#he had an asthma attack and his heart stopped

[sequencefairy]

not to put too fine a point on it but like, you know, tell people who you love that you love them.

[thatpunnyperson]

According to NBC here in the US, the missing titanic sub has been found. As debris. Off the bow of the Titanic wreckage.

And it looks like the sub suffered what we all suspected, and what was undoubtedly the more merciful of the two options: a catastrophic implosion from the pressure.

Also, more info has come to light about the fishing trawler with the hundreds of migrants that sank cataclysmically off the coast of Greece, indicating that the greek coast guard knew about the vessel AND how much trouble the vessel was in, and were towing it at a speed that made it capsize, at which point they unhooked the tow line and watched the trawler sink without helping the passengers to safety. Despite a bunch of other ships trying to help as well throughout the whole ordeal.

So a lot of people are dead, all because of regulations (and the lack thereof) regarding sea-faring vessels and rescue protocols. People shouldnt be allowed to make a business charging a ton of money for a ride on an uncertified, unsafe, un-seaworthy ship going deep into the ocean with no distress beacon or tether to the mothership. People also shouldnt be allowed to enact laws that criminalize the ferrying of refugees, which then force the refugees to hitch rides on fishing trawlers, and which also prevent people from helping those fishing trawlers full of refugees due to fear of legal consequences.

Hopefully BOTH of these events spark changes on an international scale in terms of what is legally allowed to be sailed, who is legally allowed to be the passengers, and what the rescue protocols are in the event of disaster for any seafaring vessel, illegal or not. It shouldnt be just the global 1% who get 24/7 search parties and remote-operated submersibles helping rescue them.

[emmyrosee]

Hi! I was wondering if you could do a modern!au sukuna x fem!reader in which they're dating and they're babysitting little yuji for the day, going to the park, grocery store, or whatever, and some old lady thinks yuji is their son and sukuna and reader had yuji as teens so she starts judging, making comments and kinda insulting them for having a kid so young. (but yuji is just sukuna's little brother)

I hope what I said made sens 😅 and feel totally free to ignore my request if you don't want to do it or if you're not taking requests at the moment :)

tw// mean old ladies, insinuations of s3x in teenage years, sukuna talking back, lots of swearing, mentions of death, I wouldn’t normally put warnings but juuuuuuuuuust in case

There’s a scoff that rings out in the air as the last of your footstep passes her. It’s enough to make Sukuna stop on impact. You turn to him, and Yuuji in his stroller looks up to see what the stop is, but Sukuna’s eyes are firm in annoyance, the vein in his forehead pulsing.

“I’m sorry,” he begins, spinning on his heel. “Is there a problem, maam?” His voice dribbles sarcasm, and you feel your heart rate pick up from anxiety.

When you turn to face the old woman, her face is twisted in judgement, wrinkles furrowed deeper than natural as she glares past Sukuna and burrows her sights onto you. A chill shrills down your spine as her cold gaze fixes on you.

“Babies having babies,” she snarls cruelly, and you see Sukuna’s knuckles lighten from the force of gripping the handles. “You couldn’t keep it in your pants, and you couldn’t close your legs, hmm? Reproducing when you shouldn’t be. You ought to be embarrassed.”

You cheeks heat up in embarrassment, but when you look up at sukuna again, his grin is curled devilishly. You sigh, “sukuna, come on-“

“No,” he hisses. “I want to hear what the crypt keeper’s gotta say. One foot in the grave, one on a fucking oil spill and you’re wasting your breath spilling bullshit? You oughta be embarrassed.”

She clutches her chest in offense, “I can’t stand you youths these days, wasting your life on each other, disappointing your parents. Why they’d ever approve of you keeping that sin in the carriage is ridiculous.”

You’re quick to grab Sukuna’s collar and keep him from launching at the lady. He’s not happy about being stopped, he’s practically frothing at the mouth in rage, but at your grip, he stands down.

His mouth however, does not.

“I’m offended people like you even get to breathe my air,” he snarls, and you try to ignore the look the old lady gives you- she looks almost prideful to be getting such a reaction. “That child is not sin, that’s my fucking little brother- and even if it was, if you looked at him and the first thing you thought of was my girlfriend and I smashing, you need to tell your fucking hospice nurse, you pervert.”

“Sukuna-“

“It’s not my fault nor concern that your husband died from an asthma attack your dusty old pussy gave him, but if you ask me, he dodged a fucking bullet because holy fuck if I had to spend my days waiting for you to die first, I’d pull the plug myself.”

“Sukuna!”

“You think you get to sit here and judge my girlfriend, my self, my fucking brother without consequence, you are sadly mistaken. And I sincerely hope that, with the bottom of my soul, that when your decrepit heart finally decides to stop and bless the world by taking your life, no one bats an eye. If this is how you treat strangers with a child, I would love to see how you treat your loved ones. Sit on it and fucking twist, you old bitch.” Then, he flashes her a smile, “have the day you fucking deserve, you twat.”

The woman stares at him, eyes wide and jaw agape. You also, stare at him with wide eyes and an agape jaw, and it isn’t until he wraps his arm around your waist and starts to push the carriage again, that you follow.

“Sukuna,” you say, voice shaky. “Why…?”

“Because no one gets to look at my fucking family in any way other than damn respect,” he growls, fingers digging into your hip from anger. “No one.”

“No, I mean…” you swallow thickly. “Why do people feel the need to be so cruel?”

“The world is cruel,” he says flatly. Then, he sighs and shakes his head, “but I have no issue in putting terrible people in their place. Especially for yuuji. Especially for you.”

You smile softly and lay your hand on his, lacing your fingers with his as they rest on your hip, “we’re lucky to have you then, aren’t we?”

He chuckles, “it’s about time you appreciate it.”

[muntitled]

Broken Telephones

Ex!Jake x Fem!Reader | Jay x Fem!Reader

Summary: Despite Jay priding himself on being a good friend, he's done denying himself what belongs to him.

Warnings: Language, Obsession, Jealousy, toxicity, Ex Boyfriend's Best Friend to Lovers, Smut +18 (mdni), Squirting, Manhandling Ownership kink, Semi-Public Sex, Exhibitionist Kink, Dubious Consent, Angry Sex, Threats, Dom/Sub Themes, Hard Dom!Jay

Based on this request by @penny44224 . This gets really toxic, sorry, also I couldn't leave my baby Jake out of this, hope you like it <3

“What kind of party is this anyway?” You grumble from the passenger seat, your heart sinking behind the glittery confines of your tight collared shirt. Something so tight and so painfully provocative would never have come out of your own closet. You had Jake and his obscene budget to thank for that.

“The normal kind,” he says, “with drinking and sex and smoke-” before he's allowed to continue his blissful rambling, you interrupt Jake with a raise of your hand.

“Need I remind you that I have asthma?” With a firm hand on the steering wheel, Jake's eyes roll into the back of his head.

“I can't go.” You continue, “That's a health risk.”

“You haven't had an asthma attack since you were 6,” he deadpans, “Do not piss me off,”

It was difficult to do much of anything with a pounding heart and a stomach flooded with molten anxiety. What do people do at parties anyway? You've watched enough low budget teen Netflix dramas to know… nothing good.

"I don't think you understand the words leaving my mouth," The dwindling daylight leaves your bones rattling with anxiety. You were supposed to be watching the sun setting over the river skyline from your dorm room. Your notes on autocracy in a Constitutional Monarchy, pending across the page in front of you, ready for submission Monday morning.

Instead, you find yourself arrested in a leather seat, in a shameless chequered miniskirt. Your exposed thighs are sticky with evening humidity. This is not how your evening was supposed to go.

"I need to be studying-"

You're battling fiercely with a Mr Morale tune oozing through the Jeep's speakers while your best friend remains blissfully unaware, rapping along as if your concerns were null and void.

Kendrick's voice was strong but yours was stronger. "Since I am an unwilling participant, this is technically kidnapping. You are illegally kidnapping me this very second. You are aware of that, yes?"

"Nonsense,” Jake chuckles, “I can't kidnap my ex girlfriend-” before you're able to rebut he quickly adds, “And I am aware that you're going to wake up one day realising your stupid ass wasted your college years studying." Jake shoots back while the chorus sails on without him. This was serious business if he took the time to ignore Kendrick's second verse. "I'm aware that in all our time in school you've done nothing but school. I'm also aware that I'm saving you from a life of complete and utter regret.” His big brown eyes narrow in the dark, and you are corralled into a shameful silence.

“Just don't try to sleep with me tonight-” you grumble under your breath.

“I'm a changed man,” he says, “I've only thought about fucking you only once this whole evening!”

“Oh god…” you shake your head slowly as the jeep assumes a safer speed in a residential enclosure. “These are rich people's palm trees, why am I seeing rich people's palm trees?"

"Because I got invited to an event that classifies the attendance of rich-people-palm-trees." His stoney visage cracks into a lazy, triumphant smirk.

“Rugby team.” Is all he says.

Your hand flies to the door handle, for what purpose specifically, remains an utter mystery. The car is still in motion so you did not have the intention of flinging the door open and hurling your body onto the biting tar underneath.

"Stop being so goddamn anxious all the time-”

“Jake, I don't even like Rugby-”

“No but you like me… and I like rugby… ergo…,” the car slows to a nauseating stop in the middle of a packed driveway.

"Let me rephrase that- Jake your friends hate me-"

"If this is about Jay again..."

"He's never liked me!" You huff, "Even when we were dating it's like he had it out for me or something!" Your shoulders are tense and Jake can't help but send a worried glance over. He ventures to lay his one hand on your thigh but stops himself, placing it instead on shoulder to rub out the knots there.

"You're making excuses. Jay hates everyone," he says, “I need you to forget about school for one night.” Jake's pep talk only succeeds in filling the void of your stomach with even more dread. “You think about dead politicians way too much for a 20 year old girl."

And that's how you end up in the backyard of a frat house as the third accessory of Jake and some unnamed girl. He has his arms wrapped around both your necks as he enters the party, like some glorified university replica of Hefner.

You know in this light, you appeared to be one of his girls, but the thought of weathering this party without Jake on standby filled you with unmistakable dread.

It was as if the soles of your feet were melting into the grass with each step you took towards the bonfire, even more so when you saw him already seated at the edge of a log, watching you approach with a smile that eases into an unimpressed frown. Jay's cup is held in mid-air as he watches you plop down beside him.

A single gold chain is tucked away behind a loose button up and suddenly, you wish to burrow into the ground underneath this log, away from the vulnerability of his gaze. You felt naked.

“You're not drinking.” Jongseong observes, glancing away from you and Jake's hand sliding over your hip bone.

“What’s in it?” You ask, eyes drifting over Jay's solo cup.

“Sugar, spice and everything nice,” he whispers back.

Beside you, Jake entertains the rest of his friends, his fingers rubbing unconsciously into your sides.

You don't seem at all impressed.

“What do you want me to say?” He asks with a slight deadpan, “That I put my love and affection into it? You're at frat house. This is probably 90% alcohol-”

“-And 10% mysterious drugs to roofie unsuspecting girls.” You conclude before making an elaborate show of pushing further into Jake's side. Jay doesn't like that one bit.

“If I wanted you to sleep with me,” his lips tickle your ear and you shiver, “I wouldn't need to get you high out of your mind to do it.”

Something in his words sounded vaguely like a promise.

“You'll just fall in line,” Jay said, “Like all the others.”

Before Jay could get another mind numbing word out, you're quickly standing from your post from beside Jake. “Coming here was a mistake. I'm Heading Home,”

Jake's hand tugs at yours as if prompting you to sit back down.

"Not after the game… C'mon, it'll be fun," you let Jake's words anchor you to the floor.

"Actually, Jake," Even under the moonlight you can spot a deep frown setting across his face, "I think I should go home. I've already had way too much to drink,"

"You've had 1 cup, my dear-”

"And a half," you clarify before shaking your head. ‘and your frjend is making me really fucking uncomfortable,’ you choose to leave those unspoken words unspoken.

You play with the string along the seam of your skirt, humming along to the Drake tune oozing out of the unseen speakers.

“Aww, you really don't wanna join our game?” Jay coos, looking up at you with an incriminating smirk as he clutches his heart as if you hurt him deeply.

“I'll pass.”

