#i don’t need to hear about your medical history please

[goldensunset]

if you’ve never played a pokémon game you’re missing out on the insane things npcs will say to you unprompted. like you’ll be walking down a path and a total stranger will see you and immediately run up to you and trap you in place and say something like ‘the divorce is getting rough but me and my pokémon are getting tough!’ and then start a battle and after you beat their single rat they’ll be like ‘i wasn’t worthy of her…’ or something

[shotmrmiller]

The start of a journey

A small drabble of a thought that had me awake at an unreasonable hour because how cute is HE PLEASE GOD.

Dadtobe!simon who when you told him you were pregnant, he sat quietly on the sofa without saying much. You were so worried he didn’t want the baby due to his history with his family— but in reality, he was so shocked. How can he deserve such a precious gift from life when all he does for a living is take them? He sees your eyes watery with unshed tears and quickly grabs your hands to reassure you that this may have not been planned but it is a gift unworthy of a bad man such as he and he already loves you both. 

Dadtobe!simon is the one who looks up what foods help alleviate nausea so when you’re heaving over your toilet, he’s already in the kitchen getting some cold apple juice and saltines just in case you could stomach them this time.

Dadtobe!simon is pressed that you’re choosing to have a home water birth with a midwife instead of the hospital because “What if you need immediate medical attention? We’d have to get you to a hospital and that’s time wasted.”

“ The baby and I will be okay. The midwife will be keeping an eye on my vitals and if anything went south, they’d be getting us to a hospital before I really needed to be in one. Besides, I want an unmedicated labor in the comfort of my own home.”

“Alright, love. But if anything looks even slightly wrong, I’m getting you out o’ here. Clear?” “Crystal, sir.” 

“Cheeky.”

Dadtobe!simon personally bought an at-home fetal doppler to hear the baby’s heartbeat whenever he couldn’t make it to the monthly OB appointments. He helps you lie down on the sofa, hips propped up on a pillow, and he’d get the doppler gel from the warmer because he CANNOT have you uncomfortable so long he can help it. Skin goosepimpling with the warm gel, he starts rubbing it on your lower stomach with the probe and puts light pressure— doing circular motions to try and find the distinct, rhythmic thumps of the baby’s heart. He catches it, a fast beating, _strong_ heartbeat, and ups the volume.

“There ya are, my little sprog.” 

Dadtobe!simon gets up from the warm cocoon of the bed and out into the cold, rainy streets because the Missus is craving butter pickle spears and marinara sauce and he is a humble servant to your wants and needs. Butter pickles though, seriously?

Dadtobe!simon who has had all of the Sprog’s necessities ready to go from the beginning. The cot and moses basket, assembled. Nappies, baby bottles, and dummies are all bought and stored away. If the baby can use it, it’s in the house put together and clean. Ruthlessly efficient. 

Dadtobe!simon doesn’t let you pick up anything heavier than a jug of milk because “You don’t need to be doin’ any heavy liftin’, it’s what you got me here for, love.” And you aren’t above _not_ being extra pampered because you’ve always hated putting the groceries up anyway.

Dadtobe!simon usually sleeps spooning you but now you’ve got the maternity pillow swaddling your front, a pillow in between your thighs and another underneath your hips and supporting your lower back because your heavy stomach puts so much pressure on your body, but your mountain of pillows helps you rest as best you can. Simon can almost physically see the aches alleviate when you lie down so he doesn’t complain about the lack of cuddles nor how he’s been essentially shoved into a space the size of a twin bed on your California king. 

Dadtobe!simon who squeezes the heel, kneads the instep, and presses the pads of his thumbs into the balls of your swollen feet— you’re carrying extra weight after all, and as you’re groaning in relief you start crying because look at how large you’ve gotten. You not having puffy, achy ankles is a miracle and how can he still love you looking like this? He grabs both of your feet and peppers kisses from the toes to the ankle you seem to hate because how can he not love you. Especially like this. Your body is sacrificing comfort to bring his little babe into the world for him to meet. All the changes you seem to hate— the stretch marks, the extra weight, the not-so-tight skin— to him it’s perfection. You’re perfect. He’s never really lived before you and now he can’t imagine living without you. The both of you. 

Adieu.

[borathae]

↳ Index [Day 06 - Medical Play]

Pairing: Bratty Good Boy!Seokjin x Hard Domme!Reader

Genre: established relationship!AU

Kinks: Doctor & patient role play, brat taming, use of a stethoscope, examination play, anal play, use of a thermostate, use of a prostate vibrator, prostate milking, thigh fucking, impact play with a leather paddle, masochist!Seokjin, subby boy tears, overstimulation, thigh fucking, hips guiding, pissing from too much stimulation, multiple orgasms (m.receiving), he stands against a wall first then lies over her lap, he fakes being sick to get babyboy treatment by her, she finds out and punishes him, they talk about it at first though, cuddly aftercare with lots of praises

Wordcount: 6.8k

a/n: some of you just have such good ideas istfg *kisses anon's mind* this is so hOT JFAJSDFJ

With his schedule being tightly packed, your boyfriend has been practically missing from your life for more than two weeks at this point. You would be lying if you said that you didn't miss him. He leaves when you are still sleeping and comes home when you are already sleeping. It is a lonely life when he is busy. So when you got a call from Seokjin a few days ago, telling you that he would be coming home earlier, you felt delighted. It had been five days since that call and you painfully had to come to term with the fact that the reason for his earlier arrival was a nasty cold. Just like this, went your plans for some nice alone time with him.

You don’t mind caring for him because you wanted to see him better. He always cares for you as well when you are sick or on your period, so you aren’t grumpy about this. You are grumpy because he is the whiniest baby in the history of sick people.

Ever since he came home, he has been complaining about his aching head and stuffy nose non-stop. He even begged you not to leave him, which lead to you calling your workplace to tell them you had to take some time off for nursing-care. A mistake, you later realised. Seokjin acted like a complete baby, whining and asking you to do the most ridiculous things for him. One time you even had to help him pee, as he was too weak to hold Seokjin Junior (his words not yours). 

Eventhough reluctantly, you still did everything he asked of you. He was sick after all and given the many times Seokjin took care of you when your period cramps became unbearable, it was only fair to do the same for him.

That is until Friday came. You had been out shopping for groceries and some dearly needed toiletries when you spotted Seokjin running along the Han River. He looked perfectly healthy, mouth-watering even if you wouldn’t have been that angry. Despite your annoyance, you didn’t say anything to him when you came home. He looked terrible when you came running into his bedroom, his eyes hollow and his skin as pale as his walls. Maybe you had mistaken him for a stranger? 

You hadn’t. So Jimin accidentally dropped the bomb to you today, Saturday, one day after you saw your sick boyfriend running along Han River. Apparently he and Jimin met up for a quick jog and chat. You thanked Jimin for telling you the truth and ended the call.

“When I catch you, Kim Seokjin”, you mumble, stirring the soup for your oh-so-sick boyfriend with the biggest frown on your face.

“Babyyy, please save me”, you suddenly hear him shout from his bedroom. He sounds actually hurt and like the caring girlfriend you are, you waste no time to rush to him as quickly as possible, leaving the steaming soup on the kitchen counter. 

“What happened? Are you okay?” you ask concerned. He has his eyebrows furrowed and a pained expression on his face.

“No I’m not. My pillow is too hot, can you please turn it for me?” he whines. 

You sigh loudly, nope, he is just his annoying lazy self. You clench your jaw, your desire to whack his butt with the soft pillow growing in your stomach.

“You’re disrupting my cooking for this? I was making soup for you. Couldn’t you have turned it yourself?” you ask with crossed arms.

Seokjin shakes his head, wincing in pain afterwards as if the small gesture was too much for him.

“No, my arms are too weak”, he whines looking at you with big puppy eyes. Oh, how you wanted to wipe the pout off of his face. “Please baby help me, I’m so uncomfortable”, he whines even more miserably when you show no signs of moving.

You let out an annoyed sigh before walking to his bedside and pulling the pillow from below his head, making him fall onto the mattress. He groans in pain, rubbing the back of his neck, which hadn’t been ready for the sudden movement before looking up at you with big eyes. You don’t break eye contact with him, your jaw clenched and your fingers clutching onto the white pillow until your knuckles turn white. You could throw the pillow at his head, just once, it would serve him right. You stop shaking it out for a moment, contemplating if you should do it or not. You decide against it, you weren’t raised like that. You still practically throw the pillow at Seokjin’s chest, not even caring how rough your movement was. 

“There. Enjoy it”, you growl, already turning around before Seokjin’s hand clutching onto your apron stops you.

“Baby, are you mad at me? You are acting weird ever since Friday”, he asks with worried eyes.

His question makes you stop and turn around

“I just find it weird that you are down with a cold for more than five days now, when normally you are running around healthy again after two days. Don’t you think it’s a little bit out of character?”

Let’s see if he gets the hint.

Seokjin glances sideways for a moment before he looks back at you. He shrugs his shoulders, leaning back into his pillow.

“It’s because of the AC on the airplane. It made everything so much worse”, he fake coughs, “See? My lungs are practically oozing out of me.”

You grimace at his use of words, making a sound of disgust, “that was rancid.”

Seokjin coughs again, harder than before. You have to give it to him, this man knows how to act.

“I, know, it’s, so, bad”, he chokes out between coughs.

It’s getting ridiculous at this point. You roll your eyes at him before turning your back to him.

“Sure keep telling yourself that”, you grumble before walking out of his bedroom and returning to your task of serving him his highly-requested soup. “You know, I talked to Jimin on the phone.”

“Wha-”

You close the door. You know for a fact that he understood what you were implying. You hope that he boils in his soup of guilt just as wildly as the vegetables in his stupid food do.

You return to him with a bowl of said soup and a glass of orange juice on a wooden tray. Seokjin is sitting on the edge of the bed, head lowered in shame.

“I’m sorry”, he murmurs.

“For what?” you ask him because you want to hear him admit it. You walk to the bed, putting the tray on the bedside table. You straighten up, crossing your arms in front of your chest.

“I lied to you. I haven’t felt sick since yesterday.”

“I know. I saw you run along Han River.”

“You did?!” he gawks up at you with widened eyes.

“I did. But then I came home to you looking like a pale ghost so I thought that I was mistaken. Until Jimin accidentally dropped the truth. I’m disappointed in you, Seokjin. Why are you lying to me? I took days off work to take care of you and you take advantage of me.”

“It’s not that. I have good reasons why I’m still pretending.”

“They must be mighty good reasons because I don’t see any appeal in making your partner dedicate their entire day to health care when it’s not even necessary.”

“I felt good yesterday and, and I took that run with Jimin and I wanted to tell you when you were home, but then on my way home I tripped on the sidewalk and twisted my ankle and now it hurts and I feel shitty again.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah seriously. Look”, he pulls the pants leg up, showing you his slightly swollen ankle.

“Oh my god Seokjin, are you okay? That doesn’t look healthy.”

“I can move it”, he demonstrates it with a hiss of pain, “it’s just twisted and my pride is broken. And I need you to take care of me because I’m just an infant in pain.”

You laugh, picking up his pillow to slap his chest with it.

“Shut up you idiot. Only you can manage to get healthy only to blow it by twisting your ankle.”

“I know, I’m stupid and I’m sorry”, he takes your hands, pulling you onto his lap like this. “I shouldn’t have lied. I thought if I kept quiet, I can heal without having to admit my stupid accident. If I knew that you saw me, I would have confessed. I’m sorry.”

You give up with a sigh, “apology accepted I guess. I still think you’re an idiot.”

“I know, that’s your right.”

You snicker, he smiles at the sound of it, rubbing your thighs innocently. You look into his eyes, heart fluttering. With another sigh of defeat, you swing your legs over his lap so you were facing him. His hands touch your lower back, you play with his messy hair.

“I missed you lately, you know?” you tell him.

“I missed you too. Maybe that’s why I don’t wanna get healthy either. If I’m healthy, I gotta leave you for work. I don’t want that.”

“Yeah, I get that”, you say, leaning in to kiss his cheek. He chases the affection, squeezing your butt.

“Hey, hands off.”

“Oop, sorry”, he gasps, pulling them away.

You click your tongue, giving his chest a soft slap.

“Only good boys get to touch my butt. You’ve been a naughty boy, so no butt or boobs for you.”

He pouts.

“Pout all you want. That’s what you get”, you say and get off his lap.

Seokjin drops into the pillow with a loud groan, rolling his head to the side.

“You’re both making me horny and breaking my heart.”

You chuckle, “good. The soup’s on the table, eat it while it’s still warm.”

“Wait.” He sits up. “Can’t you feed me?”

“You’re alright.”

“No, I’m not. I’m a weak boy”, he pouts cutely, “please?”

“Fine. You big baby.”

You sit down on the edge of his bed and take the silver spoon between your fingers. Seokjin opens his mouth as widely as possible when you come close to him with a filled spoon. Once inside he closes it, pouting out his lips whilst looking at you through his lashes.

“Wow baby, the soup is amazing”, he gasps, grinning at you. 

“Thanks”, you mumble, eyes glued to his lips.

“More”, he tells you already opening his mouth for you. 

Look at his ready mouth, his pink lips wet from him licking them and his eyes looking at you expectantly. A dark thought flashes through your mind. Oh how you would love to see that face in any other situation than him begging for soup. Like him begging for release, all sweaty and sticky from the lube tripping onto the carpet out of his beautiful ass, his hands folded on his thighs as he is kneeling on the floor, all whilst pretty flocking marks spread all over his skin. It would serve him right for lying to you.

Being lost in your own little fantasy, you don’t even notice your hand had moved on its own until you can hear Seokjin yell out in pain.

“Please blow on it, it’s too hot”, he says eyeing the soup in pain.

“You are a huge baby you know that? Can’t you blow on it yourself?” you whine, still fulfilling his wish.

Seokjin shakes his head, “it’s so much better if you do it. You are so much more skilled with blowing stuff”, he says, his lips twitching up into a small smirk.

You stop blowing. He wiggles his brows.

“Urgh shut up, your flirts are not gonna work on me.”

“I think they are.”

“No, they’re not.” You shove the soup into his mouth. “Shut up and eat your soup.”

Seokjin mewls, looking into your eyes as deeply as possible. You gulp. Look at him. His eyes beg you silently to keep the spoon inside. His lips engulf the metal shaft. They look so plumb, so pink and soft, oh how amazing they would probably feel sucking on your fingers.

You blink, quickly looking away. Your mind had wandered off again, god damnit. 

You pull your hand back and stand up, “I’m cleaning the kitchen.”

Seokjin nods his head, humming obediently.

It is a fair bit cooler in your living room than it was in your bedroom. Exactly what you needed right now. You let yourself fall down on your big couch and close your eyes. Why did your mind have to betray you like that? Yes, he was flirting but you thought of the nastiest of things. But then. Who could blame you? It has been too long since you have been intimate with him. The last two weeks he was never home and before that, he was too busy with practicing and recording new songs and far too tired for sex whenever he came home. It wasn’t a big deal to you at first, it’s not like you can’t survive without sex, but as the days turned into weeks and the weeks turned into a month, you slowly felt yourself grow desperate. Sure you still had your hands and a big collection of toys to keep you entertained. And oh boy, entertained you were. But you still missed the feeling of his hot skin pressed against yours, the feeling of his soft hands exploring your body and the feeling of his skilled tongue eating you out until you saw stars. 

And Seokjin, he for sure didn’t help at all. Of course you were still a little frustrated with him, but to be honest right now you wanted nothing more than to jump his bones and ride him until both of you lose your ability to speak. Frustrated or not, you were horny and desperate to feel him again. So why not combine both of your current emotions and make it all the more exciting?

You smirk at your idea, jumping up from the sofa to run into your hobby room. You pull open the uppermost drawer of your dark wooden dresser, in which you store a big portion of your sex toy collection. With a few reaches into the drawer, everything you needed was laid out neatly in front of you. A pair of black stockings as well as a pair of red stockings, you will decide later which one would be more fitting. Next to them was a pair of your favourite latex gloves and a bottle of cherry lube, not your favourite but Seokjin has a thing for it so if it makes him happy you won’t complain, and last but not least, you put down a small bag of medical tools and a variety of toys.

With your tools being ready, now all you needed to do was to get ready yourself. You walk to your closet and open the left door, revealing a row full of costumes from a police officer uniform all the way to a doctor’s uniform. You and Seokjin have a slight thing for role plays. It might actually be a little obsession between you and him. Sometimes you both dress up, sometimes it’s just you and sometimes it’s just him.

Your fingers brush over the costume you were looking for, “there you are.”

It is a short, white nurse dress with a red cross on your left breast pocket and a matching hat. Exactly what you needed for the little idea you had in your mind. You slip into the costume and pull the red net stockings with lace on the top up your legs before slipping into red lacquer heels. You finish off your look with a deep red lip and take the big doctor's bag with your toys.

You knock on the bedroom door.

“Come in!” Seokjin calls out.

You slip inside the room. He is sitting up, playing a game on the TV. Now that you found out about his lie, he feels comfortable in doing what he wants.

“Hello there.”

“Hey baby, I finished the soup. It was so good. Thank you for cooking.”

“Seokjin, look at me.”

He obeys and gasps. His jaw goes slack, eyes drinking in every little inch of your body. He instantly presses pause on the game. You smirk at his expression pulling a little pose in front of him.

“I am here to care for you, patient Kim”, you say, your voice sultry.

“Baby!” he exclaims, throwing the control to the side, “what do you mean? Are you serious?”

You hum, putting your hand on one of his thighs. You can feel his muscles tense from your touch and watch his throat move as he gulps hard.

