….” And she did, pushing them down her throat, choking and drooling over them. His trousers started to tightened as she was falling right where he wanted her. “Now, I must ask. If you are hot, why are you wearing your sweater? Hm? And jeans? That seems a bit stupid, doesn’t it?” She nodded, pausing her sucking. He pulled his hand away and she let out a long whine. “Then what should you do, hm?” Without much prompting, she took off her sweater and tossed it to the ground and kicked off her jeans along with her shoes. Slowly, he grinned, eyes meeting with her black bra. It wasn’t anything special. Very simple, but the way it was definitely a cup too small and her breasts were pooling out made him push her down. 

“I need,” she gasped out, not believing her own words. But she didn’t stress too much because anytime she fought the thoughts, her head banged. She looked up at him with desperate hooded eyes and her hands grabbed for his hands. “I need…I need….”

“Need what?” he asked, amused. “Hmm, I need you to be very specific.” 

A long belly deep whine left her drying lips. “Dr. Crane, stop. I need, I need it…something. Anything.”

“Hmm,” he hummed, his hand resting on her thigh and inching up. “And how do you feel down here, hm?” He hadn’t expected her to let out a growl and grab for his belt. “Hey!” he scolded, grabbing her hand.  “I’m your doctor,” he teased, hand resting against her panty covered cunt. “Wet…pooling. Ah, you must feel so needy and tingly down here, don’t you?” Desperately, she nodded, pouting, hands still attempting to grab for his belt. “Hey, hey…come on. I’m a professional. I would never. Back down. Ah! Good girl.” He walked over to the cabinet and got a clean glove before walking back over. “Let’s test the severity of this. If I wasn’t aware of your situation, I may have just assumed you were rabid.” He went to pull off her panties, but she beat him to it, kicking them off and propping her legs up. “What a diligent patient,” he commented, pulling up the stool. “Yes,” he nodded, looking over her wet folds. “Your labia appears to be puffy.” When he gave her outer lips a quick pinch, her hips jolted up. “Did you know,” he said, dragging out his words. “That the clitoris is much more than this little nub.” It spread her dripping pussy open with his ring and index finger while his middle rubbed gentle circles over her clit. 

Her eyes rolled in the back of her head as she felt this teasing sensation just barely pressing down on her throbbing, aching clit. “O-ohhh,” she moaned out, clenching her vagina walls, desperate for something to fill her. To ease the tension he was making worse, she subconsciously grinded her hips against his finger. “Please-”

“How nice of you to remember your manners,” he teased, pressing harder, rubbing in taunting circles with a constant pace. His eyes watched how her vagina clenched. She was needy for something and he wanted nothing more, but to fill her. He imagined for a moment how he’d take her; bent over, hips slamming into her ass. His hands would be squeezing her beautiful breasts while his mouth would be kissing her ear, whispering all the sinful things. She was white knuckled at the paper thin sheet covering the hospital bed. “Relax,” he told her. “You're trying too hard for release…let it come natural.” She released the sheet and went to her breasts, rubbing and pinching her swelling nipples. 

“Doctor!” she gasped out, hips buckling as she was teetering on the edge of a climax. “It’s been so long, please.” He pulled away his hand and slapped her thigh, pulling her out of her high. She cried, slapping her hands against her face. “Why!?” She was almost angry at him, her eyes glaring his way. But it was all too funny to him. She was still sweating and trying to catch her breath. 

“Tell me exactly what you want,” he said. “Doctor needs to take his notes.”

She swallowed, lip pouting. “To cum. I want to cum. It’s been too long and…and I just-please!” 

“I see,” he said, nonchalantly. “And if you could cum in any way, what way would you like to cum? Sorry, it is all clinical.”

She went to grab for his belt again, but he pulled away reminding her to use her big girl words. “Your…your cock. I want it. I want to ride it-”

“No,” he reminded, leaning into her face with a crooked smile. “I’m your doctor. Don’t you remember? I worked too hard for my license to lose it over fucking a desperate little girl like yourself.” She frowned, feeling an overwhelming sensation of depression. “Shh, it’s okay. Perhaps I don’t always have to be your doctor, but in this room, right now, I am…But! We can continue our finger examination.” He moved from the stool and sat on the examination bed. “Come here.” He barely got the words out before she climbed on him. With two fingers, he eased into her and pumped gently while his thumb rubbed her clit. She was resting over his legs, wiggling and grinding down on his hand. “Go on, it’s your job now.”