“Course you will,” he snickers. “Princess can't bear to stay away from her book too long, can she?’ It's that tone, that fucking that has you lowering

“What…” you swallow thickly, “What game?” you find yourself asking with a dignified huff as you plant your butt on the log in Between Jake and Jay once more. Your bones are rattling with unprocessed rage as Jake whispers, “broken telephone,”

He snickers, “just try to be as quiet as possible,- never thought I'd be saying those words to you of all people-” you sit at Jake's arm as the game begins with the first message travelling from Jungwon to Jungwon’s date. Unbeknownst to you, Jay has been zeroed in on your conversation with Jake all evening-his blood simmering at the sound of you and Jake whispering sweet nothings to each other like people who were still very much lovers.

His jaw clenched as he plants his steepled elbow on his knees, his hands hanging lazily in front of him as he tries to focus on playing the game and not the giggles exchanged between you and your supposed ex boyfriend.

Sunoo finally passes the message into Jay's right ear, a very clear and resounding- ‘there is nothing satanic about pineapple on pizza’- Jungwon’s attempt at absolution from an argument they had weeks ago. But instead of carrying this specific message over into your ear, subsequently bringing the game to a victorious end, he stops midway, watching your laugh aimed at the blackened night sky while Jake looks up at you with that expression that was very much not supposed to be reserved for ex's.

Jay decides to throw the game.

“Your turn,” Jay's voice is dripping in monotony, as if he couldn't be bothered to even talk to you, let alone play this game with you.

Your mouth falls open when he slithers his hand to the back of your neck, leading your head to his slightly parted lips until said lips are tickling your ear lobe. Your heart is sinking into the confines of your stomach and for the briefest moment, you fear the world might have stopped spinning as Jongseong carries his next words in your ear. Game be damned.

“First floor. Third door on the left.” His hand is still planted on the back of your neck as he whispers those words at you and you're immediately struck with the severity in his tone.

You weren't an idiot.

In fact you'd like to consider yourself quite smart.

You knew that whatever Jay confessed - or rather implied - was definitely not the contents of Jungwon’s intended message. A broken telephone indeed.

Still, coiling in your stomach is a confusing web of wired tension that needs to be snapped. All night, your banter with Jongseong had been laced with something far more frustrating, something you needed to get out of your system.

“U-Um I need to go to the bathroom-” you don't know why you're following his orders. You don't know why you're walking steadily towards what you know very well was probably Jongseong's room in the frat house- a lamb to the proverbial slaughter. All you know is that your heart speeds up just a little quicker when you hear him excusing himself from the group right behind you with; “I'm going for a smoke.”

Your mind is hazy with not only fear, but insane unmistakable lust as you make your way up the stairs, surfing between bodies as you make it onto the first floor landing. You can feel Jongseong's oppressive presence behind you. You can feel how anxious he is to get you alone.

And when you enter his room, there is almost no time to regret following orders because he has you pinned against the closed door. The sound of the party is muffled outside but all you're concerned with is Jongseong's palm cradling your throat, his hooded eyes holding something so incredibly angry within.

“What the fuck do I have to do to make you forget him?” His voice cracks as he mumbles drunkenly. You'd never seen someone as put together as Jay, appear so wayward, so driven by inhibitions.

His palm slithers tighter around your neck, too late for your brain to process that you need his hands off.

“You've been taunting me the whole night.”

“Jongseong, I don't know what-”

Your words bleed into a yelp as he pulls you in by the neck to connect your lips in a steering and sloppy kiss.

Once he gets even a tiny taste, all inhibitions are thrown out the window. Jongseong's cock hardens in his pants and he's utterly delicious with lust.

“You're such a slut, you know that?” He mumbles drunkenly, words meshing together, “Might as well have walked in with his fucking collar around your throat like he owned you-”

“Jongseong-” a gasp cracks your throat when Jay forces his hand underneath your skirt, immediately cupping your sex until you are arching your back against the door.

“Oh- fuck- Jongseong-”

A snicker slips from his alcohol stained lips as Jongseong drags you from the door to his window, overlooking the backyard.

“You want him to see what a slut you are for me?” Your tits press against the glass as Jongseong looms behind you, sliding your panties to the side before dipping his fingers into your soaked folds.

“I didn't-”

What you wanted to say before the weight of chasing your own lust overpowered your senses, is that you didn't know just how deep Jongseong's infatuation ran. You didn't even know he likes you.

“All he needs to do is turn around and look up, and he'll see you fucking yourself on my hand-” Jay's other hand reaches over to pull down your top, putting your breasts on absolute display. You're moaning wantonly into the air as you push yourself back into Jay's hand fucking into you and you feel like crying real tears.

“You're fucking soaked. Is that for me or for him?”

“Jongseong I'm gonna-” you're squirting all over his hand, your ass pressed against his front before the rest of the words could even leave your lips. Jongseong is utterly mystified by the sight of you arching backwards against him, body writhing as you come undone right there by his window.

“Fuck,” his voice cracks again, he's utterly pained. “You're gonna do that again, but on my cock this time-”

“Jongseong-” you barely made it a whisper before he's flinging you onto his bed. The springs creek underneath your back as he pulls you by the hips to the edge, manhandling you as if you were nothing but property.

“I saw you first, you know that, right?” Jay mumbles to himself as he drags his pants down to pull his aching cock out. “I saw you first and Jake-” he spits on his hand, jerking his cock above you, “That fucker knew I wanted you first but he hit on you anyway-” Before he can continue in anger, a low groan leaves his throat. “Fuck baby, open your legs just like that-” they snap open on command, you're not sure you're able to deny him anything in this state. And what a state it is: braids hanging around you like a halo, your shirt, a mess with your tits hanging out, all while Jay swipes your panties away to make way for his cock already leaking precum. It's like he didn't have time at all to undress you. He needed to be inside you so fucking badly.

“I'm gonna cum inside, I hope you know-” Jay's eyes roll back into his head as he eases his cock in, one hand pressed on the bed at the side of your head as he hovers over you, “You're squeezing my cock, for fuck's sake-” he ruts into you, creating a burst of friction that has your stomach coiling again-”

“Jongseong- baby-”

“Fucking Christ, don't call me that or I'm gonna cum-” he's soon fucking into you with the urgency and frustration that has been building since you and Jake announced your relationship.

It inked his veins and seeped into his habits, whereby he'd crane his neck back in every econ class, just to get a look at you in 10 minute intervals. He loved you and you just refused to see it.

Having you underneath him now, tits bouncing while he fucked you on his bed- it was all proving too much for Jongseong and you moan at the feeling of his cock twitching inside you.

“I'm gonna cum- fuck you're such a slut-”

He squishes your cheeks together, in a vaguely condescending display of power and kisses your forehead before muttering, “Tell me you're a slut for me and not him.” You clench around his cock at the vaguely animalistic quality in Jay’s voice as he squeezes the base of your throat, bringing you dangerously close to the edge.

“Jongseong-”

“Say ‘I'm Park Jongseong's slut-” say it babe and I'm gonna fucking cum,” you’re already slipping into your orgasm, the pressure in your cunt building into the unmistakable feeling of immense fullness.

You're gushing around his cock as you scream. “Your slut- Fuck! I'm Park Jongseong's slut-”

His nails dig into the skin around your neck and his eyes roll into the back of your neck.

“Oh my fucking god-” your squirt threatens to push his cock out but he fucks you through it, muttering, “My fucking girl,” over and over again to guide you both through the storm.

Once it's all over, you're panting with the weight of your actions hanging heavy between you. He's about to speak but you stop him first. “I didn't know.” You whispered. “If I'd known I would've never been with him. You have to believe that.”

Jongseong collapses beside you, pulling against his chest as his hands pat down your hair, “I believe you.” He says with finality.

[actually-safer-to-kiss]

A Quick Run

Summary: Spencer attempts to exercise with Reader.

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader

Category: Fluff

Word count: 638

When you told Spencer you were thinking about getting into fitness again, he was excited to tag along. Maybe so you’d have an easy opponent. Maybe because he’d take any excuse to spend time with you.

Even if that meant taking a run through a nearby cemetery. He wasn’t afraid of cemeteries or anything. He actually found them quite peaceful. This is especially since besides the comfort they can give to living loved ones, they are largely untouched areas of land that should be used more by the public. No, the issue is that this cemetery is quite… hilly. And Spencer couldn’t oversell his lack of coordination or breath control.

And it’s when he gets out of the car and spots you doing stretches at the beginning of the path that he realizes he made a huge mistake. You’re even jogging in place, eager to get moving. Spencer could not relate less. If anything, his heart is pounding from inevitable embarrassment.

“Ready, go!” You exclaim before taking off. Spencer follows, picking up his arms and legs with every step. He's already winded and the burning wraps his thighs quickly. Meanwhile, you jog like you’re floating on air. Like it’s all-natural to you. Like you actually workout regularly (or at all, unlike him).

He catches your eye as you look back, noticing your pace slowing. “You go ahead!” He shouts, still trying not to look like exhaustion and heat are already bright red on his face. “You’re doing great! Go!” He throws his arm toward the first hill like it’s not about to pop out of its socket any minute.

When you turn around to pick up your pace, your natural pace, Spencer slows down to what could be considered a slight jog or a wounded animal. His lungs become dust in his throat. He looks around at the headstones, some clean and decorated and others barely withstanding time. He wonders if any of them would enjoy a new neighbor. And it’s when you disappear over that first hill that he finds a vacant patch of grass to collapse on top of. He cooks himself in the late spring sun. Every exhale sounds like he’s a cartoon character exaggerating an asthma attack, and the pain makes him question (briefly) if he actually is.

He heaves while lying flat on the short grass, surely sucking down a couple of gnats in his suffering. He shielded his eyes from the sun. Spencer wished he could impress you. Three doctorates and being an FBI agent only mean so much when encouraging someone new in his life to stick around. He thought his drive to put in effort would be enough. He’s not even sure that drive would be enough to even catch up to you.

“Spencer.”

He looks over to the path, seeing you in leggings and a tank along with a graceful layer of sweat causing you to glisten in the sun. If air could have stayed in his lungs he would’ve said something. Maybe an apology or insisting he needed five more minutes. But you were already close, and you held out your hand to help him up.

Spencer swallowed what bit of spit he had collected in his desert of a mouth, then took your hand. You brushed dirt and grass from his sweatshirt. “We can do this another time.” You insisted.

“I’ll be fine.” He somehow says. “I’ll just be a… a pit stop for you.”

You chuckled. “Come on, pretty boy.” You touch his back as you walk toward the car. “We can rest while watching Dr. Who.” You even threw one of Spencer’s arms around your shoulder.

“Actually that sounds good,” Spencer says. “I can do that.” His fingers make contact with the skin on your arm, and he thinks that this might’ve been worth it.

[soft-girl-musings]

Cry (MK Spring Bingo #1)

Marc Spector x Reader

cross-posted to ao3

tags: panic/anxiety attacks, possibly inaccurate description of an emergency room visit (i don't remember the exact process i borrowed from my own experience bc i was sick… in the ER…), no use of y/n

wc: 1,356

fic summary: Three times Marc told you it was okay to cry, and one time you returned the favor.

A/N: Finally got around to writing something for someone besides jake lockley, bless. once again this is self-indulgent, but if anything hits home for you i'm glad <3 (based on Adam Melchor's "Cry" , which is the most marc-coded piece of music i've ever heard. in this essay i will)

_____________________

The first time came out of nowhere.

Nothing was wrong per se; no major injury or crisis had come up. All you knew was that you were frozen in the corner of your room, hot tears streaming down your face as your mind raced between a million different things.

“Sweetheart, have you seen my–” Marc’s request stopped the moment he saw you frozen in the darkened room, gripping the sleeves of your shirt as you bit your lip so hard you risked giving yourself another reason to cry.

“I just need a minute,” your voice came out trembling and heavy, as if too many syllables would cause the tears to fall with greater force. Not that you knew how to stop them, or how they even started.

Quick strides across the room brought Marc to your side. His warm hands wrapped around yours, cold and losing color from digging into your arms. 

Words were never his strong suit; Marc’s a man of few, usually letting his presence and actions suffice. So when faced with consoling you against some invisible threat, he could almost hear the sound of his own heart breaking in tandem with your staggered breath.

So he stood there. Until your fingers relaxed and entwined with his, he stood there until he could guide you to the floor. Arms wrapped around your shoulders, he cradled you as you continued to cry.

“This is so stupid,” you groaned as you wiped your face with your sleeve. “So fucking… ugh.”

“Hey,” he shushed you. “Not stupid. You’re feeling what you’re feeling.”

“But I don’t know why,” you choked out. It was hard enough being so distraught; not having a valid reason for it made everything hurt more.