“I’m very serious and you very sick. I need to take care of you, don’t I?” you coo, fluttering your lashes at him.

“Are you…” he gulps and almost whimpers the words, “…gonna be rough with me ‘cause I lied?”

“Do you think that I should be rough with you?” you ask, masking your question for his consent this way.

He licks his lips, whispering a weak, “yeah.”

“Yes? Well if that’s so.” You give his cheek a little slap, making him moan and close his eyes. “I will choose my treatment accordingly.”

“Oh god”, he gets out, ears slowly turning red in giddiness.

You straighten up and place the bag on the bedside table.

“Turn off the TV, I want silence when I work.”

“Yes Miss Nurse.”

“It’s Doctor for you, understood?”

“Y-yes, Doctor ma’am. I’m sorry.”

“Good. Now that we have talked about that, can I care for you patient Kim?” you ask, taking out the pair of latex gloves.

He ogles them, gulping once again.  

“Yes please”, he begs, nodding his head vigorously.

“Good.” You take out a douche and lube, putting both on his lap. “You know what to do.”

Seokjin takes the tools and rolls out of bed. He limbs to the bathroom as quickly as his twisted ankle allows him.

“Are you sure you don’t wanna get it checked out?” you ask him.

“I have you, haven’t I?” he flirts and disappears in the bathroom.

You scoff, rolling your eyes, “he’s such a brat.” Afterwards you turn to your doctor’s bag, preparing the scene while Seokjin cleans out.

It isn’t long until Seokjin limps back to you. You study him while he is busy looking at what you laid out. He seems very excited already, eyes widening in anticipation. He is still in his PJs but brushed his hair. It’s very attractive that he made an effort.

“Okay, stop.” 

He obeys, waiting patiently for you. You let him wait for a little, circling him without touching him. He tries his very hardest not to follow you with his eyes, keeping his head as still as possible.

“Mhm.”

You are in front of him again, writing into your notepad. Seokjin tries to steal a glance but gets caught by you right away. He fixes his head, gulping nervously.

“Hm.” 

More writing. He shifts from one foot to the other, flexing and relaxing his hands. He can’t bear the silence and the unknown. 

“Mh-hm.” 

You finally finish writing by slamming your pen down on the paper to make an aggressiv dot. You did it on purpose, of course, to make Seokjin jump a little. He is so adorable when he startles. 

You place the notepad into your chest pocket and turn to get your first tool. Seokjin might need to say something. He can’t handle the silence. It’s riling him up way too much.

With your back still turned to him, you finally break the silence. 

“Get naked. My examination requires nudity.” 

He follows your orders gladly. Finally. Oh, he is so happy. Finally something is happening. He swears that his cock is already getting harder just from the thrill of doing something.

He stands with his head held high once he is undressed, only his red ears and flushed chest are indicators of his shyness upon being looked at in such a state. He is breathing heavily, nipples erect and cock just hardened enough to look tempting. Not that his cock looks any less tempting when soft. He has the prettiest cock ever.

“Look at you”, you murmur, feeling delirious in need for a moment. It has been too long since you last saw him like this. You missed him and if you weren’t currently lost in a roleplay, you would tell him so. “Your body is very pleasing to look at.” 

“Thank you.” 

“Quiet. I need absolute silence when I work.” 

Seokjin mewls softly, biting down on his lower lip. The inner corners of his eyebrow lift as he gives you the sweetest puppy eyes. You ignore them of course, despite wanting to squish his cheeks and kiss every single inch of his handsome face. You cannot give in.  

You roll your shoulders back and clear your throat.

“Well then, sit down.” 

Seokjin obeys. His back is perfectly straight, his hands are presented on his thighs with his palms up. He looks up at you, eyes still so perfectly cute and lips parted slightly. You let him, but do nothing about it. Your heart is secretly racing however and your mind keeps racing with thoughts of how cute he is. 

You pick up the stethoscope and put it into your ears. 

“Stay still and quiet.”

He nods his head in obedience, holding his breath as you listen to his pulse. You feel tingly. His heart is racing so much. You touch his shoulder, taking in how his pulse flutters and then beats even faster. 

“Mhm I see”, you murmur and put the stethoscope on his back. Like this, your breasts are mere inches away from his face and judging by the sharp intake of breathe, he is aware of that. “Breathe in for me.” 

Seokjinobeys. His breath fills his lungs. His heart races. 

“Breathe out.”

The air leaves him again, but his racingheart remains.

“One more time. In”, you rasp, stepping closer so your breasts would brush against his face.

He obeys your order, but does it very shakily, thighs squeezing together. Through the fabric of your dress you can feel his lips mouth at your breasts and as you glance down, you notice his eyes fell closed.

“Hold it in.”

He obeys while you look at him. He is so handsome when he is lost in you. You shake your head to get rid of your feelings. Do not give in to temptations.

“Breathe out.”

He obeys, hot breath swirling over your clothed chest. It feels so warm and nice. Do not give in to temptations.

“Good”, you say and step back, leaving him to gasp as his heaven gets taken away.

His reaction was definitely worth staying stronger than the temptations. He is so adorable when he realises how easily you can take away his heaven.

“My assumptions were sadly correct”, you say as you write into your notepad.

Seokjin looks at you nervously and beyond turned on.

“You are officially suffering with brattiness. It’s a very serious illness, but don’t worry. I can heal it very easily.”

He mewls, biting his lower lip.

“I will have to make one more examination however to determine the correct treatment”, you say and shove the notepad into your chest pocket.

You place the stethoscope aside and round the bed to look for your next tool. You act as if you can’t find it because you know that Seokjin gets desperate between long waits.

“What are you doing next?” he asks just as expected. He is so predictable. How wonderful.

“Next I will…hm…” you trail off as you look for your tool. “Mhmm…”

Seokjin shifts, trying to sneak a glance. He is such a delight.

“Ah there!”

He exhales shakily, squeezing his thighs together.

“There you are, little thing was hiding”, you say and pick up the thermostat.

Seokjin ogles it, straightening his back and gulping heavily in preparation. You walk back to him, heart fluttering when he tilts his head back and opens his mouth.

“Oh you sweet innocent boy”, you taunt him, closing his mouth with a press to his chin.

He furrows his brows in confusion, puffy lips pouting.

“That’s not how you take a brat’s temperature, you little thing”, you coo and boop his nose.

He gulps, cock twitching because of your words. It twitches again when you dance your gloved hand to his neck and down to his chest. With a gentle nudge, you make him fall into the sheets. He moans loudly, legs hanging off the edge and cock twitching between them.

You inspect him for a moment, let him get desperate again. There is two ways you could go about this. Using the thin neck of the thermostat to sound his cock or stick it up his ass. He would most definitely lose his sanity with both options. The deciding factor is your own greed for seeing him with his legs up. You hook your hands under his knees and lift them, bending them so you can press them into the sheets on each side of his body.

Seokjin moans, gripping his own thighs instantly so he can stay in position.

“You’re getting an idea, aren’t you?” you ask him, preparing the thermostat.

“Yes, Doctor”, he breathes, eyes gawking at the ceiling nervously.

“You know, this isn’t how I normally take my patient’s temperature, but I make exceptions for bratty boys”, you say, wiping the access lube on the laid out towel. You don’t want to put it on his hole because he is supposed to take the thermostat raw. Just the lube on the shaft should make it easier for him. He deserves a little pinch.

You put your left hand on his lower stomach and apply pressure, thrusting the thermostat into his hole at the same time.

“Ah!” Seokjin flinches, toes curling and head lifting off the sheets. His neck is tense and his eyes are widened.

You wiggle the thermostat inside him for a little, rubbing circles into his stomach.

“God hmmm”, he lets out, dimpling his thighs.

“Almost done, I just need to angle it properly otherwise the results could be flawed”, you explain and slide it out just to thrust it back inside again.

Seokjin drops his head, but arches his back. He is so sexy, eliciting a chuckle from you.

“This is such a thin tool and yet you are arching your back. I should put your eagerness for anal stimulation into my notes.”

“Fuck”, he curses under his breath, tensing up in an attempt to come off as uninterested.

You chuckle, shifting your eyes to the thermostat. You press on the button.

“Now we have to wait.”

Seokjin breathes quickly, biting his lower lip. You let him agonise in the silence at first before you break it with a question.

“It is eagerness, isn’t it?”

He nods his head.

“What was that?”

“Yes”, he croaks.

“Yes? So you’re a brat and, forgive my wording, an anal whore?”

“Yes”, he mewls, tensing his neck as your words sink into the deepest fibers of his body. The way you degrade him will always ruin him. You don’t do it so obvious and straight forward like others do, you hide it behind a sweet voice and tender words. You make it sound as if you were being kind to him while in reality you called him the most degrading things. Seokjin swears he could orgasm just from that.

The thermostat beeps.

“Oh? Already done?” you gasp and pull it out quickly, ignoring the needy mewl he lets out. You step back, inspecting the result for a while so he can get impatient again. He shifts, lifting his head. Got him. You smirk, reading the results out loud, “thirty eight point three. Your temperature is a little raised, but I’m sure it’s because of our, well, current situation.” 

You obviously made up the result. He has a very  healthy temperature right now.

“Holy fucking shit, ___”, he gets out breathily, dropping his head into the sheets in utter defeat.

“I’m sorry? What did you just call me?” you hiss.

“Doctor!”

“No no, I think you were being a rude brat again. How fucking dare you.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s a little too late for that. You are a lost cause, patient Kim. I thought that I could heal you with natural medicine, but it seems that you need stronger drugs to get good again.”

You walk back to your tools. Wait. Seokjin shows his impatience by dropping his legs so he could crane his neck and look. When all he meets are your darkened, knowing eyes, he tenses up and looks away, gulping nervously.

You sigh, “how disappointing”, you say quietly but loud enough that he can hear.

Seokjin keens, biting down on his lower lip. He doesn’t dare to move, listening to the clicking of your heels as you round the bed again. Whatever you are carrying is going to go inside or on his body, but he doesn’t dare to move.

“You know, I don’t like using such methods to treat my patients, so this is very difficult for me to do”, you talk to him as you prepare the anal plug. 

It is curved and vibrates and it will give him the most delicious prostate stimulations ever.

“I’ll be good, I swear”, Seokjin croaks.

“Of course you will be. Once I’m finished with you”, you say, pushing the plug inside without warning.

“Ah!” Seokjin yelps, closing his legs instinctively.

“Nuh-uh, take it”, you force them apart again, wiggling the toy deep inside him.

“Ahmmmmm”, Seokjin lets out, twisting his own hair. He expected something to go up his ass, but not his favourite vibrator. Anything but this. It feels so good and it isn’t even turned on yet. 

A faint click lets him know that you connected the bluetooth with the remote. He lifts his head, having to still his impatience. You aren’t holding the control, instead a leather paddle is tangling from your finger. You meet his eyes, keeping him captive with nothing but a playful smirk. 

“Fifteen spanks. That’s all you need to bear and then you should be cured.” 

Seokjin gulps, clenching around the toy. He is already dizzy and you haven’t even started yet. 

“It will hurt me more than it will hurt you. I hate having to cure boys like this, but your case of bratiness is too strong. It can only be healed like this.” 

“Please”, Seokjin croaks, eyes widened pleadingly. 

You twirl the paddle. 

“Stand up.” 

Seokjin obeys instantly, chest heaving up and down quickly and eyes following you as you come closer. 

You connect the paddle with his chest, guiding it over his skin as you round him. Goosebumps follow the touch, he is chasing you with tenses of his muscles. 

“Can you stand?” you ask him and the sound of your voice is enough to let him know that you are being serious right now. 

“It doesn’t hurt right now.”

“Good. Tell me if it starts to.”

“Okay.”

“Now”, you give his buttocks a gentle spank to pull him back into the scene.

He gasps, tensing his buttocks. 

“Against the wall and put your hands up.”

Seokjin obeys, barely breathing. This is so exciting to him. And so incredibly hot. 

“Legs further apart”, you order, spanking his inner thighs gently.

He obeys, fingers twitching on the wall. He is in a dream. You literally own him. 

“Very good. We can begin.”

The vibrator springs to life, dragging a yelp of pleasure from his lips. He throws his head back, knees buckling and buckling again as you land your first spank before he could even recover from the surprise. 

“One.” 

The second spank knocks him into the wall. Not because you were so rough with it, but rather because Seokjin is weakened. His legs are shaking because of the toy. It feels so good, pressing right against his prostate and stimulating his rim as well. You chose his favourite setting. Everything about the toy is currently ruining him and then you come along and spank him. Of course he ends up falling against the wall. He can only handle that much. 

You care rather little about his struggles, lifting your arm for yet another spank. You count loudly, striking his tender skin at the same time. His left buttocks jiggles and reddens. You give him no break, landing the forth strike on his right buttocks to even it out. 

“Mistress”, Seokjin whimpers, clawing at the wall as he tries to drag himself up. His cheek is squished against it, eyes squeezed shut. 

“I appreciate the manners, but that’s not what I told you to call me. Two more spanks are needed. Five, six.”

He flinches with each impact, legs shaking and cock throbbing. It is rubbing against the wall, leaving wet imprints of his pleasure. He can’t help himself. The vibrator feels so good on his prostate that he keeps leaking. 

“Seven”, you make it sting especially well by striking him across both buttocks. The impact pushes the toy deeper. 

“A-ah wait”, Seokjin stumbles, convulsing. He reaches behind himself, “hurts. Ankle hurts.”

You stop the vibrator, letting the paddle tangle on your wrist for now. You hold his waist.

“Sit down, baby. Careful, okay?” 

“I’m okay, just felt my ankle pinch.”

“That’s alright. Just sit down and get comfy.”

He does so with a hiss, shifting and wiggling as the toy presses deeper into him. 

“Oh god”, he gets out, pressing his hand to his lower stomach. He rolls his eyes back, folding himself in half. “Doctor I can’t. More please.”

You chuckle, relaxing. What a relief to see him so desperate for more. 

“I think the question of if you wanna continue is useless?”

“Please Doctor, I’ll do anything. Please.” 

“Fine. You still have eight spanks left anyway. It wouldn’t be wise to stop in the middle of your treatment. Just know that I will find no pleasure in hurting you”, you say and sit down on bed next to him. 

Seokjin falls over your lap without having to be ordered to. He sticks his ass into the air, burying his face in the sheets. His eagerness melts you.

You chuckle, rubbing his heated butt.

“If you’re being such a good boy, I feel like I’m giving you the wrong treatment.” 

“No please. No, i-i-it’s only because it’s working. Please I need more, it’s not enough you, you champignon.” 

“Champignon?” you chuckle. 

“Yes, that was an insult. The brattiness is coming back.”

You laugh. He is such a goof sometimes. 

“It seems like it does”, you play along, “very well then, more treatment is necessary”, you conclude and turn on the vibrator. 

Seokjin moans, cock twitching on your lap and thighs shaking. He is back in heaven. It is so intense, so electric, so warm. The vibrations ebb and rise in intensity, making it feel as if you were moving the toy in and out of him.

“Where were we?” 

“Seven”, he croaks

“Ah yeah and what comes after that?”

“Eight-ah!”

“Good job. Oh that felt good. I can really leave an imprint in this position. Nine.”

Seokjin can feel it as well that you are having a lot more impact in your spanks. They burn, hitting him sharply. No words can describe how much he needed that. He twists the sheets, arching his back. 

“Ten.” 

Pain. So sharp. So deep. So good. Seokjin trembles on your lap, toes curling and cock leaking uncontrollably. As a matter of fact, he managed to smear your thighs with so much of his excitement that his cock manages to slip between them. 

He feels it instantly, spilling tears and sobbing your name. 

“Wrong name. You’ve brought the next two on yourself”, you say and strike him with such vigour it echoes for a second. 

Seokjin takes them happily, fucking his sensitive cock with your thighs as his prostate throbs and his ass burns. 

You noticed his cock between your thighs as well. Of course you did. It is so hard and wet. You should stop him, but you don’t want to. He looks so good when he is humping you like a stupid puppy. Especially when he humps even harder each time you strike his reddened buttocks. 

You only have three more to go and you really want to make them count. The first you land on the lower area of his right buttocks. It’s especially sensitive, resulting in Seokjin to squeak and sob into the sheets.

“Don’t cry. It’s only for your best. You’re almost done, I promise.”

The second spank you land on his other buttock, wanting to make it equal. Seokjin twitches and writhes, fucking your thighs sloppily. There is no rhythm behind his movements, just utter and pure desperation. His noises let you know of it as well. He is squeaking so much. It is so honest, so utterly submissive and perfect. 

“Last one. I’ll make it hurt, I don’t want to, but I have to”, you say and lift the paddle. You aim it to the middle of his ass, across his flushed buttocks.

Seokjin takes it with a scream, orgasming against his will.

“I’m sorry”, he sobs into the mattress, shaking uncontrollably.

“Nono, don’t apologise. This is perfect”, you say and grab his hips to guide their movements. You force him to fuck your thighs quickly, despite the overstimulation that causes. 

Seokjin wails up, muffling himself a second later by biting the sheets. You speak of perfection while your hands torture him. You aren’t happy about his unwanted orgasm, you are happy that you can overstimulate him because of it. That you can force him to pound your creamed thighs and take the vibrations until he can’t help but squirt all over himself. 

He gags and cries, trying to flee you but you only press him tighter to your lap as you laugh menacingly. The floor gets dirty. You hear it. How wonderful. He is so big and strong and yet right now, he is the smallest and weakest person to have ever existed. And you did that. By spanking his ass to the point of bruising and overstimulating every single one of his pleasure spots, you reduced him to your little bitch. 

