#like my schedule is in the chart. why are you just ignoring it :/
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guys is it crazy that ateez is like genuinely the only thing that gives me enough hope and happiness to not completely lose my shit and die when im off my meds
#can’t get my meds till later this month#yes everyone deserves holidays but i work a. full time job with no access to the outside world the entire work week so#and ive made that very clear. like just give me an appointment and i will take time off work#that’s how bad k neeed my meds!!!!!!!!!!#but nooo let’s close ur chart bc we call u during work hours and then not answer when im able to call when i make time#like i gen csnnot state how many times atz has cheered me up i feel corny saying it#but they genuinely help me so much#still need my meds tho lol love u jongho but i am walking a very thin line king#bom text#sorry just had to rant im ver frustrated it’s been months of this :/ then they have the audacity to act as if it’s my fault#like my schedule is in the chart. why are you just ignoring it :/
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Satoru's Psyche|Escalating
"Should I really have to suffer for my actions?"
Previous SessionSession 2 of 10|Next Session
🗂️Patient Chart Update: Patient Gojo displayed extremely flirtatious and unruly behavior during the first half of his visit. Mentions of escape and kid-napping were noted as well as enforced close proximity with his nurse. Threatening remarks were also made at the end of his lunch in response to mentions of disciplinary action. Patient is scheduled for a bath but is pending the possibility of negative punishment to instill corrective behaviors. 📋Length of Session (w.c): 8.3k out of "i said we will cross that bridge when we get to it 😊" 💊Intake Chart (tags): mild violence but no in-action descriptors, coercion, manipulation, drug use, angst, unwatched close contact and touch, nudity, mentally unstable Gojo, Nurse!Reader ✏️Doctor's angel’s note: i hope you know what you're doing, Nurse 🎼Waiting room music: Overheated|Billie Eilish
Choose wisely.
Hunger stirs in your tummy, and Gojo's words sit with you through lunch. Your spoon clinks around the bowl, stirring the soup growing colder by the second though the growls from your stomach are too obnoxious to be ignored. But your mind wanders.
You're stuck. Earlier, you were all for serving up justice on a silver platter, but now you're seriously second-guessing your "genius" idea to punish Gojo by making him someone else's problem.
As if anyone will be crazy enough to say yes.
Everyone already avoids his wing like the plague. It's kind of an unspoken fact that you are Gojo's one and only. The only staff he allows near him. Anyone else would be playing with fire.
And if someone is brave enough to willingly throw themselves into the lion's den, they definitely can't be new. New to nursing—new to the ward. High expertise is needed here. Someone seasoned—experience which you lack yourself—otherwise, they won't last a second with Gojo.
It'll be way too easy for him to make them snap, like tossing a bone to a dog.
"Persephone." Yuko brings you out of your coma.
You perk up, instinctively smiling. "Hey, what's up?"
"You tell me," she snorts. "You've been playing with your food like break isn't over in 10 minutes." She touches your arm. "Everything ok?"
It's written all over your face, huh? You could deflate right now.
This is why Yuko is your favorite co-worker. Always reading you like a book without you needing to say a word. Quick to call anything off out.
Leaning back in your chair, you huff, rubbing circles into your temples to relieve the headache you didn't know you had.
"Yeah, yeah," you begin, "It's just—" You stop, her eyes hold so much concern and you've barely opened your mouth. Not sure if you should now because you know what kind of person Yuko is.
And if she knew even half of what you don't tell her during your lunch breaks spent complaining about work, she'd hang Gojo out to dry if she could. She often makes it very clear she hates you have to deal with him at all.
"—I'm just a bit tired. Gojo's scheduled for a bath later, him and two others. Gojo's easy but...I don't know. I feel slower than usual today. Definitely won't get home until late, again, because of all these sponge baths." You cringe at the last part.
Aside from trying to keep Yuko cool, you also don't want to risk the news getting back to the Director who could take you off of Gojo completely. No one else can take your place. And who knows what would happen if you disappeared from his roster for good?
How would his threats manifest?
Yuko scoffs, waving her hand.
"Gojo and easy do not go together," and you both shake your heads and laugh. "But I get it. You did come in super early."
"Thought there'd be less of us," you sigh.
"Sonya's been on our asses lately, right? But hey, she finally got us all here."
"A little too late. The damage is done," you pout, resting your elbows on the table, realizing you've accidentally grown used to chaos and ever-changing schedule.
You routinely plan ahead to make sure you can stand up when people fall short. Constantly putting yourself on the back burner seems to be a thing that always set you back.
"Sooo, you just need rest, ya? Nothing else? Gojo—" there she goes "—been 'okay' with you lately?"
Your heart skips. "Ya. he isn't so bad today," you lie, "I'd just love to be home on time for once. Maybe even a bit early, I'm soo close. Overtime's been wringing my neck for weeks."
Yuko looks at you with puppy dog eyes. And not in a "I feel sorry for you" kind of way, but one that almost makes you feel bad for not telling her the whole truth.
"Here," she pushes your soup towards you, "How about I do Gojo's bath and you get an early start on my last two? That way you can at least binge that show you won't shut up about later." She smiles.
You immediately protest.
There's no way you can do that to her.
Yuko never even crossed your mind and was far from your first pick, not because she can't handle him but because she's your friend. Not just a colleague, but someone you actually care about more than anyone else in this run-down job even if she doesn't feel the same.
She's too good of a person, and you'd be the Devil Incarnate if you let her do something so risky. Especially when you can just suck it up and get it over with.
"Woah, woah, it's just a bath, calm down," she says, taking your hands in hers as you ramble on, trying to convince her that you'll be fine or that you'll find someone else. Burdening her is simply out of the question.
"Who else but me, Seph'?" and she tilts her head, "You don't you think I'm as good as you?" And the way she says it, giving you that look she does when you're being stubborn, dares you to challenge her.
Now you really have to think about what to say.
Goddamn it, you regret saying anything at all, but Yuko's so motherly, how could you resist? Hiding from her is impossible, she would've sniffed you out sooner or later.
Easing your pains when she can is her specialty—helping to calm and settle you down when you blow things out of proportion.
Could this be one of those moments? Or are Gojo's words more than just hot air?
The back and forth is killing you, but the combination of Yuko's reassuring touch and your gurgling stomach puts the final nail in the coffin as she reminds you of the time.
Eyes wide, you look at the clock, ticking away faster than you realized, then back at your lukewarm soup.
Denying that you need help would be silly because technically it's true. You probably should've asked the Director for a little Gojo break forever ago, even if just for a few hours a few times a week. It would be better than nothing because if you can't function, Gojo can't be cared for.
So, who better to help bridge that gap for you than Yuko?
The gutsy woman has been your rock ever since you started at the ward, having your back and sticking with you through tough times when staff constantly dips in and out of the facility like a rotating door, unable to handle the job.
Yuko's a real day one, and next to you, she's the most competent nurse in these walls, fully equipped with a "take-no-shit" attitude that routinely keeps her patients in check.
When you really think about it, it'd be silly, downright irresponsible to trust anyone else.
Her offer is simply too good to dismiss.
"Thank you, Yuko," you cave, grabbing your spoon and finally allowing yourself to enjoy your meal. "You're...amazing. I don't deserve you."
She looks on happily. "Just promise me you'll take some personal time after this," she insists, worry evident in her voice. "We both know how much you care, but even superheroes need rest." She's too kind and right in more ways than one. "Besides, I think Gojo will like me, ya? I'm cool. I'm fun. He'll like a friend of friend?"
You roll your eyes—ya, totally, cool people definitely say they're cool.
Not knowing whether to joke back or wave her off, you softly smile at her concern before nodding, vowing to make good on your promise and feel a bit lighter knowing your wish for early release will actually come true.
Maybe.
The latest threat to your miracle in the making is Mr. Hampton, who is personally making it his business to drag the already long day by its edges, almost bringing time to a standstill with the way he's handling his bath.
Enormous and lumbering, the man Yuko usually deals with took his sweet time gathering his things and even longer trekking down the seemingly endless halls leading to the bathing area. Occupying every inch of the space like those massive trucks that hog the interstate, yet inching along at a pace that makes a snail look like it's in a sprint.
All that was missing were the yellow hazard lights.
Oh no, please, take your time, you think, watching Mr. Hampton clean each limb painstakingly s l o w in a tub that's comically too small for him. You may have been able to rush through Yuko's first patient, but this one wanted all that time back.
His pace resembles a giant's, and his cheery, nonsensical hums echo around the hollow chambers and lull you to sleep, turning your eyes into bricks under the spell of his melody. Perfect timing for the energy drinks from early to crash you out, tag teaming with the chair beneath you that feels a bit too soft as you lean over the tub, willing the colossal man to hurry up.
Warm water flows over your skin as you scrub circles on his neck, deciding to bite the bullet and take over the bath so he can play with the bubbles and get out when you hear a blood-curdling scream.
Your entire body goes rigid, shock reverberating through your spine and forcing you to halt as your mind goes blank. But steamy water brings you back to life, drenching your shirt and upper thighs when Mr. Hampton jumps from the noise.
The rude awakening makes you lock in.
The scream. It sounds like...no, you know it came from the west wing...where Gojo is.
And Yuko.
Hurried steps rush past your door, sounds of multidirectional distress and frantic shouts echoing through the corridor—staff members and patients alike sweep into a whirlwind of panic.
You're number one, dropping the scrubber and scrambling to help Mr. Hampton out of the tub, hands shaking as he grips them.
A security guard bursts into the room, face ashen and jaw tight.
"Nurse! We need everyone in the west wing, immediately!" The command is sharp, laced with an urgency you've never seen before.
And immediately feel responsible for.
"There's been an incident."
Without another thought, you wrap Mr. Hampton in a towel, trying your best to assure him that everything is fine when your obviously trembling body says nothing is. His confused gaze follows you as you lead him back to his room, the commotion in the air moving him a lot faster than earlier before you rush back out and head straight for the west wing—where chaos reigns supreme.
The usually pristine floors, normally squeaky clean due to lack of traffic, are now barely visible. Staff members crowd the familiar hall for the first time since Gojo made it his own, filling the space with more bodies than you're used to and making it difficult to find the source of trouble.
Not like you need to. The truth is painfully clear, and it's disrespectful to even pretend you don't know exactly what went wrong.
You push through the masses, clumsily bumping shoulders, your heart beating into your ears and making the world seem quiet as you inch closer and closer to disaster. Dragging imaginary shackles on your feet until you all but collapse once you spot it.
Gojo—barely restrained by guards, straitjacket nowhere in sight—standing absolutely furious.
And for the first time today, time seems to slow down, your mouth suddenly becoming dry when you look past him.
Yuko.
Halfway out the door to his room. Sprawled out on the ground. Bruised, unconscious, and no signs of breathing.
Your hands fly to your lips, mouth agape. Murmurs from the crowd swirl around you before attendants rush to Yuko's side, knocking into your pathetic frame as you stand too frozen to move.
They gently pick her up, careful to handle her motionless body and place her on a stretcher. Her usually vibrant face is drained of color, twisting the dagger in your chest when you spot the subtle rise and fall of her chest. Fighting for breath.
Fighting.
It hits you like a train.
Someone as kind as her, always greeting you with warmth and empathy and capacity every time she sees you, should never have to lift a finger let alone fight for her life. The sight is too much to bear.
Waves of helplessness crash over you and you can't even look at her. Regretting with every ounce of your being that you sent her in your place. Knowing this could happen. Concerned only with your silly wants and needs.
But you're so confused.
The ward should have weakened Gojo—Yuko should have been fine. The only threat Gojo has up his sleeve is mental torture but Yuko might as well be Freud. Her mind is sound, strong.
And that's where you fucked up, forgetting that Gojo's pure strength, especially when he's lost his fucking mind and triggered, is stronger.
Even with his security system in place, the devil is still powerful enough on his own. And like this was some sick and twisted experiment to help you figure that out, Yuko was the one to pay the price.
"I warned, I WARNED YOU!" Gojo's words pierce the overlapping voices like a sword, breaking your shock and drawing everyone's attention to the strange interaction between the two of you. "I don't like to be touched by strangers, Nurse." Guards struggle to restrain him as he pulls away.
All eyes fall on you and the stares are intense. Confusion and judgment.
Why was Yuko here in the first place?Where was Seph’?How’d he get out?How did this happen?
Whether the murmurs are real or in your head, the effect is all the same, and you wish you could just completely vanish. Standing like a deer in headlights—and they're so fucking bright.
But Gojo is brimming with malice and amusement, chaotic energy pulsing from the hellish man and threatening to send sparks flying. Daring someone to be brave and push the button.
But despite his outward display of dominance, the pure rage on his face that makes you feel sick to your stomach about every decision you've ever made, there's something...uncertain lurking behind those fiery eyes.
Something like...apprehension.
Like he knows he's done something wrong.
Yet, words escape you, as if anything needs to or even could be said. But soon, fear and guilt turn to anger, threatening to consume you. Ready to eat you alive and spit out the bones with disgust because you are not a victim.
You have no right to stand here, spineless, shocked, or feeling even a little sorry for yourself. Holding back tears because you know what you've done.
Your fists clench, unsure how to deal with it, but there's fire in your eyes because someone needs to pay.
But then you exhale, thoughts shifting to Yuko as you take a good look around at what happened the last time you decided to take things into your own hands. All of your actions, even now, are rooted in selfishness. Like you've learned nothing.
Pushing down the knot growing in your stomach, you turn away to follow the medics, deciding your friend needs you more than you need revenge. Gojo doesn't deserve any more of your attention, even if it means risking your job or life to turn your back on him.
And there's nothing Gojo hates more than being ignored.
Struggled and strained noises grow louder. Guards tighten their grip on the fuming man whose raw strength outnumbers thousands of them even without his cursed energy.
You look back, their determination to keep him contained making you nervous. You don't anyone else to get hurt and Gojo is fully exploiting that.
You're painfully aware that your decisions have put you in this position, watching the guards' valiant but increasingly pointless effort to prevent Gojo from causing further harm. But it's obviously a losing fight, and the unease on their faces is unmistakably clear.
You wonder why they don't just run like hell.
"Let's go," a guard barks, but Gojo remains fixed in place. Moving a boulder would be easier.
"No, I'm filthy," Gojo protests, smirking, "And if I don't have my bath soon, there will be hell to pay."
Seeing no one else in the room, his eyes are locked only on you, his expression a menacing promise that would send anyone else running for the hills. A look that says, "Try that shit again, and there will be casualties instead of mercy."
Reinforcements are called but it won't be enough. The goddamn military wouldn't be enough. Gojo is...the strongest, after all.
"Stop."
Your cry freezes the room. Everything goes silent.
You hesitate, fuck, what should you do?
What can you do? No one else can suffer—no one else should suffer. Because of you.
Taking a deep, shaky breath, you silently apologize to Yuko, swallowing a lump instead of looking back.
"I'll do it," you say firmly, "Just stop this and...and I'll give you your bath. Please—" The sharpest pang you've ever felt cuts through you. "—just don't hurt anyone else."
Pathetic. But necessary.
He looks into your pleading eyes with surprise, amazement even, before smiling.
The submission in your voice sounds better than anything he could ever imagine. A sweet tones that feed his already inflated ego.
Unsure of how to proceed, the guards exchange uneasy glances.
Gojo's strength is undeniable, that much is evident, and restraining him forever is simply not possible.
You know offering to give him what he wants is risky as hell...but this is your doing. Your mess to clean up.
So you squeeze your sweaty palms and give a decisive nod, signaling at the guards to let him go. They hesitate a second, then reluctantly agree, stepping back and leaving Gojo standing smugly before you.
Closing your eyes, you breathe, hating to have to look at him, but needing to stay strong. For Yuko. For yourself. And everyone else in the ward.
But Gojo's satisfied grin says it all. He's won this round.
You're ready to get the next over with.
The squeaking of your shoes has never been this loud, each echo bouncing off the empty halls and reminding you of how alone you are.
Alone—with a psychopath.
A bit more docile, doped-up psychopath but, the man could probably still rip someone's head clean off if he wanted to.
Still, Gojo despises anything that alters his body—mentally, physically, all of the above. Alcohol, medication, coffee, energy drinks—anything that threatens his need for absolute control.
But he also needed to compromise, and you refused to be alone with him again unless he took something stronger. Otherwise, it would be you, all the guards in the ward, and a pay-per-view premiere of his bath time.
He knew he had to agree because his ass is not for free, but only if you took it as well.
You blinked, hard.
You knew he would be skeptical—hell, it could be poison, and he wouldn’t blame you. But to suggest something so ridiculous?
"Half, then," he said, as if that made his suggestion any less idiotic, but, as you waited for your supervisor to dismiss the insane idea, the back and forth with Gojo actually didn't save you. And you didn't need to ask why. The entire ward shoots daggers at you any time someone walks by now.
Your supervisor reassured you that you'd be fine, the mild tranquilizer would be out of your system by the end of the day, then she patted your back as if to say, "Lay in the bed you made."
It felt unreal, holding the familiar pill between your fingers, one you were used to dishing out but now had to take.
With a quick snap, you broke it in half, holding his half out to the leering man. Gaze unwavering as he leaned forward and parted his lips, waiting. Taking a deep breath, you placed them both on your tongues, in disbelief at your reality, but Gojo's focus was elsewhere, not wasting this prime opportunity to rattle you more and taste you, closing his lips around your fingertip with a quick lick before you snatched away.
But it wasn’t quick enough to avoid the tingles shooting up your arm as you swallowed, no longer needing the water you had set aside, and a confusing mix of emotions churned as the tingles spread throughout your body.
Making good on his promise, he swallowed his own, still watching you with a knowing glint in his eyes. Like he knows what he does to you. And despite just witnessing this man's violence firsthand, you'd give anything to deny that he still has an effect on you. Hating yourself for being more concerned with the way he looked at you and the lingering sensation on your skin than the tranquilizer now coursing through your system.