“You don't have to justify it. Don't have to do anything but just… be here.” A hand to your temple eased your head against his chest. “I'm here, as long as you need me to be.”

This was all the permission you needed to let another rush of tears spill down your cheeks, soaking his shirt. He didn't mind.

___________________

The second time was in the emergency room.

You'd never struggled to catch your breath like this before; a common cold turned south and triggered long-dormant childhood asthma, making your lungs betray the rest of your body. Marc drove you to the ER when your hollow coughing didn't let up for the third day in a row. Head spinning and chest aflame, you were rushed to the back as soon as Marc told them you couldn't breathe.

“You've got to breathe steady, honey.”

“I'm trying,” you muttered around the medicated tube in your mouth. It had to be almost 3 in the morning; your body ached like crazy and you didn't catch a word of what the nurse told you to do with your medication. All you knew was that you were cold, exhausted, and grateful to have Marc there to time your breathing.

But even with his hand holding yours, you still felt tears pricking the corners of your eyes. Every inhalation brought medicine to your airways, but the ragged sensation resonated through your chest and made your body ache more.

“I'm so tired,” you finally said around the device. With that, your tears fell faster than you could swipe at them. Your frown pushed the device from your mouth, but you didn't care.

Marc sprang up, catching the equipment when your grip faltered. He said nothing; instead, he climbed onto the bed with you, leaning your back against his chest and taking your hand in his once more, bringing the medication back to your lips. You let him bear your weight, immediate relief washing over you as he took over keeping the device steady with one hand and gently dabbing a tissue at your cheek with the other. 

“Nothing wrong with a few tears, honey. Means you’re alive.”

When you finally went home, the fire in your lungs extinguished, he held you again until you fell asleep.

_____________________

“.....The movie just started.”

(The third time was on the living room couch.)

You had finally talked Marc into watching La La Land with you (with the promise of his getting to choose the next movie night film, of course). You were barely 30 seconds into the opening number when you'd started crying, eyes glued to the screen as dozens of up-and-comers danced and sang about their dreams to make it in the industry.

“They haven't said anything.”

“They're saying everything.”

“He's dancing on a car.”

“Because he's excited!”

“Why did they stop traffic to dance?”

You didn't hear the rest of his quips, too engrossed in the scene. The colors, the music, and the highly impractical interstate  choreography had a way of getting to you ever since you first saw this movie. Meanwhile, Marc sat with his arms crossed and eyebrows knit together as he tried to follow along.

When you noticed his body language, you reached for the remote and paused the movie. “Do you… want to watch something else?”

Marc's face fell when he realized this new batch of tears wasn’t because of the movie, but because of him. The thought of making your cry hit like a punch to the gut.

He took the remote from you, moving closer to your side. “Nice try, but you're not getting out of it that easily. I need your commentary if I'm gonna keep up.” He hit play and choked down every criticism as he saw your face light up, tears of joy brimming during the remaining 2 hours of the film.

The next morning, while making breakfast, you could have sworn you heard Marc humming Another Day of Sun under his breath.

_____________________

As you'd grown closer, you began to know Marc as your rock, your steady landing place when you had thoughts and feelings too big to deal with on your own. He never had to say much to be there for you. He kept you tethered and together, happy to be of service no matter how ugly your hardships felt. 

It was only a matter of time before you saw a crack in his foundation.

You got home late one night, a thunderstorm hot on your heels. You had shrugged off your coat and shoes, calling out to Marc to see if he was home. No response.

You checked each room diligently, until you found him sitting on the corner of the bed.

“Marc?” You asked softly, walking toward him. You knelt in front of him, and the sight of his face twisted into an unfamiliar expression, a steady stream of tears spilling from his reddened eyes, was more than you could bear.

The first time came out of nowhere.

“Can you give me your hands, Marc?” He complied, his breath short and his eyes fixed on the storm pelting the window with sheet after sheet of rain. His vision darted between drops of water and streaks of lightning. The room shook with the echoes of thunder as the worst of the storm hit.

“Hey,” you urged him. “Just be here. With me.” Your thumb traced his wrist as you tried to stay calm.  “Can you breathe with me, Marc?” You sat up on your knees. He nodded, slowly but surely matching the pace of your breath. 

You didn't know what was on his mind, only that it was racing. You couldn't tell what had him so worked up, only that his breath escaped him even as you counted to ten again, and again, unrelenting in your focus on him. You had no idea what made your rock, your anchor, cry like this.

Maybe he'd tell you later; maybe it'd remain a mystery. None of that mattered in the moment. All that mattered was the rhythm of your breath as the rain let up; the way his tears drenched your sleeves when you dabbed at his flushed cheeks; the steady thrum of his heart as his body relaxed beside yours. All that mattered was how, with your chest pressed to his back as you lay on top of the bedspread, he let you hold him for a change.

_____________________

event tags: @moonknight-events @spacecowboyhotch @juneknight

addtl tags: @mrs-lockley @lunar-ghoulie @shadystarlightgentlemen @casa-boiardi (lmk if you'd like to be added/taken off this wee tag list)

[alornights]

⟢ you took my soul.

➜ in which ! your beauty took their breath away.

💌 ﹫main 4 + butters stotch.

✩ 🎸 warnings﹗none.

🍓 ⟡ notes — me when subliminals start working, tehehe. based on the jimmy & kyle pretty people drabbles i did. idk what im doing tbh.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ eric cartman.

hates you.

the guy was so confused about why you looked like you were glowing and why his heart was about to beat out of his chest.

death stared you the entire first week you moved to town.

he later confronts you asking if you do witchcraft. you obviously answer you don't. he thinks you're lying and got plastic surgery.

you say you didn't with like the prettiest smile he's ever seen. he takes your word for it and everyone was shocked.

since then he's been like a parasite who always seems to be stuck with you always there to shoo off anyone irrelevant.

thinks he has asthma bc every time he sees you his breath cuts short and fucking hates himself for "having" asthma.

has tried on multiple occasions to "get rid" of people who bothered you even in the slightest way.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ kyle broflovski.

is actually so fucking flustered around you.

when he saw you in the cafeteria walking in he couldn't take his eyes off you the entire time, even with his friends calling for him.

if you even give him the slightest hint you're into him, he will take matters into his own hands and just brag to everyone.

for funsies of course.

deffo helps you away from any unwanted eyes, help meaning may literally threaten them in the worst ways possible.

when he's around you its like he's in a daze for him, he just feels like he's on cloud nine and is living the best life ever.

suddenly becomes the most romantic person ever, not that he wasn't already. but like hella cheesy hopeless romantic.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ stan marsh.

the classic and boring response is a throws up. but he actually doesn't do that contrary to popular beliefs.

he faints instead!

he thought he died since he saw an angel and then his vision went black but he thought hey at least that meant hed be in heaven.

he is stunned when he wakes up in the nurse's office and sees you worried about him of all people.

is like a stuttering mess but he starts slowly but surely relaxing around you, still very nervous talking to you though.

has bragged very purposely in front of wendy that y'all are friends.

while he may not be good at romance, he does try. and by trying i mean he makes u a picnic and brings takeout.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ kenny mccormick.

ay, he has a heart attack because of you.

kidding. but bro does feel his heart like- stop when he sees you walking down the halls like it's some rom-com movie.

instantly starts making moves on you, no hesitation.

doesn't matter whats going on, if he has the chance, hell take it.

at one point thought you were like his actual guardian angel because he had yet to die after meeting you.

still thinks you are and worships the ground you walk on.

very much one of those "ill do anything for you" but he actually will do anything for you, like seriously. just ask.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ butters stotch.

surprisingly the most normal of the bunch.

treats you like a normal human being thankfully.

though he does like stutter around you a lot but that calms down and he's usually back to his normal self in like a day or two.

is very much attached to you especially since his parents have

brags so much to the guys and tells them to "suck on these nuts bitch" because you don't hang out with them, ever.

has tried, and failed, to set up a date with you two. cried himself to sleep, and repeated this process for like a week.

it did work. at his house, in front of his parents! but it was kinda fun, you surprisingly got along with them very well.

[fr4nkoce4n]

better together!

matt rempe

warnings: asthma, panic attack maybe?

this one is for my asthma girlys or the girls who need a puffer! i feel you☺️

I had always needed an asthma puffer since I could remember. I was one of those kids who couldn’t go five minutes of physical activity without needing my puffer.

I honestly felt like an idiot having to carry it around in the time, but I guess I would rather that then die from not being able to breathe.

It was currently 2:43am as I rolled over to look at my phone, I could not stop coughing, I needed my asthma puffer. I reached for the one on the side table and went to take a puff, surprisingly nothing came out.

My coughing must of woke Matt up because he put his arms around my waist as he spoke, “you okay?” He asked as he sat up, his hands still on my waist.

“I need to get another puffer, I think there’s one in the first aid kit.” I began to hop up but Matt pulled me back down into the bed, “Matt I need-“

“I’ll get it baby.” He whispered and lifted himself up from the bed making his way out to find the first aid kit.

As I laid back down and pulled the sheets over me once again, I could hear him rustling around in the kitchen.

A few minutes later, he came back with nothing in his hand, “I can’t find one, come help me?” He pouted, obviously disappointed that he couldn’t find it for me.

I hopped up and reached for his hand as we walked out the bedroom into the kitchen together, still coughing, I started looking through the kit on the bench. Finding nothing.

“Shit. I swear I had one.” I groaned as I frantically searching, my throat felt like it was closing up.

Matt grabbed my hands and played with my fingers, “it’s okay, hey look at me, don’t worry. I’ll go get you a new one.” He spoke calmly, trying to get me to come out of panicking state.

He grabbed my waist and sat me on the bench, he walked away and came back out with his phone. “The closest 24/7 chemist is an hour away. Do you think you can last that long without it?”

I nodded, he nodded back and grabbed a drink bottle from the draw and filled it up with water for me and handed it to me. He grabbed a jumper and pulled it over his head, slipping on his Nike slides.

“Hop on pretty girl.” He smiled as he turned around for me to hop on his back.

I was now on his back as we rode the elevator down to the basement where Matt’s bmw lived. We got in the car and he immediately turned it on and gave me his phone to put some music on, “or we don’t have to listen to anything.” He said softly.

I shook my head, trying to hold in my coughs but I was unsuccessful, he pouted at me. I knew he hated seeing me like this.

I searched through his phone and played out playlist, it shuffled and played the song where the skies are blue, by the lumineers.

I smiled and leaned into the chair as Matt began to drive, I tried to fall asleep but i couldn’t from all my coughing.

Matt had hardly said a word since we left, it was starting to make me scared, maybe he was mad at me, or tired. I was hoping he was just tired.

“I’m sorry.” I whispered as I fiddled with my fingers.

“What for?” He turned to me.

“For making you drive all this way, for waking you up, for you having to see me like this. I should have been more prepared. I’m sorry Matt.”

He shook his head and grabbed my hand with his free hand, “No, there is absolutely nothing to be sorry for beautiful. If anything I’m happy you woke me up, I get to spend more time with you, beats sleeping when I can’t talk with you.”

My heart had just melted. “I love you.” I smiled at him, squeezing his hand.

“I love you too.” I saw his little smile out the corner of his eye.

We finally arrived at the chemist after a long hour, he pulled into an almost empty car park, “ you can stay in here, I’ll get it for you.”

“Here take my card.” I tried to give him my credit card but he refused and shut the door locking me in the car.

It was only few minutes before he came back to the car with a bag. He jumped in the car and gave the bag to me, I opened it and was met with a bag of my favourite chocolates.

I squealed and opened them immediately, before I was interrupted. “Don’t you think you should use the asthma puffer we just drove 1 hour for?” He laughed at my actions.

I let out another cough, “oh yeah.” I giggled and opened the box, I clicked it in and inhaled the vapour into my lungs. “Thank you baby.” I leaned in and placed a sweet and soft kiss on his lips.

“Anything for you.” He smiled. “I bought two more, just incase.”

“You know me so well.” I chuckled and hugged his arm as we started to drive off back home.

[milf-murdock]

Heyyy been reading your fics since you were writing for matt murdock🥹🤭 idl if you take requests or not but if you dont just ignore this!!🌸

Can you write smthng for reader with asthma? With simon riley or john price☹️🫶🏻 plss

Sweet Anon!!! 🥺 My oh my, you have been here a while!! Your support means the world to me 🫶 I absolutely loved this request! I am a sucker for a sweet Simon and injured reader. I apologize in advance for any inaccuracies though. I don't know too much of what an asthma attack feels like, but I did my best. If anyone has any constructive criticism, my inbox is open and I'm willing to make adjustments to make it more accurate. I hope you enjoy, sweet nonny!!