“Yellow, red, I don’t know, just no more please”, Seokjin begs after he finally stopped fucking squirting all over himself.

“Good boy”, you praise, releasing his hips. You turn off the toy and tug it out carefully, discarding it on the towel. 

Seokjin sits up and climbs on your lap, hugging you tightly.

“Oh you sweetie, come here you”, you say, hugging him back, “you did so well. I’m so proud of you.”

Seokjin whimpers, hiding away in the safety of your neck. His lips nib on it slowly, his breathing is shaky, but calms down the longer he is in your embrace. 

“That was pretty intense and you handled it so well. God, I’m so proud of you, sweetie. I have the best boy ever”, you praise him, playing with his hair. You have your left hand on his lower body, massaging whatever sensitive spot of his butt is exposed. It is hot to the touch. 

He chases your hand, which lets you know that he likes it. You still want to hear it from him.

“Is this nice for you?” 

“Yes, really.”

“Then I’ll keep doing this. My good boy, you took me so well. Was it good for you?”

He nods his head vigorously, “it was perfect. Everything was perfect. You are perfect.” 

You smile, hugging him closer. 

“This feels good to hear. I love you, Jinnie baby.”

“I love you too.” He kisses your shoulder. “So much, it’s insane”, he whispers, making your heart flutter. 

He lifts his head, meeting your love-filled eyes. He mirrors your state with flushed cheeks and puffy, bitten lips. 

“You look ruined”, you chuckle, wiping the tears from his lashes. 

“I am ruined. I pissed myself because you wouldn’t slow down.” 

“I know. That’s why I did it. You’re so pretty when you lose control over yourself.”

His ears turn red, his eyes can’t seem to meet yours anymore. You chuckle, rubbing his buttocks.

“Does your butt hurt lots?” 

“It’s definitely sore, but I don’t mind. You spanked me perfectly.” 

“I did?” 

“Yeah”, he hugs you, “I love being your sub, ___.” 

“Oh wow, you say the sweetest stuff, my baby”, you gasp and cradle him as tightly as possible, “my sweet sub, I love having you too.” 

Seokjin melts into you with a sigh, “I missed you.” 

“I missed you too.” 

“I’ll still be sick for the rest of the week.” 

“Seriously?” 

“Mhm, at least to the public. We have so much catching up to do.”

“I can get behind this plan”, you say in a smile.

“Good, then tomorrow you’re getting breakfast in bed.”

[angelyuji]

intimate examination

doctor zayne x f!reader

tw // medical malpractice, dubcon, kindaa implied that zayne has had an eye on mc for a while, shitty smut

minors dni!!! 18+!!!!!!

“ms. (y/n)?” the nurse calls your name and you stand, shaking. they smile, “no need to be nervous, doctor zayne is the best there is.” they lead you to a patient room. you settle into the exam bed, nervously swinging your feet. this was your first visit with dr. zayne, your old family physician had referred him to you when you moved to linkon city. the nurse smiles as they finish up the basic checks, “here, i’ve placed the gown you need to wear on the chair, i’ll leave the room and doctor zayne should be here in-” they check the clock on the wall as they leave, “-about 10 minutes. so you have some time!” they leave you to change and you stand, unsure of what to leave on. ‘do i keep my underwear and my bra on…-’ you carefully start to remove all of your clothing, ‘-i guess it won’t hurt to leave them off just in case…’ you pull on and tie the thin gown, and sit back onto the exam bed.

a few more minutes pass and he knocks on the door, “ms. (y/n) (l/n)?” you feel your words get stuck in your throat as you lay eyes on the dark-haired doctor in front of you. his hazel green eyes watch as you wring your hands, “am i in the wrong room?”

“no!” you startle, “no, i am (y/n). i-i’m just nervous, doctor. sorry.” you swallow. doctor zayne nods, carefully watching you.

“shall we start the examination then?” he tilts his head, waiting for your nod, before washing his hands. “i’ll start with basic information.” he starts with asking for your full name, birthday, allergies, and past and present medication. you rattle off your answers and he answers with a nod. “i also need to know if you’re married as well as sexual history.” he looks to you, pushing up his glasses with his index finger.

“i-uh-i’m not married.” you can feel heat climbing up your face, the doctor makes a sound, “and… i’ve never-” embarrassed, you change your wording, “i’m not sexually active.” he pauses his typing.

“(y/n), can you lay down for me?” he turns away from his computer to completely face you, “i’m going to get started on the examination. since i need to have the most accurate information on you, i will be doing a thorough exam, is that alright?” doctor zayne pulls on his gloves as he talks, getting out of his chair to stand at the side of the bed.

“y-yes.” you nod, ready for the exam to over.

“good. let me know if you feel any discomfort.” dr. zayne’s hands massage your breasts, procedural and soothing as he travels down to push at your stomach. you watch his eyes as they get darker as he touches more of you. you let out a quiet huff as he presses down hard at the bottom of your stomach. “did that hurt?”

“sort of…” you trail off as you watch the doctor position his chair in front of your bed. he sits between your legs and push them up, your gown bunching up at your waist. immediately, you bring your hands to cover yourself. “doctor, i don’t think-”

he grabs them, gripping your wrists tight, “i’m afraid i need to do a more thorough examination of why you could be experiencing discomfort above your uterus. please do cooperate, (y/n).” he stares at you with his eyebrows raised. you hesitate, “(y/n), i am your primary care physician and everything i do, i can promise, is for the good of your health.” his hands let go of your wrists and he waits.

“everything you do-” you swallow and move your hands, “-is for the good of my health.” dr. zayne nods and a small smile appears on his face.

he moves your knees apart, giving him space to see you clearly. he rubs his gloved finger down your slit and you clench, you hear him hum. “take a deep breathe, (y/n). i have a couple more questions for you.” his voice is breathy as he presses his thumb against your clit, “has anyone ever touched you here?”

the air leaves your lungs at the touch, you choke out, “n-no. i-” his thumb starts to circle your clit, “-i can’t.” you whimper, feeling yourself get wet as warmth spreads through your body.

“what about here?” his thumb doesn’t stop as he pushes two fingers into you. you try to cover your mouth but a strangled moan comes out as he pulls his fingers out. “i think a special treatment is needed for you, (y/n).” you lay your head back with a whimper, aching for more. you hear the sound of a belt unbuckling and something warm presses against your cunt. “keep being so good for me, ms. (y/n).”

[wosoamazing]

Broken

Summary: You break your ankle and Alexia takes care of you.

Warnings: Broken ankle, hospital & surgery, vomit (once)

A/N: I hope you like this, I'm trying to get a heap of my WIPs done, while I still have time. Also to those anons with the new requests I've added them to the WIPs.

It was the 25th minute when you found yourself tumbling to the ground from a badly timed tackle a Lyon defender played, you clutched at your ankle, trying to suppress your cries as you laid on the pitch.

“Y/N, are you okay? I’m really sorry,” a familiar voice said as they rubbed your back trying to reassure you, the ref hadn’t stopped play yet, but that didn’t stop her from checking on you. Eventually the ref blew the whistle.

“Number 12, I’d like to speak to you please,” you heard the ref say as the hand that rested on your back left, it was very quickly replaced by another though.

“Y/N, are you okay? What’s wrong?” Aitana asked you.

“Ankle, broken,” you managed to spit out, trying to hold back the tears that choked you.

The medics took one look at your ankle and decided it was most definitely broken, you refused the stretcher and so they helped you to the medical room, where an ambulance stretcher was awaiting you, you were helped up onto it and your ankle was placed in one of the weird orange puffy things to protect it, the paramedics spoke to your team’s physios filling out all the medical information and history forms.

“Bebita,” Alexia said as she flung open the door, her voice laced with concern, “are you okay,” you broke at her words, the flood gates came crashing down, tears streamed out of your eyes and all you could do was slightly shake your head in response to her question, she quickly moved to your side and held your head to her chest, as she rubbed your back, “I’m here for you Bebita okay, you can stay with me for international break and for as long as you want after, I don’t mind at all, I’ll take care of you, it will be okay, you will get through this.”

____

You wake up from surgery and can hear your sister’s voice, saying something about getting on a plane, the words I’ll just miss international break cause you to return to reality and speak up ever so quickly. 

“No Leah, you aren’t giving up international break. Go, I will not let you not go. I will call Sarina personally if I need to. Alexia said she would look after me and that I could stay with her for as long as I want, even once Lucy and Kiera come back, I will be fine.” Alexia smiled and took Leah off speaker but kept talking, you fell asleep again.

“I went to help Kiera and Lucy pack for you and got you some clothes to wear, they’re going to discharge you soon,” Alexia told you as she walked into the room, noticing you were awake again, you nod at her.

“Do you want help getting change?”

“Um, maybe” you said hesitantly. She just kindly smiled as she grabbed a pair of your shorts from the bag, carefully placing your casted leg in before you helped put your good leg in, she pulled them up to your knees and you did the rest.

“Put this on, I’ll turn around,” she said as she handed you a crop top, she was sifting for something in the bag while you put on the crop top.

She turned back around when you told her you were done, hiding whatever she was trying to find in the bag behind her back, before looking at you with a grin “I thought you might want this one today,” she said as she held up an arsenal hoodie for you to wear, it wasn’t just any arsenal hoodie though, it was your special number 6 hoodie that Leah had given you when you left, it was her favourite one too. You smiled gratefully at her, feeling very loved and taken care of in that moment. Mapi and Ingrid then walked in ready to take you home, Alexia sat in the back seat with you, she held your hand the whole ride.

Alexia’s house was large and quite fancy, Mapi and Ingrid led the way as Alexia stayed behind you making sure you didn’t fall behind, she helped you up the stairs and all three girls help get your situated in the spare room, placing anything you may want within reach, before they left, leaving you to sleep.

____

You woke up and needed to pee, you shuffled to the side of the bed, and carefully reached for your crutches, you brought them to your side, before going to take one in either hand to stand up. You didn’t have as stable a grip on them as you thought, and they went crashing to the ground, hitting your cast causing a wave of pain to flow through your ankle and a wave of tears to fall from your eyes. You then heard the sound of panicked rushed footsteps approaching before your door was flung open.

“Bebita, what happened?” Alexia said as she rushed to your side, bending down so she was level with you.

“I tried to get up and go to the toilet, but my crutch fell and hit my cast. I’m sorry”

“There is nothing to be sorry for Bebita, do you want me to help you to the bathroom,” you nod embarrassed. “Okay,” she said as she picked up the crutches and leant them against the wall, then placed her hands under your arms before she helped you stand up and handed you your crutches, she followed close behind you as you slowly made your way to the bathroom, and stood by the door encase you need her help. 

“Ale,” you shyly said. “Sí,” she replied cautiously. “Could you maybe please possibly help me stand while I wash my hands, and maybe also please flush.” 

“Of course, Bebita, do you want me to come in now?” 

“Yes please” you felt embarrassed needing help to do such simple tasks but Alexia was being super sweet, a side of her that you had always been met by, she was very kind to all your teammates and cared for them all, but there was something extra soft about how she acted towards you, always giving you that little bit extra. The team clearly could see that she held a soft spot in her heart for you. Some thought (cough cough Mapi) it might be because you remind her of her younger self and she was not welcomed with much kindness, love and understanding, meaning she would always push herself too far and she didn't want this for you, however others thought she just saw you as a little sister more so than a younger teammate, either way you didn't mind.

“Would you like to come downstairs and sit on the couch for a bit? I think Olga is making some food if you want. But only if you feel up to it and want to, of course.”

“Um, yes please” she nodded her head and walked with you to the top of the stairs, you looked down them, and they suddenly looked very daunting, and seemed like a mammoth task, maybe you just wanted to stay upstairs after all.

“Do you want me to carry you down?” it was as if she could read your mind, you nodded hesitantly before she picked you up and carried you downstairs, you leant against the wall as she quickly went up and got your crutches.

“Hauria de trobar que el nostre joc de crosses faria la vida més fàcil” (I should find our set of crutches, would make life easier) she mumbled to herself as she walked down the stairs.

“Yes, it would,” you said as you smirked at her. She was caught off guard, surprised at how quick you were able to interpret her Catalan, she had been teaching you for only a short while.

“Very good Bebita, go sit on the couch, I’ll just go get some things for you.”

You made your way into the living room, to find that the corner seat of the couch had been set up for you, there were many pillows, some blankets and even your plush ladybug, that the arsenal team got for you, you barely ever had it out and had only ever spoken to Alexia about it once, you felt warm inside knowing that alexia really truly did care about you. As you sat on the couch you noticed that on the coffee table there was a bottle of pain meds, a sick bowl, and a sheet with instructions on it, some parts were highlighted. You picked up the sheet and saw that the first highlighted section said that the pain meds may cause nausea and vomiting, which explained the sick bowl, there were also lots of other boring things you couldn’t be bothered to read.

Alexia came back with your apple ecosystem, placing it down on the coffee table, before she quickly rushed off to the kitchen with your water bottle. You heard her ask Olga if she needed help while she was in there who said no. She came back with your full water bottle. “Ale, can you sit with me please?” you asked her, as she looked like she was about to go away again, she smiled kindly and sat down next to you. You rested your head on her shoulder as you lent into her side, she placed one of her arms around you.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, she didn’t respond but placed a kiss on top of your head.

A few minutes later Olga brought you over a bowl of Paella, one of your new found favourite dishes. Alexia informed you that you needed to try and eat all of it so you could take your pain meds, that tasking wasn't going to be a difficult one. You were quite lively the first 15 minutes after dinner, however after 15 minutes you had quietened down, you lent into Alexia’s side, “Ale, I feel sick.”

“Do you feel like you’re going to be sick? Or do you just feel bad?”

“I don’t know,” you responded, sounding like you might cry, before you pushed your face into her side. Olga got up and placed the sick bowl and your water bottle next to Alexia on the couch, Alexia said a quiet thank you to her before she walked into the office. 

“That’s okay, do you want to lie down?” you shook your head, she felt the slight moment against her side, “just let me know if you want or need anything okay” you just hummed in response.

Another 15 minutes had passed, with every minute you felt increasing bad, to the point that you thought you might actually be sick, so you sat up, and Alexia saw your expression out the corner of her eye, quickly grabbed the sick bowl before saying “It’s okay Bebita, if you need to be sick, be sick, it’s okay” and after a minute of deep breaths your started to loose the contents of your stomach. Alexia rubbed your back the whole time.

“’m sorry” you said, as small tears slowly rolled down your cheeks.

“It’s okay Bebita, it's not your fault. Do you feel better now?” she said as she still rubbed your back, holding the sick bowl still encase you needed to be sick. “I guess,”

Olga had heard the commotion from the office and had walked in with two wash clothes, she handed one to you and handed one to Alexia whilst she took the sick bowl from her, you wiped your face with the cloth before Olga took it back, you drank some water before you decided to lie down, resting your head in Alexia’s lap. Alexia put the cool wet washcloth Olga had handed her on the back of your neck and you hummed, the coolness feeling nice.

You fell asleep pretty quickly, Alexia decided not to move you, as it would be difficult but also because the wood floors would be a lot easier to clean than the carpet if you happened to suddenly be sick again during the night. So she shifted her position to lay behind you on her side, she wrapped her arm around you and pulled you closer, keeping her arm there so you didn't roll off the couch during the night. It was quite a large couch though so the chances of that were low.

Olga walked into the living room to suggest it was bedtime, when she saw the both of you sleeping, Alexia hugging you and you hugging your lady bug. Olga quickly took a photo to send to Leah before she turned the lamp on and the main light off, and went upstairs to her bed to sleep.

____

It was the night before the girls would return from international break, you were very much enjoying living with Alexia and Olga, and the dynamic seemed more free flowing than at Lucy and Kiera’s so you decided to jump the gun and ask Alexia if you could move in.

“Ale, you know how you said I could stay as long as I wanted, and how when I first came you offered for me to live with you? Um, well, I was just wondering if that offer still stands.”

“You want to move in?” She asked, checking that she understood you right.

“Um, well yeah, I think, only if that is okay with you and Olga of course, and you can say no.”

“Of course you can Bebita, I would love that.” She said before she pulled you in for a big hug.

[rileyglas]

The List ~Pt. 3 - Chance~

Alastor (Hazbin Hotel) x Reader

Summary: As you adjust to life in the hotel, you start to form bonds with other guests and offer your help when needed. However, things take a turn when you faint and wake up in the room of the one person you hoped to avoid.

Themes: The usual angst, mystery (Alastor), sassiness, Val is mentioned, Angel gets hurt (sorry), cursing, fluff, eventual smut (the next part is a SPICY one sinners), actual plot, slow burn, and of course 18+, this is the last shorter chapter, I'll start feeding you more!

1.7k Words

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 (You're on it!) Part 4 Part 5  Part 6 Part 7 Part 7.A Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

**sentences in italics are internal thoughts of the reader

Over the next few weeks you seem to adjust well to the hotel. You try to help Nifty with at least one meal a day, give advice to Charlie on different ‘redemption exercises’, and have even helped an eggboy or two not get scrambled. Alastor seemed to keep his distance which was much appreciated (especially after hearing the stories and history of the “Radio Demon”). You do what you can to fill the void you feel from not being able to help to your full potential. Of course, there really hasn’t been a need for your expertise. But as they say, ask and you shall receive.

Angel was coming in from yet another brutal shift with Val. He was usually quick to dismiss the bruising around his wrists and face. “Comes with the job babe!” He’d say through a toothy smile. “I didn’t do a good job if I don’t come home with some battle scars!” You’d share a look with Husk, silently agreeing how fucked up this was, but Angel always changed the subject to avoid any pity or awkwardness.

