#no but this logic right here is why i want to be a doctor. surely nothing will crush my illusions as time goes on

[lilacerull0]

[girlgenius1111]

healing

alexia putellas x reader you don't like to admit when something is wrong, alexia knows this. she also knows that with a a scheduled surgery coming up for you, she'd have to wade through these hidden emotions as best she could to support you. basically, r has a breast reduction surgery, and alexia does her best to take care of her, even when r is a bit resistant. this is, obviously, very self indulgent. potentially the most self indulgent fic i've ever written. it's very reflective of my experiences recently so. you know. i hope you enjoy. hugeeeeee thanks to @pickledwoso who sent the request in and gave me sooo many ideas to work with.

------

You sat up with a loud gasp, clutching at your chest. The specifics of the nightmare evaded you instantly, but you knew it had been horrifying. Filled with needles and doctors and knives and pain. 

“Amor?” Alexia mumbled groggily, emerging from where she was curled up under the covers, despite it being a warm evening.  She had barely been dragged from sleep by the sound you had made, only one eye cracking open to look at you.“You okay?” 

Unable to say much in response, you could only whimper quietly and shake your head. Alexia was wide awake in a second, sitting up and tilting your face towards her.

 “Ale-” You cut yourself off with a sob, leaning forward to bury your face in your girlfriend’s soft sleep shirt. 

Shaking once more, Alexia pulled you into her, cradling your body close. “What is wrong, mi amor?” 

“I-I… nightmare. I had a nightmare.” You admitted, too far gone into panic to try to hide your anxiety from your girlfriend. Alexia didn’t say much for a while, just nodding her head to show that she’d heard you, before she got to work calming you down. She did it rather easily, reminding you to breathe, stroking her fingers through your hair. She was soft, gentle, loving, and her affection bled through every light touch. Alexia always cared for you so easily; she made it seem simple. 

“Easy, just like that amor. In and out, slowly. It was just a dream, you’re right here with me. You’re okay.” 

It took a few minutes for you to calm down, and even still, you were still practically vibrating with anxiety. Alexia shifted over so that you were curled against her chest, and she could lean back against the headboard. With your face barely visible buried into her shirt, your girlfriend couldn’t really tell if you were still crying or not. Breathing steadier, for sure, but the sniffles coming from you every so often told Alexia that you were still very upset. 

The blonde began to run her fingers through your hair, massaging gently at your scalp. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

You were quiet for so long, she was sure you’d fallen back asleep. “I don’t remember what happened. It was about the surgery I think.” You murmured finally. “I’m a little nervous, I guess.” 

Alexia repressed a sigh. It was beyond clear to her, and had been for weeks, that you were more than mildly anxious about your scheduled breast reduction. She’d been waiting, less and less patiently, for you to just tell her how scared you were, but now the night before your surgery, she knew she couldn’t let this go on any longer. 

Wrapping both her arms tight around you, she pulled you even closer before she spoke. “It seems like you are maybe more than a little nervous, hmm?”

“Why do you say that?”

“You seem completely terrified, mi amor.”

“I am nervous, but I know I want to do this. I’m sure, Ale, I’ve made my mind up, and I-”

“You can still be nervous, even if you feel confident in your decision. That’s okay, amor. Why would you think it’s not?” 

“I… I just didn’t want you to try to change my mind.” 

“Why would I do that?” She sounded confused, and logically, you knew why. Ale was a deeply respectful person, and she’d never ever presume to tell you what to do with your body. Ever.

 No reply came, and Alexia realized you’d begun to tremble again. Frowning, she gently guided your chin up so she could look into your eyes, less than content with the anxiety so clear on your face. “Amor, talk to me. Please.” 

“What if you don’t like them? You know… after?” 

Alexia could have laughed at the completely ridiculous notion, but she saw the wet shine in your eye that told her you were completely serious. “Do not be silly. I will love them. ” She insisted. 

“You love them now.” You argued. “They won’t be the same.” 

Carefully, Alexia took your face in between her hands, insistently gazing down at you. “I know. They’ll be different. They won’t hurt you so much anymore, and that is all I want. Nothing will make me happier than you feeling better. I will love them, just like I love you.” She promised, her voice low and soothing. “You could get them removed completely, you could do anything, and it wouldn’t change how I feel about you. This is your body, mi amor. I love your body, and I will love it even when it changes.” 

“But… it doesn’t have to change.” Chewing on your lip, you took in your girlfriend’s completely puzzled expression. 

“I don’t understand. It doesn’t have to change, but you want it to, no?”