Asthma Attack - Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader

TW: Asthma Attack, potential medical inaccuracies, protective Simon should come with his own warning

“Just one more block,” you thought to yourself, focusing on the steady rhythm of your shoes hitting the pavement. The familiar tightening in your chest set in about two blocks ago, and you struggled to keep your breathing steady. It had been a minute since you’d had a flair up, and you silently cursed yourself for not bringing along your inhaler. You should’ve known better. 

Simon easily kept up pace beside you. He enjoyed joining you on your jogs—the exercise light and refreshing in comparison to the type of intense training he was used to. He didn’t really gain much from the easy workout, but the peace of mind that came with knowing you were safe every step of the way more than made up for it. 

As your flat came into view up ahead, your breathing became more labored, a slight wheeze tinging each breath. Simon shot a concerned look your way. 

“You ‘lright,  love?” Simon’s deep voice cut through your growing panic, grounding you as you barely made it to the steps of your flat. 

You collapsed on the steps, your hand coming up to press against your chest as you struggled to get down air. 

“I can’t—“ 

“I don’t—“ 

“Simon—“

You struggled to get out a full sentence through your choppy breaths, your chest rising and falling at a rapid pace. You were borderline hyperventilating now, and breaths only became harder to manage. 

“Fuck,” Simon murmured to himself as realization dawned on him. A wave of panic shot through him: you were having an asthma attack. He inwardly began cursing himself for not recognizing the tell-tale signs sooner. He should’ve seen the signs. He should’ve stepped in sooner. 

Simon stopped himself, forcing himself to tamp down on his fear and let his tactical instincts taking over. 

Assess the situation. 

Simon knelt down to your level, pressing two fingers to the pulse point on your neck. “Alright love, I need you to try to take a slow, deep breath,” he coached, nodding to himself as he mentally took note of your elevated heart rate. “You’re gonna be okay.” 

Make a plan. 

Sliding one arm under your knees and one under your arms, he pulled you up to his chest from the stairs.  Your arms wrap around his neck and you try to force yourself to slow your breathing and control the panic. You focus on breathing in the familiar scent of Simon, the faint notes of oak and gunpowder mingling with the salt of his sweat. 

Simon makes quick work of the steps, managing to unlock the flat one handed before stepping inside. “Where’s your inhaler, darling?” He asked as he gently set you down on the sofa, making sure you’re in an upright position. His voice was calm, but his eyes betrayed the panic beneath the surface. 

“Kitchen,” you manage to gasp out, tears stinging your eyes as you feel your attack getting worse. 

Simon’s back in seconds, shaking the inhaler before ripping the cap off and bringing the plastic cylinder your lips. “Okay, breathe in, sweet girl,” he coaches, pressing down on the canister. You do as your told, pressing your eyes shut as the first hit settles into your lungs. 

“Hold your breath. 1…2…3..4…5. Okay, again,” Simon gave the inhaler another shake before administering a second dose, counting down again.

“Good job, love, keep breathing. Slow, deep breaths, just like that.” The sense of urgency was slowly fading from his tone as he watched your breaths ease up. He pressed another two fingers to your jawline, checking your pulse. 

“Atta girl, give me one more for good measure,” another shake and puff following up the last hit. You finally felt relief as your airways started to expand, taking in full breaths, trying to follow the deep breaths Simon was modeling for you. 

Simon raised a hand to push back a stray strand of hair, tucking it behind your ear. Your entire body was shaking in the aftermaths of your attack. 

“Thank you,” you muttered breathlessly. Your chest was aching and you felt such pure exhaustion sweep over you as the adrenaline slowly left your body. 

Sensing that the emergency was over, Simon gingerly pulled you to his chest. You couldn’t help but notice how fast his heart was beating under the soft fabric of his hoodie. 

“Fucking hell, sweetheart, you scared the shit out of me for a moment there,” he murmured, pressing his lips to the top of your head. “You alright, then?” He pulled back, his attentive gaze raking over your body, conducting his own assessment. 

“‘M’okay,” you whispered, suddenly feeling like even carrying on a conversation was too much. 

With a nod, Simon took the hint, pulling you back into his arms once more. A strong hand rubbed up and down your back, the motion soothing you. “Let’s take a rest then, yeah? Eventful morning.” The subtle nod of your head against his chest gave him all the approval he needed to help you up off the couch and guide you back to your shared bedroom. 

He made sure to get you settled under the fully duvet first before pulling off his hoodie and crawling in on the opposite side. 

“Come on, have a proper cuddle,” he coaxed, pulling you to rest against his bare chest. Exhaustion swept over you, and you struggled to keep your eyes open as  the steady beat of his heart brought a sense of comfort and familiarity. 

“Thank you, Si,”  you breathe out. “Thank you.” 

“O’ course, darling. S’what I’m here for.” Simon held you a little tighter, thanking every lucky star out there that he was here for you and that you were okay. He’d always make sure you’re okay.  

[sevcasejay1chicago]

I gotcha Partner- Jay Halstead

Summary: After chasing down a suspect, you have a bad asthma attack.

Warnings: none that I know of.

Authors note: Jay’s installment in the platonic asthma fics. ❤️ Enjoy!

—————————

You have been Jay Halstead’s partner since Erin Lindsey left 2 years ago. You had been friend prior to this partnership, having met at Molly’s as well, so the partnership was easy to fall into. You knew each others quirks well, but you also knew each other’s medical history very well given all the near deaths you two have experienced since being partners. You have never experienced more near death experience on the job before working with Jay Halstead.

Today, you and Jay, along with the rest of the intelligence unit, are sitting on a suspect’s house. This individual has been indicted for multiple counts of aggravated assault and battery, leading the unit to believe that he is involved in a string of assaults at a few night clubs he has been known to frequent. He’s smarter than most criminals. He makes sure not to hit the same club multiple times, but to randomly jump around to throw off any suspicion.

You and Jay were sat in his truck, idly chatting about Matt’s move into the apartment with you and Kelly, when the suspect pulled into his driveway. You both straightened up as Voight began to speak.

“Suspect has landed. Suspect has landed. Use caution. Don’t spook him.” Voight instructed through our radio.

Jay grabbed our tac gear from the backseat and handed me my own. We suited up before slowly pulling the truck to block the end of the driveway. Burgess and Adam came up one side while Voight and Atwater came up the other. You noticed blood on his door handle and quickly jumped out of the truck and rounded it to grab the guy.

“Chicago PD!” You yelled, announcing yourself before moving to grab the suspect. Unfortunately, he was quick to react and shoved you into Kim before running down the small alley way next to his house. “Rabbit Rabbit Rabbit!” You yelled, quickly standing to your feet to pursue. You were the smallest and the fastest, next to Kevin.

You heard Jay flip the sirens and say he was going to cut him off. Kevin was on your heels, cursing about how the perps always run but they can’t run from you all. You shook your head, pushing through the burning in your chest. You were still recovering from your attack a few days prior, so you definitely weren’t in top shape.

You saw the end of alley way, thanking God that this run was coming to an end. Just as the suspect reached the end of the alley, Jay pulled the truck to block it and held the suspect at gun point through the window.

“Put your hands up.” Jay growled, seeing the blood on the suspect’s shirt and knuckles.

You stopped running, coming to a halt at the back of the truck with your hands on your knees. You were having trouble catching your breath as an audible wheeze left your body. You dizzily grabbed the bumper as you sunk to the ground. Jay saw you and quickly jumped out of the truck as Kevin cuffed the perp.

“Y/n?!” Jay yelled, crouching down in front of you. “Jesus. Your blue.” Jay muttered, taking your face in his hands for a second. You were ice cold. “It’s okay. I gotcha partner. Up we go.” Jay muttered, pulling you into his arms and rounding the truck.

“She okay?” Voight asked, coming to open the door for Jay.

“She will be. She’s having an asthma attack.” Jay said over your wheezes. He dug around in the glove box until he unearthed your inhaler. “Alright sweetie. Let’s do this.” Jay shook the inhaler before helping you squeeze the trigger as you attempted to breathe.

“Here. I got a pulse ox from the first aid kit.” Kim said, jogging back from her and Adam’s car. She handed the device to Jay before moving back to give you and Jay some room.

They all waiting on baited breath as the pulse ox read. High heart rate and oxygen level fluctuating between 83-85. Their eyes grew wide at the reading, concerned given that your inhaler should have opened you up by now.

“I’m taking her to med.” Jay said, buckling you in and shutting the door.

“I will give you an escort.” Voight said, quickly running to his SUV that Kevin pulled around after placing the suspect in the back of a patrol car.

“5021 George to Med” Jay said into his radio, lights and sirens blaring as he drove.

“Go ahead for Med.” April said.

“April. Y/n is having a bad asthma attack. Cyanotic, high pulse, O2 is low to mid 80s. Rescue inhaler administered and not helping. ETA 5 minutes. ” Jay reported, glancing over at you as you shook. “Shhh. I gotcha partner. I’m gonna get you help.”

“We will be waiting at the door. Med out.” April said.

Jay put his radio back on the dash before reaching out to take one of your shaking hands in his own. “Almost there. You are doing great.” Jay encouraged, trying to hide his worry.

Tag list:

@treehouse-mouse

@shadowmeadowsworld

@sorry-i-spaced

@zephyrmonkey

@allisonargent144

@amie134

@lane-rodgers-barnes

@pensfan5871

@dumb-fawkin-bitch

@marvel-and-chicago-fan

@daggersquadphantom

[the-fiction-witch]

Breathless P2

Media The Artful Dodger

Character Jack Dawkins

Couple Jack X Reader

Rating Sweet

Requested: That was great please can we have a part two, also absolutely love your writing Part 2? Warnings: Medical emergencies / Asthma attacks / medical instruments / medication

I lay in the little cheap metal hospital bed, the white enamel paint flicking and flaking off, the sweet sheets around my body, the scent of cleanliness in the air. I had been here for the amount a week now and so far I had been taken excellent care of, Jack was my doctor and he would check up on me almost on the hour or close to it, to check I was alright, he even gave me my own room so I wasn't on the ward with other people. 

"Hey, how are you feeling?" Jack asked as he opened my door and came inside, shutting the door behind him.

I blushed a little to see him again as I had only seen him about an hour ago, and given the time this would likely be the last time he visited, but I noticed his clothes adjusted and hair fixed since the last I saw him. His hands are a little dirty with blood.

"What did you do today?" I asked looking at his hands, 

"Humm? Ohh, bandaging." He answered pushing up his sleeves and showing his hands off, he went to the side and washed up his hands, "So? How are you feeling?"

"The same. Wheezy, tight chest, coughing nothing up." I explained, 

"Alright, You're not getting any better it's concerning me." He said coming to sit on my bed briefly fixing some hair from my face, "Come on. I'll be quick." I nodded and sat up turning to the window as he took his little listening tool and carefully slipped it up my nightie but I gasped 

"You alright?"

"It's cold," I complained 

"Ohh sorry" he chuckled taking it off and breathing on it a little and then putting it back, a little warmer 

"Good girl, In... and out. just breathe with me, In and out" He whispered  "And around the front" He said moving his tool to my front still under my nightie "In... and out." He muttered "Alright" he sighed moving away 

"What about the other tests?" I asked

"Still waiting." He said "Go on lay back down" he reassured 

I nodded and laid back in bed "Can't I have a cigarette?"

"No." he glared

"Half a one?"

"No."

"... can I breathe next to a leaf?"

"No. Those damn things were only making you worse" 

"A pipe then?"

"No. I'm not telling you again" He warns 

 "What is it you're scared of Jack?"

"...Nothing." He answered clearly lying to me "Get some rest, I'll check up on you tonight." He said tapping my hand and giving it a little kiss before he headed to the door 

"Jack?"

"Yeah?" he asks turning to face me 

"You'd tell me if you knew something was wrong... wouldn't you?"

"I'm a doctor. I have to give bad news... as much as it might hurt." He said, "Get some rest." 

"Yes doctor" I nodded, his words stung my heart leaving me breathless, I felt like he was lying to me, but I didn't want to push him perhaps I was wrong. 