The guards carefully lead you and Gojo to his private bathroom—they're more there for show than for protection, but you'll take what you can get, and they keep a firm grip on his replacement straitjacket.
You trail behind, mind buried with thoughts of what to say once you're really alone with him.
The door shuts behind you, followed by the familiar sound of a series of locks clicking shut. "We'll be right outside," one of the guards mutters, eyes shifting between you and Gojo, a stereotypical warning lacing his voice, but even he probably doesn't believe it.
"Perv," Gojo sneers and laughs, but you don't find a damn thing funny, the keys to his jacket digging into your palms as you spin around and face him, furious. What would be better? Slapping him, kicking him, or knocking his teeth out. Or should you be particularly evil and just let him sit in the shower, fully restrained and drenched in cold water and you let it rain down. None of the above will do you any good, but it'll show him exactly how done you are with his shit.
"That isn't funny. None of this is funny," it fumes out before you know you're speaking, "You've hurt someone—you hurt my friend." Your rage echos through the vast bathroom.
Gojo's laugh fades, his smug expression slipping from his face. Even you're surprised.
...oh shit.
You're actually confronting him.
The intense words burn through his usual arrogance, leaving a heavy, uncomfortable silence between you.
Then, for a fleeting second, his face does something weird.
Something you haven't seen before as his eyebrows draw together. Is that...regret?
"I'm sorry."
The record scratches. You’re fully positive you must be dreaming.
But when he doesn’t make a joke or even crack a smile, you squint at him.
The words are muttered and reluctant, but there they are, hanging in the air between you.
"It...won't happen again."
And he's serious, the same seriousness you see when his heart races as you take his vitals...but why? Because an apology? From him?? Unheard of.
Gojo has said some nasty things to you in the past that you've immediately scolded him for, but he's never apologized. He'd make a note when certain jokes didn't land, but he never took them back, preferring to cut out his own tongue than to waste his breath being sorry.
You know better than to take anything Gojo says at face value, but...what the fuck??? You almost feel offended.
He has to be joking, fucking with you to dig even deeper under your skin.
Or is he?
Fuck, you don't know how to feel.
He's so good at that, stealing the air back and hanging his words in them. Tempting you to pause and even consider if he ever truly means them. If he could mean them. The mind games are endless.
But then, the familiar cockiness returns and overshadows your doubts, twisting your stomach into knots with that familiar smile of his.
"Now," he says, strutting towards the stalls, "let's get this bath started, shall we?" And his easy, but confident steps call you to follow, a stark reminder of who you're dealing with. But he never knows when to quit. "Or should I really have to suffer for my actions?" and the bastard pouts.
Though you know he's being sarcastic and not to feed into his taunts, you can't help but wonder—what would suffering even look like for someone like Gojo?
Violence? Physical pain? A slow and agonizingly painful death?
But the guy is damn near invincible. What on earth could hurt him?
Whatever it is, it would have to be his absolute worst nightmare, but nothing comes to mind at the moment other than frustration because you have to keep making choices.
Return his energy or keep it professional? Tolerance or revenge?
"Apologizing won't cut it," you snap and gesture at his jacket, wondering how the hell he slipped out of the first one without leaving a trace. "And no tricks, or those guards will be back in here faster than you can tell another lame joke."
Smooth.
Gojo sighs sooo dramatically, like he can see straight through your kitty claws. "Fine, fine. Loosen up," he drags, "I won't cause any trouble. Just don't go getting any ideas now, Nurse." and he winks.
He's insufferable—but despite your smoldering anger, tendrils of doubt still creep in.
Your fingers slightly tremble as you begin to unfasten his straps, but each click feels a bit like victory, a fragile illusion of your 'control'—at least for now—because at the end of the day, Gojo had chosen you to listen to. And after today, he's sure you won't forget there isn't room for anyone else.
The jacket falls with a heavy thud, your eyes immediately scanning his upper body in search of any signs of injury or stress. The cascading bruises on his arms surprise you.
They feel so feeble in your hands; the evidence of him not as invincible as he seems is jarring. Pale, weak, and resting between your fingers. Devoid of the power that makes him so feared.
"Never seen bruises before," he tilts his head, "at least not on me"
You hope Yuko was at least partly responsible for the marks on the villain, but they appear self-inflicted, and he's not as mobile.
Fuck, now you'll have to bathe him too. Still, it's strange, seeing him like this. Even weirder knowing that he could still do damage in this state and you can't shake the feeling of this temporary 'truce'. If it isn't obvious by now, you've learned that Gojo always has something up his sleeve.
Warm water soothes you a bit, flowing over your fingers as it fills the large white tub—pristine, imported from somewhere far away, and standing on decorative claw feet. Your eyes wouldn't stop rolling the first time you saw it, completely annoyed with Gojo's over-the-top alterations and sense of style, but you'd be a liar if you said you never thought about sinking your body into it.
The best you could do was cope with the little porcelain tub in your apartment, and you get lost thinking about how you'd love to take a long, hot, and steamy bath when you get home—if you'll even have the energy. There's no way you'll be leaving early now, not like you deserve it, and you feel sick for even thinking about it. You doubt you'll even have a job tomorrow.
You look so defeated Gojo thinks, sauntering forward and lifting the hem of his shirt. You turn away, focusing instead on the temperature of the water, but the rustling sound of his shirt being pulled overhead and pants falling to the ground warms your cheeks.
His physique certainly isn't lacking, even in his current state, but still, you wonder how such a slim but toned frame could be so...powerful.
Could you be more obvious? Your flickering eyes are so telling, shamefully darting between him and the water, but he catches your gaze from the corner of his eye as if he's read your mind. How cute, he thinks, trying to hide away your thoughts.
Clearing your throat, you toss in his loofah. "Well...go on. It's ready." But Gojo only grins, amused by your attempts to look away despite seeing his muscled frame a number of times. Relishing in the fact that he still manages to fluster you.
"Your shirt," he eyes your top, "Your pants. Looks like you've already started without me."
The water stains from earlier sit beautifully across your chest, not yet fully dry, and drawing his eyes to your semi-erect nips.
His teeth tug at his bottom lip, eyes shamelessly raking over your hefty chest. "Always such a tease, aren't you, Nurse?"
You grit your teeth, cursing the conflict swirling in your stuttering heart, fully aware of the thin line between professionalism and this game of intimacy he refuses to stop playing. Everything is always a game no matter the circumstances. And he loves to push your buttons.
"Just get in, Gojo," you order, and after what feels like an eternity, the silence is broken by the sound of splashing water as he steps into the bath.
He slowly sinks in, sighing at the warmth of the water. Ringlets of steam engulf him, almost making his silky white hair disappear with it.
His arms string over the rim of the tub, a look of relaxation resting on his face as if he's had a long, hard day. You resist the urge to slap it off.
Sudsy bubbles form from the solution you pour under the faucet, hoping to shield your eyes from his body. You've seen enough today and expect the mini-rebellious act to piss him off, but as the bubbles grow, so do his eyes. Picking up a handful, he actually starts playing with them.
"Nice touch," he adds, blowing them right into your face, and you watch with a tight lip as he decorates the bathroom with them, knowing you'll be the one to clean it all up.
He sits a crown on his head and gives himself a bubble beard, nipping your nose with some that you're quick to wipe away, and his pale eyes flutter and settle on you in a curious way.
His arms flex as he leans over the edge—steam-slicked sweat dripping down his face that he doesn't bother to wipe away. "I'm ready for my sponge bath," he says, and if it was hard to take him seriously before, it's damn near impossible now—especially with that ridiculous bubble mustache.
Sickening, him still being so playful, so unserious, at a time like this.
You know Gojo's unhinged, yeah, quote, "mentally unwell and a literal danger to society", but to nearly take someone's life and then make jokes afterward?
God, you feel so stupid, walking around him like you were the shit but with the wrong guard up the whole time, playing right into his hands and accidentally rewarding this grown-ass man who likes to play with suds.
The reality of your circumstances replays in your head, the story of how you ended up here, coddling this monster, and you're still confused as hell as to why it had to be you.
Then again, this is what you signed up for...right? To heal. To help those who can't help themselves. To offer redemption some sort of redemption no matter how sick and twisted the person in need is.
With your loofah in hand, you resist the urge to roll your eyes for the 400th time today and keep your morals in mind. "Keep talking like that and I'll stop, Gojo," you say, reluctantly drenching the tool in soap before proceeding to do your job.
Gently washing his back, he sinks into your touch, closing his eyes and letting his body completely rest on the cool cast iron, breathing. Feeling like he's won no matter what you say because your scrubs feel like magic.
Across his arms and over his broad shoulders, you work your way down, bubbles glistening in your trail as you're careful not to miss a single inch of skin but don't linger too long.
Every now and then, you catch glimpses of raised marks between the foam, and because you hate yourself, your brain absolutely refuses to give you a break. You have to give kudos to his dedication to his craft. The muscle definition, the scar tissue telling stories of battles won, the evidence of his past before corruption—everything it takes to be a hero.
It's unsettling, yet fascinating, the polarity between his beauty and his monstrous deeds.
You've never really noticed because this level of care is another first for you. Usually, Gojo just hops into the shower and takes care of himself while you wait outside—easy and thorough but always taking his sweet time, all while loudly singing some annoying song that inevitably ends up stuck in your head.
But after today, it'll be impossible to trust him or you again, and the hushed whispers as the guards walked you both to the restrooms made that abundantly clear.
The pitiful thoughts seep into the way you hesitantly clean him, moving down to his chest and abs while making sure to avoid more sensitive areas, but the malicious glint in his eyes is unmistakable.
"Whatsamatter, Nurse?" Gojo taunts, feeling you slow around his stomach, "Afraid of gettin' too close?" And you can't believe you're praying for a speedy recovery for this monster so he can handle this himself again.
You ignore his comment and try to get this over with as quickly as possible, feeling humiliated enough as it is and he can sense it, mocking you with a laugh.
"You're so uptight. Can't you just relax and enjoy the view?"
God, please make him shut up, begging for relief so you won't scrub his cocky brow right off his face. "Just doing my job," you mutter, twice squeezing the loofah that feels a little funny in your hand as the soapy water rinses his chest.
It feels heavenly on his skin, but the subtle change in your movements makes his brows furrow. Slowing, more deliberate, heavy as if you're wading through molasses. You keep adjusting your grip but the material feels so strange—the texture almost too soft like it could melt into your palm.
Your breath catches when you brush his skin, not realizing how close your fingers drifted to the edge of the sponge, and though it was only a second, it sends an unexpected jolt through his chest.
The muscle relaxers. How could you have already forgotten, you both think.
But Gojo, ever observant, doesn't miss a thing.
His eyes narrow slightly as he watches you. "Feeling a little funny, Nurse?" His velvet voice teases.
"I'm fine," you lie, though you couldn't be less certain as the muscles in your hands start to relax more than you intended, the sponge gliding over his abs, and down his sides, the rhythm almost hypnotic and making his head fall back. You try to push through the haze, to finish quickly and be free of him, but you're losing the battle against numbness and heightened awareness.
And fuck, he has to bite his lip at your touch that suddenly feels so intense, a sensation too good to keep to himself, and one that you obviously need to stop being such a tight-ass.
You need to loosen up in a way that medicine can't help. And Gojo knows just the trick.
He licks his lips, tongue curling over his canine before splashing a wave of water on you in one swoop.
Saying you gasp is an understatement as the steamy wash drenches your face and front once again, setting a new record as you're hit not once, but twice in a day. The loofah slips from your hand as you instinctively reach up to shield yourself, but Gojo is quicker, wrapping his hands around your wrists and holding you in place.
A scream is ready to surge from your body when Gojo maneuvers both of your wrists into one hand, placing a finger to your lips.
"Ssssh ssh ssh ssh ssh," he hushes, his voice a little too calm, "I'm not going to hurt you." A lone droplet hangs from your eyelash and he swipes it. "I just want you to listen."
You freeze, your nerves on fire as you're forced into close proximity with him for the second time today, inches away from his face that gradually softens.
Though you can easily call for help, you know better than to argue—he knows you know better too but he never felt threatened in the first place. Besides, he can feel your breathing slowing, the effects of the pill combined with his firm hold sending a faint buzz from your wrists to your stomach, and his finger remains on your lips as he brings his closer.
His eyes flicker to your bottom lip. "You're so good at your job, Nurse," smoothly pulling it with his thumb. "That's why I like you. You're thorough but real. Just what I need to keep me sane."
Sane?
"Sane," he repeats like he's heard your thoughts. "Believe it or not, you keep me grounded...like a good boy. Be proud, not a single soul here or anywhere else can compare to me, let alone deal with me, and yet...here you are." He looks at you like you're a marvel. "You can handle that...can't you?"
Words fail you. This feels rhetorical. Why does he keep torturing you like this? What is it about you?
You haven't really thought about it since your first few weeks with him but now he's forcing you to think about the little 'power' he's given you that he can easily snatch back.
What happens if he decides to go further than flirting?
You can't handle it, any of this.
Hesitating, you're unsure of what to say but know it could never be the truth.
Gojo must sense it because he leans closer, his breath warm on your cheek.
"If you leave, I just might crack completely, beauty." A breath you didn't realize you were holding slips. "How do you think everyone else will do against me then, hmm?" Gojo knows he's a prodigy, but still manages to surprise himself sometimes, his eyes lingering over the spots on your uniform soaked through just enough to make the fabric cling—perfect aim.
Ice shoots up your spine from the heat of his unadulterated gaze, but you refuse to let him see you falter, and he can almost feel a prick from the daggers in your eyes.
"Oh, don't be like that," he purrs, thumbs grazing your wrists in a mockingly gentle touch. "We all have our boundaries, right? I thought communication was key in a relationship."
"Let go of me," you find your voice, "We're done here."
His head slightly tilts.
Look at you calling the shots, he thinks. So strong, so very serious.
"God, I can't help it," he breathes, "You're so fun to mess with."
He could laugh in your face, have his way with you, and show you that your resistance means nothing, but instead, he slowly releases your wrists and lies back against the tub. "I know you think about it—there's nothing wrong with a little fun...right?" and though the connection is severed, you don't know if it's the drugs or just him that makes his amplified touch linger as you sheepishly rub your wrists.
Gojo watches you blush red—thoughts you didn't know lived within you rushing to the forefront as if he's pushed a button.
Grimy, raw, unwanted thoughts of forbidden fruit, wandering hands, and stolen touches in the dark, wondering what his idea of "fun" is like under the sheets. With a psycho named Gojo.
You feel like you should throw up in disgust but the nausea never comes, burning hot between your legs instead.
Fuck, you have to get out of here.
You draw a breath, forcing away the torturous daydreams and quickly finish his bath.
"You should rest," you firmly say and pull the plug to let the tub drain. "And don't expect any more favors from me."
He sits up slow, his expression stone-cold as he slicks back his wet hair. Then he smiles. "I promise. Now dry me off?" he quips.
You ignore his request, swiftly handing him a towel before he can flash you. With a gruff, you lower to your knees, beginning to dry the floor of his messes and hoping to distract yourself from your questionable sanity.
The sounds of rustling fabric fill the chamber as he dries off, and once you figure it's safe, you look up to find a nude Gojo. Dripping with bubbles, hair plastered to his derpy face, and toned muscles, all the muscles, presenting themselves in all their glory.
The only things dry are his damn hands.
He throws the towel over his shoulder, sauntering towards you with a wicked grin.
"Well, aren't you gonna help me put this thing back on?" He nods at the jacket he knows is more bullshit than security. "Don't want you getting all worked up again."
The first time your brain registered that Gojo was flirting with you was on your third day as his nurse.
"Well, aren't you a breath of fresh air?" Gojo was sitting on his bed, leaning against the wall. It was the second time he'd noticed how sluggish you looked while tending to him, suggesting with a grin that you must be quite the party animal.
Ha. If only.
You tsked, tossing his bedsheets into the hamper, and assured him that your sleepy eyes and dragging feet were the result of long hours and running on fumes. Having time for fun was just a dream.
"I don't get out much myself," he says, alluding to the situation he's in, wearing sarcasm like a necklace. "I love a good night in as much as anyone else but, I don't know. The stuffiness hasn't grown on me yet."
You tugged the collar of your scrubs—the air did feel a bit thick, like the room hadn't been aired out in ages and you couldn't help but wonder how long he'd been sitting in it—how he could. That alone would be enough to drive you up a wall.
Sunlight flickered in your eyes, and you raised your hand to block it, noticing the small window perched above his chair.
"Let's open this then," you said, walking over and wrestling with the ancient wood for a moment before finally pulling the creaky flap up to the ceiling.
A sliver of your midriff peeked out as you stood on your toes to reach it, but what captured Gojo's attention most was the way the sun rays washed over your face. You scrunched your nose, the breeze sending wisps of your hair to tickle it, and he imagined the feel of your strands between his fingers.
The view was beautiful, you thought, hands gripping the warm bars. Trees surrounded the vast area, stretching out as far as you could see, the pathway to civilization completely covered in dense forest from this angle.
You never realized how high up his ward was—or how long the drop was from here.
"Too bad I'm not small enough to slip through those bars." He rubbed his stomach. "But you know me, 'Mr. BigBack.'"
He joked around as he usually did, looking to trigger your defenses, but your reaction was...odd.
Not only was this the first time anyone cared to do something so simple for Gojo, but it was also the closest anyone had gotten to him without their knees buckling.
The first two days of your trial, the Director had guards posted right outside of Gojo's door, their presence a constant reminder to stay alert and maintain a safe distance from the convict. Gojo was positive the mental barrier would keep a wall between you forever.
But then, you laughed. A real laugh. Snickery and cute. Finding his joke funny instead of threatening.
It surprised him, that sound, so natural and pure without hesitation. And he wanted to hear it again and again and again. "Who knew you could bring so much light into this place?" he sighed.
Later at lunch, you sat with Yuko, having your usual midday catch-up. You never start with yours but she, like most people in the ward then, was absolutely dying to hear about how you were dealing with the villain of the century.