“Thank you, doctor,” she moaned out, closing her eyes. He warned her to start easy and allow the pleasure to build. It’d be more pleasurable and satisfying that way, was his rationale. And to his surprise, she did. Little whimpers filled the room as she slowly raised her hips to roll them over his fingers. With one hand, she braced herself on his shoulder and the other played with her breasts, pinching and rolling her nipples. He smiled, his tongue swiping across his bottom lip.

“Are these sensitive?” he asked, pinching it with his other hand.

“Y-yes, doctor,” she cried out, fucking his fingers a bit harder, bouncing while the sensation built up.  “F-fuck,” she cried out, his thumb doing the devil’s work…or perhaps, an angles work? He pressed hard, rubbing circles and flicking it. His hand matched the speed she went. “S-hit, shit,” she whined, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her face in the crook. “D-doctor!” Something sinister built in her core. Something so beautiful that she hadn’t felt in such a long time….And she was not going to lose it. She grinded harder to the point there was just a little pain that sent her over the edge. 

“Good girl,” he cooed. “You’re so wet. Are you normally a squirter? I can feel my pants soaking….” She could only answer in an array of moans and grunts. Nothing comprehensible. “You’re going to cum for me, pretty girl. Good girl.” When she went over the edge, she cried out in a silent scream, eyes rolling back. Bucking her hips, she let loose a stream of squirt. Not only soaking his pants, but his shirt. He wanted it all. Her orgasm was washing over her, but he was convinced she had just a little bit more in her. He released her clit, but continued to rub against her gspot. 

“Oh fuck!” She started to kiss against his jaw line. Between them, she let out words that hardly made any sense. A mix of admiration and desperation for the doctor. “T-too much…too much!” He was pushing her past her climax, and it consumed her, overwhelming all her senses. 

“Let a little more out,” he told her. “I know you-ah! Good job!” As he was about to finish his sentence when she lifted her hips and squirted a pool below her. Taking away his hand, he brought it up between their faces. With a pleased smirk, he sucked off the juices, and said, “it’s all clinical.”

[sukunas-wife]

Would you be willing to write about Sukuna and a reader with post partum depression and body dysmorphia, with him trying to comprehend it and help? If not, that's fine.

Also could I be 🥀 anon?

I’ve never experienced postpartum. But I'll do my best after a little info dive 🥺🤍

You were holding onto Sukuna’s arm, it wasn’t enough to just hold his hand. You were pulling him down over you and he was worried. You tried to bury your face in his shoulder. He wanted to hold you but this wasn’t this place or time to hold you. You cried into his shoulder feeling the overwhelming pain and pressure in your body had you arching your back and finally you fell against the bed. You felt the wave of relief hit you when you heard that cry, your boy's little cry and whines. You did your best to sit up but you were a mess. Tired, sore and emotionally spent for the past 2 hours.

“Lady Y/n,” the medical aid’s assistant helped you to take your son. Sukuna looked like a proud bird. His chest was puffed out, there was a glimmer in his eye and a smug but soft smile. He gave a small show of affection when he leaned down pressed his lips to your head, laying a hand on your stomach rubbing soothing circles, “You did well y/n.”

You smiled, tired eyes looking up at him, your son latched to your chest. “‘’M so tired.” He stood up placing a hand on your head, slowly and carefully brushing your hair back, “You’ll be able to rest soon enough.

——————

This was the first time Sukuna had seen you broken, you were crying, trembling and holding Yuji who was also crying. You felt him come into the room but you felt hopeless you couldn’t even call out to him. You felt yourself curl over Yuji holding him closer to your chest.

“…y/n” Sukuna’s voice wasn’t cold, but it wasn’t comforting. It was full of concern and softer than how he’d usually demand your attention. You didn’t answer him as you tried to silence your shaky breaths. You felt him come up behind you, you shook your head no. He slid Yuji from your hold carrying him with one set of arms. With the other he turned you to face him. He didn't look at you, instead pulling you against his chest and holding you close. He didn't understand why you were crying or what caused this. He was just relieved that you seemed to cling to him instead of pushing him away. At least he knew it wasn’t his fault. Eventually his back started to hurt and Yuji started to whine threatening to cry. Your red puffy eyes looked so tired, “He won’t take..” you trailed off looking down, Sukuna was still confused won’t take what?? You didn't bother trying to explain because it felt like you couldn’t, instead you pressed your forehead to his chest staring at the floor and tearing up again. You were a mess, but his mess still, so he was going to do his best and try to maybe help.

It took another 30 minutes of trying to comfort you while you were in your distressed state. Before you could try to speak to him.