I sat in bed with my book listening to myself wheeze when the door opened, 

"I come baring soup" Jack smiled setting the soup on my table "It's not great I admit but, there is enough spice in that soup to jump the heart of a toad, so hopefully it should clear your airways a little, if nothing else... you'll certainly feel the air a lot more" he chuckled sitting on the bed with me "How are we?"

"The same" I coughed into my tissue the moment I stopped he glared clicking his fingers and offering his hand so I handed the tissue over

"Thank you," he said stuffing it in his pocket to run tests on later "I also have something else for you"

"Ohh noo... Please no more bellows Jack" I pleaded 

"No, no more. I don't know why I listened to him about that" He sighed "Medicine," He said getting the bottle from his pocket 

"What will it do?"

"I don't know. I hope it's going to stop you from wheezing..."

"But?"

"But... it may cause you to have a heart attack."

"Ahhhhh" I whined 

"I'm only going to give you a tiny. Tiny about barely even half a teaspoon, if it dulls the wheeze I'll give you more if it doesn't I'll be here to stop the heart attack"

"I don't much like being your experiment Piglet" I pouted 

"I know you don't,"

"Do I have to?"

"Do you want to get better?"

"Yes" I sighed 

"Good, besides your too cute to be a piglet" He winked  "Come on, for me?" He cooed getting the little spoon for me 

I rolled my eyes and opened my mouth

"Good girl" He cooed pouring the tiniest about from the bottle into the spoon and letting me take it "There, not give it a minute I will get the Spirometer."

"Do you have to?" I whined 

"Yes." he glared fetching the little contraction from my table it was basically a tube, a glass, and a weight, the weight sat in the glass filled with water and the rubber tube offered to me, I had to breathe as much as I could to cause bubbles to push up the weight which Jack would then read and write down "Big big breath for me," he says I took the tube and did as he asked even if I almost felt like passing out "Ummm... that is, actually a small improvement over yesterday" he smiled giving my nose a kiss "Right, in a few hours We'll check again" 

I sat at the window blowing the smoke out the window but I heard the familiar footsteps, so I quickly put it out threw it out the window and climbed back to bed grabbing my perfume spraying it around the room and me, as the door opened to Jack, "afternoon," He smiled 

"afternoon," I smiled back 

"What's that smell?" He asked as he came over getting the Spirometer from the table and sitting it beside the bed 

"Ohh uhhh wild English rose. My perfume" I smiled giving my bottle another spritz and trying to smile innocently 

"No, I like your perfume." he said coming over to my bed sitting on my bed and glaring at me as he came closer "Y/n."

"Yes, Jack?"

"Where are they?"

"Where's what?"

"You know what."

"I'm sure I don't."

"Yes you do."

"What are you talking about?"

"Where. Are. They."

"Where are what" I pouted

"The cigarettes."

"I don't have any." I snapped 

"Don't you?" he warns 

I couldn't help but glance at my hiding spot but he noticed and rushed to grab them before I did leaving us fighting over who could get their hand under my bed the quickest and I lost. 

"HA! You lied to me." He snapped grabbing the box of asthma cigarettes my father dropped off yesterday when he came to visit "What did I tell you about these." He warns getting up and dropping the box, stepping on them hard to destroy them, as he knew if he merely threw them away I'd get them out the bin, he picked up the wrecked box and threw it out the window before turning his attention to me, so I sheepishly pulled the covers to my nose trying to hide "the only reason you are not getting bent over that bed and getting the absolute worst bloody spanking of your life y/n. Is because I know you'll tell your father and he'll have me hanged."

"eep" I whined hiding under the covers like a ghost "Don't hurt me Jack" I giggled 

he sat on my bed again and tried to remove the covers but I held them too tight, so he sighed and moved the covers over his own head to join me in my tent of fear "I'm not doing it to be mean, I know your struggling, but they are making you so so much worse you know they are."

"I know." I nodded 

"Hey, come on," he cooed stroking my cheek "A little smile for the doctor?"

I forced a smile but ended up having to cough 

"We're gonna have to up your dose"

"No. Jack please it tastes like bones"

"I know but it'll make you better."

"No. I won't."

"Please. for me."

"No."

"You're taking it. either you open your mouth or I'm fetching the funnel." 

"Noooooo" I whined 

"You gonna take your medicine?"

"Fine" I huffed 

"Good girl" he cooed getting the bottle from his pocket and giving me a full spoonful as my dose had only been getting larger "Open up come on" he smiled and I sighed opening my mouth and taking it 

"Ehhhh!" I complained about the terrible taste 

He smiled looking at me a moment before he closed the gap between us and kissed me I had to admit, it was so very nice indeed. His lips were so smooth and gentle, and his slightly metallic woody smell filled my nose, barely any light reached my eyes, our bodies still under the cover like children in a fort, the only issue was such a kiss took my breath away... figuratively and literally. when he pulled back I wheezed and coughed "Is it worse?" he asked a little worried

"You really thought that would help?" I glared with a wheeze throwing the covers off "Yes make the asthmatic hold her breath and both one of her breathing holes with your own mouth"

"Good point." He nodded

"I know you've been waiting for those test results a while jack, I didn't think you'd resort to testing with your own tongue"

"I will do whatever is necessary" He smirked 

"I bet you would" I glared

He smiled kissing my nose before he got up "I'll see you later?"

"I'm not going anywhere." 

"you know what I mean." He glared "Be good. I'll see you later. Ohh and uhh don't tell your father about this-"

"I suppose I could..." I smiled innocently he gave me a look and I just pouted my lips he smirked and held my cheeks giving me another kiss 

"Good girl, I'll see you for dinner" He said stroking my cheek before he headed off back to work. 

I woke up clutching my chest trying desperately to breathe in but no matter how much I gasped nothing arrived in my lungs, I sat up in a rush clawing at my throat as I took in as much as I could but nothing quelled this feeling of needing air, like drowning but above water. 

"Whoa, Whoa, slow. Slow down" Jack told me as I woke him up, he grabbed my face sat on my bed and walked me through some breaths through my nose which did allow air in just not as much as I needed, and once I relaxed I was able to breathe as normal as ever. "You alright?" he asked and I nodded "That's the third time this week." He said fear in his words 

For a moment or two, we just sat following one another breaths, I felt bad seeing the tiredness in his eyes, I had woken him, ever since these night-time attacks Jack would come down to deliver my dinner and sit in the chair by my bed for the rest of the night, I know he mostly slept in the chair but it still left him exhausted, and that was before me waking up breathless in the night which would wake him too and then he would struggle to be able to sleep again merely sitting up all night to watch skin and ensure I was still breathing. 

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah... chipper." 

"Come on, lay down." he said "Get yourself back to sleep."

"what if it happens again-"

"Then I will be here, and I will make sure you okay," he said "Now come on get some sleep"

I laid down as he asked me to "You need to sleep too."

"No, I don't."

"Yes, you do." I told him tapping my bed 

"I shouldn't-"

"Come on. For me?"

"Alright" He chuckled a little at me using what he so often said back to him, he climbed in with me and laid down slowly and gently holding me, our noses touching  

"You think I'm dying, don't you?"

"...No." he lied

"How much longer on those tests you've been running?"

"I got the results back weeks ago."

"Which are?"

"... I can't"

"You're my doctor. You have to tell me bad news."

"You really can't think of a reason I wouldn't want to tell you" he whispered "After... all our time together, I- I care about you too much now to tell you the truth..."

"I'd tell you. If I knew... Because I care about you." 

"... Your lungs are inflamed and I don't know why. the bronchioles in your lungs aren't working, it's like there being strangled."

"My lungs are disintegrating?"

"More or less. They are heavily damaged and only getting worse, I'm worried you could have full-on Pneumonia but ... I can't tell for sure."

"What can be done?"

"....Nothing. I open you up you'll die of shock. or blood loss before I knew where I was and what I was doing, even so... I can't go into your lungs and fix it- I put a hole in your lying you're as good as dead." 

"So what? You're just going to stay here, and cuddle and kiss me till I die?" 

"Don't you think this hurts... I'm a surgeon. and the one person I can't save is you." He said, "Don't you think that tears my heart in two?"

"Is there anything?" I asked

he shook his head "If it was possible, I would tear out my lungs and give them to you."

"That would kill you, Jack-"

"I know that. I would... if it meant you survived." 

"I know you would" I nodded "Is there any chance?"

"....I don't know" He answered giving my lips a sweet kiss "Come on, get some sleep."

"Will you stay with me?" I asked nuzzling into his chest

"Always. I promise" He answered 

[sassycheesecake]

A/N: I have been really into dark romance and shit, ever since I got that TikTok recommendation. I hereby present yakuza!Shinsuke Kita x Reader. Part 1/2

‘Shit. Shit. Shit! I am late!’, you curse yourself as you almost bolt out of the train, as soon as it stops and its doors open.

You accidentally ran into a lot of people, shouting quick apologies over your shoulder, still running to your workplace.

Thank the heavens for your stamina.

Finally arriving at the Tokyo Ambulance Rescue Station, you quickly run inside and each of your coworkers stops what they are doing to look at you.

Huffing and almost wheezing like you’re having an asthma attack, you step inside and head to the female locker room without looking at any of your coworkers.

Already feeling disgusted by your sweaty state, you change into your paramedic uniform nonetheless. 

Now in fresh clothes, you trot your way to one of the ambulance vehicles, seeing your friend Makima checking the equipment in the backpacks and making sure everything is filled up. 

Gulping in nervousness, you approach slowly.

“Glad you decided to show up. Almost done.” Makima tells you in a deadly calm voice. Makima is one of those people who despise being late, whether it's herself or someone she is waiting on. She is only a few years older than you but still your superior. Great, this is just your first month after graduating but you were so tired last night that you forgot to put on your damn alarm for the next morning. 

Not that this is an excuse, but your showing up is all that matters right?

With shaking footsteps, you make your way into the vehicle and start apologizing in a rant.

“Makima I am so so sorry, I promise it will never happen again!”, you frantically explain yourself, still out of breath.

The long-haired redhead briefly looks at you before bursting out laughing and you don’t know if this makes you feel better or worse. 

Giggling, she closes up the i.v. medication backpack and storages it back underneath the cabinet of the bandages. 

“(Y/N) don’t worry about it really, shit happens to all of us. No one is perfect and everyone here at the station was late once. Even me.” Makima explains and you can feel yourself being able to breathe easier already.

Just when you were about to reply to her, your beeper went off with a loud annoying peeping voice.

You run to the rack, where your black jacket with your name and the words T.A.R.S. are stitched into, and hop into the passenger seat of the vehicle.

Reading the screen at the front, you groan at the message that the fire station has sent you.

‘PATIENT PROB OD, TROUBLE BREATHING, UNCONSCIOUS, UNRESPONSIVE ‘

It’s probably the troublesome homeless teenager Denji again. You have met Denji twice now. Once beaten up badly and lying knocked out cold in an alley where he was found by a couple of passengers. The other time you found him almost bleeding to death due to a deep stab wound in his thigh, which he explained he simply got mugged. 

Nonetheless, you press the buttons for the siren and the blue lights, while Makima steps on the gas to rush to the scene. 

The rush and adrenaline are running through your system, making your heart bounce in excitement. Saving lives in acute situations is your thing! It’s a working environment that always comes with new foreign things and patients. Each day is different, which is exactly what your brain needs. Even if you have to drive through the massive city of Tokyo, the different kinds of people and the stories you get to tell your parents sometimes, are worth their shocking and even disgusting expressions sometimes. 

Once you were called to a restaurant, in which a patient had an allergic reaction and went into a nonlethal anaphylactic shock. 

The patient told you that his date was so horrible, that he purposely ate onions, even though he is allergic to them. 

All just to get away from her.

Shaking your head, the logic of men never ceases to amaze you. 

Arriving at the scene, you see two people leaning over a young guy that is laying on the sidewalk. He is already turned to his side, making sure in case he needs to throw up, he doesn’t choke on his vomit. Mentally thanking these people for performing the stable lateral position on the unconscious boy.

You grab the mobile vital monitor and the backpack that includes material for giving an I.V. including meds and an infusion. 

Before Makima grabs the breathing and the medical suction pump, she turns off the siren but leaves the blue lights on. Pressing the lock on the car keys, the ambulance is securely locked. Unfortunately, people tend to break into ambulance vehicles and proceed to steal the medications.

Both women are rushing to the patient, quickly going through the ABCDE approach, and they manage to load him onto the stretcher after making sure he didn’t overdose. His heart is beating abnormally fast, his blood pressure is at 75/40 and when you shine a small flashlight to take a look at his eyes, his pupils are dilated.