"He's actually not so bad...yet. Corny, but," you took a pondering breath, "He kind of thanked me today?"
She immediately scoffed and waved you off, and who could blame her?
You were an anomaly, Gojo already showed that he was capable of mercy and now he was thanking you??
Being polite was too far of a stretch to believe, you must have been mistaken. But when you gave her the deets on why he'd do such a thing, she nearly choked on her apple. "He said that??"
"Ya?" You patted her back with a concerned look.
"Watch out, Casanova," she teased, clearing her throat with a nervous laugh.
Her comment threw you off for the rest of lunch, but when you thought about it later that night while surfing for new shows, a light bulb went off.
He flirted with you.
Thinking it was just another one of those literal dry-humor jokes or simply gratitude for making his stay a little less crappy, it flew right over your head. You always feel warm inside when you help people so you didn't think too much about it.
To you, it was just a kudos. Nothing more.
But the way Gojo stands in front of you now is everything.
As bold and brash as it gets.
Fuck. Me.
And your body betrays you, sending all of the vulnerable sensations you've been fighting to suppress from your soaking chest, tingling wrists, aching thighs, and heavy breath, straight to your throbbing clit.
Air escapes you and you couldn't feel more conflicted, scrambling to grab your supplies and leave.
Enough is enough. The guards outside can restrain him and escort him back to his room for all you care. You just have to get out of there.
Away from him.
Away from temptation.
Hot, overwhelming, guilty, mentally and physically unstable temptation.
In the quiet of the hallway a level below Gojo's ward, you lean against a wall, taking deep breaths and completely disgusted with yourself.
How are you supposed to keep dealing with this, with him?
This force that keeps pushing and pushing and pushing you to the edge until there's nowhere else to go. You can only imagine the hell the nurses he didn't like went through.
Taking care of him isn't getting any easier, and now you were fucking up and making mistakes.
But you're the only one who can do this. Who must.
So suck it up. Play along, Stop thinking only of yourself. Pretend.
Pretend.
Pretend?
...
What terrifies you the most is the thought that you may not have to.
You keep your scrambled thoughts to yourself when you're called into your Director's office at the end of the day.
You tell him the same story you told Yuko and take full responsibility for what happened, blaming it on exhaustion and needing a break. Swearing to never let it happen again.
By some miracle, you get to keep your job, though your one wish to leave early ended up costing you an hour and a half of unpaid overtime, and almost a friendship.
When you finally get home, you collapse onto your bed—images of the day, the ward, and Yuko flooding your thoughts, refusing to be pushed aside. You tell yourself that it's just the guilt talking, just anxiety gnawing at your edges.
But then there's Gojo.
The most prominent one of all.
Staring you in the face with lifeless eyes and a ghostly smile. Tugging on your moral strings like a puppet.
When you close your eyes, you can't shake the feeling that he's waiting for you, a lurker in the shadows watching and anticipating your every move. Have you become predictable? Now you're wondering if you could do something he wouldn't expect.
Leave it. Leave it. Le—
You're scrolling through your phone on a deep-diving, scouring the web for any info on your tormentor.
His past, his affiliations, anything to tell you who Gojo was, and who he is now.
But the man is an anomaly.
Not much is known about him outside of mainstream news and internet rumors.
He's just this guy that kind of popped out of nowhere in the worst way possible, conveniently on the tail of what could have been the most devastating incident in the history of Tokyo.
The media says he's a hero gone rogue but not much else. They've damned him to hell and that was that. Even the Director disclosed very little about him during your briefing and you weren't allowed access to his files or records because it's all 'confidential'.
Nothing.
The more you search, you less that comes up. Not even silly conspiracy theories that you definitely thought would be riddling Reddit. The longer you scroll, the more you find yourself beginning to question your own mind. Your interest. Sweet little buds of obsession.
Even though you hated taking it earlier, you actually need the pill now more than ever to relax as sleep eludes you and your mind wanders to imaginary scenarios as you stare at the ceiling.
Tomorrow, you'll have to face Gojo again. And the day after that and the day after that and every day after.
In between your nearly non-existent off days, you'll have to see him and decide what face you want to put on.
Because you simply cannot walk away.
After all, he's right—no one else can handle him like you can.
extended angel's note:
when i originally decided to make this into short story, i had no plans on using a y/n perspective. it was just going to feature an OC name i’ve used in stories before, named Persephone, buuuut i decided to wanted to keep it immersive and include no physical descriptors/personality specifics bc i knew i wanted to upload it to tumblr.
to keep it reader-friendly, yk?
alas, Persephone has had her claws in me the entire time i’ve been editing and said with her whole chest that i couldn't just dismiss her like that chile. so i decided changed the perspective but keep her name in place of y/n.
you won’t see it too often in the story bc it’s not super significant or said a lot in general, bUT it is relevant for a certain moment later in the story. you’ll know when you know 🤭.
anyway, hope it doesn't bother you guys too much. and def feel free to mentally plug your name when you see it to keep yourself grounded into the story.
tag list p.1: @reddiamondjazz @kiwismoother @rune1920 @blkkizzat @suguwife
@xerroe @enthyn @gloomuri671 @ressyshi @startatdawn
@khenanadeche @heijihatsutori @inluvkai @ixqiix @strawnanamilk
@rosso-seta @05-simply-06-simping @sims-4lifers @bratidol @rh-tg1
@hyunsuks-beanie @n1vi @luna-v-roiya @neteyamsluvr111 @supsiii
@natadecoco30 @chiyokoemilia @ririoutspoken @kyoxko @strawberrymilkshakes-posts
@nen-nyy @cinnamorochiroll @kazeniya @maybe7tommorow @sxnkuna
@misoyuh @lupitalove @sebastianlover @gojosatorubrainrot @sleepiebunniee
@mmmidkman @theonecrackhead @thathorsegotpoobrain @iveivory @samistar
@yuuan-66 @gojoslefttoenail @soyalovestoyap @winkwonks-world @thebiggestsimpforyou
#bluuharem#gojo x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#jjk fanfic#jjk imagines#jjk x y/n#gojo x you#gojo x y/n#gojou satoru x reader#jjk smut#gojo smut#jjk gojo#satoru x reader#satoru x you#satoru x y/n#Satoru Psyche
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[for the @calaisreno May Prompts Tour, which affords me the opportunity to be supremely self-indulgent]
(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) 13: laugh (14) (15) (16) (17) (18) (19) (20) (21) (22) (23) (24) (25) (26) (27) (28) (29) (30) (31)
Is this still the number for John Watson?
John pauses, thumb hovering. Before he can choose a response, another message flashes in.
It's Harry
He nearly drops the phone. Or maybe he nearly throws it against the wall. Hard to say.
His reflex to caretake wars with his lingering resentment of her absence. But he knows he would regret ignoring an olive branch… or whatever this is.
Hi
Everything okay?
No small talk, got it
Yes I'm fine, good in fact
and no I'm not going to ask you for money
He breathes in deeply.
I'm glad things are going well for you
And he is, at least in the abstract.
Thanks
I know this is the part where I'm supposed to ask how you are
But you know I'm pants at texting
Can we just have coffee or something?
John taps his phone to his lip absently and considers his options. A public reunion seems like it could be a volatile mistake, not to mention it's 7pm on a weekday. Sherlock is at the lab, Rosie is having her after-supper blanket time, and John is catching up on charting.
And to be honest, he's pretty bored.
Come to mine for tea?
Harry's three dots wibble for a while, which John supposes is fair.
Right now?
With my schedule, I have to take opportunities where I can
Okay, yeah, I'm free
He sends her the address, feeling both pleased and annoyed. One would think that hitting his own rock bottom would make him more sympathetic towards his sister. But really, it just piles helpless anger on top of guilt on top of anger, ad nauseum.
He's not even sure she knows he's a father, for Christ's sake.
Turns out, she doesn't. She walks through the door he holds open for her, and stops abruptly when she sees Rosie. 'Oh my God,' she breathes, staring. 'Oh my God. You--' She turns to John, eyes wide. 'She-- Johnny. She's yours?'
He nods, and despite everything, he feels his face curve into a proud smile. 'Her name's Rosie.'
'Can I--' Harry indicates the blanket with a sharp movement. 'Can I say hello to her?'
'Yeah, course.' He follows her, and folds himself down behind Rosie. 'Sweetheart, this is your Aunt Harry.'
Harry makes a bit of a squawking noise, probably at the 'aunt' bit, but tamps it down. 'Hi, Rosie,' she manages, her voice rough but determined. 'It's lovely to meet you. What are you playing with?'
'Avocados,' Rosie mostly manages to say, then holds one up for Harry without hesitation. Harry takes it with a giggle, and before long they're thick as thieves with a pile of emoting avocados between them.
Harry glances up at him when there's a lull. 'So. The dad life is treating you well, yeah?'
He hesitates, then nods. 'It is now.'
She eyes him, but doesn't ask about what came before now. Instead, she says, 'I'm just going to ask, alright -- who's the other parent?'
He raises an eyebrow. 'Why d'you say there is one?'
Her eyes twinkle. 'Because you do not have the fashion sense to have bought her this outfit. Your bird rich, then?'
He coughs. 'Well. No.'
She waits, though he can see she's trying not to be annoyed by his reticence. She's never understood people wanting to keep things private. 'No?'
'My… flatmate. He's able to buy her things I don't give a toss about, yeah.'
She blinks. 'You have a gay flatmate?'
John feels his ears heat up. 'I do, yeah.'
She seems weirdly impressed. 'You've come a long way from being a rugby lad, haven't you?'
He snorts. 'I'm learning how to do plaits, if you'll believe it.'
'She's not got enough hair for that yet.'
'Sherlock--the flatmate--insists it's a useful skill, though I've no idea why.'
She doesn't reply, and he looks up from where he's helping Rosie with her current avocado. 'What?' he asks, though he knows it's useless. Harry is no Sherlock but honestly, she doesn't have to be, because his emotions have always been written all over his face. It's a curse and a blessing.
'Oh holy shit,' she breathes out.
'Language,' he admonishes reflexively.
'Sorry, I mean-- Holy noses, Johnny.'
'Don't be smug.'
'Oh, I take no credit for this, I always knew the overcompensating locker room talk was hiding something.'
He rolls his eyes, but his lips are twitching. 'Yeah, insecurity about willy size.'
'Okay, ew, first of all. Second of all-- What the--' He gives her a warning look. 'Ever-loving heck.'
'Short version?' She nods quickly. He decides to also give her the slightly-less-mad-sounding version. 'Got married, got pregnant, had baby, wife passed away, realised I had feelings for my flatmate. Who is a man. And who is effectively fathering my child.'
She claps her hand over her mouth, and for a moment he fears she's going to cry, but then realises she's laughing.
'Oi, that's just not on,' he protests.
'But it's ridiculous!' She holds out a hand to him placatingly, speaking through continued laughter. 'It's lovely and sad and all that, but you have to admit--'
There are tears escaping the corners of her eyes, and he feels it begin to bubble up in his chest, too. Her laugh has always been a thing of beauty, of loud, annoying, contagious, unforgettable beauty, and he can't help it.
And she's right, really. It is kind of ridiculous.
He lets out his own laugh, finally, and reaches for her hand.
[❤️]
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💚🎤VELVET X FEM! POPSTAR! EX! READER! 🎤💚
Requested? yeah :)
GUYS accidentally posted my draft for another VELVET X FEM! POPSTAR! READER! 😭 OOPS i was wondering why it wasn’t in my drafts…
(Y/N) used for popstar name or real name depends on which you would loike.
You let out a bone chilling screech as you watched your spot on the charts being taken over by Velvet and her brother. Your assistant cowered in fear as you shoved the tablet into her arms getting up and stomping around you studio.
"She can't even sing!? I know her better than ANYONE and she sounds horrible!" Gripping your hair kicking your dressing chair out of your way walking into the recording booth. Your assistant Satin looked at you confused as you placed your headphones on and fixing your mic.
"Uhh what are you doing?" Satin spoke up looking at you through the glass, rolling your eyes in annoyance tapping on the glass signaling that you couldn't hear her. "oh right. Pressing a button her voice coming through the speakers as she asked her question again.
"What does it look like Stain!? i'm going to make a another album so that EVERYONE and i mean EVERY knows who should be hitting number one on the charts!!” You groaned in frustration as Satin looked at you unimpressed.
“It’s Satin not Stain and you just released an album! How can you release another one? let alone you didn’t even write any songs, come back in here.” She deadpanned at your insane thought process as you knew that she was right. Spinning around in your chair as Satins voice spoke through the speakers.
“You also have that interview with Kid Ritz for the Bop On Top at 3:30, it’s currently 2:44 you should come back in so we can help you get prepared.” Jumping off of your chair and walking out of the recording booth. “FINE!” grumbling while you began to get pampered by your makeup crew.
It was now 3:25 and you have five minutes left to prepare yourself, A crew member powered your face as another held your cup while you sipped on it. Satin was behind you talking about your schedule.
“No that won’t work I want to have a chill sort of day can you rearrange it for me?” You were calm now after Satin managed to stop you from your fit earlier. Opening the door to the interview room your eyes widened as you saw your ex and her brother sitting chatting away. Snatching the cup from the crew members hand chugging the rest of it before throwing it into the bin making sure to be as obnoxious as possible. Satin looked just as bewildered as you as you turned to face her.
“Satin? I thought this was a SOLO interview?? ifitsasolointerviewthanwhyisSHEhere?” You stammered angerly waving your arms around. Satin stared at her scedule again scanning it frantically before stopping and showing it to you pointing.
“I don’t know?? I specifically put solo interview with Kid Ritz? and I was constantly informed it was going to be a solo interview?” She said scratching her head as Velvet’s voice spoke up from behind you.
“Oh my godd is that-“ She said sarcastically before hopping up from her seat and strutting towards your confused frame. “So nice to meet you again.” sugar laced sarcastism was forced in her voice as your heart began to race. Your back turned to her as you could feel her eyes boaring into your body. Quickly turning to face her not realising how close she was.
Your faces were practically a few inches away from eachother, You could hear the beat of your heart in your ears and the way she breathed as you felt your stomach begin ti flutter. Ignoring that feeling as you stared deeply into her eyes tilting your head to the side a smirk crawling onto your face.
“Wow really? I can see that since you manged to take my solo interview AND spot on the charts you leech.” You spat out as Vevets face dropped into a scowl her eyes darking as she took a step closer towards you.
“You know if you wanted me back so badly all you have to do is apologise instead of autotunneing the FUCK out of your voice to steal my spotlight just for me to notice you again.” You cackled out as Velvet was about to open her mouth to speak the director ushered us away towards the chairs as the show was about to start.
“HEY GUYS and welcome back to the Bop On Top and today we have Velvet and Veneer with only two months on the scene have surpassed everyone for the number one spot!” Ouch this hurt your ego seeing in your peripheral vision Velvet smirking as she made a fake shocked face before posing for the camrea with Veneer.
“But we ALSO have a starring guest joining these two on the stage today DRUM ROLL PLEASE.” You closed your eyes rolling them internally as the drum roll began to play getting your camrea smile ready. “(Y/N)!” Kid Ritz spoke excitedly as almost all of the cameras were now on you. A fake sweet smile was plastered on your face as you waved and blew kisses towards the camreas for the TV as you opened you mouth to speak.
“oh my gosh! thank you for inviting me on the air tonight Kid Ritz but I was just wondering… I thought this was going to be a solo interview?” You spoke trying your best not to chew him out right then and there. He didn’t even flinch before speaking about something involving the three most famous people on mount ragous.
Velvet spoke up crossing her legs and stretching out her arms laying them on the headrest of her seat. “I am quite upset about this too (Y/N) I didn’t want to make you feel bad on air due to me taking your number one spot on the charts.” Her voice was low and sarcastic as her face turned to you. Your eyebrow twitched as your gripped the sides of your chair shaking it off before playing it cool.
“Well I dont feel very threatened especially since your last live preformance.” You spat out venom as she gave you a disgusted look cocking your head to the side a small smirk on your face mouthing.
“Bite me.” Velvet stood up from her seat stomping infront of you placing her arms on each side of your chair her eyes peirced thought you as she leaned over you.
“Maybe I will? You’d like that wouldn’t you?” She said leaning close to your face feeling your face heat up. ‘God I miss her stupid pretty face’ you thought before Veneer let out a cough.
“We are live, you know?” We both stared unphased before she moved back to her seat her eyes ligering on me before she sat now next to her brother.
The interview went on like normal with me and Velvet going at eachothers throats for the majority of it but when it was our time to sing Velvet blasted out her voice. My eyes widened as she flipped her hair looking smug as I sat there in awe.
‘H-How?’ I thought, It felt like waves were coming off of her as she sang, her brother took the spotlight over when it was his turn.
Ignoring what Kid Ritz was saying as I side eyed Velvet licking my lips as I felt my throat run dry.
‘Maybe she did change?’
#trolls band together#trolls#velvet x female reader#velvet trolls#velvet#velvet x reader#velvet and veneer#trolls 3
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B-listers, Slashers, and Porn: The Movie Marathon Pyramid
Late for @strangetober 29th "slasher" bc i cant read calendars starting with Sunday 😩😩😩 also @stevieweek & "This is what you're doing on Halloween?"
M/E | ~4k | Steddissy/Hellcheer/Cheerscoops/Steddie | transfem!Stevie, transmasc!Eddie, FanslyModel!Chrissy, open relationship, sex work | Part 1/2 and a continuation of this | Ao3
"No way this is what you're doing on Halloween." Eddie frowns at his friend's streaming schedule. "Really?"
"Hey, it's okay if you're busy. I'm not expecting you to mod at my every whim. Someone else will be free or I'll just survive one day without. I'm not expecting a huge turn out anyway."
"Because everyone already has plans," he nods along. "Yeah, but why you don't?" He frowns.
"I do?" Stevie sounds confused over his speakers. "We're talking about them right now."
Eddie wishes he was on camera so she could see the impressive eye roll that Max had taught him.