This time was different. It was later than usual. Everyone but you and Husk had long since made their way to bed. Angel walked in staggering and not in the ‘oh he was out with Cherri’ way. He was barely able to make it to the couch before collapsing to his hands and knees. His breathing shallow and raspy – you could hear the blood gurgling in his lungs as he struggled with each breath. This was the worst Val had done yet. That motherfucker is going to kill him one day if he keeps this up – Overlord or not, he’s going to pay. You take a mental note to make a visit to Val, but right now, Angel needed help.

Carefully you try to lift him onto the couch. Angel hisses from the sudden movement. Damnit this is bad. I need a few seconds without any eyes around. “Husk, be a dear and run up to my room please. I have some medical supplies by my bed.”

“No need, I have some stuff behind the ba----” he stops when he sees the glare you’re shooting over your shoulder. “Ah alright fine, I’ll be right back.” he grumbled as he made his way up the stairs. That was the great thing about Husk - he wasn’t one to ask too many questions.

Finally alone you lay Angel back on the couch. “Hey Angel? Babe? I need you to look at me. I know it hurts and it’s hard to breathe but I have a trick that’ll help relieve some of the pressure. Trust me?” He places one of his hands on your shoulder as confirmation, unable to get enough air to speak. Time to work my magic.

Kneeling by the couch, you gently place your hands on his ribs and stomach while leaning your head over his chest, “Alright babe I need you to take a deep breath and close your eyes. This won’t feel great.” You wince as the words leave your mouth. For this to work you’d have to cause him some discomfort otherwise some more complication questions might arise. R̷̢͙̃ǘ̷̮͔͠l̵̰̝̆ḛ̷̀͊ ̵͕̍#̵̜̌2̷̼́̅ Never tell a soul what (or how much) power you have.

“Ok eyes closed and breathe in 3……2…..1….” I’m sorry Angel, you deserve so much better than this.  In one motion you shove into his ribs sending him writhing in pain while you place a soft kiss on his chest. The internal injuries made it easy to hide the pink glow that usually came from the wound, however the pain…yeah that shit still felt like torture. During your time training with Carmilla you learned the graver the injury, the more agonizing it was for you. After a few intense moments of pain, you pull away and sit back on your legs, trying to hide the lingering sting you felt in your lungs.

Angel groaned as he opened his eyes, finally able to take a proper breath. “Uhhhgg—what the fuuuuuuuuuuck was that?”

“Just some tricks I had to learn living in the city. You know how rough it gets out there. Glad you’re already feeling better.” You peck Angel’s cheek, feeling a soft twinge on your lips. The last bit of bruising on his face fades without him even realizing it. “Thanks toots. I don’t know how you did it, but I owe ya one.”

On queue Husk turns down the stairs with your medical kit. His face twists in a mix of relief and shock watching Angel up moving as if he wasn’t just on the verge of death five minutes earlier. He chuckles making his way back behind the bar. “Damn you’ve got quite the touch I see.” You tense at his choice of words. Fuck fuck fuck…calm down, he didn’t see anything. “Remind me to keep you on speed dial. Satan knows this one is bound to need you around again!” Husk points to Angel who by now has taken his usual place at the bar. “Oh shut up pussycat – the only thing I need right now is a few shots to forget this day ever happened! Let’s go! Booze me up Mr. Bartender!”

Deciding you have had enough excitement for the night, you say good evening to the guys and drag yourself through the quiet halls. Cursing the aftershock your body was going to endure after having to heal such extensive damage. It wasn’t horrible, more annoying like a bad hangover or flu, but the joy and warmth you felt from being able to help always made the pain more than worth it. You were just a few doors away from your room when your vision blurred. Why is the hall spinning? I don’t remember drinking. Oh fuck ----

Soft music fills your ears as you regain some form of consciousness. A familiar smell floods your senses causing your eyes to shoot open. Looking around you realize you’re in Alastor’s room. Not that you’d been here before, but between the bayou to your left and the freshly laundered red suits hanging by the door - it was obvious. Plus, his smell filled the room. You’d only dreamt of that smell and his warmth at least twice a week since first meeting the demon, much to your frustration.

Sharp static and ringing fill your ears as you sit up. Is this going to happen every time with this guy? Alastor appears in his chair by the bayou, chest puffed out and legs crossed. “Finally awake I see. I was just leaving my radio tower for the evening when you were coming down the hall. Quite a spectacle watching you try to walk straight. Drink too much with our good pal Husker?”

There he goes again trying to drill his eyes into your soul. You’ve seen him interact with the others. His eyes never had the same intensity as they did with you. Lie lie lie. “Yeah, you know how hard him and Angel go some nights. Guess I shouldn’t try to keep up next time.” You try to laugh it off hoping the answer was sufficient enough for him to drop the subject.

It wasn’t.

“Hmmm that’s funny. I didn’t smell a bit of alcohol when I picked you up off that floor.” Shit. “I don’t expect you to tell me everything dear however blatantly lying to me will get you on a side you don’t want to be on.” The static in his voice was piercing. You stared at him in silence. Work brain work, please give me anything. Rule #4 Never let your w̸͉̐e̵͓͐a̷̘͆k̴̭̏ñ̶͔e̶̢͒s̵̩̉ś̵͈è̸̮š̶͚ ̴̣̏s̴̖̈́h̷̲͐o̶̳͗w̷̱̾. Your lack of response apparently told him everything he needed in the moment. Standing up now, he begins to mindfully take off his jacket, unbutton his vest, and push up his sleeves.

This is it. This I how I die. And all because ---- oh fucking hell --- how did he get even more attractive? Is he doing this on purpose? Wow I’ve really got to get my priorities straight.

You can feel your heart pounding into your throat in anticipation as he sits in front of you on the bed. He slowly removes his gloves and tosses them to the side table.

“Let’s try this again…“

He reaches for your hands making you jerk slightly but he doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. You feel him pull you and as if under a spell, you follow mindlessly until you’re resting on your knees. He brings your inner wrist to his lips, gently peppering kisses between his words.

“What could possibly... “ kiss

“cause someone to drop as if… “ kiss

“the very life was sucked out of them?” kiss

An unfamiliar heat rips through your body, settling in your stomach and a little lower if you were being honest. You’ve never allowed anyone to be this intimate with you. Rule #3 N̴e̵v̴e̶r̵ ̷b̶r̷i̶n̸g̷ ̷a̸n̵y̷one too close.

“I – I – don’t..I didn’t – just tired.“ you give up on trying to form a coherent answer. What is he trying to get out of this? Alastor rests your hands on his cheeks. A deep sigh leaving his lips when he feels your warmth. You didn’t dare move, realizing you were just as touch starved as the demon in front of you.

Your mind is at full blown war. Torn between the desire to lean into this precarious high and absolute rage that he was trying to get into your head.

“I need to know so I can help you, my dear. I want to protect you.” His voice was clear but low. It lacked any trace of his usual radio effect. It’s as if he was dropping every façade. Speaking to you not as the Radio Demon but as just Alastor. “You and I could do great things [Y/N]. Trust me. Let me show you.”

What is he doing? I have worked relentlessly to be one of the strongest, most elusive demons in Hell. I fear no one. I need NO ONE. Yet here I am completely unravelling…

….to the Radio Demon.

Rule #̴̤͌1̴̢͝ ̶̘̽N̵̹̐e̴̯̋v̷̳̈́e̸̯̎r̵̠̕ ̸͈̊t̵̼͑ŗ̷̃u̴͔̓s̷̢̑t̴̪̓ ̵͎̊a̴̺͛n̶̛̳o̴̺͆t̴̤̿h̶̗̿e̴̞̋ȓ̸͜ Overlord.

[mcuamerica]

Hey!! Could you do a teen Holland sister reader and she’s got a history of fainting and black outs and one day she’s on a road trip with either all the boys or just Tom whatever you are comfortable with and she blacksojt a couple times and stuff and all her brother/s go super protective and stressed about her ! Thanks sorry If it’s too specific

Prompt 14: “Don’t close your eyes on me”

Pairing: Tom Holland x Sister!Reader

Warnings: Fainting, medical history

A/N: Hope you enjoy! Sorry this took so long!

You watched out the window as the cars passed on the opposite side of the highway. You leaned your head against the window, the cool glass feeling good against your hot forehead. 

“(Y/N), you feeling okay?” You hear Tom ask beside you, placing a hand on your shoulder.

You looked over to him and shrugged, your eyes a little droopy as you felt lightheaded. “A little light headed, but I’m alright.” You said. You shrunk a little under his gaze as he narrowed his eyes, knowing you never really said it was as bad as it was. 

“Are you sure? We can pull over, take a breather if you need to.” He said. 

“Yeah, (Y/N), we can stop if you need to.” You heard Sam say from the driver’s side. “We’ve been on the road for a while.” He said. 

“We have, maybe we should stop at the next exit. Stretch our legs.” Harry said next to him. 

Tom continued rubbing your arm. “Let’s do that,” he said and you shook your head. 

“We don’t need to stop on my behalf. I’m fine.” You said, feeling your eyes close for a few moments. 

Tom frowned and tilted your head up so he could look into your eyes. “Hey, hey, don’t close your eyes on me.” He said and gave you a small smile. “We’ll stop soon, please keep them open.” He said.

You took a deep breath, nodding slowly before you did in fact close your eyes, feeling your body go limp as you passed out. 

Next thing you knew, your brothers were surrounding you in the car, stopped at a rest stop. You groaned quietly and rubbed your head. 

“Oh, thank god. You can’t keep doing that.” Harry joked and looked at you, worry written on his face. 

“I don’t do it on purpose.” You muttered and slowly sat up, taking the water that Tom handed to you. “I’m okay. Maybe stopping helped me.” You said and rubbed your head again. 

Tom looked at you again and then leaned back slightly. “We’re going to grab something to eat, you up for coming with?” He asked. “We could also bring it back here.” 

“I’ll join you.” You agreed and then let all of them help you out of the car. “Alright, if you all decide to crowd me like this, I’m going to pass out again.” You joked, biting your lip as you notice they didn’t laugh. “I’m kidding! I’m fine.” You muttered and then took Tom’s arm when he offered it. 

You loved your brothers, but you knew that you worried them. The good thing was that you knew they would always have your back.

--

Tagging: @f0rehead-0f-security because i'm pretty sure you were the one who requested this

[crippleprophet]

Is it okay for people with agoraphobia to look and take some of the advice you have for housebound people on here? I'm not really great at picking up nuance so I'm worried that it'd be crossing some boundary or that it's not the intention of the tag

that’s completely okay, i appreciate your desire to be respectful even though i’m sorry you were concerned! i absolutely consider folks with agoraphobia my comrades + community members and i’d be super honored if anything i’ve shared is helpful (+ am always interested in hearing what that was if you’re comfortable!) the rest of this is not anything you need to answer your question, just thoughts i’ve been having on the subject

i haven’t had the opportunity to talk to enough homebound [due to chronic illness / “physical” reasons] people to know if this is a common experience but for me i’ve noticed that similar to chronic illness often carrying depression with it, since becoming homebound i’ve become terrified of leaving the house.

this is definitely influenced by the fact that it’s untenably painful, my photosensitivity (in the UV sense not the epilepsy sense), the ongoing pandemic, the fact that i only left the house to go to the doctor for over a year & i’m afraid of the doctors appointment itself due to medical trauma, etc etc but like. there’s also the very strong pull of habit – i’m an incredibly obsessive & ritualistic person – and what Goffman refers to as “the relief of self-isolation” for marginalized people sheltering from a hostile society, a phrase i read in undergrad 5 1/2 years ago that’s stuck with me ever since for how profoundly it resonates.

i’m not trying to say these are necessarily your or any other person with agoraphobia’s feelings & experiences, more to illustrate how the liberation of all homebound people & shut-ins & hermits is bound up together; any sanist strategy for oppressing agoraphobes can easily be leveraged against me, not least because as a severely underdiagnosed person, the medical establishment does not think there is any “legitimate” “physical” reason for me to be homebound. to respond to this oppression by arguing it’s inapplicable because i’m not crazy would be untrue + a cruel act of lateral violence.

i’ve been reading a lot of butch/femme history recently (i post about that on my main @campgender; followers age 18+ only please) & have found myself entirely reconfiguring my understanding of the queer art of isolation, the incredible ability of our ancestors to hunker down & survive under circumstances unimaginable to the average person. i absolutely don’t want to deny the deep pain – not only the aspects i experience but also the heightened isolation of people without or before internet access + the ways these circumstances / forms of oppression can foster abuse –

but my god, so many 50s butches didn’t leave their homes during daylight hours for years in order to not be hate crimed for their gender presentation, & that’s the folks who were making it to the bars. so many others – “discreet” couples who didn’t want to risk being outed by engaging in queer community; people assigned female who “passed” as men & their partners; butch sex workers & other people with identities perceived as contradictory or unacceptable – existed marginalized by both queer & normative communities.

every time i think substantially about homeboundedness i always get tracy chapman’s “subcity” stuck in my head. obviously my access to housing period is a huge position of privilege, & i’m in the most economically secure position of my adult life so far; the abjection i experience is nowhere near the scale of people in the position of the speaker of the song, who’s implied to be street homeless. but the line “people say it doesn’t exist ‘cause no one would like to admit that there is a city underground” is such a succinct & accurate depiction of living the kind of life society tries to convince itself is impossible. but there truly is a rich genealogy of homeboundedness especially in queer history.

again i hope some of my posts & such are helpful / resonant! wishing you all the best 💓💓

[honoviadakai]

Rating the Hazbin crew based on how well they’ll take care of you when you’re sick 🤒

Charlie🎶🏨:

8/10

So letting Charlie know you’re sick might actually be a bigger health concern for her than it is for you

She’s gonna act like you’re dying

She legitimately might make Razzle and Dazzle plan for a funeral

You are now gonna be on house arrest

No

Scratch that

You’re on bed arrest!

No getting up under any circumstances! 😤

She’s wait on you hand and foot till you’re 1000% better

She’s gonna be overbearing but in her defense, she REALLY doesn’t want you to suffer/die so please just bare with her

She just wants you to recover asap ;3;

Vaggie🗡️🦋:

7/10

Ok so on one hand…her chicken soup is pretty good

On the other hand…she’s a very “tough love” kinda gal to anyone who isn’t named Charlie Morningstar

It dose not help that she’s canonically Latina…

All my fellow Latinos know, if you get sick…you get the vaporub

And that is probably something Vaggie still firmly believes in

“Just rub some raporub on your chest and nose and walk it off, you’ll be good in no time!”

Said every Latino parent in history….

She’s probably never had to take care of many sick people in her human life, let alone her afterlife in hell

Cut her a bit of slack and just use the vaporub, she’s trying damn it!

Alastor🦌📻:

-12/10

N O

WHY WOULD YOU EVER COME TO THIS MAN FOR MEDICAL HELP!?!

Do you have a death wish or something!?

Best case scenario, he’ll help you but your soul is gonna be on the line for a while!

Worst case scenario, he’s just gonna let you suffer

And I don’t mean that he’s just gonna leave you to sleep in your room

No no no, that too boring

He’s gonna make sure no one else in the hotel knows of your predicament and he’s gonna watch you struggle and laugh at your misery…

For the love of all that is good in the universe…don’t let him know you’re sick…ever.

Angel Dust🕷️💕:

6/10

Ok

Listen…he’s not the worst option….but you do have better options

The problem asking Angel to help you when you’re sick is that you’re sick…

You’re gross…he doesn’t want not on his fluff

But if y’all are very close…

Like besties or lovers? That changes the game

He’ll cuddle you, no questions asked

So it really depends on who you are to him how much effort he’s gonna put in

He’s also kinda forgetful

For example, if you ask him for a cup of tea, he’ll absolutely go brew a cup for you

But you better pray that nothing and no one distracts him!

Cuz otherwise just forget about having hot tea or tea in general…

He’s pretty shit at remembering to take medication at certain times too so I’d set multiple reminders

Even then…might not help much…

He is a pretty good cook though so rest assured, you will be very well fed during your recovery period

Husk🐈‍⬛🥃:

10/10

Will this crusty old man complain about having to help you? Yes.

Will he bitch and moan every time you ask him for another cup of tea? Absolutely.

Will he curse under his breath while holding your hair back as you puke your brains out for the 10th time in the past 24 hours? Without question.

But he’s still fucking helping you

He can say whatever the hell he wants, he’s waiting on you hand and foot till you’re better of his own volition

He’s out here making some of the best damn soup you’ve ever had he’s gonna make sure you finish every last spoonful god damn it!

If you gotta take medication on a schedule, best believe he’s setting multiple timers

You’re also taking all the naps you need, no arguments! 😤

If you ask, he will cuddle you, but he will make you swear on your mother’s grave that you won’t tell a soul he did that for you

He’d rather chop his arms off than admit this, but he is genuinely worried for you and just wants you to recover

You did not hear that from me though 🤐

Niffty🪡🐞:

5/10

Oh she makes some of the best soup! 🥣

Her home cooked meals are delicious

Honestly the best part of having Niffty taking care of you is just how well fed you’re gonna be 🥰

But this is Nifty we’re talking about…

So she’s gonna be….Nifty….

She’s gonna hover uncomfortably close to the bed while you rest…

Just…watching you…

She’s not even trying to be creepy or anything

She’s just making sure you’re ok

But like…she’s starting a little too intensely at you…not blinking even once…

She’s just waiting to see if you want tea or something tbh

She just forgot you’re supposed to blink

She’ll also just watch you sleep

Not sure why…she just does

If she’s feeling ✨spicy✨…she miiight give you some questionable medicine…

Like, medicine she found in Alastor’s room….