There’s no doubt about it, that Denji got his hands on cocaine.

After giving him Adrenaline and Naloxone, his condition stabilises and Denji begins to stir.

Blinking his eyes open, a bright light immediately greets him and Denji swears he died. 

He feels incredibly nauseous and his head is spinning like he just went on countless rides on a spinning wheel. 

You hover over Denji’s pale figure, a vomiting bag already in your right hand. 

“Denji? Can you hear me?” You ask him in a concerned voice.

When Denji was about to answer, he rapidly sits up and snatches the bag out of your hand, and hurls right into it.

Rubbing his back in a comforting manner, you sit beside him on the stretcher.

Makima is giving a quick report to their station boss, before joining you in the vehicle.

The sight of Denji vomiting disgusts Makima, deciding to wait outside because she can’t stand the smell or sight of someone throwing up.

“Denji, I think we should really take you to the hospital, you’re only 16 years old, where did you even get this stuff?” You ask him in a worried voice.

“It’s none of your business, let me out! I need to go!” Denji snaps at you, beginning to stand up. 

You know you shouldn’t fight someone who just woke up from a drug rush, so you let him stand up.

Standing on wobbly legs, he places his hand against the vehicle wall to stabilize his balance.  

Breathing heavily out of his mouth, he was about to open the vehicle door when Makima already beat him to it.

Surprised that he is up, she moves to the side to let him step out of the vehicle.

Denji almost falls flat on his face and his pale face makes you even more worried about him. 

“Denji, are you sure you’re okay? Do you want us to call anyone?” 

“Stop acting like you fucking care about me. I am just a street rat. I don’t need your pity! Just leave me the fuck alone!” He angrily spits at you, like a moody teenager that got his phone taken away. 

Makima and you are watching him walk away, still unbalanced but both of you leave him be.

“You’re welcome by the way for not letting you die today!” Makima yells after him. Denji shows his middle finger up in response and continues to stomp away.

Sighing in defeat, Makima and you get back into the vehicle and you are making your way back to the station.

Giving the report that the patient refused to cooperate and come with you, you drive back.

The clock strikes 22:00 and Makima and you are finally free to change after the night shift has arrived. 

Farewelling Makima goodbye, you begin to walk to the train station.

Having your headphones in your ear, you scroll through your Spotify playlist and choose ‘Glitter and Gold’. 

You had a really busy day and barely had a chance to go to the bathroom. 

Entering the women’s restroom, you look up from your phone, and the sight before you freezes immediately.

Right in front of you stands a very tall guy with sandy-blonde hair, he has to be at least 6’1 and he is holding a lot of tissues against his arm, blood soaking each tissue.

The stranger holds a painful expression while putting pressure on his arm.

His muscled body is leaning against the sink, the blood on his upper arm dripping down right into it. 

Brown eyes rapidly look in your direction, his face shining with curiosity.

Chuckling nervously, he starts talking with his deep voice.

“Don’t scream, don't call for anyone. Just got a little scratch on my arm.” 

Blinking a few times at his wound, you slowly step towards him.

Your approach is making him tense, his non-injured arm moving to his side, where he holds a dagger in case you want to attack him.

“Your wound looks pretty bad. Don’t worry I am a paramedic, I can take care of that if you want to.”

The blonde-haired giant looks at you for a few seconds, making sure you’re not lying. 

After a few moments of tense silence, he nods unsurely.

Breathing out slowly, you awkwardly glance at the door and at him a few times. 

“Uhm. Just follow me then, I need to take a proper look at it. I have my materials at home so come home with me so I can patch you up properly.” You explain to him.

His eyes watch you carefully, hesitantly he nods and puts his maroon jacket back on.

“Do you have a belt or something on you?” You ask him as you both exit the public restroom. 

The tall stranger nods and takes off his belt to hand it to you.

Grasping the belt you begin to tie it around his arm, so the wound hopefully stops the bleeding until you both arrive at your place. 

Wincing at the tightness, he thanks you quietly.

As you both begin to enter the train, which is thankfully empty around this time on a weekday, you ask him what happened to his arm.

“Not that's yer business anyway, so I’d rather not say.” He avoids your curious look. 

“But that wound is pretty deep! You need to go to the hospital and get that stitched up probably.” You try to reason with him.

“I am serious. Drop it.” He snaps at you with an angry frown.

Accepting his request, you decide to drop it. 

With nervous hands, you glance down at the metro floor and wait in silence to arrive at your destination. 

Ten uncomfortable minutes later, you both arrive at the subway station that is close to your apartment.

Unlocking the door with your key, you enter inside and wait for him.

The blonde hesitates for a few seconds, glancing down the hallway nervously before deciding that you’re not a threat, and enters as well.

Gently closing the door, you urge him to follow you into your bathroom where your medical kit lies underneath the sink.

You direct him to sit on the edge of the bathtub and he complies without question.

“I need to see your wound properly in order to clean it up.” You tell him while putting on medical gloves and setting the necessary materials like the stitching materials, disinfectant wipes, and fluid, and scissors. 

He winces while rolling up his sleeve to present you with his injury. 

You start by taking a wet washcloth and gently dabbing it around the area, quietly apologizing whenever he hisses and flinches away from the touch.

As you are now able to see the injury better, you see that it’s actually a bullet wound, hence the bleeding was so heavy.

Shocked that he has this kind of injury, you remember that he doesn’t want to talk about how he got it. 

“Lift your arm please, I need to know if the bullet is still in the muscle tissue.“

He gives you an incredulous look since lifting his arm would only worsen his pain. Nonetheless, he complies.

Quickly looking around his arm you don’t see an exit wound, closing your eyes in pity for the stranger, you know what you are going to say next, definitely won’t be easy.

“Let me guess. That thing is still in there.” He looks to the ceiling of your bathroom with a tight smile.

“U-Uhm yes. I told you to go to a hospital. It needs to be surgically removed. I really recommend it Mr….”, you drift off as you don’t recall knowing his name.

He looks at you and realizes he’s never introduced himself to you properly. 

“Name’s Atsumu Miya, ya can call me Atsumu.” 

Later on, Atsumu enters the familiar door of the headquarters of the ‘Fox Den’ and lets out a heavy sigh.

The pent-up frustration from the fight with Karasuno, the pain, and the treatment that he had to bite through with you is making his body insanely tired from exhaustion. 

Nonetheless, he needs to give a report to his boss, the leader of the Inarizaki gang of Hyogo. 

Atsumu walks down the hallway that has multiple doors connected to it and since it’s awfully quiet, Atsumu guesses that most members are either asleep or away on missions.

Entering the lift at the end of the hallway, he presses the ‘5’ button for the conference rooms and where also the office of his boss. 

Swinging back and forth on his heels, Atsumu waits until the elevator stops and continues his path to the room of the leader of Inarizaki.

Once he arrives at his destination, he knocks first, before entering.

“Hey Kita, 'm back from the mission." The blonde says when he steps into the office.

A man who has silver hair with black tips in it, is sitting at the desk and he briefly looks up from his laptop with a stoic face, before looking down again, continuing to type something down. 

Ignoring the warm greeting of his boss, Atsumu plops down on one of the chairs in front of the desk and puts his arms behind his head to stretch.

Unfortunately, he completely forgot about the injury on his arm, immediately putting the injured arm down again with a winced hiss. 

The head of the gang looks at his trusted friend before a slight frown of concern decorates his face. 

“What happened?“ he asks in a calm voice.

“Oh, you know the usual. Just some fuckers from Karasuno in our territory and one of them fucking shot me.“ Atsumu explains while gently rubbing over his arm, feeling the wrapped bandage from you underneath his jacket. 

His frown deepens at the mention of their rival gang, the Karasuno crows, but listens quietly. 

“Do you need medical attention? Do you want me to send Ginjima or Riseki up?“ He continues to question him.

“Nah, I am good Kita. Got stitched up by this cute girl that I met while I was bleedin‘ out like a pig in a women’s restroom by the train station.“ Atsumu pulls his sleeve to reveal the bandage.

Kita glances at the bandage on his friend‘s arm, a mix between concern and anger but also suspicion haunts his face. 

He slowly gets up from his chair and rounds his table with slow steps, making his way toward the older twin.

The injured man looks at him with curious eyes while raising his eyebrow in confusion.

The silver-haired man stares at one of his most trusted right-hand man with a neutral expression and puts his arms behind his back.

“Tell me more about this mysterious medic girl.“ He demands.

Atsumu grins mischievously at his boss and begins to tell him about his fight to the encounter of meeting you. 

Yawning, you stretched out your exhausted limbs and climbed into your comforting blue soft blankets. The feeling of your head hitting the cushy pillow makes you sigh in bliss. It was a long day, first the rowdy patients, then getting vomited on by a drunk homeless person that almost overdosed, and then there was the injured blonde-haired stranger you met tonight. You’re not going to lie, it was a whole mountain of stupid to just invite a stranger over to your apartment. Anxiously, you remember, that he mentioned he didn’t want to go to the hospital to get patched up because he needs to stay anonymous. 

The only question is…

Why does he need to do that?

Your thoughts are interrupted when your phone vibrates with a message. You curiously pick it up to see what the notification is. 

Eyes widening in shock and also a concern, you glance at your screen.

Unknown number

‘Thank you for taking care of my friend. I would like to repay you some time for your kind service’

[todayisawthewhxlewxrld]

!“i never thought id see you again” kiss w/ gojo!

prompt// wiping the tears of your cheek with their thumb, and leaning in because of it. brushing lips and a soft feeling, familar and numb, lips fitting together like pieces of a puzzle (prompt from @jasminesfury)

pairing// satoru gojo x gn!reader

word count// 0.8

contents// idk just fluff, maybe ooc gojo, maybe kinda cringe, doesn't follow the manga

notes// IN HONOR OF TODAYS JJK CHAPTER... DADDY'S HOME LMFAOOOOO 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏

When you first met Gojo as students at Jujutsu High, you thought he was a cocky piece of shit, and the universe found that funny considering how, without a doubt, on every mission, you two got paired together and you hated it, despised it even. It wasn’t until a bit down the line when Geto ended up going bezerk that you and Gojo started bonding, and soon you didn’t mind going on missions with him constantly; you were actually starting to not mind his existence as a whole. You grew to like him—a lot more than you should have—but Gojo was falling for you as well, and once he confessed? Well, the rest is history. You and Gojo were the it couple of the jujutsu world, which is, within itself, crazy to think about, and the two of you never left each other's side. Where Gojo went, you followed; where you went, he followed, except for this mission, apparently.

You and Gojo were now teachers at Jujutsu High, but even so, any mission either of you had, you went together. This time, though, Yaga only sent Gojo, to which you obviously protested against, but Yaga needed you here to protect the students in case anything happened. You understood this, but you hadn't been away from Gojo for longer than a day, if that, in years. He was your right hand. And now he’s off on a mission to who knows where since no one will tell you anything about it; you don’t even know how long he’ll be gone, and it’s eating you from the inside out. You’ve lost track of how long he’s been gone at this point; to you, it feels like an eternity when in reality it’s barely about to be a week. And it’s not that you have no faith in Gojo; you know if anyone could handle their own, it would be him, but he’s the love of your life, and worrying to death about him is what you signed up for when you started dating him. It also doesn’t help that Gojo has a lot of enemies.

You’re sitting at your desk in your classroom, doodling your name with Gojo's like a middle schooler with a crush, when Yuji rushes into your classroom breathlessly, and your heart stops.

You instantly stood up. “Yuji, are you okay?”

“Gojo- he’s-“ in between heaving breaths, he tries to speak.

Tears are already welling up in your eyes at just the mere mention of his name, because if he was okay, why would Yuji seem this distressed?

“Where?” Your voice trembles as you croak out.

“Infirmary,” he manages to say in between deep breaths.

Typically, you would help Yuji and probably take him with you considering it looks like he’s about to have an asthma attack, but any rationality left your mind the moment he mentioned Gojo. Right now, your main priority is to get to him, whether that means seeing him alive and well or in a body bag. You storm into the infirmary like you were never taught manners, but again, you don��t care; the only thing on your mind is getting to Gojo, which you do despite his (and Shoko’s) wide-eyed stare. Gojo quickly stands up from his seat and starts approaching you; you do the same, both of you approaching each other as if in a sort of trance.

You can't stop the tears from streaming down your face as you exclaim, “Gojo!” and rush into his arms.