"With friends, dumbass. Not a bunch of simps who want to catch your heart attack live. There's a thousand parties you could go to instead!"
Stevie sighs.
"Everyone already has something and I don'want to go partying with strangers. I'd rather sit at home and play games, honestly," she admits.
Eddie is, to put it lightly, deadly offended.
"You didn't ask me," he points out.
"You live in a different state, man."
"So does Lucas!"
"Yeah, and that's why I'm not seeing him either!"
"Well, consider yourself invited. I'll pay for your ticket if I have to."
"What? No--"
"We've been already planning a lazy movie marathon with Chris and you are more than welcome to join."
"That doesn't sound like you. A cozy night in? On Halloween?" Stevie wonders out loud. "Is this a trap? Have you been body snatched?"
"Dude, I've been working on so much shit this month I just want to kick back and relax," Eddie sighs, grimacing at the thought of everything he still has to do before the day of rest.
"Shit, right, you're releasing that new EP this month!"
"Yep. So for twenty-four hours, I want to shut myself in and not look at any social media, any music charts, or any emails from my manager. Phone off, Netflix on."
Stevie hums thoughtfully.
"Will the rest of the band be there?"
Eddie smirks.
"Just say you want to see Gareth again," he teases. "No, we've spent so much time in the studio for this EP I can't look at their ugly mugs anymore. No, it's just me and Chrissy this time. And now you, of course."
"Ed, if you want to spend this time together, you don't have to invite me."
"You think I'm doing this for you?" He raises his eyebrows at the tiny icon on his screen that represents his friend. "This is for my peace of mind. But mostly for Chrissy, honestly, she won't shut up about you," he groans.
"Really?" Stevie asks in a small voice, sounding genuinely surprised.
"Don't you dare play coy now, you seduced my girlfriend with your athletic body and now she wants me to drink protein shakes!"
Stevie bursts out laughing.
"I'm sorry?" she offers.
"I'll accept your sorries only if you join us for an evening of bad horrors and spiked hot chocolate."
"Deal."
Stevie has the Uber app open and is typing in her destination address when a piercing whistle splits the air. She winces but ignores it as any other time.
"Hey, babygirl!"
For once, she reacts to the catcalling, as the voice sounds familiar. Her eyes widen.
"Oh, you fucking idiot!" she hisses, which results in her long-distance friend cackling in amusement. Stevie storms to the car he's leaning against, a black van with a demon painted on the side.
"Hi, sweetheart." He give her his best sleazy smile and leans in to kiss her on the cheek. She doesn't protest but she does roll her eyes.
"You could have told me you'd pick me up."
"And ruin the surprise? Nuh-uh." He shakes his head.
Stevie sighs. She knows Eddie dropping the theatrics is as likely as Hell freezing over.
"Well, lead me to your lair, then."
He lights up, prying the bag from her hand while he opens the door.
"Take a seat, milady, I'll drop your luggage in the back," he says with a small, courteous bow.
The drive passes with Eddie drilling her about her favorite movies and the snacks they are missing. She assures him all she needs is a nap and a warm meal, and he dutifully drives her to her destination.
Eddie's house is small, a place he's renting right now but planning to buy if money lets him. He opens up the door, Stevie's bag hauled over his shoulder, and yells out:
"Chris! We have a guest!'
Stevie eyes him warily.
"You told her I'm coming, right?"
Eddie only grins. Then, a shriek rings through the house.
"Stevie!"
Chrissy throws herself at the girl, and thank gods for their athletic reflexes, because it could end up on the floor otherwise.
"Hi Chris," Stevie smiles, holding the girl close. It's been months since they saw each other.
"Why didn't you tell me?!" Chrissy asks with a pout.
"To be fair, I was sure you knew about this until five seconds ago."
They both look at Eddie, but he's already gone from his spot. There is a clatter of dishes coming from the direction of the kitchen, though.
"Bastard is trying to placate me with food," she hisses, adjusting Chrissy's legs more securely around her hips before she walks towards the sound.
"And here I was wondering why he made his signature stew," Chrissy sighs against her ear. Stevie chuckles.
"Well, at least he knows what works on me."
They enter the kitchen to find Eddie stirring the thick dish in the pot.
"Hello ladies," he smiles with the obliviousness of an experienced jester. "Hungry?"
"Starving," Stevie admits reluctantly, placing Chrissy on the counter. "It smells good," she says, her hands resting on her friend's thighs. She can see Eddie's eyes lingering there.
"Chrissy doesn't like it too spicy, but I can add some extra chilli flakes to your bowl," he says, refocusing on the food. "Wanna try it?" he asks, raising up the wooden spoon.
"Sure," Stevie shrugs, and watches mesmerized as he gently blows on it before raising it to her mouth.
"How is it?"
"It's good as it is," she decides, licking her lips to catch everything. "Can I help with something?" she asks, already looking around the kitchen for something to do.
"You can grab the bowls. They're in the cupboard above Chrissy."
Instead of letting her jump off the counter, Stevie picks her up again and relocates further away, to the girl's delight.
Then she opens the cupboard and her eyes light up when she finds their pumpkin-shaped bowls
"Oh my god I love these! You guys are such dorks," she grins, while pulling them out.
"Wait til you see the Garfield tea set," Chrissy smiles back.
"Where is it?!"
The stew gets forgotten for a long while, all of Stevie's focus now on ploundering through her friends' cupboards. She finds not only the Garfield tea set, but also matching plates and a lunchbox. There's also a whole shelf dedicated to ornate chalices and tankards.
"Is this a real horn?"
"Sure is," Eddie grins proudly. "Metal as fuck, isn't it?"
"Can I have a beer in it later?"
"Absolutely," he laughs, picking up the bowls. "Now come eat."
Stevie gets distracted again with her spoon, its handle shaped like vines, but eventually she digs into the stew.
"This is good," she praises with an appreciative hum. "Just knowing you, I'd never let you loose in a kitchen."
Chrissy snorts into her bowl and starts choking, which doesn't faze Eddie, who just passes her a glass of water and pats her back.
"And you'd be right, because I've put all my culinary skills into three dishes I can execute perfectly, and everything else is a biohazard," he grins like it's something to be proud of. Which, in a way, might be.
"Well, everything I cook tastes kind of bland, so maybe your method is the way to go," stevie shrugs at that, eyeing Chrissy's watery eyes. She seems to have gotten a hold on herself for the time being.
After eating, despite Stevie's flight and the late hour, they start up Scream and hang out with mugs of steaming tea in hands. Eddie had vetoed booze right before bed and the girls reluctantly agreed. They argue the movie list for their actual marathon, as it needs cheesy slashers for Chrissy, outdated special effects for Stevie, and ridiculous plots for Eddie.
"Terrifier," Chrissy declares like there was no arguing with her. There wasn't, but her friends would try anyway.
"You guys need to see the one with a possessed Christmas tree."
"The Haunting!" Stevie pitches in.
The list grows and grows and they reluctantly agree to roll a dice on the marathon day to decide the watching order.
"You can have my bed and I'll sleep with Eddie tonight, okay?" Chrissy asks once the credits starts rolling and Stevie is dozing off, bundled into a spare blanket. The girl blnks at her sleepily.
"Okay," she says slowly with a frown. "You guys don't share a bedroom?"
"He snores," Chrissy winces like the sole idea appalls her. "And we both like our space. We usually share a bed anyway, just swap between rooms."
"I can take the couch," Stevie offers. "I don't want to hog your space like that."
"Don't worry about it" Chrissy waves her off. "We can switch around later. Now," she stands up to grab her hand. "Do you have enough energy for a shower or would you rather go straight to bed."
"Straght to bed, please," Stevie whines, letting her friend haul her up.
"Bed it is then, princess," she agrees, slowly leading her upstairs.
"Eddie's rubbing off on you," Stevie says with a wide smile.
"Yeah, he does that a lot," her friend smirks back and they giggle as she opens the right door. "Here's my room. Eddie's is the one opposite door, and at the end you'll find the bathroom. Left door, right one is the office," she explains while pointing along. "You'll find clean towels in the cupboard. Do you need anything? T-shirt to sleep in?" she asks, pushing gently so Stevie sits on her bed. Her sheets are dark green, matching the plants littering the room.
Stevie has her own pyjama's but like hell is she going to pass on the opportunity to wear her hot friend's clothes.
"Yes, please. Would it be okay if I slept in just pants?" she asks as well.
Chrissy snorts.
"Totally. Eddie usually sleeps completely naked so don't be surprised if you run into his white ass on a midnight snack trip," she grins. "And I don't wear pants to sleep, just longer shirts. You want long or short ones?"
For a second, Stevie's lost wondering what she's gotten herself into, but she quickly remembers what her friend is asking about.
"Short," she decides, watching Chrissy open the top drawer of her dresser. The blonde hums as she goes through its contents.
"Would this be okay? I can look through Eddie's stuff," she offers, presenting a pair of soft shorts patterned in ice cream cones.
Stevie raises her eyebrows.
"Is this on purpose?"
Chrissy looks down at the shorts, before chuckling at the unintentional Scoops Ahoy reference.
"I swear it's not. It's the first ones I saw that would fit."
Stevie takes them in hand and inspects the width and give of the elastic.
"They should be fine, thank you," she smiles.
"Of course, honey. I'm gonna take a shower, you can exploit Eddie in the meantime."
He has been left in the kitchen cleaning up after their dinner and preparing for tomorrow's breakfast.
"As tempting as it is, I'm sure I'll be out as soon as I lay down," Stevie chuckels. The hours spend travelling and catching up with her friends were finally taking their toll.
"Well, in that case good night, and I'll see you tomorrow."
"Good night," Stevie answers tiredly, missing the moment when Chrissy leans down and pecks her on the lips. She barely manages to process that fact, before the doors close behind her friend. She smiles to herself before undressing for bed to finally get some rest.
Stevie's out to the word until late morning the next day, but thankfully, her hosts aren't early birds either. When she gingerly walks downstairs, she's greeted by the sight of the two drinking coffee and making pancakes. Eddie notices her first and waves to her with his spatula.
"Good morning! I'll have fresh pancakes for you in a minute. How did you sleep?"
"Like an undead," she yawns, beelining for her forgotten bag, where she has a fresh t-shirt to change into. She does so right there, and when she turns back towards the kitchen, her friends act like civilized beings that didn't just ogle her tits. She graciously decides not to call them out for it.
When she sits next to Chrissy, the girl murmurs an indecipherable greeting, pressing her arm against hers. Stevie gathers her getly against her side.
"Eddie, you could spare your girlfriend some energy, she's wilting here!"
He turns away from the stove to huff at her.
"She'd have more energy if she wasn't gathering fruit on her phone until two am," he counters, crossing his arms. His morning outfit consists of an apron tied around his bare chest, a pair of boxers and nothing else. Stevie's never seen all his tattoos out in the open.
"I like the beholder tattoo," she says.
"Do not," Eddie points his spatula at her. "Talk nerd in the kitchen. It makes me horny and Chrissy said kitchen is off limits," he pouts.
Stevie snorts, and rests her head against Chrissy.
"Sorry, I'll keep it to the bedroom next time."
"Thank you," Eddie nods gratefully. "How do you want your coffee?"
"Just a bit of milk, please."
It must have been waiting for her already, beacuse she gets a steaming mug put in front of her just seconds later.
"Thank you," she sighs, sipping on the coffee. She got it in one of the Garfield mugs, too.
"Of course. And here are yor pancakes. Pick your poison." After putting a stack of pancakes in front of her, he pushes maple syrup, butter and nutella towards her.
"Oh my god. This is the best breakfast I've had since I visited Claudia."
Eddie laughs at that.
"Don't get used to it. Tomorrow it's Chrissy's turn on breakfast and she's usually so out of it she can mistake salt for sugar."
To that, Chrissy flips him the bird, meaning she's at least processing the conversation happening around her. She can also smell the food, and steals a pancake from Stevie's plate to gingerly nibble on.
"I can help out," Stevie offers, nuzzling her nose against Chrissy's cheek before she straightens up to dig into the breakfast. "What's the plan for today?" she asks while slapping some butter on her pancakes.
Eddie hums thoughtfully as he pours batter on the pan. "We have all the candy we should need for trick-or-treaters, but we're short on vegetables for pumpkin soup. So think of anything you'd want to eat, we'll make a grocery list, and hit the farmer's market."
Stevie gives him a thumbs up, since her mouth is already stuffed with pancakes.
The afternoon is spent arguing about the quality of pumpkins offered at the stalls, and what is the ultimate fall soup. It's a level of comfort and easiness Stevie usually feels only around Robin.
She's not much of a cook, so when Eddie starts on the soup, she joins him in the kitchen, eager to learn. Which translates to her drinking wine and asking a lot of questions while hanging off his shoulder.
"How long do you need to cook the broth?" she asks, unknowingly breathing wine into his air.
"At least a couple of hours," he answers patiently. "My mom used to leave it simmering for the whole night, though."
Stevie frowns.
"Sounds like a fire hazard."
Eddie laughs at that.
"Yeah, a lot of things weren't a concern twenty years ago."
"Yeah, like condoms, considering you're here," she snickers and gets swatted away for her comedic efforts.
"What, you're not grateful for my existence? Bold words for someone being guested and fed in my home."
"That is not a word," she says with a frown, though being friends with Robin made her second guess her knowledge of the dictionary.
"It is now! Now, would my guest put her wine aside and peel the garlic?"
"Yes, chef," she salutes and accepts the ingredients handed to her. She manages to convince Eddie she's still sober enough to help him chop the vegetables as well.
"Ohh, he let you hold a knife?" Chrissy walks into the kitchen a moment later and pouts at her boyfriend. "He never lets me help with aything."
"Lies and slander!" Eddie exclaims at that accusation. "You can do literally anything else. Baby, you can even operate a blowtorch, but a knife in her hand," he turns to Stevie for that part, pointing a spoon at Chrissy. "Is like a fidget toy made out of razor blades."
Stevie, though, focuses on the important part.
"You have a blowtorch?"
Eddie groans, but Chrissy is more than happy to show her the little thing they use to toast the marshmallows for their hot cocoa and chocolate. Of course, this ends up with her making some for all of them. Stevie is the one to chop up the chocolate, though.
The porch has been decorated and all the candy is waiting near the door, because they didn't bother putting it in the cupboards. The food is mostly done, and the movies they agreed on have been found and added to the watch list, so on the actual Halloween the next day, all they have left to do is chill, open the door, compilment kids' costumes, and take in the spooky vibe. As soon as they take out their pies from the oven, they can start on the festivities.
Or so it seems.
"Shit," Eddie suddenly widens his eyes in the middle of the kitchen.
"What?" Chrissy bends down to peek into the oven, but everything seems fine there. "What is it?"
"What about the costumes?" he looks at her, genuinely alarmed. She frowns at him.
"We've been over this? You're Crowley and I'm Aziraphale."
"Well, yeah, but now Stevie is here!"
Chrissy looks at the girl with the same therror as her boyfriend, which almost makes her snort out her wine. Which would be horribly wasteful, since she got hers in the horn as promised.
"Ah, no worries, you've been babbling about the costumes for so long I had enough time to find a white turtleneck and a fly plushie, and the grey suit should be delivered here in the morning." She waves her hand dismissively, but Eddie is anything but dismissive about Halloween costumes. He gapes at his friend in disbelief.
"I though you haven't seen Good Omens?"
"After all the fuss you made about it?" She rolls her eyes. "Please. I just didn't tell you because you'd freak out about it, and you're talking my ear off as it is." She smiles fondly despite her words.
"You prepared a matching costume," he says, still in his nerdy trance.
"Well, yeah? Didn't want to be left out."
"I'm sorry I didn't think about it myself," he says, looking so guilt-stricken, she was worried he might pick up a knife and commit seppuku at any moment.
"It's okay, man, you're so good at improvising--"
"Can I kiss you?" Eddie interrupts her, his eyes sparkling in that insane daze she recognised by now from having one too many autistic nerds as friends.
"Uh," she looks to Chrissy for support, but she seems mildly exasperated at best, focusing more on the pies in the oven than their exchange. It was about time to take them out.
"I guess so?" Stevie offers in the end, and watches Eddie put away his beer, like kissing her required his full attention. With the focus she could see on his face she would think it did.
She can't exactly put her horn away. It needs a designated stand to stay upright, and it's somewhere on the kitchen counter behind them. So, in support of her friend's actions, she just puts her free hand on his hip and angles her head when she feels his palm against her cheek.
His lips are slightly chapped from the autumn cold, and she can remember Chrissy's complaints about him consistently losing every chapstick she buys him. Stevie makes a note to get him a whole shipment of those for Christmas. She likes the lips that kiss her to be soft.
Other than that, he's almost ridiculously gentle, unlike the persona he puts on for the world to see. It's easy to imagine him making out with someone, with Chrissy, for hours without getting bored.
But Stevie likes more, so she parts her lips and pulls his hip closer to her. They both get lost in their impromptu make-out session until the smell of fresh pie reaches their nostrils. Eddie pulls away first, sniffing the air, and when Stevie follows his lead, Chrissy bursts out laughing at their accidental synchronization.
"It's too hot to eat, sorry," she spreads her hands apologetically. "But I have some cookies for the meantime."
They move apart to dive into the jar of chocolate chip cookies that's presented to them. With pies cooling on the rack and cookies in their hands, they relocate to the living room to play one of the movies from their list. They pick a mindless slasher to turn off their brains after a day of cooking and other preparations.
The conversatiom focuses on the characters' bad choices and the highly unrealistic injuries, until two girls start making-out on screen.
"You know I've never watched your video?" Eddie says then, unprompted.
Stevie and Chrissy turn to him in unison.
"What?"
"Really?'
Eddie shrugs at their bewildered stares.
"I don't know, it felt weird. I never saw Stevie in such, uh, circumstances, and she's paying me, so..." he trails off and shrugs again. "You know I don't watch all of your stuff," he adds, almost defensively.
"Which is very unsupportive of you," she says with an exaggerated pout so he knows she's joking.