Please get an actual doctor 🙏

Sir Pentious🐍🥚:

2/10

No

Just…no

Get an actual doctor

Please!

He means well

He really does!

But this man died in the Victorian era!

Don’t let a man with medical knowledge form the Victorian era help you!

He will use leeches on you!

And that’s the best case scenario for you!

And for the love of all that is good in the world, do NOT let the egg boys help!

They all share a brain cell between them and I don’t think any of them is ever fully away of where it is at any given moment

They’re likely to take one look at you and think the best way to reduce your fever is to stick you in an ice bath…for hours….

Go to an actual doctor if you wanna keep your ability to breathe. Please.🙏

[jasntodds]

Lost In The Bitterness | J.T.

Pairing: Jason Todd x Fem!Reader

Request: @just-lost-inbetween-worlds :  I was wondering if you could write a fic where reader kind of works for the titans helping with their medical stuff as she has her EMT certificate or something similar, and one late night she patches up Jason/red hood or Robin, who’ve had a crush on each other secretly but are also sort of enemies? And then when she patches a fairly hurt Jason like the feelings come out and they kiss and confess and such. 

Summary: Patching up Jason Todd, Red Hood, at two in the morning on a Tuesday night was not exactly on your agenda. Especially given the history between the two of you.

Warnings: Descriptions of injuries, enemies to lovers, mentions of previous homelessness, bit of angst, hurt/comfort, fluff

Words: 3,323

A/n: Photo credit goes to the amazing @just-lost-inbetween-worlds !! Hello, I love injury tropes, especially this one lmao If you wanna be added to my tag list, click the link below, send me an ask, or comment!! You can also follow my library blog @jasntoddslibrary​ !! If you like this, please reblog it and/or talk to me about it!!

masterlist | request info | tag list

You and Jason were friends previously, before Red Hood, before he died, before Robin. Jason and you were two street kids, just trying to make it to the next day. You'd met at one of the shelters, clicked almost instantly. Even then he was charming and funny, hot-headed as hell. A true menace to society. He got you into so much trouble and you lived for it. It was fun and he was your best friend. You were his. But he decided to try and rob the Batmobile and Bruce Wayne picked him. You haven't been friends since. Unfortunately, for you though, the Titans and Red Hood have managed to patch things up between them and Red Hood is in San Francisco helping with a case.

When you decided to get your EMT certification, you didn't think you'd be using it to work with the Titans. You got it so you could help people, sure, but you thought you'd be helping people who did not always put themselves, intentionally, in the line of fire. But, life is funny that way. It rarely ever goes the way you think will. And now you're here, working for the Titans because of one really random and chance encounter with an injured Nightwing a few years ago. You helped him and the rest, should have been history. But, your life can't possibly be that simple because then you found out the one and only Jason Todd was actually Red Hood.

"Did you wanna tell me what happened?" Your voice holds a harshness to it that makes Jason groan as you get your supplies ready to patch him up.

"Like you fucking care." Jason quips back, stripping his top half of the suit.

"That's true. I do not fucking care. This is a favor to Dick." Your words are harsh and it hurts.

Jason isn't sure exactly what he did to you to make you hate him so much. Jason isn't oblivious and he's far from stupid. It's not a coincidence that your friendship ended the day he went to live with Bruce. But, he can't figure out why you're so mad about that. Why you don't want him to be taken care of? It didn't pan out exactly how he thought it would with Bruce with the whole Batman and Robin thing, then the dying thing. But, it was good and safe for a while and he was happy being Robin and with Bruce. He doesn't understand why you would hate him for that. So, he's mad at you because you're mad at him. And hearing this is a favor to Dick, now that stings like a hundred hornets.

"Don't fucking help then. Give me the shit and I'll do it my-damn-self. I don't need you." Jason snarls, sticking out his hand for you to hand him whatever you're willing and for a second, you think about it.

Being around him is just difficult and it hurts. All you two do is fight which is partially because you start it a good portion of the time. But, he keeps it going and he hits low blows. Tonight, you're taking the first strike, before he even has a chance. And you think about letting him patch himself up because he's done it before and it would be easier for you. You wouldn't have to be around him and technically, that's still fulfilling the favor to Dick. You made sure Jason didn't die...again. But, you signed an oath and you don't hate him that much. Hate might even be the wrong word.

"No, I'll do it." You mutter, grabbing a pack of gauze pads, knowing you'll be needing to clean something.

"I'm not some dirty fucking favor to anyone." Jason grumbles and his words are hot, boiling in the air.

"You're so insufferable." You groan, tossing your head back in frustration. "Just shut the fuck up and let me help you so you can leave." You turn around and now you're getting a look at the damage.

The anger and annoyance you just had vanished in an instant. His abdomen is bloody, what looks to be a large gash is near his right rib cage. There's a spot below it that looks like a bullet grazed the spot. Shades of purples, blues, and maroons litter the rest of his abdomen. There are a few scars across his chest, on his arms, one up near his neck and you wonder how the hell that even happened. His armor is supposed to protect him. And it stings looking at him like this.

"I'm fucking fine." Jason spits, his eyes narrowed at you and he sees the worry start to stretch across your face. "Don't suddenly act like you give a shit now. I'm bleeding out, you wanna do something or let me do it?"

You suck in a deep breath and move forward. He knows exactly which buttons to press and just how to press them. And yet, you find yourself, not growing mad at the interaction. You've never seen him like this. You've seen him with plenty of bruises and cuts. Jason being a hothead, he's been in his fair share of fistfights but nothing like this. This is different, it's more dangerous. He's putting himself in the line of bullets and knives and fists on purpose. The thought of him dying, again, crosses your mind and you feel your heart skip and then thunder as if it's going to burst right out from your chest.

You weren’t friends when he died but you remember seeing it on the news. Jason Todd had been killed. And you remember how it hurt anyway. Your breath had been sucked from your lungs and every piece of you regretted ever being mad at him in the first place. But, then he came back to life as Red Hood and you fight with him anyway because maybe a part of you thought he was indestructible after dying. He seemed that way and believing that lie you told yourself was easier than facing him. Clearly, you’re very wrong.

"Just stay still." You drop the venom in your voice, kneeling down so you can see the wound.

Jason holds your phone's flashlight in your direction so you can see better. It's not a super deep wound luckily and he doesn't seem to be in too much pain meaning it likely didn't hit anything important. So, you get to work cleaning the wound with water, holding a rag under it to catch the falling water.

"What the hell happened?" You ask, glancing up at him and Jason's eyes are boring into you.

Dick called and gave you the heads up you'd need to help Jason. Jason is staying at the tower but you both have been actively avoiding each other. So, Dick calling you to give you the heads up for your own sake, to prepare yourself for the encounter. And you figured it would be bad for Dick even ask. You always patch them up, even when they can do it themselves. But you didn't think you'd be dealing with Jason. Dick knows you never want to. But, of course you do it anyway. And now you're stuck worried about him.

"A few lucky shots, I guess." Jason looks away from you, not wanting to give you any detail. You already said you don't care, he's not gonna waste his breath.

"Yeah, okay." You roll your eyes. "Former Robin, current Red Hood, just people getting lucky shots in. Sure."

"You don't fucking care." Jason's voice almost cracks with his words. "Just do whatever the hell you need to and I'll leave, alright?"

Hate is not the word for Jason. It was never the right word. Because he's mad at you for being mad at him. When you were kids, there were always those bubbling feelings in the pit of his stomach. He always brushed them away because who has time for that when you're just trying to survive? And the feelings went away because you weren't around anymore. But, then he saw you again and they flooded right back. Even with you being mad at him. There is still something stirring in his stomach when he's around you. Hate isn't the right word.

You let out a sigh. "I'm just mad." You shake your head, swapping the water out for a gauze pad to dry some of the water so you can start stitching it.

It's not the right word for you either. He left you and that hurt a lot. But, it also hurt because you did really like him. Jason Todd has always been charming and charismatic, funny. He's always had a way to get you to laugh or smile either with something that was actually funny or some type of innuendo that also made you cringe. He's always been very good at it and there was a reason he was your best friend. It was never out of a convenience or necessity. There is always something a little bit more to it. And then he left and it hurt a lot. Being mad at him for it was a lot easier than facing any other type of feeling you had toward him.

He knows you're mad. That's kind of the whole issue. Maybe a part of him doesn't want to know. He thinks maybe you'll tell him it's him. There's something he specifically did. He's done it to everyone else, done something to piss them off and make them hate him. The Titans hated him for long enough, Bruce wasn't thrilled with him. Bruce still isn't happy with him given their opposing morals. Everyone gives up on him eventually and he doesn't want to hear that. Not tonight.

Not from you.

You get up and grab the needle and thread, threading the needle before moving back to your spot. Jason is still watching you intently and it makes you feel a little uneasy. You're not really sure why he's watching you so carefully. He has a thing about him that always makes you squirm, he's always been good at it. And maybe you're a little tired of being mad at him. Especially right now because he's injured.

"You left." Your voice is so small, Jason barely hears you.

"You're mad because I left?" Jason questions, his brows pulling together.

"Mhm." You hum. "Stay still. It'll probably hurt." You state before you start the stitching with no warning and Jason flitches. "Sorry."

"It's fine." Jason says through gritted teeth.

You start adding several stitches up the wound. "You went to live with Bruce and you left me alone."

It's not that he left you alone on purpose. He didn't have a choice. He went with Bruce, to a home, or go to juvie again. The choice was pretty easy and simple. He also did go looking for you but you conveniently, forget that part of the story.

"I looked for you. You fucking avoided me. I checked all of our spots and you were never fucking there. What the hell did you expect me to do?" Jason questions and it’s so frustrating. And you can hear the hurt in his voice which makes you feel worse for being mad in the first place.

"I don't know." You groan back, pausing your stitching. "But it hurt, okay? You left me alone and it hurt. And I'm mad because you were my best friend and you got to be safe. I got the shit end of the stick." You shake your head and that’s first time you’re saying it out loud, realizing how horrible it sounds. “It’s...it’s not your fault. It just sucked.”

That's not his fault. It's not his fault you weren’t caught by Bruce. It was a chance encounter. A fluke. Jason was just ballsy to try and steal from Batman. That's all it was. It's not his fault but he feels bad about it anyway because he doesn't think he deserves it. He doesn't think he ever deserved the kindness that Bruce offered that day or deserved the chance to be Robin. Look at what he's become, Jason doesn't think he deserves it.

"I'm sorry." Jason states, his voice broken. "You should have gotten better, alright? You should have."

You shake your head and you know this whole thing is dumb and selfish. "No," You shrug your shoulders. “It’s not your fault, Jay. I’m sorry for being mad. You deserved better and it was selfish of me to be mad. I was mad at the world and I took it out on you because it was easier, I guess. I’m really sorry.” You wish you could take it all back. Every single part of it. It’s not fair to him and you know he always deserved the best.

Jason is someone who doesn’t hold many grudges. He can let stuff go and it’s pretty simple. Apologize and he can move past it. And he always had a hard time staying mad at you for anything.

“I was only mad at you because you were mad at me.” Jason lets out a soft chuckle.

A faint smile pulls at your lips. “That’s a very you thing to do.” You lets out a soft laugh.

You continue to patch Jason up as the silence of the room consumes the two of you. You meant a lot to him. Jason's always been a rebel with a cause, causing trouble for the fun of it. Just trying to survive and you got that. You always did and you helped him get in and out of trouble more times than he count. You were his best friend and he's missed you, even if he doesn't show it and he's been mean to you. He's missed you and he hates being mad at you. Jason doesn't hold very many grudges.

And in this moment, you're finding it hard to hold onto the grudge. He's riddled with scars and he's actively doing what no one else is willing to do. Baring the weight so other people don't have to. He never meant to hurt you and you know he didn't. You wonder if anyone has ever helped him, after Robin. Probably not. Jason doesn't let many people in to begin with and you find yourself feeling sad for him. He didn’t deserve any of the bad things that have happened to him. And all of those feelings you had for him, bubble back up to the surface.

"I did miss you, for the record." You state, letting out a breath.

Jason's abdomen flexes as a chuckle falls from his lips. "Bull fucking shit."

"I did." You defend. "You were my best friend, of course, I missed you."

"Sure as shit never acted like it." Jason spits but there’s almost an airy sarcasm to his words.

"Because of the anger I had covered it up." You glance up at him as you finish placing some gauze on one of the cuts.

"You gonna stay mad at me forever?" Jason offers you the smirk that used to get you into trouble and he’s so tired of being mad at you. It’s pointless. It never got either of you anywhere.

"No." You flash him a gentle smile.

"Good, holding grudges doesn't look good on you." Jason quips, a cheeky smirk on his lips.

You roll your eyes, getting to your feet. "Oh, and now you know what looks good on me?"

"I've got some ideas."

"Right." You nod your head. "Be careful next time." You look him up and down and you can feel your stomach turn with nerves as you watch the smirk turn into something cocky.

"So now you care, huh?"

"Just don't want you to die again." You state.

"Yeah." Jason scoffs, looking down to his lap.

"Mad doesn't mean I actually didn't care."

"Sorry for everything anyway."

"It's alright, I forgive you." Your eyes widen at him as a smile pulls at your lips. "Always had a hard time staying mad you, especially when you manage to apologize."

"Yeah?" Jason gets a sinister glint in his eyes. "And why's that?" A part of him is messing with you, just like he used to when you were kids. The other part though, is curious if your reasoning is the same as his.

Your eyes narrow slightly. "Because..." You shrug and decide you have nothing to lose at this point. You’re not kids on the streets anymore. And you’re done holding onto bitterness and grudges. There’s no harm in telling him now. "Had a little hit of a thing for you then."

Jason's heart thunders with your words and he can feel heat rush to his cheeks. "Not now though?" He tries to brush it off, admitting the same thing. "Had a thing for you, too.... back then."

"Not now though?" You repeat his words and Jason has a cheeky grin as his eyes look to the ceiling and back to you. Jason shrugs right back. "Oh, well, too bad.” Sarcasm drips from your words. “Could've seen where it would go now but if—"

Jason grabs the back of your thighs, pulling you closer to him. Your hands catch yourself on his shoulders, your eyes wide. And you feel your heart jump to your throat.

"You saying you still do?" Jason asks, his eyes hopeful and you always liked the color of his eyes.

"Is that going to be an issue?"

Jason can't help the genuine smile that comes to his face. He always felt the most comfortable with you, even when you were being mean to him. "Nope, not an issue." Jason's voice drops as he eyes your lips.

"Yeah, still have a thing for you now." You dip your head lower, resting your forehead against his.

"So, do something about it." His voice is low but taunting and you take him up on it, bringing his lips to yours.

The kiss is soft at first but then Jason's grip tightens on your thighs, pulling you closer and your hands tangle in his hair, pulling his mouth harsher against yours. The kiss turns hungry and desperate, his hands sliding up to your ass and then your hips. His mind pays no attention to the pain of the injuries from tonight and he focused solely on you. He's always wanted to be with you, since those days on the streets. It's complicated now, too but not like that.

You pull away first. Your breathing is quickened and an uncontrollable smile pulls at the corners of your lips. "Didn't know you felt that way, Jay." And truly, you never did. The jokes always seemed like jokes but the idea of him and you makes your heart nearly burst.

"Yeah," Jason chuckles softly. And he never thought you liked him, not like that. You always liked to mess with him and played the same jokes. He thought that’s all it ever was. Why wouldn’t it be? But, that never stopped him from wanting something more with you. So, now with confirmation, he takes his shot at it. "You wanna try this out? See where it goes?"

You nod your head, lowering your voice to just above a whisper. "Yeah, I'd like that." You close the distance again, kissing him deeply.