He chuckles at your suddenness but immediately wraps his arms around you. “Miss me?” He coos in your ear.

You pull away slightly to look at him in disbelief. “Of course I missed you, idiot!” you snap through your tears.

When he notices your tears, he immediately brings his hands up and cups your faces, his thumbs wiping away stray tears. “Oh baby, why are you crying?”

You sniffle and take a deep breath, but find yourself sobbing even more, “I never thought I'd see you again.”

Gojo’s thumbs are still wiping your tears away as he leans in, his forehead briefly resting on yours before his lips brush against yours, and your eyes flutter close at the sensation. Gojo isn’t good with words; he’s never been, but he’s great with actions, which is why he knows this will comfort you more than anything he could say right now. His lips suddenly envelop yours; the familiar pace of his kisses and the way your lips fit together like puzzle pieces make your head spin and your legs turn to jelly. Gojo feels you wobble and immediately slips his hands from your cheeks to your waist to keep you upright, and goosebumps cover your entire body at the feeling of his hands, as if they were designed to rest there, as if you and him were two parts of a whole. With a slight smirk, Gojo pulls away.

“Don't worry. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

© LITTLEXBIMBO

[napakmahal]

I can’t re-respond but an anon a while ago requested a Tadashi and cna reader. But because I’m on a dad! Tadashi frenzy, Bodie will be making another appearance.

They say that doctors make the worse patients, but you and your boyfriend aren’t doctors. You’re a cna and his minor was in medicine along with his major in robotics. So maybe you weren’t the worse patients but for people with more medical knowledege than the average person you made for some very crappy caretakers. Now, it’s not because you two are irresponsible but one thing you learn in medical school is you can’t let it get too personal. You need to be realistic so your patients can be idealistic. But it’s hard to do that when your patient is four years old, and your own daughter.

When Bodie was two, you noticed she was having a hard time breathing. She’d wheeze as she slept and when she cried she’d stop breathing. You and your boyfriend did extensive research and even made a spreadsheet to organize her breathing data. It concerned you but family medical history showed that it ran in Tadashi’s family to have asthma. Hiro had a hard time breathing as a kid, Tadashi needed to carry around an inhaler in high school, and their dad slept with a CPAP machine most of his life. You two came to the conclusion that it was just genetic and she would likey need an inhaler when she got older. That was until Bodie was eventually diagnosed with non-eosinophilic asthma, or therapy resistance asthma. Normal asthma treatments didn’t work on Bodie.

At first sound of the news, you cried. How could you be around people with problems similar and not recognize them in your own daughter? Tadashi wasn’t feeling much better. He built a robot designed with over ten thousand medican procedures programmed into it only to overlook his baby girls severe asthma. That night, while you sat in the hospital and Bodie slept with an oxygen mask on you’d come to the same conclusion: We failed as parents and we let our daughter down.

But disappointment is one hell of a motivator. Since then you two had developed a well organized routine to try and prevent any future attacks. Every morning at 6:30 Tadashi would wake her up gently and have her breathe in one dosage of corticosteroids for twenty seconds each pump. Then he’s have her put some water in her mouth, slosh it around, and spit it out into a bowl to prevent yeast. In the middle of the day you’d make her drink hot tea to spit out any sticking mucus. By the night you and Tadashi would have her wear an ocisllator while you read a book to her and rubbed her back till she coughed out enough mucus for one night. That was your routine over and over again. And it worked, so imagine the horror when you needed to run to the emergency room in the middle of the night because Bodie couldn’t breathe properly and it was becoming clearer that it could not be handled at home.

“We’re almost there, baby.” You cooed, trying your best to make her feel better. You had sat with her in the backseat while Tadashi tried his hardest not to drive a noticeable amount over the speed limit.

Bodie’s breathing was scarily irratic, her heart was racing at a million miles per hour, and you could hear the obviously painful wheezing coming from her mouth and chest. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes in pain.

The second you pulled up to the emergency room (parked horribly) Tadashi held Bodie like a baby and rushed inside while you pulled up all her medical information and cards from your phone and wallet.

While you checked her in, you could hear Tadashi shushing Bodie and rubbing her back gently. “I know, baby. I know, it hurts.”

Normally there is nothing urgent about the pacing of the emergency room. You could easily wait a few hours there in a waiting room with fifty other people. But because of Bodie’s age, state, and prexisting condition they got her in within minutes. The medically trained sides of you and Tadashi said that was lucky, but the parent sides of you two were not satisfied that it took that long.

They gave her midazolam to calm her heart down, put her on a breathing machine, and kept her there for two days. When you called, Aunt Cass and Hiro came running towards the hospital to spend time with Bodie. But they had to leave every night.

By your second nights stay, you’d gone to use the bathroom down the dark hospital corridor. When you left, Tadashi was unfortably sitting in one of the chairs with his head tilted back towards the wall, but when you came back you saw him sitting right next to Bodie’s bed, running his hand over her hair. He just sat there and watched her breathe, her little lungs giving it her all. Her stuffed penguin started slipping from her hand when Tadashi grabbed it from falling and tucked it into her chest. And that was it, you began to cry at the sight of your boyfriend tucking your poor little girl into her hospital bed.

“Hey,” Tadashi looked up at you. “What’s wrong?”

You said nothing and instead just walked over to the seat next to his and rested your head on his shoulder. Now both of you were watching baby Bodie struggle together.

“You okay?”

You honestly answered “no” while shaking your head and still crying. Maybe it was sheer exhaustion, maybe it was the pain you felt watching her, or maybe it was both. Whatever it was, it was mentally kicking your ass.

Tadashi pulled his hand away from Bodie’s head and turned all his attention towards you. He rested his forehead against yours and asked, “Will you talk to me, please?”

“I don’t know how I could let this happen,” You answered honestly. “I’m supposed to prevent these things from happening to patients and I couldn’t stop it from happening to her.”

He immediately started shaking his head left to right. “No, ba-baby listen to me, nobody could have kept this from happening. There was nothing you could have done, am I right?”

He is right, but that doesn’t make you feel any less like a shitty parents.

“It’s just…” You don’t even finish the sentence because you know he understands.

Tadashi took a deep breath and looked back at Bodie, his bottom lip starting to shake and his eyes going glossy. “I know, I just need to tell her I’m sorry.”

“What?” Your voice broke halfway through. “Why sorry?”

A singular tear fell from his eye which he quickly wiped away. “She’s in so much pain, I know she is…and it’s my fault.”

“How could it be your fault?”

More tears gently fall out of Tadashis deep brown eyes, “It’s my genes. She gets this from me- I’m the reason she’s hurting. I feel so sorry.”

Your heart nrealy cracked in half at his words. This man dedicated his life to making sure Bodie was loved, cherished, healthy, and happy. And now he was blaming himself for her unfortunate suffering that really was just a bad luck of the draw.

You were quick to respond, “No, this is not your fault-”

“It is though y/n.” He softly interrupted you while resting his head on the side of the hospital bed. “This whole asthma thing runs in my family, and I gave it to her.”

“You gave her so much more than this.” You shook your head. He gave everything for Bodie and now he was reducing it to bad genetics and it was fucking sad.

You leaned down and dug your head into his neck. Muffling off all the wonderful things Bodie got from her father. “You gave her those beautiful brown eyes, and that little dimple on her left cheek, and god forbid she’d gotten my dental genes-”

Tadashi sniffled and let out a laugh at the mention of your family’s unfortunate dental genetics. You also mentioned that once the doctor had told you that Bodie would likey grow up to be very tall, something she definitely got from Tadashi.

“But you also gave her your mind, because she is so smart like her daddy. And you gave her your heart because when she cares she cares one hundred percent just like her daddy. And she loves like her daddy, and she laughs like him.” You could go on forever. They were so similar in everything, he was practically born to be not just A dad, but to be HER dad.

“Do you remember what she looked like as baby?” You whispered, but it was rhetorical. Of course he remembered, you’d have to whack him in the back of the head with a metal bat in order for him to forget. “Just. Like. You.”

Tadashi paused before saying, “She got Hiro’s hair.”

“Pffft.” You two started laughing as quietly as possible at the memory. Bodie was born with a full head of crazy light brown hair that eventually fell out and grew back as jet black.

All the memories of Bodie came spilling out of your mouths like word vomit. Like when she was doing tummy time but Mochi was confused by the concept of babies so he started pawing it her to see if she’d move. Or when Tadashi knocked on the doorframe and pretending he hit her head on it. “Oh my gosh, baby I’m so sorry are you okay?” and laughed when she started crying like she was in the worst pain of her life. The first time she met Baymax she though it was the funniest thing ever and kept poking at the inflatable material. When she’d first started talking, she was sitting on her playmat with Hiro and she tried pronouncing his name.

“Hee-row,” He broke his name down into phonics. “Hiro.”

“Hee-o.”

“No, Hee-rrrrr-o” He dramticalled rolled his r’s.

Stubbornly, she insisted, “Hee-o”

“Hee-o” Hiro gave in with a smile on his face accepting his new name.

By the end of sharing memories you were laughing and crying at the same time. It was so bittersweet. The memories of your daughter being so happy with you two were clashed with the pain such a happy little girl was going through. A four years old needed a machine to help her breath and a IV too big for her arm drip down anti-anxiety medication because her little heart was beating too fast for her body. While you and Tadashi acknowledged that nobody is to blame for the terrible things Bodie has to go through, the mommy and daddy guilt is just too much to bare.

So the next day, after Bodie was discharged you would spend the entire day with her (inside because after an attack like that she can’t go outside without a mask on for a while). You’d invite her uncle Hiro and her great-aunt Cass and you would just hang out all day. At the end of the night while she wore her vest, you would watch a movie with your family and Bodie would not haver a designated bedtime. Just so she could spend as much time as possible with her family.

But that would be for tomorrow. Because for now, you two would sit by your baby Bodie while she heaved her chest up and down. Soaking in as much air the world both you and Tadashi brought her into had to offer.

[anonymityisfunwriter]

Timeless - Part 2: "School Lovers"

"There was one of a teenage couple in a driveway, holding hands on the way to a dance..."

Summary: It's the kind of love you find once in a lifetime, the kind of love you don't put down, and somehow, you know you would've found each other in every life.

'Timeless' Chapter List | The Grumpy Sunshine Series

"Rebecca..." Bucky deeply sighs, resting his head against the metal bleacher behind him, "Please, I don't wanna hear this anymore."

"I'm just sayin'. I've never seen you this torn up about a girl. It's a sign."

Bucky squints as he stares up at the sky, groaning at his little sister, "A sign, Becca?" 

"It is," Rebecca insists. "Your heart knows before your brain does."

Bucky lifts his head up slightly, with the sole purpose of glaring at Rebecca, "You need to stop reading all that romance, it's rotting your brain from the inside out."

Rebecca lightly smacks him her chosen book of the week, "Maybe you should pick up a book or two. I'm tellin' you, a girl like that isn't gonna wait forever, Bucky. You mark my words."

"Bucky! Bucky! Bucky!" Steve's voice bellows down the field, cutting through the track field as fast as his asthmatic lungs will allow him to. 

"Jesus, Steve," Bucky's eyes blow wide as Steve comes to a screeching halt in front of him and Rebecca. "What happened to you?"

Steve doubles over at the very bottom of the bleachers, one hand on his knee as he tries to catch his breath, the other holding up a finger at Bucky and Rebecca. He wheezes, his breath still ragged, "The dance- it's the dance."

Bucky slides off of his seat, stepping down the bleachers, he pats Steve on the back, "Settle down, Steve. You're gonna give yourself an asthma attack."

"You're never gonna," Steve tries to speak in between pants, "Believe... it."

"Breathe, Steve," Bucky admonishes. "Where's your inhaler?"

Steve pulls the inhaler out of his pants pocket, taking a large puff of it before attempting to speak again. 

Bucky quirks an eyebrow, equally amused and concerned at his friend's antics, "Better?"

"Someone asked her to the dance, Buck!" Steve rushes out. 

"What? Who?" Bucky questions with wide, frantic eyes. 

"The girl, Bucky, the girl you've had a massive crush on forever-"

Bucky frowns, cutting Steve off before he can embarrass him anymore, "I meant who asked her."

"Oh..." Steve sheepishly chuckles, his hands lifted above his head, "John asked her."

"John? Which John? John M.?" Rebecca frantically asks. "John B.? John L.?"

"John W."

"No," Rebecca gasps in horror. She turns to her brother with a remorseful smile and a consolation pat on the back, "Sorry, Buck. I tried warning you."