"I'm not watching you get fucked in those shitty amazon costumes, those are an insult to cosplayers worldwide!" he says and it sounds like something he's complained about before. "And did you have to do Jarley? You know we ship Harlivy in this house!"
Chrissy looks like she's doing her best not to laugh and Stevie's barely holding on herself.
"I'm sorry, you know I couldn't find the right girl in time. And I've already made scenes with Gareth--"
"The fact that he agreed to this is even worse!"
Stevie presses a hand over her lips this time, to muffle her laugh. Eddie glowers at her over Chrissy's shoulder when she reaches for the remote.
"Wanna watch it now?" she asks, already pausing the movie.
"What?"
"We're all here now, so it's not gonna be weird," Chrissy says, exiting out of the streaming platform. Her friends seem too stunned to stop her.
"Or it will be extra weird," Eddie points out, but his girlfriend only waves him off.
"Psh, like we haven't watched my videos before." As if to prove that, her Fansly pops up instantly once she opens the browser. "So?" She looks left and right at her company, waiting for the green light from them.
Like Eddie could ever say no faced with the cover photo of her page--her naked, delicate body covered up by a sword blade.
"Sure," Stevie shrugs, and Eddie nods along.
"Yeah, let's do it."
#steddie#steddissy#cheerscoops#hellcheer#stevie-ween#stevieween#strangetober#stranger things#steve harrington#eddie munson#chrissy cunningham#mine#transfem steve harrington#stevie harrington#stevierything#cj x stevieweek#transmasc eddie munson#mtf steve harrington#ftm eddie munson
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Mysterious Illness
The affini looked worried…to a non-affini, anyway. The body language was all for show of course; a fun part of the performance she had scheduled for her little one. She sprinted into the Sniffles Ward of the hospital, where her friend (one of several Vets that enjoyed taking shifts here) was ready to greet her. “What seems to be the problem?” The Vet’s voice was calm and professional, well-rehearsed with scenes like this already. “Oh Doctor! It's my floret. I woke up this morning and went to collect her and she’s…she’s…” Unable to finish (without breaking character and laughing), the Owner looked down at her beloved pet, who was lying limply in her vines. “She won’t wake up! I’m worried I’ve broken her! Oh Doctor, you have to help us!” The Doctor nodded gravely, gesturing towards a nearby bed that had already been set up for situations like this. The Owner laid her floret down carefully, making sure not to let her golden curls move over her face and tickle her nose. She had managed to act asleep for about thirty minutes now- even through a rigorous bout of teasing. The Owner had brought her here to continue the fun…and to see how long her floret would last without breaking, of course. The Doctor procured a chart from seemingly nowhere, leafing through the pages with practiced disinterest. “Let’s see…Her vaccinations are all up to date. Has she been eating normally?” “Yes, Doctor; four triangular meals a day, and plenty of snacks in between!” “I see…and what about activities?” The Owner nodded, smirking slightly. “We’ve gone out for walkies at least once a day, and she finishes about one coloring book a week!” “All in order, then…hmmm…” The Doctor produced a feather from within her vines, lightly brushing it across the floret’s skin. Both affini ignored the obvious twitching and struggling the floret was doing in an attempt to stay still. “Oh my, this is very serious indeed…” Pulling out a stethoscope next, the affini pressed it to the floret’s chest. “Breathe in nice and deep for me, dear?” The floret did so, dutifully following instructions as she was told. The Doctor smiled, shaking her head softly as she returned the medical devices to their places. “Well, I’m afraid it's grave news indeed. Your little one is quite bratty. I’m not sure where she picked it up, but by the time it reaches the ‘comatose’ stage, the only cure is to withhold all ice cream and candy, and to limit coloring books to only the black and white crayons.” Immediately the floret came alive in a panic, sitting up so quickly that she likely would have toppled over had the Doctor’s hand not already been there to catch her. The floret waved her hands around wildly, looking frantic as she sputtered, “N-no, wait!!! I’m fine, I’m fine! I swear I promise I’m awake and I feel much better please please please let me eat ice cream!!!!” The Doctor only just managed to keep a level voice, replying, “Mhmm….in that case, there may yet be hope. I’m going to prescribe you a treatment of extra-strength praise. You’re going to be getting and receiving compliments at least five times an hour for…let’s say a week, to be safe.” The affini paused, then applied a colorful band-aid to the floret’s upper arm. She wasn’t exactly sure why they all seemed to love them, but it usually made them smile more, so it was fine. The Owner nodded, adding, “Thank you so much, Doctor. Petal, say thank you.” “Thank you, Miss Doctor Lady!”
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Hunger Pains
Book: Open Heart, Post-Series
Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Sawyer Brooks)
Rating: Explicit
Warning: 🔥NSFW, ⛔18+ Only, contains explicit sexual content
Category: Fluff, Smut, Halloween
Word count: 2.6K
Summary: Sawyer is in a bad mood. Ethan helps her calm down.
Prompts:
🫦From Anon: Can I get a fic with Ethan giving MC a love bite or hickey?
☀️From @peonierose: Ethan & Sawyer + “sunshine”
🍬From @jerzwriter: "Actually, I like candy corn!"
Events:
🎃For @choicesoctober event: Costume / Halloween / Vampire / Meme
🥰For @choicesprompts Flufftober 2023 event: I want to take care of you.
“Mr. Cox. An appropriate name for such a dick,” Sawyer thought to herself, blood boiling as she exited Room 513.
The patient being cared for inside could easily steal the title of “Biggest PITA” away from the infamous Nigel Platt. And only making matters worse, her consultation had been interrupted multiple times by a cocky intern eager to show off.
Once the door closed behind her, she spun on Dr. Perkins.
“How many times have we told you not to interrupt when your resident or attending is speaking with a patient? If you do that again, I’ll make sure you are written up.”
Sawyer strode to the nearby nurses’ station to update Mr. Cox’s chart. The obstinate intern followed.
“How am I supposed to learn anything around here if I’m not allowed to ask questions?” he argued.
“You start by shutting the hell up and listening. Had you done that in the first place, we wouldn’t be standing here having this conversation. If you were really trying to understand something back there, you would have directed your questions to me. Instead, you attempted to conduct a medical history interview on an extremely agitated patient minutes before he went to surgery,” she scolded.
“This is–”
Her patience was wearing thin, and Sawyer spoke over him. “Jaaackie, get Dr. Know-It-All away from me before I go all Ramsey on his ass,” she demanded through gritted teeth.
Having caught the exchange's tail end, Jackie looked up from her tablet.
“I think you just did,” she answered, “and Perkins, the patient in 506, needs a new catheter. Now.”
“But that’s not even my pati-” he complained.
With one harsh look from the Chief Resident, Dr. Perkins finally tucked his tail between his legs and sulked down the hall.
"You're breathing fire today," Jackie quipped as she rounded the desk to leave.
Sawyer ignored her and continued typing furiously on her tablet.
Jackie and Bryce traded places down the hall, getting on and off the elevator.
“Hey, have you seen Brooks? I mean Ramsey. Brooks-Ramsey?” Bryce guessed, unsure what to call his friend since she and Ethan surprised everyone by eloping a couple weeks ago.
Jackie pointed in the direction of the nurses’ desk. “I hope you brought snacks. She’s in a mood again,” she warned as the steel doors closed between them.
A minute later, Bryce slunk next to Sawyer, bumping shoulders to get her attention.
“Finally. What took you so long?” Sawyer rebuked, shoving the tablet towards him. “Here, take this guy away. And while you have his head open, feel free to poke the part of his brain that disables his speech.”
“Well, aren’t you a pocketful of sunshine this morning,” he teased.
“After a few minutes with this asshole and you’ll understand why,” she said, storming off.
“Annnd, Dr. Ramsey, it is,” he decided.
🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸
Shortly thereafter, Sawyer sat in the diagnostics office and stewed silently as the team meeting ran over schedule. Her annoyance grew more intense with each passing minute as Ethan and Harper debated, and Tobias egged them on for his own amusement. No longer able to take it, she interrupted.
“Do you need me? Because, if not, I have patients who do.”
Her three colleagues snapped their heads in her direction, surprised by the bite in her tone. With raised eyebrows, she looked at the team leader and challenged him to respond.
Ethan cleared his throat. “Uh, let’s see how the labs come back and continue this discussion when we have more information.”
Harper and Tobias quickly got out of Dodge as Sawyer stacked her notes and gathered her things. When she stood to follow, Ethan reached for her hand and held her back.
“Hey, what’s wrong? What’s got you so wound up?”
She exhaled deeply, his touch instantly calming her.
“I’m sorry.” Frustrated tears welled in her witch-green eyes. “I'm super cranky. These third-trimester hormones are no joke. My mood the last few days has been…”
A single teardrop fell down her cheek.
“Come here,” he urged, pulling her into his lap. “It’s been, what?”
“It’s either been hangry or hornery or both,” she pouted and sagged her shoulders.
Cracking a smile at her dramatics, “I know what ‘hangry’ is, but ‘hornery?’”
“Horny and ornery.”
With a shake of his head, Ethan caressed her swollen belly. “So, what I hear you saying is you’re irritable because you're either hungry or horny…”
“Right now, it’s both,” she interjected, her fingers seductively dancing up his chest.
“And the cure for this condition is to either feed you or fuck you?”
“Look, I’m not saying food and sex would solve all my problems, but it would sure help me calm the hell down,” she admitted with a coquettish grin.
“Well, as much as I’d like to help you satisfy your hunger pains, all I can offer right now is this.”
Ethan reached for the bowl of Halloween candy on the conference table.
“Boo,” she scowled playfully. Sawyer stood and sifted through the options, “I’ll take the candy corn off your hands and leave the chocolates for you. I know they’re your favorite.”
“Actually, I like candy corn,” he said, ripping a small package open with his teeth and pouring them all into his mouth.
“Seriously?” she asked, surprised.
“My dad loves them. We always had a bowl out during the season. I used to push them up on my canines when I was a kid and pretend I was Dracula.”
“Aw, cute. Well, if that’s true, then I’ll take some of these too,” she reached back into the bowl and stuffed her pockets. “Supposedly, chocolate is a good substitute for sex. Feed two birds with one scone.”
🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸
A couple hours later, Sawyer was at the lab demanding the results for one of her patients.
“What do you mean it will be another four to six hours? I ordered these tests yesterday!”
Her raised voice began to draw the attention of others, including her indirect supervisor. Ethan was just finishing a consultation with the hospital’s lead hematologist when he heard the uproar.
The lab assistant snapped back. “Look, lady, we’re doing the best we can. The tech will run the test when he returns from lunch.”
“Lady?! Do you see this badge? That’s Dr. Brooks to you.”
Sawyer spewed red-hot anger as she spun on her heels. From several feet away, Ethan could practically feel the heat radiating from her. Her neck and cheeks were crimsoned, and her fists clenched at her sides.
“That’s enough,” he admonished, taking Sawyer by the wrist and swiftly pulling her into a familiar, dark supply closet.
Ethan loomed over her as he backed her into a corner.
“I know… I’m sorry,” she apologized. Sad cat-like eyes pleading for forgiveness.
“This kind of stress isn’t good for you or the baby,” he advised. “This is serious, Sawyer. You leave me no choice but to help you calm down.” The corner of his mouth began to turn up in a sly grin as he ran his hand over her hair.
“Oh, thank god,” she sighed, crashing into his lips.
“We’ll…have to be…quick…and quiet,” he murmured between desperate kisses.
As Sawyer slipped out of her shoes, Ethan lent a hand, sliding her pants and underwear to the ground. As she stepped out of them, Ethan unzipped his pants and pushed them down to expose his rising need. Their white lab coats provided a curtain of privacy if anyone walked in on them.
Lifting her up around his waist, Sawyer tried to wrap her legs around him. With several extra inches around her midsection, she had a hard time locking her swollen ankles behind him and finding a comfortable position.
“Ethan, my belly. This isn’t working,” she squirmed under his hold.
Determined to make this work despite the cramped space, Sawyer slid down. She shrugged off her lab coat, turned her back to him, and placed her hands on the wall.
Ethan took the hint immediately. His hands roamed under her shirt, starting at her sore back. His thumbs applied light pressure as he worked down her spine, earning a few grateful groans. He also spent a few seconds massaging her ass, finishing with a gentle squeeze.
Closing the small gap between them, Ethan reached around and tenderly appreciated her baby bump. Then, slithering his fingers into the cups of her bra, he ghosted around her sensitive nipples.
Sawyer felt his breath next to her ear and turned her head to meet him in a passionate kiss, his erection poking and teasing her backside.
Navigating in the dark, Ethan leaned back to align himself with her entrance. “God, Sawyer,” he gasped, easily gliding between her slick folds. “You are so ready for me.”
She looked over her shoulder with a smile and jokingly reminded him of her libidinous mood swings. “What’d I tell you? Me so horny.”
With an amused shake of his head, he pulled back gently and then began to pump his hips. Slow and soft at first.
“Mmmmm, that feels so good, babe,” Sawyer mewled.
Ethan picked up the pace. He pushed harder and deeper but was careful not to get too rough with his pregnant wife or her precious cargo.
“Ohhhh,” she let slip a little too loud.
“Shhhh, baby,” he breathed heavily, working up a sweat.
As her legs began to tremble, Sawyer kept her hands firmly braced against the wall for support.
“I’m close… cover… my mouth,” she panted.
With a hand on her hip to hold her close and steady, Ethan reached around with his other and gently covered her mouth. He leaned in and pressed his chest against her back, resting his chin in the crook of her neck. “Let go, beautiful,” he mumbled against the feel of her rapid pulse.
After a couple deep pumps, Sawyer’s whole body shuddered. She moaned her satisfaction into Ethan’s hand. The vibrations pulsing through her body and the warm breath against his palm provoked his own release. Clamping his mouth onto her neck, he muted himself.
The euphoria made her forget all her aches and pains. So, when Sawyer tightened her muscles around Ethan’s still bursting length, it hardly registered when he bit down hard on her throat.
They didn't spend much time basking in the afterglow to avoid getting caught. Ethan gave his wife a loving kiss, and when he was certain she could stand unsupported, he pulled up his pants and helped Sawyer step into hers.
With a quick peek into the hallway, Sawyer checked to see if the coast was clear. “Hold on… it’s Wen,” she whispered, holding up a hand to halt him.
When Dr. Wen disappeared around a corner, they exited the supply closet.
“Do you think she heard us?”
“If she did, I’m sure she assumed it was only one of the ghosts that she believes haunts these halls,” Ethan chuckled. “The more important question is, are you feeling better?”
“Much better, thank you.”
“Well, let’s make doubly sure and head up to the cafeteria for some lunch.”
🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸
Later that night, at home and in the shower, Ethan pushed wet hair away from Sawyer's neck and discovered the frightful bruising.
“Oh, Soe, I’m sorry,” he expressed, carefully skimming his fingers over the bite mark. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
Sawyer touched the tender spot and moved around him to see her reflection in his shaving mirror.
“Oh my gosh!” she laughed as she traced her fingers over the imprints of his teeth. “I married a freakin’ vampire!”
“I’m sorry. But, hey,” he innocently smiled back in the mirror, “...only a vampire can love you forever.”
He wrapped his arms around her and buried his face into her neck. “Mwahahaha,” he snarled at her ear before placing a delicate, healing kiss on the love bite.
🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸
The next day, the newlyweds arrived at work hand in hand and walked toward the attendings’ locker room. Pausing just outside the door, Sawyer turned to face her husband.
“Hey, just a reminder that I volunteered to help in the clinic this morning. Carrick said he would do rounds for me.”
“I remembered,” Ethan said, bending down to give Sawyer a quick but loving kiss on the lips. “I love you.”
“I love you, too. I’ll see you later,” she returned, reluctantly releasing his hand.
Stepping into the locker room, she spotted a familiar face. Well, sort of.
“Whoa, that looks soooo good, Elijah. Gross, but so realistic,” Sawyer awed.
“Thanks! Those in the research department agreed to dress up like lab experiments gone wrong.”
“Well, mission accomplished. And, Happy Halloween, by the way. I know it’s your favorite day of the year.”
As Elijah excitedly talked about his zombie character - which, of course, was inspired by a new John Carpenter video game - Sawyer tugged on her white coat and checked her reflection in the mirror.
The bruising on her neck was much more prominent the day after and under the hospital's harsh fluorescent lighting. She tried to adjust her hair and fix the collar of her jacket, but it was no use. She dug through her bag, searching for her makeup case, quickly realizing she had left it at home.
“Shit,” she thought to herself.
“Aren’t you dressing up this year?”
Elijah’s question brought her back to the conversation, and an idea popped into her head.
“About that… do you have any more fake blood?”
“Yeah, there’s a tube in my locker. Help yourself,” he offered on his way out.
🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸
Down in the free clinic, Sawyer examined a very inquisitive eight-year-old who noticed the bite mark and the two drips of dried blood on her neck.
“Say ‘ahhhh!’” she instructed, using a tongue depressor to check the back of his throat. “Good, no swelling back there.”
“Doctor! Did you get bit by a vampire?”
“I’m afraid I did,” she admitted, putting on a bit of an act.
“Was it Dracula?”
“That’s still up for debate,” she laughed to herself, picturing little boy Ethan with candy corn fangs.
“Did it hurt?”
“Uh-uh.”
“Did he suck your blood?”
“Justin, for goodness sake,” his mother chided and rolled her eyes.
“It’s fine,” Sawyer waved her off.
“Did he make you into a vampire too?”
“No,” turning her back to the young patient and facing his mother, she muttered, “...he just got me pregnant.” The patient’s mother cackled out loud.
🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸
That afternoon, Sawyer was on the fifth floor to check on a patient when she spotted Ethan stepping into the hallway with Esme and her intern. When they were safely out of the patient’s earshot, he wheeled around on the intern and launched into a stern, familiar lecture.