Tag list: @jasontoddsmentaldisorders // @purplerose291 // @lovelessamai  // @makaelaseresin // @lenidaslenchen // @mayfieldss // @ghostkingblake // @dgraysonss // @im-done-with-this-im-out // @velvetskies // @vivian-555 // @kebonita // @deyja-the-duck // @jasontoddslover​

[f0point5]

Okay so this is totally a suggestion and you don't have to do it but i LOVE reading this in books so i thought i'd request it and maybe you could write it as like a written piece (the ones you said youd post after the fic is finished) (please and thank you a lot if you do)

So i love reading chapters where one of the love interests just feels comfortable sleeping/ napping with their potential significant other there and them like covering them with a blanket, making sure not to move to not wake them up, and just looking at them while the other is sleeping and just being grateful to have them in your life

I love it so much

This would have been a bit hard to do as an smau part that would be long enough but I also love this in fics so I’m hoping you enjoy this version instead!

~~~~~~~~

Another Sunday, another race won, even if this time you weren’t there to see it. You’re glad he won Silverstone, if only to see the devastated faces of everyone who doubted him.

You had considered going. You’d tried to consider it, anyway. Part of you felt guilty for not being able to go back there when Max had to, and did so easily. He said he understood, but you were sure he didn’t, you prayed he didn’t. It was embarrassing, how even thinking about that track brought back a visceral terror, a feeling your body seemed to remember better than the words to your favourite song. You could still taste the bile, throwing up in a rubbish bin outside the medical centre. You could still see his car careening towards the barrier. You could still hear the silence on the radio. Pathetic, maybe, but you’d never go back. Max had never even asked.

It’s only now, really, on the flight back to Monaco, that you feel really relaxed and you can tell Max feels the same. You’re going through your notes on the race, explaining the battles happening thirty seconds behind him as he lies on the coach across from the four seats around the table where you sit in the window seat.

“I think they really should have pit him earlier because he had decent pace all race, I was checking the lap times. And I know you’ll say it’s just Ferrari being Ferrari but I can’t exactly say that on the podcast. Not before Monza at least. From your perspective, what-“

Your words are interrupted by the softest of snores.

You turn to Max, only to notice he’s fallen asleep. Snorting, you open your mouth to say something to no one in particular, when you stop yourself.

He looks so young when he’s asleep. Unburdened and almost reachable, like the years and success have melted away from him. His full lips are slightly parted, his criminally long eyelashes casting tint shadows on his cheeks. You wonder, not for the first time, what a man like him could possibly have left to dream about.

Unfolding your legs as delicately as you can so they don’t cause the leather chairs to squeak, you shuffle over the empty chair to get up.

You’re careful to move silently, not even too quickly in case too much air hits Max’s face and causes him to stir. That’s how delicate of a sleeper Max is, so alert that he needs silence, darkness, and stillness to even have a chance at resting. Just like the cats, he moves at any small stimulus.

You pick up the Hermès blanket that’s folded on the corner of the couch and unfurl it. You’re not even sure why - the plane is already warm - but the need to contribute to his comfort is instinctual after all these years. Even back in the days when you relished in his discomfort there was a compulsion to fix it that you steadfastly ignored.

If there was one person on this earth who never deserved to be cold, or hungry, or sad, it was Max. History was littered with people who’d never come out the other side of what he had, and you were convinced none had ever come out of it so unbroken yet so soft. You know you hadn’t. That was the thing about Max that you liked, he had a kind heart but it didn’t need protecting, just company.

You drape the blanket over him gently, placing it up to his shoulders, hoping it doesn’t disturb him, but he doesn’t so much as shift. He must be exhausted.

When you finally settle back into your seat, you pull out your laptop, but think better of working in case the sound of typing wakes him up. Your nails tend to stab at the keys and Max is a delicate sleeper. Instead, you connect your headphones and turn on Netflix, careful to avoid all the shows you and Max watch together. You scroll past Drive to Survive and can’t resist a roll of your eyes before they fall on a sleeping Max again. This, ladies and gentlemen, is your villain.

You choose a romantic comedy, curling up into your seat to get an extra bit of warmth. As the credits roll, you really wish you had a blanket.

[modernmanblues]

chances

CH 6: KISS OF LIFE

plot: American photographer Leah Walker is ecstatic when she's presented with the opportunity to spend the summer of 1975 in Stockport, UK to take photographs of local English groups. Given her history of taking photos of big acts such as The Rolling Stones and The Doors, she is taken by surprise when told that her first clients will be the up and coming Manchester-based group, 10cc, who have kept a low-profile until recently, after gaining worldwide stardom from their hit I'm Not In Love. Leah knows little about the group and gets acquainted fairly quickly, but what she doesn't know is how much trouble she's about to get herself into with the group's beloved lead guitarist, Eric Stewart. She has all summer, come to think of it. The possibilities are endless.

themes: big fat snogging xxxxx, cuddling, slow dancing, brief hospital scene, mild medical terms, alcohol

a/n: In light of my recent engagement, I would like to dedicate this particular chapter to the love of my life, my soulmate, my dear future husband, Keith Stewart (his middle name, not surname btw. would be a comical coincidence, wouldn’t it?). Thank you for proofreading this chapter for me, darling, you’re the best! And, i love you very very much xxxxx

“You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do that.”

I stir awake into consciousness as I feel firm, spindly fingers gently caressing my hair. I open my eyes gently to meet his, ocean blue gazing into velvet brown and I promptly come to my senses. Eric..you’re back. Oh thank goodness you’re back..

The thought brings a massive smile on my face as I study him with eager eyes. I hope I am simply not dreaming..I stray away from this dark intrusive thought to prevent it from tainting my bright mood.

“Good morning, princess.” His warm, mancunian brogue is so comforting to hear.

We continue to lay on our sides, amusing ourselves in mutual gaze. He takes me aback as he traces my jawline delicately with his thumb, and transitions swiftly to his index finger to do the same maneuver on the bridge of my nose. He showcases his trademark juvenile smile, which never fails to lure me into this wave of tranquility that has become all too familiar to me.

“Good morning, Eric. How are you feeling?” I peer into his eyes adoringly. I feel myself smiling with demure.

He hoists himself up with one arm, wincing as he guards the center of his torso.

“Fuckin’ hell..this pain..” he mutters.

I sit up quickly to stabilize him. My expression turns somber as I watch him writhe in pain.

“Eric, I should ask the nurse for your pain med—” I stand erect, but he clutches my arm deftly, preventing me from going farther.

“And just where do you think you’re going?” he gawks at me with a sultry expression.

“Come sit with me, please.” He orders sternly.

We simultaneously assume a seated position on the edge of the bed, he gapes at me with delight, appearing to be on the verge of laughter.

“What is it, Eric?”

He glances at the bed then cranes his head towards me again. The smirk on his face is rather criminal. I am suddenly presented with the most absurd intrusive thought.

“Eric, we didn’t..did we..? Oh god..” I gasp faintly, my face growing flushed at the thought.

He cackles at my remark, shaking his head. I need you to explain yourself now, Mr. Stewart..

“No Leah, I’m not that kind of guy. Sure I’m a rockstar, but I’m the polite type at the very least. You see, I would’ve asked for your permission first and most importantly, I like my woman awake when I make love to her.”

I have no words. He carries on.

“I was just thinking..would this technically count as our first time sleeping together?”

The temperature on my face continues to rise. I feel a lump going down my throat. The audacity…and the bastard even looks bloody proud himself for saying that. He’s back from the dead alright. I finally generate a response.

“I beg your pardon?” I hope he’s joking. “I’m afraid I don’t unders—”

“Well it appears that you and I slept on the same bed last night, Leah.” He maintains the smug look on his face as he fixes his gaze on me.

“So it does…but that doesn’t necessarily mean that we actually slept together, does it…?”

He leans into me, nudging my arm.

“I’m just teasing you, love.” He chuckles.

We hear the sound of the door opening then closing, followed by echoed footsteps.

“The troop has landed!” Kevin’s voice reverberates around the room.

Eric and I are beaming with glee as we witness the brigade that is, Kevin, Lol, Graham and little Dieta marching in as a unit.  

“Daddy! Oh daddy…” Dee runs up to Eric and throws herself into his arms. I can feel the child’s anguish in her tone, and I am rather disheartened to see her tears beginning to saturate Eric’s hospital wardrobe. Eric winces from the girl tackling him, doing his best to fight through the pain.

“Easy, petal...there, there daddy’s okay now…daddy’s here, daddy’s okay…” He scoops the little girl up in his arms and soothes her with a quick peck on the forehead, combing her long brunette hair with his fingers.

“Y-you’re okay n-now, d-daddy?” Dee sobs through her words.

“That’s right. Daddy’s strong as a bull again, and I’m afraid I haven’t told you today, but I love you very much darling.” He plants another kiss on her forehead.

Strong as a bull, eh? Getting a little ahead of yourself, aren’t you boy? 

I decide to catch up with the three lads as I leave the father-daughter duo to bond for a bit.

“Leah! How are you, girl?” Lol scoops me up in a massive embrace. He is ever the charmer.

“Feeling much better now.” I smile daintily, squeezing him gently in return. I lock eyes with Graham, feeling my cheeks warm up insidiously.

I carefully break away from Lol’s hold and steadily make my way towards this stunning, god-like creature named Graham Gouldman, who was undoubtedly bestowed the most ravishing façade.

“Hello, Graham.” I greet him warmly.

“Hi, Leah.” He gazes at me admiringly, noting the subtle twinkle in his eyes, “you deserve knighthood for your sheer heroic efforts in saving our Eric.”

Our Eric? Well, that’s got a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?

Graham leans into me and plants a tender kiss on my cheek. He smiles at me meekly the moment he peels away. My face grows markedly flushed at this gesture. I place my hand on my cheek, astounded by Graham’s forwardness.

“Leah babe.” Kevin toots from the corner.

My instinct drives me to fall into Kevin’s arms immediately. He welcomes me with a warm, affectionate embrace. We peel away from each other’s hold.

“Kev, so good to see you.” I smile through my words.

“Likewise, lovely.” He peers into my eyes with sheer fondness.

“Can I join this little love fest?” Eric purrs behind me, startling me as his hands perch over my shoulders.

My reflexes trigger me to immediately turn around and face him.

“Eric..hi. Um..” I chuckle, biting my lower lip as I notice him searching for my eyes.

“Why did you abandon me?” He mutters under his breath.

“I didn’t abandon you. I wanted to leave you and Dee to it.”

“Right. But you didn’t have to leave my side, you know.”

I let out a gentle laugh, bringing my hand to his cheek and caressing it gently.

“I’m glad to know you’re feeling okay.” I smile at him sheepishly.

“As long as you’re around, I know I’ll always feel okay.” He kisses the groove of my palm delicately.

“Well hello! You are looking super this morning, Mr. Stewart!” the nurse chirps as she closes the door behind her, marching in with Eric’s food tray.

“Never felt better, nurse.” He smiles at her then at me boyishly.

“Well, that’s good to hear then. I was just coming in to deliver your breakfast tray and to check on you,” The nurse gushes, her eyes skimming between Eric and the rest of the guys, “ I didn’t realize you were going to get this much attention today.” She giggles ecstatically.

“I might need a bit of morphine again, nurse.” Eric retorts, wincing as he guards his torso.

“It’s a good thing I came in. I’ll be back with some pain medicine. Nice to see you all.” She leaves us with a genial smile before exiting the room gracefully.

“Mmm..don’t you just love nurses?” Lol is nearly swooning.

“Don’t you just love your wife?” Graham retorts sarcastically, rolling his eyes playfully and shaking his head at Lol.

“Aye, Angie’s the best wife a man could ask for!” Lol proclaims firmly.

“So why do your eyes travel elsewhere, Lol?” Eric is playfully stern, raising an eyebrow at his mate.

“Oh come off it, lads. You all know no girl will ever come between Angie and I.”

“Hello, I’m back.” The nurse walks in swiftly carrying a small syringe.

“Mr. Stewart, might I suggest that you have a seat or lay down for a bit while you wait for this medicine to take effect. It tends to make people a bit drowsy.” She says this matter-of-factly.

 “Oh right.” Eric obeys the nurse’s orders and returns to sitting on the edge of his bed.

“Hello there!” Dieta chirps from where she is seated adjacent to Eric, waving ecstatically at the nurse.

“Well hello to you, lovely. What’s your name?” The nurse beams at Dieta.

“I’m Dieta Stewart and this is my daddy, Eric Stewart.” She places a hand on Eric’s shoulder.

“And that over there is my mummy, Leah Stewart!” Dieta points to me, giggling almost menacingly.

My jaw drops to the floor instantly. This child…ever so cheeky just like her father.

“What’s your name, miss?” Dieta asks politely, tilting her head slightly. Charming.

“I’m Charlotte. But most people like to call me Charlie.”Charlotte glances at Dieta adoringly as she prepares to give Eric his medicine.

“That’s a pretty name, Nurse Charlie!” Dieta chirps joyfully.

The child watches attentively as Charlie deftly flicks the drug-filled syringe before delivering the antidote through Eric’s vein.

“May I ask what’s that you’ve got there?” Dieta gazes up at Charlie with hopeful eyes.

“Oh, this is just a little pain medicine. It’s going to make your daddy’s pain go away.” Charlie smiles adoringly at the child.

“Could use some of that myself, if you know what I mean.” Kevin mumbles audibly from the corner, snickering with Lol as he nudges him.

 “You must be a proud father, Mr. Stewart.” She says with a teethy grin, disregarding Kevin’s remark and glancing at Eric while attaching her small apparatus to his intravenous line.

 "Um…Mr. Stewart? Are you alright?” Charlie repeats herself, seemingly concerned that Eric now looks a bit stupefied.

 Eric has grown silent, his eyes widening as he maintains a fixed gaze on the syringe. His face suggests fear.

“Leah! Leah! This is—" Eric cries out in agony, barely finishing his sentence. He begins to hyperventilate.

I bolt my way towards him, clasping his clammy hand. He’s grown noticeably pale.

“Eric honey, it’s okay. It’s going to be okay. This is going to take the pain away.” I chant.

He continues to sit in silence, appearing like he’s seen a ghost.

“Go easy on him please.” I gape at Charlie with pleading eyes.

 "No worries, love. This is morphine, it’s quite potent so it will have to go in slow, it will be gentler on his vein.” Charlie smiles at me gingerly. Her words are reassuring.

 “No..no..no..” Eric’s voice quivers as he murmurs under his breath, closing his eyes shut. I begin to notice a tear trickling down his angelic face.

I maintain my grip on his hand, gently caressing it with my thumb. She begins to push the medicine through slowly.

“Half the medicine is in and I’m nearly finished here, Mr. Stewart. You are doing fantastic.” The nurse’s words seem to be providing Eric a bit of solace, he’s become more at ease as the medicine takes effect.

“Right. I’m all done here. That wasn’t too bad, was it?” The nurse beams meekly as she detaches the syringe from Eric’s IV.

“Well then…” Eric breathes a sigh of relief. “Sorry, I just…I don’t like medicines..”

Well you certainly didn’t think twice about sniffing up that cocaine…Seriously, I’ve had my urges to slap this guy.

I brush his hair delicately with my fingers. “You did so well, darling.”

“That’s right. Now you’ll be pain free for a bit. Which, that reminds me. The doctor has orders for you to be discharged from the hospital today. All your vital signs and labs are stable now, the doctor has said you are healthy enough to go home.” Charlotte says this in a rather business-like tone.  

 “Well that’s great news, isn’t it?” Lol states jovially.

“Best news of the day, Nurse Charlie.” Eric winks at her.

 And he is quite the expert at woeing the ladies, isn’t he? I want to roll my eyes at him.

“Right. Well, let me get your discharge papers together and um…” Charlie looks at Dieta from the corner of her eye, beaming at her.

She squats down to be at eye level with the young lady.

“…since you’ve been such a good little girl for your daddy. How about a nice little treat? Ice lolly, perhaps?”

“Oh that sounds fab!” The girl chirps ecstatically, craning her head towards her father.

“Daddy can I have an ice lolly, oh please daddy! please please!” Dee tugs on Eric’s wardrobe gently.

“Alright, but you’re only getting one. Don’t want you spoiling your appetite, you’ve got breakfast waiting.” Eric’s hands glide over his food tray. His paternal side never fails to shine through, and he isn’t afraid to show it.

“Yipeee!!” Dee exclaims.

“Right. Be right back.” Charlie marches off daintily, and with sheer nursing confidence. We watch as she disappears from our line of sight.

*********************************************************

I have graced the basement foyer with my presence standing in utter silence as I become completely engrossed in the intricacies of this fascinating wall decor flaunting before me that is, the gold disc awarded to 10cc’s The Original Soundtrack record. I carefully study each groove on the gold vinyl, enchanted with the way it shines everytime I shift in different angles. My eyes dart towards the brief passage written at the bottom of the framed display which reads:

 …Stewart and Gouldman’s passion, heart and soul coupled with Godley and Creme’s incontestable humour and wit gave birth to this star-studded masterpiece. The Original Soundtrack brings about a conglomerate of emotions to its audience, providing a rather unique and stimulating experience to both the avid and fleeting music listener. Simply put, it is playful, silly and romantic. These are just some of the nuances that give perpetual appeal to these so-called Darlings of Rock ‘n’ Roll. Truly, a record that is decades ahead of its time.

My attention is suddenly shifted to the muffled sound of music seeping from the recording studio. My efforts in guessing the name of the song are disrupted the moment I catch a glimpse of Eric in the studio appearing rather haggard and slightly unkempt. His black dress top is unbuttoned halfway, tucked lazily under the hem of his jeans. The signature brown leather belt hugging his waist. He clasps his hands together as he rests them on his abdomen, elevating his legs and leaning them against the audio console. He furrows his brows, immersing himself in every aspect of lyric and sound. So this must be what so-called rockstars do in their spare time.

I remember the actual purpose of me coming down here, that was to perform a welfare check on Eric. It’s as if he had been waiting for me this entire time, he swivels open the door immediately. He coolly brings his arm up, leaning it against the doorway while he rests his opposite hand on his hip. My eyes dart toward the dark patch of hair on his chest, and the five o’clock shadow that’s beginning to grow flushed against his delicate jawline. His smirk darkens insidiously the longer he ogles me.

“Well, doesn’t this look familiar?” He gapes at me with a dark, sultry expression.

“How familiar?” I tilt my head to the side, gazing at him with unremitting charm.

Our ears are greeted with the sweet, gentle sound of Paul McCartney’s crooning in the track My Love, resonating from the turntable. I feel the mood changing between us. We’re becoming engulfed into a more intimate atmosphere.

Without saying a word, Eric extends his hand out to me, inviting me to come inside the studio. He shuts the door gently. I take his hand and follow his lead. We stand eye to eye in the heart of room. He carefully guides my arms up and nestles them over his shoulders. My eyes drown in his as I wait patiently for his next move. He proceeds to place his hands on my waist. His hands emit a generous amount of warmth which sends a mild tingle through my spine. My eyes have not yet abandoned his, a promise we have both made silently to each other at this very moment. I decide to break the silence as we both begin to sway sluggishly to the music.

“You were supposed to ask my permission for this dance, you know.” I giggle subtly.

“Oh dear, where are my manners?” He retorts with gross sarcasm, grinning widely.

We mind each other’s steps as we gain some momentum in this performance.

“I like this song.” I shift to a more serious tone, maintaining my gaze on him.

“Leah, can I say something to you?” The smile on his face vanishes suddenly.

“Anything, Eric.” I peer into his velvet brown doe eyes.

And my love does it good…McCartney’s creamy vocals continue to fill the room with comforting ambiance.