"She told him no."

"What? But he's so-" Rebecca begins to swoon, only for Bucky to cut her off with a glare over his shoulder. She shakes her head, quickly backtracking, "I mean, he's so ugly, so short, plus all that time he plays football, who would want that? No one in their right mind would go out with the school quarterback."

"Nice save," Steve quips. 

Rebecca's hands settle on her hips with a huff and a sharp glare at Steve, "Shut up, Steve."

"Anyway, my lab partner heard it from her friend who heard it her best friend that heard it from her lab partner that she said she was waiting for someone else to ask her to the dance."

"What?" Bucky exhales. 

"She's waiting for you to ask her, you idiot!" Rebecca excitedly shouts. 

"Language, Rebecca!" Steve chastises.

Rebecca glares at him even harder this time. Her eyes narrow at him with accusation and a sharp warning, "Steve, I swear if you don't tell me everything that you know right this instant I'm going to tell your mother that you hitchhiked to Jersey with Bucky."

Steve's hands fly up in innocence,"That's it, I swear, I don't know anything else!"

Rebecca suddenly gasps, a mischievous glint flickering in her eye. She sees you cutting through the running track, books in hand, just about to start your trek home. It was rare for you to walk alone. Usually there was some desperate boy after you or your friends crowding around. Rebecca smirks to herself, she couldn't have planned it better herself. It was fate. 

"You're up to something," Bucky accuses. 

"Me?" Rebecca dramatically gasps. "When have I ever been up to anything?"

"Oh, she's definitely up to something," Steve agrees.

Before either of them can interrogate Rebecca any further, she stands up from her seat on the bleachers, wildly waving her arms at you, "Hey, over here!" 

"Becca," Bucky sharply warns.

Rebecca pays him no mind, beaming as you make your way over to them. Bucky fiercely blushes, trying his best to play it cool. He's mesmerized by you. Always has been.

Your books tucked to your chest, poodle skirt flowing around your legs, the setting sun casting an almost ethereal glow on you. And that smile. You look at him with that shy smile and in that moment, he swears he's as asthmatic as Steve is.

You tuck your books under your arm, waving at the three of them, "Hi, everyone."

"Hey!" Rebecca exuberantly greets, a mischievous smirk flashing in her face, "How's it going?"

"It's going," you chuckle. "What are you guys up to?"

"We were actually just talking about the dance!"

"Rebecca," Bucky hisses under his breath.

Rebecca pays no mind to Bucky's warning or the glare burning a hole in the side of her head. She tilts her head slightly and smiles sweetly at you, "You going with anyone? I heard that John asked you."

You playfully glare at Rebecca, resting your hand on your hip, "And how would you know about that?"

"A little birdie," Rebecca coyly replies. 

"Well, I would tell that little birdie that gossiping is a terrible habit," you playfully counter. "And I would also say that I'm waiting for the right person to ask." Bucky might be hallucinating from the lack of oxygen, but he swears you glance in his direction. "It's our senior dance, I want it to be a perfect night."

"Makes sense," Rebecca agrees. She nudges her head, jutting her thumb to the two men sitting behind her, "These two are still trying to get the courage up to ask someone. 'Specially Bucky."

"Rebecca," Bucky harshly whispers. 

You snicker at the furrowed expression Bucky aims at his sister. "Anyone would be lucky to go with you boys. I just know any girl would love for either of you to ask them."

"Most girls want someone taller than them," Steve grumbles, hunched over as his hands rest beneath his chin. 

"Not from what I've heard," you quip.

Steve's ears perk up, sitting straight up, "Really? What'd you hear?"

"That Peggy Carter wants you to ask her."

Steve scrambles forward, almost tripping on the last step of the bleacher, "Peggy - Peggy Carter? Margaret? That Peggy Carter?"

"Are there any other ways to say her name, Steve?" you tease.

"Hey, I thought you said gossip was a bad habit," Rebecca whines. 

"I never said I was a saint, Becca." You blithely shrug, smirking at her. You nudge your chin in the other direction, "Anyway, I should be going, I gotta long walk home."

"Bucky will walk you!" Rebecca blurts out. 

Bucky's eyes widen at his sister offering him up on a silver platter. You catch the look on Bucky's face and wave Rebecca away with mild disappointment, "No, don't worry about me. Besides, I live a good mile away from your neighborhood." 

Rebecca shoots a glare at Bucky, nudging her head in your direction. Her eyes widen at Bucky, warning him of her words from earlier. There wouldn't be many more, or likely not anymore at all, chances for Bucky to get the courage. It was now or never. 

"It's getting dark," Bucky finally pipes in. "You shouldn't walk alone."

Your eyes flicker from Becca to Bucky. Behind him, Rebecca nods at you, urging you to say yes to Bucky's offer. Bucky's ice blue eyes bore at you, trying to tell you convey something you don't quite understand yet. But you hope you will soon. 

Your heart flutters at the thought of being alone with Bucky. "Are you sure? I wouldn't want to impose."

"I want to," Bucky eagerly insists, standing up off the bleachers, "Really want to."

You can't help the way your face lights up with a warm smile and a shy blush, you nod, "Sure, I'd like that."

"Let me take those for you." Bucky reaches out, taking your two textbooks from your hand. He looks at you for a long moment, unabashed in his staring and you in yours. 

You smile up at him, "What a gentleman."

"And my work here is done," Rebecca blissfully sighs as you both walk away side by side. 

"Um... hello?" Steve frustratedly groans, waving his hands at Rebecca. "I still don't have a date!"

Rebecca rolls her eyes at Steve, shaking her head at the clueless man, "My guess is if you don't ask Peggy in the next two days, she's gonna ask you."

"You think so?"

Rebecca gestures to you and Bucky walking away, "Have I ever steered you two wrong?"

For a long moment, you and Bucky walk in silence.

You've known Bucky since you were kids. You've liked him since you were kids, too. You liked the way he always defended Steve. You liked that he was funny but not mean. Smart, but not arrogant. You liked his air of confidence, the way he stood tall with his head held high.

That's not the case here. You can tell by the distant look in the eyes that you know and love and the little furrow in his brow that mar his normally boyish expression.

"Penny for your thoughts?" you ask after a long silence.

"Huh?"

You chortle with an almost teasing grin, "You're thinking about something awfully hard over there."

He shyly chuckles. "I'm just - I'm sorry about my sister. She can be a little insistent."

"Don't worry about it." You wave him off, "I like Rebecca, she's a good kid. All the girls in the senior class love her."

"She's got that effect on people," Bucky agrees, his normal, much more confident grin finally making an appearance, "Honestly, I think that's why people like me."

"I wouldn't say that. You can be very charming when you want to."

Bucky quirks an eyebrow, "Charming?"

You scoff, rolling your eyes at him, "Like you don't know."

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Go for it."

"Who are you waiting to ask you to the dance?"

"Bucky Barnes!" you jokingly admonish. "A lady never reveals her secrets."

"Call it curiosity."

"Well, what about you?"

"I asked you first," he shoots back. Your smile falters for a split second. In that moment, Bucky decides he would do anything to take that look off your face. "I'm sorry. That's none of my business."

"No, no! It's alright, it's just -" You take a long moment, thinking about how you could possible answer Bucky's question without humiliating yourself, "He just didn't ask me. I don't think he will."

"Why not?"

"The dance is next week, time's running out." The silence remains for another long moment. You muster all your courage to look at him and ask him, "So what about you?"

"Me?"

You timidly shrug, hoping he can't see the disappointment that bogs down your step, "I heard Dot wanted you to ask her."

"'M not gonna go with Dot," he grumbles under his breath. 

"She's real pretty. She likes you a lot." Bucky offers a halfhearted shrug as his only response. That distant, furrowed look back on his face. "Is there someone you want to go with?"

"Yeah."

"Tell me about her."

The blush creeps up Bucky's face. "I've known her since we were kids - been in love with her since then, too."

You have to look away, staring at the fences of the neighborhood like their most interesting thing in the world. You're sure if you look at him, he'll see the disappointment clear as day on your face. "Oh."

Bucky swallows the knot in his throat, mustering all the courage he has to keep talking, hoping that you'll understand what he's not brave enough to say outright. "She's smart, friends with all my friends, with my sister, even. She's perfect. Rebecca keeps tellin' me to just ask, but I keep chickening out."

You're not quite sure what to say to that, so once again, you walk in silence.

"What about your guy?" Bucky finally asks.

"He's not my guy," you correct much too quickly.

"You're avoiding the question. Is he a jock?"

You chuckle, rolling your eyes, "No."

"A nerd? 'Cause I've heard they can be real shy."

"He's smart, but he doesn't like people knowing that. A real goofball, sometimes. He's tall and handsome. Always defending his friend."

"Sounds like a good guy," Bucky frowns, watching the cars pass the two of you by.

"He is," you agree. For a moment, you want to stop there, leave it at that. But there's something inside you telling you that you'll never get another chance to tell him how you feel. And for some reason, you can't bear to live with that regret for the rest of your life. "His sister's a bit of a gossip, very insistent, too. You can't hold that against him, though."

Your words catch Bucky completely off guard. For a minute, Bucky swears he's hallucinating. He shakes his head, trying to bite down the smile that tugs at the corner of his mouth, "No, course not."

"But..." You take a long sigh, "He just never asked me."

"Only an idiot would let an opportunity to take you to the dance slip away."

"Are you?"

"What?"

"An idiot?"

His hand shyly grazes against yours. You're acutely aware that this is the first time he's ever touched you. His finger tips graze yours, once, twice. 

"No, not typically - usually only if there's a pretty girl involved." He reaches out the third time, this time, he doesn't let go. His fingers lace with yours. "Would you like to go to the dance with me?"

Your heart flutters as his hand grips yours. You know there's something so wholesome and heartwarming about that first love, but you're not sure that this is that. It's something so much more. It's something that feels like finally coming home. It's the sort of feeling that lasts a lifetime. It's the sort of feeling you don't put down. 

"Yes."

So you didn't put it down. And neither did he. He never let go. 

Not when he picked you up from your parents' home on the night of your senior dance. 

Not when you stood in the driveway on the way home from the dance for much longer than you should have, just to steal a few more moments with each other. 

Not after graduation. Not when he got down on one knee. Not when you bought your first house together. Rebecca insisted on a photograph to commemorate her own match making skills. You and Bucky sat on the porch of that first house, laughing as Rebecca tried getting you to sit still. 

There was no proof, but somehow, you just knew, you and Bucky were gonna be timeless.

AnonymityIsFun Masterlist Inspired By Taylor Swift Masterlist Bucky Barnes Masterlist

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[pumpkinsy0]

Since I was just in the ER (im good now LMAO) why not some hcs of Pony ending up in the ER somehow?

im sorry im replying to this late it was my moms bday yesterday, but omg???? im glad ur ok and ur having a good day or somethin😭😭

ANYWAYS fuck it, ill talk about pony w asthma bc thats a hc i actually love and IIIII have asthma so its like y not

•he dont take it seriously, like at all, he never did, he ki still smokes, still forgets to take his pump w him, hes asking for trouble

•and when hes wheezing, hes just ignores it, and thats exactly what landed him in the er, he was at track, didnt bring his pump to school that day, and had a pretty bad asthma attack n now hes here

•he quite honestly couldnt remember what happened between him being in the ground on the track field to waking up in the hospital bed, all he knows is darry and soda is right there

•pony wants to go HOME!!! hell he aint even wanna b there in the first place, he could b getting put in a coffin and he still will deny that hes sick

•that and he also worries about the money, yes darrys job has insurance which somewhat covers the bill, but still, hes a worried at heart, but darrys telling him to stop thinking about that, thats his job

•i just know darrys scolding pony, yea theres a time n place for it, but pony, my brotha, u coulda died over something so preventable, stop livin life like ur lungs aint fucked over

•soda didnt find out till later, they called darry first n then darry called soda, he told him ponys gonna b fine and that he could stay at work, but soda didnt care he wants to see him NOW☝🏽and he ended up goin hom early

•pony hates being fussed over, he doesnt want anyone in the gang knowing, but we all know thats bot happening for long, pony doesnt have to stay in the hospital for that long, like a couple hours, but when he gets home, here the rest of the gang go🙄🙄

•they aint takin it that seriously at first glance either, ponys getting teased for having that asthma attack, but they were genuinely worried for a bit

•i promise u pony has his pump all the time after that one, hes not taking anymore chances