“...It doesn’t matter that you’re still learning… Whether this man lives or dies is on you… There is no room for mistakes…”
When he finished his tirade, Ethan marched to the nurses’ station and began tapping away on an iPad.
“Don’t sweat him. He’s all bark and no bite. Isn’t that right, Dr. Brooks?” Esme asked as Sawyer approached the scene.
Mrs. Ramsey shook her head vehemently. “Oh, no,” she spoke loud enough for Ethan to hear, “he bites alright.” When he looked up with a raised eyebrow, she winked and kept walking.
A couple minutes later, Ethan’s phone pinged with a text notification.
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#open heart#open heart choices#open heart fanfic#ethan ramsey#ethan ramsey x mc#ethan x mc#ethan x sawyer#choices stories you play#choices open heart#playchoices#choices fic writers creations#cfwc fics of the week#choicesOCtober#choicespromtps#flufftober2023
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Christmas 1957, Alfred Finch
A continuation of this series
Hi I’m back :) and this one’s LONG and I’m proud of it. Yay happy holidays
***
“Merry Christmas, Alfie,”
His head had just been shaved again, lice were making their way through the wards. It made his cheeks look so hollow despite the paper crown that had been clumsily placed on his head by a nurse.
Words didn’t come right away to Fie so he nodded back to Sean. He was aware today though, Sean could tell.
Turkey and mashed potatoes were unceremoniously still strewn across his tin tray. So much for a holiday meal. Sean wished he would eat it though.
“Th- that’s why I’m wearing this?” A wry smile snuck in as Fie nodded to his flimsy holiday accessory.
Sean felt an instant warmth that made his heart swell and he laughed a bit too loudly, “Yes it's what they call it holiday cheer, although I think Eddie took the square of chocolate you got with it.”
The wry twist of Fie’s mouth remained a bit longer signifying what would be a strong response these days.
Sean had read the charts this morning, Harris’s crony, Capshaw, hadn’t given up on the hydrotherapy yet. He had been scheduled in for it nearly every day this week.
He was surprised Fie was okay enough to even be in the cafeteria considering his typical response to the treatment.
“Hey how about you eat a few more bites of the Christmas feast for me, eh?”
Fie’s eyes trailed down at the sloppily served bits of meat in tepid gravy and potato. But despite his hesitation, he didn’t disobey, he lifted his fork and got to work. It twisted something in Sean to see how easily he followed requests... when everyone else in the institution ignored this and acted like he was feral, immediately going for force before bothering to request.
“Also Sophie says hello by the way,”
His patient paused mid attempt to skewer some meat with a confused expression.
“My wife, I think I’ve mentioned her, she and I got married a few months ago, yeah?” That had been during the no contact stage.
This did seem to jog his memory, he nodded but still seemed surprised. Sean spoke about him outside of work?
As if he read his mind, Sean continued, “Yeah, I tell her about you, especially your paintings. She’s an art history professor you know… Anyway, she asked me to wish you a merry Christmas.”
Alfie paused completely, clearly half here-half somewhere else, lost in thought, “...What year is it?”
“It’s 1957 'bout to be 1958, buddy.” Sean didn’t like thinking what that entailed for his friend, nearly four years in here now. Where had the time gone?
He was four years older than Delano now.
“Merry Christmas, Alfred.”
Both young men jumped slightly at the arrival of Dr. Harris, how long had he been close by?
Alfie just stared back at him frozen, some of that old fear was returning as well.
Harris smiled, “I am glad the nurses are spreading some cheer,” and gestured to Alfie’s ridiculous hat, “And I am glad to hear that you’ve been trying harder to tolerate the hydrotherapy Alfred. That is brave of you as we all know how much it has frightened you in the past.”
Fie looked down at his plate ashamed. He remembered that. Over and over. A room full of people- him bare and being forced into water by so many hands. Harris watching…
“Dr. Harris, I hope that you’ve had a pleasant holiday?” Sean politely responded after a few beats of silence and an awkward cough.
“Thank you, Sean, yes. In fact I will be off soon, the wife and children are expecting me for Christmas dinner. Just like to stop in today every year. The holiday can set many of our patients off, I like to be assured that everything is under control.”
Sean agreed with that, many patients preemptively were given extra sedation today. It made him a bit sad but then he remembered the alternative- them suffering unnecessarily- missing family, memories, some even waiting for a visit from Santa Claus that would never come… It was cruel to them. Such a happy happy day turned cruel.
Dr. Harris gave Sean what was probably meant to be a polite smile, “Sean, would you give Alfie and I a minute? I’ll call you back over if you’re needed.”
An alarm bell went off in his head but he could only say, “Sure, Doctor,” And then glance to Alfie, who was still looking at his plate and walk to the perimeter of the room to join a few of the other orderlies.
“Alfred, please be polite and put your fork down and look at me.”
Fie dropped his fork almost robotically and wrapped his hand in the other in his lap.
“What else did I ask?”
He dragged his eyes up to the doctor standing up above him. He was wearing a red and green tie.
“You have children?” It came out before he even realized it, surprising both of them.
Harris smiled in amusement, “Yes, I generally keep my personal life separate, part of the profession I am afraid. Two boys and a girl. The eldest is sixteen.”
Harris could see the cogs turning in his patient’s head, new information about a man he knew surprisingly nothing about. He prided himself in being strictly a doctor to his patients, nothing else, no extraneous details. It was all about the patients after all.
He loved how painfully clear some of Alfie’s thoughts could be. And this was such a nice little Christmas gift dropped into his lap, especially since his initial plan was just to discuss water therapy again.
“I can tell you are surprised, what are you thinking about right now?”
“And stop picking at your hands.” He added with a touch of sterness.
Alfie’s worrying hands stilled instantly. His eyes looked bigger when they clumsily shaved his head like this. It was a shame they didn’t do a better job, he could have been a handsome young man. Even still.
“It’s just that you’re always here- I didn’t think- I didn’t know-” That he had children of his own? That he was someone's father…
It was natural that Alfred would see him as a father figure, it happened with a lot of patients, it was difficult to avoid.
“I know you see me as a father, Alfred. I’ve helped you and taken care of you, it’s natural.”
Then Fie looked surprised again.
“This is why you still need so much more therapy, you’re a clever boy but you’re not making the most simple connections related to your psyche.”
Fie wilted a bit and after a brief moment nodded back to Harris. Sean had told him to agree when he could, he said it would help.
“Now Dr. Capshaw will restart hydrotherapy again today- only one day off. If you cooperate in our next session when I return tomorrow maybe we can consider reducing those sessions.”
Alfie looked back to him and nodded in understanding. He really would like that. He was getting better at hydrotherapy but afterwards he still cried every time. And really anything to see less of Capshaw.
“That’s a good boy. Now behave the rest of today, the nurses have enough to deal with, and you don't want to be sedated- or worse get a lump of coal, on Christmas do you?” He said with a smile and bent over and ruffled his hat partially crumpling it where it sat on his head.
“Merry Christmas Alfred, I’ll see you tomorrow.” Harris beamed in his good cheer and turned on his heels to leave the hospital for what Alfie imagined was a roasted goose with all of the trimmings and three smiling children.
Maybe he was a good father? Maybe he played catch in the backyard and read stories alloud by the fire?
A shiver went through him as he was lost in this thought, only to jump again when he felt a hand on his back.
“Just me, bud,” Sean’s voice rumbled kindly.
Alfie deflated a little in his seat, “He said I have to have treatment today.”
Sean’s eyebrows were creased as he came into his vision, rounding the table, “On Christmas? What do they say? No rest for the wicked?”
“Is that me or them that's the Wicked?” Alfie replied dryly but lacking the smirk a joke would require.
Sean elected to ignore the dour comment and move forward, “I was watching you though, you did a good job, I saw you nodding- agreeing- just like we talked about. I know it isn’t easy.”
“You said that before- at one point… I used to fight it?”
It was Sean’s turn to smirk, “Like a tomcat, a force of nature,” He replied with a tone of distinctive pride, “You really stuck it to them.”
“Sometimes I feel like I still want to…”
Sean paused, sensing the dangerous territory, “Fie, listen, that’s not a bad thing but-”
“But then they’d erase me again… I know. So I won’t.”
He sighed, “It’s just not fair, Fie. You should be able to fight and I should help you-”
“But it isn’t fair no matter what and if you’re gone...”
Fie was frankly amazingly lucid today. It was reminding Sean of how painful it could be when he was.... as opposed to the other special kind of torture of when he was out of it- this way he was aware of the injustice, the cruelty.
“You’re right,” Sean breathed out, feeling decidedly un-cheery.
As if reading his mind in turn Alfie responded with a wry smile that didn’t match his eyes, “Merry Christmas to us then.”
Sean then smiled bigger than he should have, “I do have one thing that might tip the balances of today…”
Alfie actually looked mildly curious.
“If you’ll do me the honor of escorting me back to your quarters, there may or may not be a surprise waiting there…”
Fie tried to suppress a small smile and nodded. He almost got up but then looked apprehensively at his tray, reflexively ready to be told to eat more.
“Clean plate club as far as I’m concerned.” Sean shooed him up gently with a smile.
Fie wobbled a bit and wasn’t fast by any stretch of the imagination but when they made it back to his cell Sean gestured inside like a prize show girl.
Fie raised his eyebrows when with a cursory look nothing was visible.
“You think I’d let the nurses take it home for themselves? Look a little closer-”
Alfie stepped inside as he had hundreds of times before. The only thing in the white cell was an iron bed with white sheets and a gray scratchy wool blanket.
He looked back at Sean, now really confused.
“Check the sheets” Sean smiled.
So Alfie did, tucked right within was a small bundle…
Alfie immediately sat on his bed with the green wrapped bundle on his lap and then just stopped, staring at it.
“You can open it anytime,” Sean reminded him in a teasing voice.
Fie looked up at him, almost surprised again that he was there, already so distracted by this new object.
But he nodded minutely and looked back down to the parcel.
It was wrapped with a thin red and white twine bow that he gingerly pulled loose. Before it fell away he rubbed it with his fingers, savoring the touch.
Gingerly, so gingerly he began on the paper. There was no tape so at his little tug it easily came away. First visible was a card.
“Merry Christmas! From the Cyril’s” read in cheery red script around a green snow covered tree with little yellow lights dotting it. Fie’s finger brushed slowly over the pressed inks. After a long moment, he opened up the card and something fluttered out.
Sean jumped over to retrieve it and embarrassedly spluttered as he handed it back, “Sophie wanted to give you a card but each one has our snapshot in it for family and friends out of town- it’s corny, i know...” his cheeks were red.
Fie just silently took the thick glossy cutout back and stared at it. It was Sean, that he recognized, but bizarrely out of uniform, in a knit button-up leisure shirt. And a woman beaming at the camera in his arms below him. She was so happy- beaming wasn’t enough of a word to describe it. Her hair was done stylishly in medium curls that swept off her face and her dress, even in the black and white, was obviously colorful and jubilant.
They were beautiful.
He looked at the writing in the card, “Dear Alfred, Merry Christmas from us. Good tidings and continued wishes for your improving health. With cheers and fond wishes, Soph and Sean.”
The script was decidedly ugly which unexpectedly made Fie laugh, scrawled with sharp points and careless dots and crossed t’s, somehow even that was amusing and warm.
“Oh her writing? I know!! Apparently the nuns used to use a ruler on her hands in grade school for it- she thinks she’s talented for it!” Sean laughed warmly.
Fie closed the card and smiled at Sean, “Thank you, Sean.” He couldn’t believe they would give him this, it was almost too kind.
“Well thats just the card! Look at the rest!” Sean replied giddily.
And sure enough, to his surprise, (as he had forgotten about the lumpiness of the parcel) there was more. First was a little pie, the size of a hand and absolutely delicious looking, then… a tiny notebook, again no larger than a hand with a little pencil fit into the spine.
Fie picked up the notebook, dumbfounded. Green leather bound with tissue thin pages turned over and over in his hands.
“Mostly for drawing…. If you ever felt like it when i can’t take you to the art room but also I don’t know...” Sean rubbed the back of his neck, “For remembering things you don’t wanna forget- important things-”
Fie shifted the contents of his lap beside him to jump up and hug Sean but clumsily more fell into him than anything.
“Thank you-” He mumbled into the warm winter uniform sweater, “Thank you.”
Sean held him securely, “Merry Christmas bud, you probably deserve a helluva lot more than this.”
---
@cursedscribbles @voidwhump @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @aliceinwhumperland @whump-it @professional-idiocy @ziptiewhump @angrystudentgoopfire @jaxonjekkels @clubbem @simplygrimly @whole-and-apart-and-between @bumpthumpwhump @rosesareviolentlyread @whumpasaurus101 @hurting-fictional-people @burtlederp @thelittlegirlwithcurlyhair @crystalquartzwhump @rotfern @sentientpileofmoss
#whump#psych whump#alfie#alfred finch#sean#dr. harris#sophie#christmas#tw mentioned nudity#psychiatric whump#hydrotherapy#presents!#for the boy!!#4 years wow sad#sorry its been a long time#treatment has been kicking my ass#looking good overall though so dw
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https://www.taipeitimes.com/News/feat/archives/2012/05/19/2003533178
This is an article from 2012 where they talk about the relationship between gays and Disneyland. I accidentally came across this article and thought a lot about jikook. I don't know whether they were aware of these back then but whatever it is it was a bold movement from jeon kid to do this. And the mickey mouse hat jimin wore . Everything that they made in 2017 have meanings and they meant it too. Only the brainless trashcookers can't see it or admit it. I've seen ex-trashcooker saying that they haven't seen gcf tokyo yet. WHY? They ofcourse know it is GCF jimin ft tokyo whereas their fav has not got any as such but they're still arguing that it was actually planned with their fav and change due to some reason as if trashcookers were the ones who charted their schedules haha.
I sometimes wonder what might have happened in Tokyo but we will never know. These days things are getting complicated both for jimin and jungkook. I wonder what might be their motive to choose Disneyland as their destination place for their first trip. I'm still screaming at the thought they stayed at the hotel where the bedroom and bathroom were separated only by a transparent window. Jimin could see jungkook shower for 50 minutes through the transparent window? Wow I'm kidding but not really. The age they visited Tokyo alone is such a crucial one here. Both might be at the peak of curiosity and they are jikook lol I'll shut up now.
Now coming into jimin who is not so into amusement park rides according to him ( who would waste money on things like this + too scared lol me too yes i'm jimin's girl ) decided to get on that coffee mug ride? Are you serious!? YES! And that's how we got the most beautiful jimin smile through jungkook's eye. What we see in golden closet film Tokyo is jimin through jungkook's eye.
At the very 1st thought jungkook is the same age as jimin's brother and jimin's is the same age of jungkook's brother but nah ! I have eyes ofcourse. I didnt get any brotherly vibes. Of course they care about eo. The way jimin caresses junkookie's head or pat his head like an elder brother. But I don't wanna bring that ear sucking moment here. We had enough and that's louder than anything. I'd like to nominate the tummy caressing part by jk.mp4 lol. Jimin didn't even flinched like he is so used to those hands. They hiding at the corner at a big party ( jitb we spotted the couples ), staring at the lips while talking, jimin gesturing to keep shut when they were asked about the comfort thing that they depend on wow that was sus , and pulling him close behind yoongi?
Whatever I'm ending my rants here. I just wanted some place to rant that JIKOOK IS REAL AND MORE THAN FRIENDS OR WHATEVER. THEIR BOND IS UNBREAKABLE.
And they have done things and hinted as many things. Only blinds can't see it. That's their issue not ours. And to those who haven't seen gcf tokyo youre missing a masterplan video for how to impress your crush that's it.
thankyou 💜💛
Hi anon,
Your ask is beautiful. I love it.
It makes me wonder of all the times that jikook referenced their trip after they came back. They were smitten by each other!
Shy and sweet and even when talking about it, they would ignore the rest of the world around them.
And now they are in Japan again. History likes to repeat itself. Will they have a glass shower again?
What happened in Disneyland?!
With or without Disneyland (will they go to Disneyland?), them deciding on a project together (omg. this is a subunit created by jikook) and making it so they would work, travel, have fun, and spend time and end in Japan is a bold move.
We will see what comes out of this and if they end up in Disneyland again, I fear we might not make it through.
But yeah, "jikook is more than friends or whatever"...lol
Thank you for sharing your thoughts.
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I feel so weird and like I'm doing something wrong?? My Boss manager always being so passive aggressive to me or maybe I'm just not used to ppl being so stupid.
She's like "you NEED to be selling the credit cards more. You know we base your scheduling on how many credit card u sell and if you don't have high numbers then when I start hiring new people..."
HIRING WHO?????? HIRING WHOO???? Id like to see all the people you’re hiring hmm? Where? You can barely keep ur own managers from constantly calling out of work. So ur forced to do 60 hr work weeks every month. I know u ain't talking to me And the other two associates always call out or don't show up so I have to come and cover for them…I KNOW YOU AIN'T TALKING TO ME!??!??!?!?
"Your job is to sell the stuff at the counter and credit cards" ok then why am I sweeping the floors and cleaning the bathrooms and wiping the mirrors and pricing merch and tagging and taking out the trash and dusting and packaging online orders etc?
She like "even tho ur just an associate u NEED to be reading the emails everyday" girl how is knowing what the stores over n Texas and Florida make gon help me 💀 She acts like she got hella people on stand by bitch u dont she tryna lecture telling me I need to do more... All you do is talk on the phone and ask ppl to join ur church.
She be in the corner somewhere on the phone and the customers are like "um...excuse me?" And she ignored them so I gotta help them. Even tho she tasked me with scanning all the fucking items in the store!!
And she literally told me "u need to pay attention more to the customers YOU'RE NOT HERE TO COMPLETE TASKS!!!" AHHHHHHUAHHHHHHHHHHHHH what do you mean???????? Wtf am i here for then??
I'm bout to snap on her fr maybe I'm too combative… she got me pushing around this chart.