Eric twirls me carefully, laughing gently as he watches me with eager eyes. I risk falling by sinking into his arms only for him catch me on time. I face forward, smiling menacingly at the dirty trick I’ve just done. I gasp faintly as I feel Eric delicately nuzzling his nose against my temple then gradually down my cheek, planting a gentle kiss on my face. His scent, the potent fusion of whiskey and aftershave. Will this man ever learn?

“I don’t recall whether you gave me the kiss of life while I was dead, but tonight I want to return the favor by doing this.”

He catches me by surprise when he leans his face into me and joins his lips with mine. He peels away briefly, expelling his breath. I stand before him appearing aghast. Again, I have no words.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do that.” His soft, gentle voice caresses my senses.

Eric leans in once again and surrenders another kiss. He brushes his upper lip with my lower, adding some tongue in between. I moan softly, melting into his arms while I mirror his lip movements. Our momentum intensifies as we become absorbed into this tongue, lip and heavy breathing ecstasy. Our hands fumble in each other’s hold, struggling to keep them in place.

“Lord have mercy..,” he says breathlessly as he peels away from me to gasp for air.

“Easy, love..” I mutter breathlessly, biting my lower lip.

Eric’s face grows more noticeably smug as his eyes dart from me to whatever is piquing his interest behind me.

“Whatever you do..” Eric brings my hand up to his face and kisses my knuckle tenderly.

“..do not turn around.” He smiles at me cheekily.

“What? What do you me—” My instinct tells me to turn around immediately only to discover the most shocking revelation, and the source of Eric’s distraction.

 My eyes widen in horror as I peer through the soundproof glass window and find Dieta lurking in the recording room, giggling as she flicks her polaroid camera, blinding Eric and I with its flash.

“Right, you. Come out of there at once!” Eric scolds his daughter lightly.

Dee’s doe eyes expand in plain shock, veiling her mouth with her hand to conceal her embarrassment. Caught red-handed.

“NOW.” Eric’s declares in a louder tone, leering at Dee sternly.

The girl obeys her father’s command and bows her down as she exits the recording room, approaching us cautiously.

“Sorry, daddy..” Dieta blurts out weakly.

“Come here, you.” Eric releases me gently and reels his daughter into his hip feebly.

“Now how long had you been lurking in there, hm?” Eric tenses his jaw as he cranes his head down, eyeing his daughter with a forgiving stare.  

“A while.” The girl gazes up at her father innocently, presenting him with a few polaroids.

Eric accepts the images and shuffles through them one by one, his expression changing from dismayed to delighted. He glances at me then back at the photos.

“Come have a look at these.” He curls his lips in amusement.

I step in closer to marvel at the portraits myself and much to my surprise, I see that this little girl has captured three of the most intimate moments that happened between Eric and I this room.

“Beautiful, aren’t they?” Eric’s jaw tenses as he gazes at me to watch my reaction diligently.

Unsurprisingly, I become captivated at the photo of the two of us studying each other’s eyes. I see so much fondness, adoration and compassion between us both, it’s rather riveting.

“You took all these photos, Dee?” I gape at the girl adoringly.

“Who else would have taken them, ma’am?” Dee chirps cheekily, batting her eyes at me.

“Be nice, darling.” Eric scolds gently.

“They’re so good.” I grin widely at the girl, squatting down to meet her at eye level.

“You know. I have been looking for another apprentice to fill in for me from time to time. I think you would be a good fit.”

Eric squats down with me, placing his arm over my shoulder. His eyes glide from me to Dee, then back towards me.

“Do you really think that’s a great idea, Walker?” Eric chuckles.

“Eric, your daughter has so much potential. These photos look exquisite, one could easily think they were taken by a professional. She clearly has an affinity for photography.”

I gaze into his eyes intently, “And I can see where she gets her prodigious talents from.”

Eric’s eyes twinkle as he gawks at me with blatant ardor, beguiling me with his million dollar grin.                       

“You’re a charmer aren’t you, Walker?” He purses his lips shyly.  

“Anyway, any plans this afternoon?” He suddenly switches subject.

“No why do you ask, Eric?”

“Would you care to join Dee and I for afternoon tea?” His face brightens as he awaits my response.

“Oh please please PLEASE say yes!” Dieta pleads with her eyes.

“I would love to join you both.” I retort delightfully.

“Beautiful. It’s a date then.” His soft tone tingles my eardrums.

It’s a date then.

________________________________________________

<<previous chapter

please visit my masterlist if you would like to see some of my other work :)

[phoenixstark1708]

the daughter of an archangel pt.4

The man came in once she left, and set down a bunch of books, and a strange electronic thing that folded. “hello phoenix, my name is mark. Im just going to ask you some questions to figure out where you’re at academically.” oh! I know what academics are! That is my favorite thing! My face visibly lit up at the prospect. The man began with painfully simple math equations “134+23” and “33x11” they progressively got harder, and I continuously got them gorrect. The man seemed astonished I knew all that I knew all this stuff. Trigonometry is where I got confused. He noted that on his clipboard. Then came science, which I was again, above average. Then history, I didn’t know much, because the stuff I was taught was purely propaganda. Then came literature, which I was average in. And finally, foreign languages. The man was obviously shocked when he realized I was fluent in 53 languages.

I later met with a psychiatrist, and spoke for nearly four hours. I explained my childhood, and past, and she listened intently, asking some questions, and recording the conversation. I had several preliminary diagnoses, but she wanted to meet in a few weeks to see where I was at. By the end of the day, I was tired, but I stayed awake because I knew I would be punished if I fell asleep. I sat on the edge of the bed until tony came in “hey phoenix, how’re you doiung? Pepper told me how well you did today. Im going to get you some tutors so you can get an education. Is that okay?” I nodded “great. Then, there was something else we needed to talk about.” I looked up at him “you are not a prisoner here. You can explore as you please, you can eat whatever you feel like, and do watever you need to. You don’t need to ask. For an example, if you wanted to shower, you can. If you wanted to sleep, you can. Eat? Of course. Drink? Yes ma’am.” I was looking at him quizically, confused as to why I was allowed to do these rhings. I was definitely not complaining. “but, I think it would be best for you to stay here, in the house. Of course you can go outside if you want, but stay close. Its not safe for you out there yet.” he finished. “take care kiddo.” he ruffled my hair and walked out of the room. I laid down on the bed and slept.

After a months of living with tony, I finally began to gain weight, I was finally gaining confidence, my face began to fill with color, and my academics took off. I was getting more confident, and happy. Actually happy. For the first time in my life. I still had times when I felt terrible for leaving bucky; How could I not? He saved me. I was having frequent flashbacks. After meeting with the psychiatrist again, I was diagnosed with PTSD. I refused the medications they offered, vividly remembering the various drugs hydra expiramented on me with.

Everything was going good, until one day, a black man came with an eyepatch. Tony explained he was here to help, and he called him because of me expressing my desire to help the world after all the damage I'd done. We sat at the patio table, tony giving us privacy. “so, I hear your name is pheonix stark?” he sort of questioned “yes sir, that’s me” “good. But I know that you don’t have any official family- yet. I wanted to talk about tony adopting you. He has already agreed, but has made it expressly clear that its off if you don’t want him to. This way, you can become an official citizen of the united states, and you can go to a real school. How does this sound, phoenix?” I waited a moment “good. It sounds good, but tony said that you were here to talk about me helping the world?” he chuckled “straight to the point. I like that. Yes, that’s the other thing I wanted to talk to you about. Im the head of an organisation called SHEILD. I know you are relatively familiar with us?” my eyes widened in fear when he mentioned SHEILD. “y-yes. You know me, what ive done. Why would you want me there?” I asked in a small voice “we want you because you would be an excellent addition to our organization. HYDRA controlled you, we all know you didn’t have a choice. We want to help you learn to control your powers, and how to fight. We want to train you to be excellent. And make no mistake, you are not forced to, you will not be harmed by us, and you don’t have to do any of this if you don’t want-” I cut him off in excitement “i’ll do it” I was beaming with joy not showing in my voice. “we will also send you on some missions when you’re ready. Nothing like what you did at HYDRA, you would be saving people, not hurting them.” I nodded “this may seem like a lot, phoenix, but I think this would be a good thing for you.” “i want to do it. All of it. I want to be adopted by tony, and I want to join SHEILD. This will be my opportunity to make amends for the things ive done. Thank you.” just then, tony come out of the door. I ran to hug him – an astronomical improvement from when I arrived; afraid to even talk. “thank you.” I murmured “thank you kid. Phoenix Stark has nice ring to it, huh?” I nodded, beaming with excitement.

After that day, we signed a LOT of paperwork for the adoption. I found it hilarious that we had to sign hundreds of papers, quite a change from what I was used to. and I became an official U.S. citizen! I had never felt so much like a person, rather then a machine. I struggled with terrible nightmares of the punishments I endured, and the missions I partook in. I couldn’t stop thinking about the sacrifice bucky made for me. I hated HYDRA for it, well I hated them for a lot of things, but especially that.

i saw you like the other 3 parts, so tagging you in this one :)

@breadhead19

[valravn72]

A Manifesto On The Intersectionality of Disability:

How Care For The Disabled and Divergent Allows Us To Rewrite The Systems of Oppression That Plague Our Society and How Acceptance of Self Diagnosis Is Ultimately A Tool for Liberation

TLDR: The idea that your experiences and existence are not justified or valuable until an elite group decides they are is dehumanizing and is the fundamental reason for injustice

This also applies to transmedicalism, Western Science in general and pretty much any imperialist documentation of the world that you can think of

Unfortunately, people really need to hear this so please listen closely

You know that whole stereotype about how “collecting disorders” and self diagnosing with several disabilities means that someone is ‘faking?’

*Clears throat*

If you have one disorder, you’re more likely to have others. That’s how being sick works. This shouldn’t be surprising.

We live in a world that intentionally makes it so that disadvantages breed more disadvantages, this is the ideology behind the revoltingly outdated ideology of “survival of the fittest”

People behave as if this is just about probability and people with one health issue have as equal a chance at having other issues everyone else.

This is a ridiculous assessment.

It isn’t the goddamn lottery. The whole “it’s happened too many times to be a coincidence” thing doesn’t apply here. Or rather, it does, because it isn’t a coincidence.

And this applies to you too. It applies to anyone. If any group is being systematically harmed, silenced and invalidated then that means you could be too and it means they are being mistreated using the same ideologies and systems of thought that is applied to all the other groups.

So let’s dissect this.

Here is why no disabled people are “faking” if they seem to have an endless amount of self diagnosed issues and how ableism applies to all of us and results in the harm and dehumanization of everyone.

Exhibit A: People Can Have Problems In General

My mom has auto immune issues. She had a flare up when she was pregnant with me. This impacted my health.

This probably could’ve been stopped, or at least alleviated more easily, if the doctors weren’t trying to medically gaslight her. I love the medical system. /s

Sometimes a parent’s illness can alter the pregnancy and the development in the womb. The way the body functions is the main factor of the development of the child, so if the body isn’t functioning as expected the child will not develop as expected.

Sometimes a parent’s illness will cause a great amount of stress during pregnancy, which affects the way the body functions and also may lead them to unhealthy coping mechanisms, such as use of alcohol. (This, again, could be less of a problem if people didn’t find self medication necessary in contexts of medical neglect.)

Sometimes a parent’s illness interferes with the biological resources that they have available to take care of the child (for example: nursing), which can affect the development of the child

Sometimes a parent’s illness interferes with their ability to provide for themself monetarily which in turn makes it difficult for them to provide for their child, which can affect the development of the child

Sometimes, parents pass on the genes of their illnesses, or genes that predispose you to have illnesses

Sometimes, those genes were only recessive in the parents and therefore entirely invisible, or they caused a predisposition to getting an illness, but they never encountered the situation that would have caused the predisposition to come into effect.

My point here is that people don’t just pass on specific illnesses, they can pass on the state of disability entirely, and not just through genetics. If you have a long history of family trauma, then this can also pass illnesses through the generations. It is not unreasonable to be generally sick when you are descended from someone with a specific sickness, and this does not make you melodramatic or sensitive.

Exhibit B (part 1): Problems Can Get You More Problems (because people suck)

TW: descriptions of ableism

A lot of the time when someone tells you that you’re more likely to get a post traumatic disorder or a personality disorder if you are, for example, autistic, what this really means is that autistic people are more like to get traumagenic disorders because autistic people are more likely to be traumatized.

This isn’t because we’re inherently more sensitive or something (though hypersensitivity can be a symptom of autism), it’s because society treats us like shit.

It’s been theorized that a primary cause of BPD is a childhood of trauma via invalidation. It’s no wonder to me, then, that a group of people whose feelings are constantly dismissed for being unreasonable and who are made to feel guilty for their issues are more likely to develop BPD. Same with women. It has nothing to do with women being more prone to “hysterics,” or whatever you find it more suitable to call it, but it does have everything to do with the fact that we think of them that way. BPD is a learned pattern of behaviors and thought processes that are maladaptive coping mechanisms to brain becoming accustomed to and cedían of the state of being heavily invalidated. Funny, then, that we then use its presence to further invalidate those who suffer from it.

This goes along the same lines, but if you treat people like shit for being disabled they’re going to end up even more fucked up. “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger” and all that bullshit as well as the idea that you have train people out of being disabled through pain or force them to endure pain to get them used to it. I can put this simply. What doesn’t kill you convinces you that the world is out to kill you and that you deserve it which causes your body and mind to attack itself. This is helping no one. It may seem like it makes you stronger but really it makes you disassociate from your emotions, which makes you less likely to express them sure but believe me that lack of awareness will come back and utterly ruin your life. A good example of this is the book Hyperbole And a Half by Allie Brosh, in which the author describes insulting and shaming herself in an attempt to rip herself out of her struggle with depression and executive dysfunction. All that this really achieves is causing her to stop feeling her emotions, and to no longer feel comfortable alone with herself. She’s excited at first because she always wanted to stop having unreasonable feelings and turn into what she calls “a stone cold badass,” and she also feels that she must hate herself to keep herself in check, but this quickly devolves into an intense feeling of emptiness that makes her depression worse as well as makes it harder to be sufficiently self aware as she both has no idea how she is feeling and only knows how to respond to negative emotions by hating herself, which is does not fix the problems that those emotions signify.

If the world seems evil then sometimes people become convinced that they must be like the world or they will break

Stress, trauma and pain all affect the nervous system and the brain which affects the body and the rest of your health. This is why being stressed gives you a headache, hard mental effort makes fatigue worse and disassociation comes with physical sensations. The brain is part of your body. Even more than that, the brain manages your body. When your brain struggles the body struggles. Chronic illness can often emerge from trauma.

Exhibit B (part 2): Problems Can Get More Problems (because they’re problems)

If your body is deteriorating, then that probably is going to affect you.

Untreated illnesses can get worse

Untreated illnesses that don’t inherently get worse can get worse from over exertion

If you’re a spoonie, it is very easy to over exert yourself. Especially as a reaction to internalized ableism

When your body deteriorates, it cause harm to other faculties of function, which means you’re going to get more illnesses. This is also true of your brain. Because. It’s. Part of your body.

Exhibit C: Having Problems Makes It Harder To Get Diagnosed With Problems

It’s hard to express your pain if you are too fatigued to muster the energy to explain

It’s hard to express your pain if you have brain fog and can’t remember a clear timeline

It’s hard to express your pain if you have alexisthemia and inherently have difficulty expressing emotions

It’s hard to express your pain if you are part of a demographic that doctors consider “attention seeking”

It’s hard to express your pain if you are part of a demographic that is inherently easier to manipulate into believing that they are faking (e.g. autistic people are easier to manipulate and easily develop imposter syndrome and internalized ableism)

It’s hard to express your pain if you have been conditioned to believe that no one will give you help

It’s hard to express your pain if you have been conditioned to believe that you deserve it

It’s hard to express your pain if you have been made to believe that it’s your fault

It’s hard to express your pain if you have been made to believe that you are a burden on society

It’s hard to express your pain when you associate vulnerability with being harmed

It’s hard to express your pain if you go semi verbal when you try and doctors don’t believe you

It’s hard to express your pain when your guardian or partner has been allowed to have too much control over you and won’t let you

It’s hard to express your pain when doctors convince you that you have to lose weight to expect to be treated with sympathy and therefore give you an eating disorder

It’s hard to express your pain when you know that all the ways to heal require energy and resources that are inaccessible to you

It’s hard to express your pain when you know that treatment could harm you because your other illnesses will not be taken into account

It’s hard to express your pain if you are a part of another demographic that doctors are biased against and don’t take seriously (poc people, women because they’re too sensitive and have too many problems, autistic people, people with personality disorders, men because they aren’t allowed to be sensitive or have problems, lower class people because they don’t have enough money, children and younger people, older people, trans people, nonbinary people… okay honestly no one is safe here literally everyone falls on this list the only way to not fall on this list is to be dead. It isn’t even completely doctors’ faults they live in the same propaganda filled imperialist dogma hell of a society that we do and also consume such things from their textbooks such as that infamous medical idiom about zebras. Some of them are part of these demographics and either have internalized issues or are pick mes. There is literally no winning here!)

Exhibit D: Not Getting Diagnosed With Problems Can Get You More Problems And Self Acceptance Is The Only Path Towards A More Just Society

Medical trauma is traumatic

Not getting treated causes your illnesses to become worse

Internalized ableism breeds self destructive behaviors

Not understanding why you have difficulty with something makes it hard to self advocate

Not understanding why you have difficulty with something makes it hard to self accommodate

Not understanding yourself in general makes it hard to know and express your emotions

Not understanding yourself means that what you say about yourself seems to have just as much logic and weight as what the people who hurt you say about you

Not understanding yourself is terrifying and lonely

Not understanding or believing in the reason you need accommodations convinces you that you are undeserving of them

Not understanding yourself means you can’t properly express your identity. Not properly expressing your identity means that people can assign you any identity they want. This can cause distress and dysphoria