You explained to him how you were trying to breastfeed Yuji when he woke you up crying, but he wouldn’t take to your breast. How his screams and cries were tearing into your heart. You did your best to comfort him but you couldn’t, he wouldn’t calm down and you felt helpless and no one was there to help you. You felt like you couldn’t do it right, you couldn’t feed him, you couldn’t calm him down, you couldn’t get him to stop crying, you were his mother you should be able to take care of him like no one else. This led to you pulling away from Sukuna and sitting on the edge of your shred bed. One arm wrapped around your stomach, you were still bigger in size you could feel it. One hand came up to cover your mouth while you tried to hold back your cries. Sukuna was standing there doing his best to comfort Yuji in his arms while watching you all he could think was ‘Damnit when did humans become so emotional what the hell am I supposed to do to fix this?? Shut it brat I’m having a crisis too you're just hungry…’

He looked around before he took his place next to you, he was confused but not as distraught as you were. You felt sick, you couldn’t even bring yourself to look at him. “Come here.” He pulled you into his lap even as you protested, you didn’t feel comfortable in your own body, you didn’t want him to touch you so freely. He shushed you when you tried to smack his chest, you stilled against him when he squeezed your side against his chest with another hand rubbing your back trying to calm you down. He still held Yuji firmly in his arms, “…sukuna…” your voice was quiet. He shushed you, “you’ve done nothing wrong y/n, but Yuji needs to eat.”

You looked up at him, his hand touched your shoulder brushing at the edge of your robe. You placed your hand over his, looking up at him your eyes still looked so tired but you were looking for support, for something. His eyes softened, your hand guiding him as you slowly slipped the shoulder down to expose your chest. He brought Yuji closer to your chest, wrapped an arm around you, and you took Yuji into your arms. His cries quieted when you brought him to your chest, but he wouldn’t latch. You tried to guide him to your nipple but he wouldn’t take it again. Sukuna watched how you became distressed again, he. He had two arms wrapped around your back, one of his free arms moved to support Yuji’s head, the other cautiously under yours where you held Yuji. The hand on Yuji’s head moved to take his chin between two of his fingers, one arm from around your back moved up to take your breast in his hand, he guided Yuji to your breast carefully pulling his mouth open just enough to take your nipple. He latched onto you and you felt a small wave of relief and you heard Sukuna let out a chuckle, “just needed a little help.”

——————

A few weeks had passed and you felt slightly better, but breast feeding on ocasión was a three person party of You, Yuji and Sukuna. You had started to feel better physically, which meant Sukuna was beside you not trusting your silly little human helpers. No one could take care of you like he could. But that also didn't mean he didn't get impatient when you’d walk a little slowly, which led to you sitting on a stone bench and refusing to get up which led to him standing there throwing squinting at you as you turned your nose up and away at him. The both of you would be stuck in this sit/stand off for a good bit until Sukuna would walk off and come back with something for you to eat or until he caved and pulled you up over his shoulder, it was very rarely that you would cave because you always had a point when you would say, “You did this to me MR I WANT A SON so now YOU are going to put up with me and my little slow walk that you caused.” Followed by your angry pout and crossed arms.

Yet when you felt tired, hopeless and the depression started to kick in Sukuna was still hopelessly confused as to why you were feeling this. But there he was trying to learn how or what to do. He too was having a crisis every other day when you were beyond exhausted and he had to carry Yuji around with him only coming to poke the sleeping tiger when Yuji was hungry. There he was having to pick you up and support your drowsy sleep heavy body against his w so you could breastfeed. He was a single father by day, man looking for a second heir at night. To which you would almost agree but you’d always fall asleep before he could get back from putting Yuji down to sleep.

——————

“Sukuna!” Your voice was cheery, it had been just over 6 months since you pushed Yuji out but here you stood beside your bed in front of Sukuna with your robes wide open. “I didn't pee when I sneezed.” You were so excited to show him this, he was groggy blinking at you nodding along. Yuji was sleeping on his chest, caged in and protected by his four arms. “Wonderful, we’ll have a feast.” He knocked out snoring and you just looked at him with a small smile. He really had taken on a bigger role than you expected him to.

“King of curses hm?” You walked over pulling Yuji from his arm cage, “King of Snoring is starting to sound the same.”

You stretched out your arms, leaning back and holding Yuji up. “How’s my little prince now that I can actually hold you up hm?” He cooed, little hands stretching at you. “Aww.” You held him against your chest and he curled against you, little squinty eyes barely opening to look at you, “you look just like your daddy…” you gently grazed the back of your pointer finger against his chubby cheek.

I tried 🥹🤍 But I can always retry if it’s not up to code little extra promo

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