She was like complaining "uh make sure you fix that bcuz y'all like to leave it a mess 😒" And I was bout to say "bitch who tf is y'all??????" I KNOW how you are and I know you complain about every lil thing, so whenever i'm pushing that chart around it be looking neat and tidy and I put it back like that too.
I'm da best employee she has!!! My other managers Jays and Red were literally like “ugh we were so lucky to have found you” and the other day a customer had came back into the store to tell my manager Red what a good job i did helping her find what she needs and being accommodating…The other associates dont do shit.
The college girl who barely works saw a box all messed up, she tried to quickly close the top (didn't work) and then she just walked away. I was like "um aren't u gon fix that?" And she was like "oh yeah right" Like??? And all she does is stand behind da counter. The store be a mess and she be standing.
The phone guy just be on his phone and he be chilling in da back. I know u are not on my case. when u let a whole ass employee stay in the break room his entire shift 💀.
I feel like she get someone sort of power trip off it and she just needs someone to terrorize and she choose me because I'm always there 🥲 (this is the reward i get for being a real ass employee??)
Boss manager was like "I'm going to start quizzing you guys on what was in the manual bcuz y'all act like talk forgot, you NEED to be following them!!" Girl still on shit from da "training" videos. Shit she don't even follow…
Yesterday she was like, “go reprice the entire clearance section, make sure you don't leave the chart out!!! Every Time someone walks in the store, put the chart back and greet them!!! (she's standing next to the entrance doing nothing) Well this NEEDS to be done before your shift ends so get it together hurry up!!! And you can actually leave the chart out when u need to ring someone up on the register (she is one the phone and didn't notice someone standing there) OMG WHAT ARE YOU DOING THAT GUY NEEDS HELP!!! HELP HIM!!! GOOOO!!! AND TAKE THE CHART WITH YOU!!!!! OMG OMG STOP STOP LEAVE THE CHART HELP THAT GUY NOWW UGHHHHHHH!!!!!" and she is...standing there doing nothing...he walked up to her first bcuz she was closer…
Its so awkward asking someone to apply for the credit card, bcuz the boss manager expects you to harass every customer (she literally follows them around the store and asking them repeatedly to sign up i counted once…she asked one person 7 times) AND it's not even only the credit card, it's everything in the damn store. AND she only wanted 1 person on the register even when its rlly busy, trying to sell everything in the store…. (you guys only 2 people are allowed in the ENTIRE STORE one associate and one manager bcuz the company wants to be cheap)
It's like the customer places whatever they’re buying down and I have to say “hey this thing is buy one get on half if you're interested, and we have this item on sale, also if you wanted any of these items they’re behind you. Do you want any of this? I can show you the different ones we sell. And we have this too. I can help you pick out the one you need. We also have a credit card, if you want, you'll earn coupons and get a discount off today's purchase :D"
And she wants us, to say that, TO EVERY SINGLE CUSTOMER!! Everyone…
So it gets so awkward asking, especially if they are just buying like one little item. And to make things worse she's so nitpicky about everything like I was asking if they wanted to join our rewards and she was like "ugh if you ask it like that of course they're gonna say no!!!" And then she...didn't give me a way I should ask them…
I just nod and say "okay" whenever she starts ranting. She just get on my nerves a lot but that's also bcuz ima hater. Idk i feel like i do everything correctly and efficiently so idk why my managers are always attacking or complaining about me.
Can I pleaseeeee have a job where I only need to complete tasks??? Where are those jobs?? Someone point me in the right direction
#bobs files#keep playing with me#grown ass woman#you give old people a bad name#this why you gon be stuck in retail till the day you uahfjvksjgrjsjgvagmesh#lemme not wish ill on da elderly
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this has been sitting in my drafts as a response to some ideas that were circulating online a week or two ago due to that bang sihyuk interview, and it's clumsily worded but i still feel like it's a valid take so i'm just posting anyway. i'm not a music professional or connected to the industry, so if i'm far wrong just ignore this random post. i just get frustrated that for all the talk of strategy etc. everyone seems to act like bts (and by extension jk) are an established *western* act while either still promoting like a kpop act in sk schedule-wise or like a beyonce/tswift level act (which ... yeah duh) with vast u.s. name recognition (not so much) - and then wondering what's not clicking
idk about this "crisis" but i know one thing has struck me about the kpop and sk press and kpop stans in general
i touched on it back when i was talking in my tags about like crazy getting traction in the us
and what i meant was that those involved in kpop are too blinded by the industry cycle and too used to that cycle's accelerated evaluation by stans and press alike
like no one in the us who is not already a fan is waiting on the day of release to listen stream and buy. it is NOT like sk with weekly shows, several comebacks per year, etc etc
and most especially it's not this thing of: create song, choreo, mv, do a spate of music shows, see what hits if anything, maybe leverage concert dates if it does - but if not then done! next concept! move on and keep it moving - got to fill those music shows and if you don't constantly have new pieces to show you could lose attention and traction
but the general public in the u.s. is NOT socialized to all tune in to check out what's new at a certain time each week or whatever
only some check the charts and even that is mostly just to see where their personal fave is
what gp recognition goes by is repetition (that's one reason why radio is weighted so heavily in ratings- not fairly, but it's true): have we heard a song before? was it in the car on the way? was it in the club? was it in the music in the background at a store, at a party, on a friend's playlist?
when americans say they heard a song "everywhere" it means literally you could not escape it - and for that kind of feeling or environment to exist, it has to happen over *t i m e*
true, yes, sometimes a song takes off and gallops out of control like a wildfire catching but that is the exception not something that can be planned for or marketed into existence
and once you are a big enough name and have enough fans (us population @ 330 million so ... a lot more fans than it take to equal the same percentage of sales in sk ... so only a sliver of a percentage of that can mean a #1 bb hot 100) you CAN get that immediate-drop chart push
but most of the time, u.s. artists need to build up name recognition with the folks who wouldn't know a music chart if it popped up in their excel spreadsheets. that's why you get youtube reactors or even music business professionals months after release going oh i didn't know they even had an album/track/mv out
the larger a group, the longer it takes for things to disseminate past the early adopters and the media who watch them and the industry (nobody wants to be left behind, so journalists/talking heads are always like pets when you walk into the kitchen: heads on swivels in case it turns out relevant, and will write things just to be on top of a possible trend)
and this is where, i think, after watching hybe and its american arm try their push on jk, the kpop focalists are veering astray in their plans and projections: not seeing immediate huge success (or not *sustained* huge success) they think there is some kind of crisis rather than understanding that a u.s. or even just western gp fandom cannot be a top-down thing - it will take time
bts are huge (and yes a triumph for bts IS NOT and SHOULD not be lumped in as "a win" for kpop in general as has been pointed out is too often the case) but in the first days of jk's album release, *2 months* after seven had debuted, the huge nationwide retailer where i work couldn't even get his name spelled correctly in the point-of-sale database, so
the u.s. music industry is a big machine and busy on its own, many listeners only stay in their own bubbles and don't pay attention to anything outside that, because just keeping up with the output of one scene or genre can take as much effort as watching the kpop industry as a whole
to break wide you need to be either insanely ubiquitous and not just on social media (which runs the risk of people getting sick of you just as fast) or you need the slower groundswell of people going from "oh *that's* them? i heard of them but i didn't know that was their song" to "omg that's my song!! turn it up!"
there's just too much out there today to catch people's attention and the media cycle turns ever faster - used to, a song could be out and getting steady radio play and it still wouldn't hit the consciousness of the national public for like 3 or 4 months sometimes. sometimes it could take a year or more.
so this thing of short promotion periods for kpop acts - even bts! - is just not viable as a way to attract a wide gp following in the states. being on late night tv shows is a good step, but since the advent of streaming the influence of shows like that has waned considerably since the days of ed sullivan or johnny carson.
jk's run of promoting *was* the right kind of thing to do in fact - it simply should have been much more spread out over time. you can see all his album collab artists have things coming out *now* ... and there's no way to really take advantage of that with the curtailed promo.
and yes, obviously jk did get probably the second longest promo period of all of bts chapter 2 solos efforts (i think yg's tour ran longer?) and it was cut off for very valid reason! but!
i think bangpd et al. taking the fact that they couldn't make jk a household name in the u.s. nor nab him a grammy nom (nor any other kpop groups) within the 5-6 months of their fairly blatant push for us recognition as indicating a "crisis" is just not looking at the long game.
they didn't get all the accolades right away, so it seems they've decided 'that didn't work we need to make some big changes' instead of continuing what they'd been doing in support of the artists
it's this attitude of welp they didn't give us a grammy we were entitled to even though it's the first time we played ball in this particular way, so now we're worried bc we don't know how to shop kpop beyond people who aren't primed for it
like, they are looking at the business of it, and likely accurately, but not at the audience itself
it's not that the observations bang is making are wrong i just think he is basing them off premature information - songs in the u.s. DO benefit from purchase power, but they ALSO rely a lot on word of mouth. not for charts positions necessarily, but for longterm growth, support, and more importantly demand, you cannot beat a fandom that grows on its own.
the paid promotions at the end of the day serve the same purpose as bts's early days vlogs in the current western music climate - getting the artist and songs in front of as many eyes and ears as possible. but then you have to allow time for that wave to spread - and the bigger the pond, the more time it may take
#this is just me rambling#but the thought wouldn't leave me alone#it just seems too quick#kpop moves fast and on the surface it may seem like the american industry does too#but it is not the same at all and you can't expect the results to be in that fast#you'd think the man who rode the bts train would understand but i think he's looking at metrics not audiences#and expecting the kind of results he'd get in sk or the kind of results he's told american acts of similar stature to bts would get#either that or it's all a long game and he's going through steps in a script#which i would not put it past him to have some plan behind these moves#but really this post is me being a bit irtitated at the fact that they *coukd* have made jk or jm american household names#if they'd just *sustained* the promotions over time - i really believe this#and this seeming expectation that they can run a 'global popstar' campaign on an sk comeback timetable kinda bugs me
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Another Poll!!
Okay, so since "drawing a scene from the fic" won, I'm making a poll to help me start on which ones pjojfap
I'm putting the excerpts down below the cut that way it's obvious which places it is but yeah!! vote!! >:3c
Chapter 1
“But what if you can’t? Then what are we going to do if you mess it up?” Beau snapped, stomping her foot in frustration.
“I’m not going to mess it up.” Gianna snapped back, slamming her hands on the keyboard in frustration as she shoots an angry glare at her sibling.
“Then why did it even mess up in the first place? You must’ve done something wrong about charting our course back!”
“At least I’m the one who actually tries learning how to pilot this ship!” Gianna growled angrily.
“GUYS!” Timmy shouted, making both of their attentions snap over to their cousin.
He was pointing at the screen, which now displayed a new message.
INPUT ACCEPTED. EJECTION SEQUENCE STARTED.
Chapter 1…2!
DID YOU REALLY THINK YOU COULD CHANGE MY NARRATIVE WITHOUT ME KNOWING?
…
To be honest?
No.
But, that doesn’t matter.
I’m not going to let you ruin things again.
Chapter 2
And anything that Gianna had been thinking was thrown out of her head upon looking at the girl. She had beautiful blonde hair that looked like waves of honey, golden eyes that glittered like gold, and a dazzling smile. She wore a red cloak that was fastened with a golden coin, a salmon shirt, red brown pants, teal boots, and purple gloves.
Chapter 2…2!
However, her attention was briefly grabbed by this feeling of eyes burning into the back of her head.
But, when she turned around, there was nobody there other than the residents on the island milling about, doing their normal schedules.
Shaking her head and deciding that it was just some sort of paranoia, Gianna jogged to catch up with her cousin and Ally, though she couldn’t quite shake the feeling that someone or something was watching her.
Chapter 3
“What are you doing here?” the masculine voice from before growled from behind the three of them.
Beau turned around slowly and nearly dropped RUMBi as she was face to face with a very familiar face.
Someone who she had never seen in the flesh herself, and only had heard stories about.
Someone who shared her cousin’s black hair with a widow peak and ice blue eyes.
That person being Alphonse Capone, Timmy’s other biological father and her Uncle Tim’s ex-fiancé.
And, from the look on his face, he was pissed at her.
Chapter 4
“Why don’t you come with us? Because, if we’re going to plan on something against them, we need somewhere safe and secure and why not relax a little before we do that?” Gianna suggested cheerfully.
Ally hesitated, before nodding as she took stars hand.
“Sure, why not?”
She tried to ignore the look that Timmy gave her, because if looks could kill, she would be dead tenfold.
Chapter 5
“It’ is wonderful hearing you listen to reason. But first…” The being drawled, shining brighter.
In the blink of an eye, the being was right in front of Felicity, grabbing soft by the throat and lifting her into the air, causing soft to scrabble against the tight grip.
“We need to make sure this one doesn’t talk.” Break said with a hiss to breaks words.
There was a sudden jolt of electricity through softs body before soft’s passed out, the last thing that soft saw being Alphonse’s horrified face.
Chapter 6
“I don’t know, okay! Why are you making such a big deal out of this?!” Gianna bit back, stamping her foot.
“Because you’re acting as if some random girl you met is more important than your own family!”
The words came spilling out of his mouth before he could stop them, making Gianna gasp. Stars surprise quickly turned into rage as she huffed and sat down abruptly. And that was the final straw as Timmy grabbed his jacket and made sure the teleporter badge was secured onto the zipper. He glared over at Gianna, who looked surprised.
Chapter 6…2!
“He is?” the goon, Emil, asked, brows furrowing in confusion as blue glanced from one to the other.
“He is. I was just showing him around but he ended up going ahead of me to see the HQ. Isn’t that right?” the girl replied calmly, putting an arm around Timmy’s shoulders and looking down at him casually.
“Yeah! That’s why I was wanting to head inside! Because I assumed I would be allowed in, my bad.” Timmy laughed off, internally freaking out about how easy this was.
Chapter 6…3!
However, before Beau could clarify, there was the loud sound of doors slamming open, causing the entire lobby to go silent, including even RUMBI and J4N1-T0R. Timmy turned around and saw that, standing in the doorway opposite of where he had come in, was none other than his biological father.
And he did not look happy.
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Please pray for me because I’m about ready to start biting people at work, lol.
I am going to end up in jail for taking a chunk out of someone’s arm while foaming at the mouth.
I was gonna take today off since I had yesterday off for Juneteenth and I’m major stressed about this trip next week. But then we were told we would be going through the agenda for the trip on the call so I was like “cool, makes sense, for the sake of my anxiety/ocd and desperate need to know what the schedule is and be as prepared as possible, I’ll cancel my extra day off so I can go to this meeting.”
TELL ME WHY THEY TOLD US ABSOLUTELY NOTHING ABOUT THE TRIP ASIDE FROM “YOU’LL GET THE AGENDA TOMORROW.”
TOMORROW??? LESS THAN 24 BUSINESS HOURS BEFORE I WILL BE IN NY???
Look. I am not trying to be difficult. I know my need to know as much as possible about something before getting into it is a bit…extreme.
BUT THERE ARE ONLY 19 OF US GOING. HOW HAVE YOU NOT FINALIZED AN AGENDA YET OR AT LEAST GIVEN US A ROUGH MOCKUP OF WHAT TO EXPECT???????
Oh my GOD. I am losing my FUCKING MIND. Oh, but we were told to expect to still be doing our regular work even though we “have a packed schedule.”
WHAT. WHAT.
WHEN. Y’all already got us flying there Monday morning and leaving Wednesday night.
WHEN. WHEN WHEN WHEN????
The level of anxiety I feel at having absolutely no fucking clue what to expect for a trip this close is OFF THE CHARTS.
I don’t feel like I’m asking for the sun and the moon and the stars??? I just want to know basic shit like if I’ll get any breaks (haha, good one), how “packed” the packed schedule is, how much time I’m going to have to mask like my life depends on it, and how much time am I going to have to come down from being around people and being nonstop busy every single day.
Plus the added stress (to me) of having to rush there and rush back home because the multi-billion-dollar company I work for is too stingy to pay for us to either go up Sunday or leave Thursday.
lol I want to fucking cry from frustration.
Literally the whole having ocd thing means I am hardwired to have little to no tolerance of uncertainty/change and desperately desire routine. Plus the fun addition of ADHD means I’m very easily overstimulated and have impaired executive function (which I’m going to need in spades for this damn trip).
That doesn’t even take into account the fact my therapist (who specializes in ocd) says I probably have autism too. There’s a pretty significant rate of comorbidity and an overlap in symptoms between autism and ocd and they often get misdiagnosed for the other because of it.
“The prevalence of OCD is estimated to range from 4.9% to 37.2% in children and adolescents diagnosed with ASD, and from 7% to 24% in adults with ASD.”
A wild range in the state, but still significant enough they’re like “we see the link.”
I was around 18 the first time I was told by a therapist that I might have ocd and lord knows I had symptoms before that. Tbh I’m 99.9% certain my ocd symptoms started around age 12/13. I just didn’t see a therapist for the first time until I was 18 (yaaaay growing up poor!). Then I got told again back in 2022 by another therapist “hey, has anyone ever told you that you might have ocd” and then finally by my ocd specialist therapist (who I wasn’t even seeing for ocd, just exposure therapy which tends to be one of the main treatments for ocd) who was like “you 1000% have pure o ocd” lol. Not her exact words, but that was the sentiment.
Pure o is a bit of a misnomer because a lot of the compulsions are internalized rather than externalized (ex. reassurance seeking, spiraling in an attempt to suppress/ignore distressing thoughts, avoiding situations that may trigger obsessions, exhaustively assessing and reassessing what-ifs…).
My current therapist actually personally has ADHD and specializes in OCD. While she’s not in a position to diagnose someone with autism, she’s still in a good enough spot to say “I’m pretty confident you have it.”
I did get tested for it when I got tested for ADHD at my request, but didn’t get the diagnosis for it. lol after three separate therapists had to consult with each other on whether or not I might have it. I was deemed as “having signs of autism, but not enough autism” lmaooo. The lady who did my assessment was new enough in her career she had to get the results signed off on by a superior (who, if memory serves, also changed in the middle of my assessment) and was told not enough autism. Tho the assessor and my therapist (part of the assessment involved them comparing notes on me) were both like “we see it.”