Not understanding yourself means not understanding why you have value

Not understanding yourself means an inability to gain solidarity and a proper support system

Not understanding yourself means other people may understand you more than you do yourself and therefore are more able to manipulate you

Not understanding yourself means you don’t understand the reasons that you do things, why you like things, why people treat you the way they do, why you experience an identity in a certain way or why you think or speak a certain way

Not understanding yourself means it’s impossible to get the most out of life

Not understanding yourself means that your ability to have an identity is dependent on the superficial validation of authority figures

Not understanding yourself means that you can never love, support, advocate for or heal with your community

Not understanding yourself makes it easy to dissociate

Not understanding yourself makes it easy to rationalize abuse

Not understanding yourself makes it hard to stand up to abusers

Not understanding yourself makes it easy to gaslight you and convince you that you are hysterical

Not understanding yourself means that you can’t practice and experiment with love and compassion in a situation where you can’t accidentally harm anybody else by taking care of yourself

Not understanding yourself means an inability to unlearn thought and behavior patterns that can result in the harm of others

Not understanding yourself means not being able to imbue parts of your life with meaning

Not understanding yourself makes it hard to find purpose

Not understanding yourself makes it hard to value the love that others have for you

Not understanding yourself means not understanding where you fit in the world

Not understanding yourself means not accepting that it’s okay to have flaws

Not understanding yourself leads to resentment towards others for suffering from the weaknesses you suffer from

Not understanding how your weaknesses emerge leads to resentment towards others for having different and more difficult weaknesses for similar reasons

Allowing yourself to find self understanding means asserting that your suffering does not need to be validated by authority figures to be real, that you do not need to prove that you are deserving of an identity and that your identity is real whether or not the widely known, visible, medically documented and negative symptoms of your disorder are recognized, identified and legally validated

Allowing yourself to find self understanding means asserting that only you can verify what you are feeling

Allowing yourself to find self understanding means asserting that your experience doesn’t need to inconvenience someone to be real

Allowing yourself to find self understanding means asserting that self advocacy is okay

Allowing yourself to find self understanding means asserting that all diagnosis is caused by an observation and therefore all diagnosis is valuable in its attempt whether it is accurate or not

Allowing yourself to find self understanding means asserting that those who cannot have their experiences understood any other way are still valuable if they follow the same pursuit

Being compassionate with yourself for your weaknesses means accepting that others can be weak and still deserve to live

Being compassionate with yourself allows you to understand and express your experiences which allows others to learn from them

Being compassionate with yourself allows you to understand how systems of oppression work to use you to oppress other groups

Being compassionate with yourself allows you to understand how systems of oppression work to manipulate you into oppressing other groups

Being compassionate with yourself allows you to understand how systems of oppression work to use your existence to justify the oppression of other groups

Being compassionate with yourself allows you to feel outrage at how systems of oppression have used you to harm others instead of outrage at minorities for making you aware of your privilege

Being compassionate with yourself allows you to understand who the real monsters are

Understanding your mistreatment means understanding that the suffering of others from the hands of authority figures means that authority figures have the capacity to do that to any group and that it could just as easily be you

Understanding your mistreatment means not normalizing abusive workplace practices

Understanding your mistreatment means not normalizing abusive medical practices

Understanding your mistreatment means not normalizing abusive legal practices

Understanding your mistreatment means not normalizing abusive educational practices

Understanding your mistreatment and being compassionate with yourself means understanding that a society is only as prosperous as those within who are the most vulnerable

Understanding your mistreatment means understanding that different perspectives are what make a rational, just and healthy society

Understanding your mistreatment means understanding that throwing others under the bus to appease those who mistreat you is a betrayal of yourself and of others

Understanding yourself enables empathy, compassion, sympathy and reason

Understanding yourself puts you in a position where you may help people who do not have the freedom to understand themselves

Understanding yourself means being able to contribute to the community around you

Exercising empathy, compassion, sympathy and reason towards others helps you learn to do so for yourself and vice versa

If those who are deemed the most impure, decrepit, degenerate, worthless, incapable and unintelligent by society can be treated with love and respect and given the opportunities to heal and grow and help each other then that means that no matter what you can as well

Understanding yourself means understanding that you owe nothing to others in return for the gift of human rights and well-being

Understanding yourself means understanding that the goal of a species is to ensure that all of the species is allowed to prosper, not just the elite

Understanding yourself means understanding that you do not owe anything to society, you give back to society because you want to make a world that is more than worth living in

If we abandon the sick, then that means that we establish the practice of allowing anyone that falls under hard times to suffer and waste away

Wolf packs walk with their sick and elderly in the front, so the strong in the back can protect from ambush from behind

Allowing others to be sick and ridiculous and unreasonable and weak and vulnerable and sensitive and damaged and resentful and antisocial and unstable and foolish means that when we are in their place we too will be treated with care

The hospitalization and prison systems are supposed to be meant to protect, contain, rehabilitate, heal and restore, not punish.

Your value is not determined by your productivity and getting by without sickening yourself should be the baseline for how one navigates life

We’ve learned to place numerical values on everything as a result of capitalism, and destroy anything that reduces the count

All of this came from imperialism and the need to justify the extinction and abuse of groups who did not adhere to imperialist, misogynistic, ableist, racist, colorist, ageist, sexist, queerphobic and white supremacist dogma

We need to restore our priorities.

Also, as a side note, are we really going to act like Western Science is completely unbiased these are the people who claimed that people were only gay in Ancient Greece because they (NSFW) really needed to clean their anuses. Sometimes scientists are wrong and the point of science is to go back and make sure that things are right. We can’t do that if we spend all our time gatekeeping academics and telling people that they aren’t allowed to make observations because they aren’t experts. If everyone who wasn’t an expert wasn’t allowed to make observations then we would have no experts. A great deal of the famous psychologists we admire so much came up with their theories from self observation. The only difference was that they were cishet white men who died before the 1990s. If you assert constantly that modern culture is low brow and unintelligent and refuse to give people access to higher forms of education unless they adhere to your outdated values then:

1. The new understandings of the modern era will never be implemented and you will become disastrously biased

2. People will associate education with being mistreated

3. Art will never advance because all the elitists will never move on to different mediums, will not accept new people into their field and will never take inspiration or advice from those within different mediums and everything will continue to be a monotonous eco chamber of the same era of cinema aesthetics until the end of time

4. You are going to become irrelevant.

5. You will never have any new perspectives from new groups of people and will therefore be horribly biased in your future assessments of the world no matter what you do.

Anyway my conclusion to this rant is that awards shows should have more genres and mediums and that everyone should be reading Babel in school.

Also, lowbrow culture is a part of culture and if you refuse to acknowledge it in academia then any analysis you have of culture is inherently false.

Also Xenogenders can be scientific fuck you

[pi-cat000]

Just stayed up until midnight reading your Kakashi bnha(?) cross over and loved it. Your characterization for Kakashi is so entertaining. Will you be continuing the series?

much love anon <33

glad u like it :) I don't have as much time to write fanfic these days but here's a section from the part 8 draft.

.

.

The view from Wada’s office is of tall, glass covered structures and what must be a train track looping around them. The vehicles that zip along the tracks travel at speeds far surpassing similar technologies available in the Land of Snow. In the Land of Snow the chakra-rich atmosphere allowed the trains to run on a mix of chakra and electricity. It was a combination prone to overheating, making it only viable in cold climates according to Konoha’s research facilities. Kakashi hadn’t cared enough to follow up on it after delivering the initial intel.

It was something to look into. How enough electricity was generated to power something like it without chakra might be worth investigating. It was obviously more efficient that Konoha’s system.

“Hatake?”

Kakashi shifts his gaze from the window to Wada.

“Hatake,” Wada crosses his arms, pushing back on his chair so he rolls out from behind his desk, “Are you listening? If you’re tired, we can have this conversation tomorrow.”

“Personal information is needed for a residency application. We are about to run through my diagnosis and tests results,” Kakashi idly summarises. He straightens ever so slightly from his slumped position, staring wistfully out at the city, elbow propped up against the arm of his wheelchair.

“I would like to hear what the quirk specialist has to say,” Kakashi adds, trying to inject a little enthusiasm into his voice so he’s not immediately wheeled back to his room for another weeks rest. “Please call me Kakashi,” he throws in.

“Yes. Yes. Kakashi then.” Wada waves away the correction, “I’m going to need more than a name if you want any further aid from the City. After your discharge you’ll be high and dry on the streets at this rate. Don’t think I don’t see you trying to avoid the topic.”

Wada’s irritation has Kakashi smiling for good measure, turning to away from the window. Wada continues talking with a sigh of mild frustration, “This is complicated. So far, you’re being treated under Hou’s Collateral Damage Scheme which would usually extend to relocation, occupation support, and asset recovery. However… as the investigation into the attack on your person hasn’t been linked it to any credible Villain activity, you’ll need to be a resident of Japan to receive further support.”

 Wada frowns at him, “That’s a problem seeing we see can’t find your records and there’s nothing on the Registry.”

“Hmmm,”

“You have no birth certificate, citizenship information, school records, place of residence, career history or passport,” Wada lists, “You walk out of hospital like this and you’ll be jobless and on the streets in no time. I need to get this sorted now while you still have access to the hospital’s resources.”

There is another pause where a reply would usually go. Kakashi finally lets his full attention sit squarely on Wada, taking in his mildly irritated expression, eyebrows drawn together, slight frown, leaning forward, arms lose. He habitably scans for deception.

“Why.” Kakashi finaly asks, voice dropping flat.  The medical attention he could understand. Doctor Wada was being paid by the hospital to give him medical care because of its poor patient vetting. This help wasn’t medical attention. Kakashi wasn’t Wada’s friend, ally, or family member. He doesn’t have ties to the man outside of being his patient and he knows Wada doesn’t pay this much attention to his other patients.

Wada continues moving from vaguely annoyed to openly exasperated, huffing, “If we don’t do this now, you’ll find it hard to rent, apply for jobs, open bank accounts, and all manner of things.”

“Why all the extra help? I’m sure I would be fine on my own,” Kakashi must clarify because Wada has obviously misunderstood his question.

“Humph.” Wada grunts, “Most of my patients have relatives and friends visiting every few days and aren’t missing all their personal records. Helping people isn’t just for the Heroes you know. Us regular people like to give it a go every now and then as well.”

 Kakashi stares as the man gives a resolute nod like he had given a valid answer Kakashi’s question.  What did being a Hero have to do with anything?

“I see.”  He really didn’t. This world was so strange.

“Unfortunately, I don’t have anything else to share.” Kakashi repeats. It was probably the most truthful he has been since waking. Kakashi has no further information for Wada even if the man’s intentions were benign.

“Yes, very unfortunate,” Wada sounds ever so slightly disappointed, “unfortunate for you. I’m not a miracle worker. You’re going to have issues with this lack of records.” He rolls back behind his desk, yanking out a stack of paper held together with thick metal clips. As he shifts objects on the desk to clear space, Wada continues, “I might be able to get you a job interview with a friend of mine and I might be able to get you into some city subsidized housing. But that’s an iffy might…all I can promise.”

Never mind that Kakashi hasn’t asked for anything let alone help with his records since his arrival.

“…thank you…your efforts are appreciated.” A ‘thank you’ would be all the man would get from Kakashi.

Wada slaps the stack of paper down on the desk flipping it Kakashi’s direction and sliding across towards him. “You can show your appreciation by paying attention. These medical records are the only  thing we do have at the moment.”

Kakashi examines the booklet, raising a questioning eyebrow.

“This is you’re recovery plan. I took the liberty of printing it out for you. Though with your quirk it’ll probably be a waste of paper.” Wada follows the sentence up with a quick, “Once you’re cleared to use it. Which you’re currently not. Don’t even think about it.”

Kakashi raises a hand in a loose calming motion.

“…and on the topic of your quirk….” Wada fusses around, patting himself down muttering, “Where is it. I swear if I lose another pen…Ah.” He pulls out a pen, leaning forward to scribble out a line of numbers and letters.

“You’re Registry ID. Won’t be for active for another week at least. But, once it is, if anyone gives you trouble for using your quirk in public you can tell them to go look up your file. I sent all your information off to be assessed and your quirk is probably going to be registered as ‘passive biological’ which is an automatic Licence Waiver if I’m remembering my law correctly.”

“Don’t quote me on that. I’m a doctor, not a legal professional. And just because you can use it, doesn’t mean you should. High-Stress quirks need to be carefully managed.”

Wada reaches over and flips the booklet open, tapping the page.

“Your quirk puts a huge strain on your brain. Specifically, it strains your memory and vision processing centres. The expert opinion is that your regenerative factor has naturally evolved to offset this physical stress.” Wada hums, pausing in his explanation to check that Kakashi is following. “Unfortunately, even with this mutation your quirk is maladaptive at best and actively destructive at worst.”

Kakashi glances at the page Wada is scribbling on. It has a diagram of a brain with serval areas now circled in blue pen ink.

“See this red area here. This means high activity. And see how it how increases when your quirk is active.” Wada flips the page, “And then activity in these outer sections drops to practically zero? None of this is good in the long term.”

Wada clears his throat, “A lot of your body’s resources are being devoted to vision and memory processing and it has subsequently led to enlargement and increased activity in these areas. This sort of imbalance in brain activity is also linked to a predisposition to depression, paranoia, anxiety, chronic stress and panic disorders. You’ll need to keep an eye on this. I have noted it in your Registry file and recommended yearly quirk assessments. I have also taken the liberty of scheduling some initial appointments with a psychologist at Hosu General,”

All this sounds somewhat familiar. He thinks in he has heard similar warnings about the Sharingan and dōjutsu users being more prone to paranoia and typically having better base reflexes than those without eye-related bloodlines.

Honestly, with the rate Uchiha went insane, is didn't surprise him that the Sharingan messed with the brain in other ways. He always had just chalked it up to the unpleasantness of retaining perfect memories of comrades dying gruesomely.

Of course, he had never hung around the hospital long enough to get a proper diagnosis beyond an understanding that he should keep use to a minimum. The Uchiha had had their own medical centres for Sharingan-related ailments which disappeared with the clan. Not like knowing meant much in the long run. Better to overuse it and suffer hypothetical consequences than underuse it and watch his allies die..

[kajordi]

I Demand to See the Ambassador Story

I DEMAND TO SEE THE AMBASSADOR - read the sign written in beautiful Mkhedruli alphabet, the ancient characters of the Georgian language are delectable and readable to only around 4 million people worldwide. I deciphered the message in less than the 5 steps it took me to walk past it, thanks, in part, to my remarkable ability to read the English translation below it. The man and his two companions held the sign near the impenetrable US Embassy.  My usual curiosity compels me to engage them. What serious issue requires such a demand? My 10 minutes remaining lunch break prevents me from satisfying my inquisitive nature.

I wish people would stop and think about persuasive communication for a bit. Your wife surely loves you, right? How would it go if next time you need to talk about something important you begin with: Wife, I demand you listen to me! Wouldn’t, please give me a minute dear, be far more conducive? 

I enter my dad’s office as I would any other room at home. I announce myself and greet everyone with a hello and a smile. Then quietly sit down and wait on him. I get pacy then sleepy from waiting. My ass hurts after 45 minutes on the darn wooden bench, which, I'm convinced, dad chose brilliantly for the purpose of shortening meetings. I don’t mind waiting. My father is an important man with 900 people under his management. Well, he and the group of cousins. Not anyone has access to my dad. Had it been our trustworthy Olivio, it would have taken him a 5-hour trip to see him and probably an additional four waiting on him to go back feeling very grateful and accomplished in securing some medical treatment favor. I, on the other hand, have access to dad and I am his top priority.

I met the Ambassador the day before. I didn’t recognize her. She was so friendly and interested in me that I felt okay to casually sit by her and chat. The exchange was so delightful that I wanted to remember her name, so I asked someone nearby. That’s when I realized that I had spoken to someone powerful and important. 

I hear President Biden may go down in history as one of America’s great presidents. The complaints against him are rather of being far too personable and treating strangers like dear friends: He spoke too close to me, put his arms on my shoulders, kissed my forehead-type of grievances. I can easily imagine talking about my kids with him as I did with my honorable Ambassador. But this, I will not have the chance to. Biden is an important man. And while I have no doubt he would show interest in our chat, he has a crushing weight of responsibilities to attend to and not enough lifetimes to deal with them.

Pondering about access to powerful people I came to think about the Creator whom I affectionately call Heavenly Father. How many times have I demanded action from Him? He didn’t smack me for my impertinence as my own dad would have. At most, He ignored me a bit. Would it not be more favorable for me to try to be a little more persuasive? To humbly ask for an audience that I don’t deserve based on my bargaining power or merit and show some gratitude for it? 

Then I thought about my friend George, whom I had the pleasure of seeing recently after a couple of years. George says he no longer believes in God. It made me a bit sad. I doubt my sign holder thought about preparing a manifesto or communique to deliver to the Embassy. They would have taken it. I’m pleased my sign holder believes the Ambassador exists and has the power to do something about his situation. Whether my friend George believes in God or not, God can do something about his needs. Whether George notices it, or not, God is pulling strings to his benefit. Yet some people tend to find favor among men. They’ve figured something out. And a further yet, there are a few people that seem to find high levels of favor with God. It would be good for us to figure this one out.