And ever since then I’ve been trying to figure out if the ambiguity is because I’ve gotten really fucking good at masking or if it’s just because my special brand of adhd/ocd encompasses 2/3 of a whole autism lmaooo. There is little doubt in my mind that, before I learned to mask in my early twenties, I probably would’ve been diagnosed without any hemming and hawing. BUT HERE WE ARE.
The joys of trying to get a diagnosis later in life after you’ve spent decades learning how to fucking cope, or at least fake it well enough to get by.
WHO KNOWS.
I feel mildly less like I might bite someone now, but I’m sure that’s not gonna last. lol. Lord help me.
The timeframe for that is going to be largely dependent on when they finally give us the agenda tomorrow lol. Morning? Minimal risk. Late afternoon? Gonna need a muzzle.
┻━┻︵ \(°□°)/ ︵ ┻━┻
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Astrology Observations #2
After a long hiatus i'm back with a few observations I've made in the time I was gone. Hope you like it:)
🥀 Neptune in the 5th house may frequently get into a unhealthy one sided love if they don't learn to stop ignoring the red flags in the person their interested in. The presence of Neptune in this house makes you delusional towards your interest and blurs the line between love and obsession. It's the fact that yall chase after people who are obviously not good for you in the first place. Remember guys, reciprocation is very important in love and if you're not their number 1 then they shouldnt be yours either. My advice would be to stop making scenarios in your head and to take them for what they show you NOT what they could be. Learn to assert your boundries and stop romanticizing people who do the bare minimum you deserve better.
🥀 Pisces Venus and getting scammed by their own love interests smh. People who have this placement need to be careful with who they get involved with. My cousin had this placement and she was dating this guy from Australia who was trying to come to America. They were in a relationship for 5 years and when they got a court marriage he got the green card and ran away. So basically he used her for her own benefit and when he got what he wanted he left. Most men she got with ended up treating her so bad but they seemed pretty nice at first. That's what Neptune does. Wherever it's in your chart could be where you are taken advantage of and easily decieved so be extra cautious.
🥀 Mars in the 12th house have terrible sleeping schedules. They're the type to stay up during night and sleep during the day and then take their anger out on everyone because they're sleep deprived. This is me telling you right now to fix your sleeping schedule and even though you might find more peace at night humans are not nocturnal. Who knows y'all not getting the right amount of sleep could be the reason why you feel so depressed.
🥀 Capricorn moons when are you gonna stop running away from your emotions. Life would be so much easier if you just learned to deal with your trauma and forget about the expectations that your loved ones have for you. I know life is unfair to you and your parents dont give you the love you deserve, but that doesnt mean you dont deserve to be happy. It's hard for people to love you if you push them away. Having a crush on someone with this placement, if underdeveloped, is not fun especially if he's a guy because they dont understand their emotions and dont put effort to understand them either. However, these are some of the most loyal, hardworking, mature people I have ever known when developed. They'll make you feel safe and loved in their arms if the truly love and care for you. They're good people but just have a wounded innerchild, that's it. Deep down I know y'all are softies so stop hiding it. Not everyone is out to get you I promise . Also please consider therapy.
🥀 Lilith in Scorpio women give maneater energy for some reason. Its hard to explain but they have this allure to them that people cant resist. Ex- Beyonce, Anne Hathaway, Taylor Swift, Briggete Bardot, Vanessa Paradis.
🥀 Venus square ascendant people I swear your beautiful stop thinking you're ugly. Sometimes you guys dont see your own beauty and the effect you have on people. You have the ability to turn heads when you walk into a room, but you dont see that because of the unbelievably high standards you've set for yourself. You're beautiful but the way you percieve what beauty is, doesnt align with your appearance or reality. Maybe it couldve been because people always commented on your appearence growing up or you feel pressured by society. Remember that beauty is the eye of the beholder. Just because you think your ugly doesnt mean that you actually are, youre just not your own type.
🥀 Mars square Uranus combined with Venus/Moon to Pluto is the epitome of enemies to lovers in synastry. Its like you hate them so much but have this unbelievable urge to slam them against the wall and kiss them. That person will annoy the shit out of you but the attraction is always underlying there and it gets hard to ignore. If you wanna a healthy relationship though, I would steer clear from this synastry because its toxic.
🥀 Lilith in the 2nd house/Taurus are what I would imagine a material girl to be. They love luxury things and will find a way to get what they want if they set their eye on something. Also they might get a certain job or enter a career just because it pays well. They're pretty hedonistic in general and love sex or anything Taurus/Venus related. Alot of the women here have nicely shaped bodies and lips even if theyre on the skinnier side. However, they could have eating disorders and body dysmorphia.
🥀 Leo Venus are so cute you guys remind me of a little puppy begging for attention:/ The thing is, yall are too flighty for my liking. A guy I know liked 2 girls at the same time and one of them even like him back and she asked him out, but he said no because he like the other one more like dude??? The other girl even had boyfriend but still he said no. Then he had the audacity to complain about the fact that he's never been in a relationship before. These people are more in love with the idea and attention of love then actually being in a relationship. As a Capricorn Venus this placement is a red flag sorry.
🥀 Saturn square Venus in synastry is so sad to watch its literally right person wrong time as a placement. The couple I was talking about above had this placement and they didnt end up together because they liked each other at different times and everyone ships them too but it just never happened. The girl was the Venus and the guy was Saturn.
🥀 Virgo Mars are secretly little freaks and if they have aspects from Saturn it could be someone who's into bdsm. I met a guy with this placement and he used to call me master and ma'am. For some reason i could sense the sexual undertone in his voice but idk. Virgos in general are the definition of gentlemen/lady in the streets freaky in the sheets, so keep your eye on them.
🥀 Taurus and Cancer together in the big six gives major milf energy.
🥀 Capricorn and Virgo together in the big six gives dilf energy.
🥀 I hate stereotyping placements in astrology but damn Gemini Venus men are fuckboys sorry. My bestfriend has this placement and he told me he like 4 girls at once. Also he dated all of his best friends and while one of them was in a relationship he asked her out while she was dating the other guy. He got rejected but still. I think this applies to guy with a Gemini Sun though because I've observed that Cancer Sun Gemini Venus guys behave differently.
🥀 Leo risings are not as confident as youd think. People I know with this placement are super insecure and have a love hate relationship with their hair.
🥀 10th and 11th house synastry is seriously so slept on. If you want a ride or die lover go find someone you have this synastry with. Major power couple vibes.
That's all for today don't hesitate to give feedback:)
#astrology#neptune#pisces venus#capricorn moon#scorpio#lilith astrology#mars in 12th house#synastry#lilith in the houses#venus in leo#virgo mars#saturn#astrology notes#astrology observations#my observations#random observations
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Hi peach! I’m a welder and my Centiskorch (her name is darling) is a fierce Pokémon that often times works with me to torch items and help move small but hot pipes. she’s normally very distant while we work, preferring to keep work up with the occasional pet and head smooch but lately she’s been very affectionate and clingy making it hard to work! I don’t wanna keep her from getting the love she deserves at work or home but my boss has been noticing
Any advice?
Good news is your pokemon loves you a lot! Amazing, here for it. Bad news is you'll have to establish healthy boundaries again, for the safety of you and others around you while working.
Discuss with them the logistic issues, pokemon are smart, and can totally grasp simple things like whats safe and whats not. If you weld, no doubt you've been caught with a bit of hot metal now and then, its supposedly an occupational hazard, so showing your pokemon the damage sustained when these mistakes happen, and explaining how your body cannot handle the heat like theirs can, may help solidify why its unsafe to be clingy during work. If it loves you a lot, then it wont want to see you hurt. It can be difficult for some pokemon to connect that you (their family) are not built the same as them. Whats hot to you is not to them at all. Reestablishing this is very important.
To back this up, set up scheduled, clear times where cuddles and attention and play is totally ok, and make a big deal out of it, go above and beyond with the recreational time when its safe to do so, having a chart can help some species, perhaps try making one for them of the time they can play, and the time for safe work. When on the clock, stop what you're doing the moment they begin to be clingy, explain why you've stopped and take a moment to step away to let them blow off some steam or calm down, perhaps they've got more energy than they're expending in the work you both do.
This may take a short while to set up, but it's all about being firm when need be for everyones safety, and relaxing clearly when you're free to play. Perhaps connecting the "unsafe" times to when you've got the mask on, or your gloves may help them have a visual system that'll help differentiate between play and work times.
Reward the good behaviour with play and treats, ignore the clingy behaviour and explain why you dislike it at unsafe times, reinforcing how dangerous it can be to behave that way when people are working in your industry.
Side note, do investigate if your partner has more energy than is currently required for the workload its performing. If its got a lot of heat stored up, it can get a little hyper, bug zoomies if you will. Perhaps an early morning training session would help them get rid of some energy and make work hours more calm and manageable.
I'd also be clear with boss to make sure they know the situation is being rectified, and wont be an ongoing problem. Most employers are pretty chill with it, so long as it's not a huge surprise, or an issue of safety. Knowing you're sorting the situation out may put them at ease, or they may even be able to offer more tailored advice if they've been in the industry and seen this kind of thing before. Lots of people have useful tricks and tips for this kind of stuff, not just professors!
Give it a go and have a little patience, it is fixable, but will take some time. You've got this.
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Let’s have a baby
yandere!EraserMicx PREGNANT!Reader
A terrible mix up leading to an accidental pregnancy? Or something more intentional? Either way now you were pregnant with (none other than the beloved power couple heroes) Eraserhead and Present Mic’s child. Time to discuss how co parenting is going to work.
TW: pregnancy, artificial insemination, yandere elements, mentions of stalking, alludes to potential custody battle
You had been avoiding the two men for the past week, which was challenging seeing as they managed to find your phone number, address, and place of work. Any time you blocked their calls they got a new number. Two Pro Heroes versus a twenty something civilian, it was only a matter of time until you were cornered.
Now the couple stood between you and your apartment. You had a long shift at your job as a pet groomer and just wanted to get some rest.
Present Mic was the first to speak. "Hey lil momma, we heard you had work today so we brought you some dinner. We thought we could talk over a nice meal."
You had no response. You were tired, both physically and emotionally. You had been put through the ringer ever since meeting them at your doctors office. It was a total Jane the Virgin situation. You went in for an assessment about some supposed ovarian cysts and unknowing left artificially inseminated. There was a supposed mix up, a digital glitch that somehow merged your chart with the surrogates - apparently your names were super similar. Two weeks later you were called back into the doctor's office and informed of what took place. And now you were in this living nightmare.
And the two heroes had nothing to do with the error. There was totally a surrogate. They hadn't paid off your provider. And why would they? You had never met them - although given their patrols they may have seen you once or twice...
They were tearful when they were informed of the mix up, they had been waiting patiently through the whole process and now everything was thrown in chaos. They offered to compensate you for your service which sent you into a blind rage. They just assumed you would carry a child, a child with half of your DNA, and then give YOUR baby away. Rationally you understood that they had planned to be be the only parents to the child, but that was with a professional surrogate who understood the process, who didn't want the child in their life, just happy to help out a loving couple. But that wasn't you, you grew up wanting to be a mom, and now they would take that from you.
What if they tried to legally take sole custody of the baby? Surely they had some pull in the judicial system. Besides, they were a solid couple with money, while you were alone with no family and working two jobs. The thought made you sick to your stomach.
You were shaking as you tried to push past them. Maybe they would just disappear if you ignored them, a girl could dream. But instead they tagged along inside. Albeit you weren’t fighting them on it, you knew this had to happen eventually.
Aizawa easily found the cluttered dining table in your small apartment. You flinched when the loud one tried to help you shrug off your backpack. Taking a seat on the couch you waited for them to start berating you.
"Come sit at the table, dinner is getting cold," Eraser spoke for the first time.
"I'll eat later, I'm not hungry."
"You may not be, but the baby needs to eat."
You glared, how dare they insinuate you didn't know what your child needed. If your body was hungry, you ate. If you were full the baby was full too.
But, you complied, not wanting to argue, "Fine, but I ate a snack not too long ago."
As you ate, Mic kept you company, picking at some left overs, they clearly ate before their visit. Aizawa was rummaging through your place but you managed to hold your tongue until he began throwing things out of your fridge.
"What are you doing?" You hissed, getting up out of your seat.
"Mic and I will bring you groceries tomorrow. The food you have is barely safe for an adult, let alone a fetus."
"Are you kidding me? It's not like I'm chugging alcohol and living off Twinkies. Hey! I just bought those turkey slices. How is turkey bad?" You whined.
To make sure you wouldn't dig the food out trash he dumped it out of his container.
"Zashi, don't let me forget to empty the trash on our way out. Do you know how much salt is in deli meat? And there's no way you can drink any of this while you're pregnant." He gestures to the cans of soda.
As the frustration built you had to fight back tears. They couldn't come in to your home and start throwing out your things.
"Some of us don't make ridiculous money, I'm buying what I can afford and the doctor never had any problem with my health." You hissed.
Hizashi felt the tension thickening, "Hey hey hey, it's okay. Sho and I will go get you some good stuff. We just gotta watch out for you and baby."
And that was the end of your resolve, you stomped past the Hero and locked yourself in your bedroom. Finally tears began to drip down your cheeks.
Back in your kitchen Mic was chiding his boyfriend for being so tough on you.
"So I should just back down while she stuffs herself with junk food?"
Mic gave him a shrug, showing him a bottle on your counter, "At lest she's taking her prenatal vitamins?"
Grabbing the keys to your apartment Aizawa instructed Mic to wait with you while he got you better groceries. He would make copies of your keys on his was back.
You prayed they would leave soon. You were laying in your bed having cried yourself out. Barely into your second month of pregnancy. You still had to endure this for at least seven more months, but most likely much longer.
Next thing you knew you were opening your eyes and the clock read seven AM. By now your uninvited guests must be gone. Nervously you sat up, praying that you'd skip the morning sickness just once this week. You had always had a weak stomach and even the doctor was surprised you were already experiencing the symptom. Unfortunately the minute your feet touched the floor you knew what was coming. You sprinted to the restroom, not even checking to see if the duo had left.
God this was terrible, you didn't just hate throwing up, you were terrified of it. What if you started and never stopped? But it did come to an end. You wiped the water from your eyes and took a moment before standing from the floor. You screamed when a hand slid under your arm, helping you up. Another set of feet rushed to the bathroom.
" What's wrong?" Hizashi huffed as he skid to a stop.
You pulled arm free from Aizawa's grasp. "What are you two still doing here?"
You turned in the faucet to rinse your mouth. Trying to calm your stress, the nausea was trying to return.
Undeterred the scruff pulled your hair into a bun before rubbing your back. You debated returning to bed but that wouldn't get them out of your apartment. You told them you need to sit down, both of them nodding, still wearing their concerned expressions. They got you a glass of water before joining you on the couch. Stubborn men, you sat at the end of the couch so they couldn't both sit, but Mic decided to perch himself on the armrest.
He started petting your hair, "You feelin better little listener?" You nodded in response.
"I got you more food, let us know if your hungry."
You sighed in defeat, "I'm barely two months pregnant, I can fend for myself. What did you all want to talk about?"
You anxiously placed a hand on your stomach. Both men felt their hearts flutter recognizing your maternal instincts kicking in.
Aizawa let Mic begin, he was the more gentle of the two.
"Well, we figured we got off to a rough start. You got put in a tough situation. We shouldn't have assumed you didn't want a child so we're not mad at how you stormed out. But either way we expect to be in our baby's life. The two of us talked it over and we don't want to fight you if you want to be in their life too. So if you wanna be the mommy we're cool with it."
You could blame your reaction on your hormones for your response but you didn't, "Geez thank you so much for allowing me to be in MY child's life."
Aizawa placed a hand on the back of your neck, giving you a gentle massage. "Okay then, the three of us are gonna have a baby. That means you have to stop ignoring us. We can raise the baby together, without involving anyone else. But if we have to, we can always go the legal route for the baby's best interest."
He knew it was a low blow, but the couple needed you to stop fighting them. Your eyes snapped to his and you shook your head in protest.
"Okay then we're all the same page," Aizawa reassured you.
Mic cheered, "Now we can focus on the fun stuff."
"Hun," Eraserhead caught his attention. "There's still a few more important things to figure out. We don't want you going back to that doctor. They're incompetent. We scheduled you an appointment with another's clinic for next week. Okay?"
You couldn't find your voice after how easily he threatened to take your baby. So you just nodded. Half listening.
"Good. We also went ahead and programmed our numbers into your phone. We need to be able to check in with you."
"Okay, but I can't use my phone at one of my jobs."
"About that lil momma," Mic started. "You work a lot, which is totally bad ass, but we don't think you leave enough time to rest and take care of yourself."
You tried to protest but Aizawa cut you off, "You also shouldn't be working around so many animals. Even though we love animals, they can be unpredictable and one dog can trigger all the rest into a frenzy."
You were dumbfounded, "I've never heard of anything like that happening. One of my coworkers was pregnant last year, she worked until her maternity leave. Plus I need to be able to pay my bills. And don't offer to compensate me again."
"Why do you have to view it as compensation? We just want to take care of the mother of our child. Just think about it. Mic and I have to go take care of some business but we'll be back later this week."
---
Back at their home Hizashi was dramatically splayed on their bed.
"Babe why are you pouting?" Aizawa asked.
"Why can't we just bring her home already?"
Aizawa sympathized with his better half, but they needed to be methodical. He reminded Hizashi that they didn't need to cause her even more stress, especially so early into the pregnancy. If they played their cards right they would have their happy little family soon enough.
If they could ease you in to the relationship everything would be easier in the long run. They had been managing just fine until now, they could wait a few more months.
He joined Hizashi on the couch. Mic was comforting himself the way he usually did when he felt like this. He was scrolling through the countless photos they had collected since their chance encounter with you over a year ago.
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