“I… don’t you think I’m being dramatic about this? A whole surgery just for some back pain…” Your words were not things you really believed. You knew you weren’t being dramatic, and you knew you were getting this done because of more than just back pain, although if you had, that would have been okay too. You’d just spent the last years hearing from your family and your doctors that you were being dramatic about your pain and the issues that came with having an absurdly large chest. Even getting a surgeon to agree to do the surgery was difficult, though you wouldn’t have even gotten there at all without Alexia. 

Not until you were with her, did you find yourself being believed. When you said you were hurting, she believed you. She wasn’t skeptical that you were exaggerating, or just looking for attention. It was this earnest belief that had you reconsidering, and ultimately deciding on, a breast reduction. Now, though, the years that people had spent belittling you and your struggles were rushing back to you, and you very suddenly felt like you were being ridiculous. 

The lights flickered on in the bedroom, and Alexia rolled back over to you. Having been lost in your thoughts, you’d missed her roll away to turn the bedside lamp on, and now she was studying you with a focused look on her face; one you knew to mean she was concerned. 

Her hand found yours, and she absentmindedly pulled the shoulder of your shirt back up as she spoke. “It is not a little back pain. It is debilitating. This affects your whole life, amor, you’ve wanted this for years. You know you aren’t being dramatic. Where is this coming from, hmm?” 

There was a deep reluctance in you to tell Alexia what you’d been through in the past with doctors and your family alike. You weren’t sure where it came from, or why it was so persistent, but you were too exhausted to fight it. Too terrified to even think of doing something that would make your anxiety spike. 

Your girlfriend seemed to sense this reluctance, because she brought your intertwined hands to her lips, leaving a kiss on your knuckles. A part of you had expected her to be annoyed for not talking, but another part of you knew better. Alexia didn’t get mad about stuff like that. All she had for you now was a sweet smile, and another kiss for your cheek that had you blushing unnecessarily. 

“We don’t have to talk about it.” She promised, mumbling the words against your face as she interspersed kisses in between her words. “You are not being dramatic. Your body changing does not bother me, could never bother me. I love you, and everything is going to be okay.” 

Entire body seemingly deflating, you leaned heavily into your girlfriend, torn between exhaustion, anxiety, and the overwhelming feeling of being adored. It wasn’t one were sure you’d ever get used to. With your face tucked into Alexia’s chest, it was hard to feel anything but safe and reassured, so you focused on the soft fabric of her shirt against your cheek, instead of what would be occurring the following morning. 

“I love you.” You murmured, burrowing in closer when your girlfriend tightened her arms around you. “Ale?”

“Hmm?”

“Will you come with me tomorrow? And stay?” You hated the vulnerability seeping from your words, didn’t want Alexia to ever see you as pathetically as you saw yourself. 

She only nodded, though, rubbing your back slowly. “Of course, cariño.” 

“It’s not too late to get out of training?” 

Alexia gave you a soft smile, though slightly embarrassed, rubbing her thumb across your cheek affectionately. “I am already called out, mi amor. I was going to stay anyway.”

“You were?” You asked with a shy grin. 

Alexia nodded enthusiastically. “Of course. I thought you might change your mind, and if you didn’t, well… I would have just pretended to go to training. I want to be there for you, and I would not be able to focus anyway.” 

You were overcome, for a moment, with affection for your girlfriend. She always seemed to anticipate what you’d need even before you knew herself. There was something about not only being loved, but known by Alexia that made you feel like the most special person in the world. You felt it even more when she placed the gentlest of kisses on your lips, and smiled at you just enough that the dimples on her cheeks appeared. 

“I am so lucky to have you.” You murmured, feeling emotion tug at you once again. 

Alexia shook her head with a grin, almost exasperated. “It always amazes me that you think you are the lucky one, when it is me. Because you are perfect and beautiful and I love you.” 

Before you could reply, and begin a back and forth of who was luckier, Alexia had pulled you to lay down practically on top of her, stretching her long arm to turn the bedside lamp off. 

“You need to rest, amor.” She insisted. And though when you’d woken from the nightmare, you had been sure you wouldn’t be sleeping any more tonight, there was something so soothing about being held so securely against your girlfriend. Your eyes began to shut of their own accord when she began to run her fingers through your hair, and you wondered briefly if there was anything Alexia couldn’t do.

------

The following morning came much too quickly. The first alarm went off at 6, only rousing you. Knowing you still had 15 minutes before you had to get up and get ready, you curled yourself back into Alexia’s side, shutting your eyes tightly and pretending that today was no different than any other day. Of course, the persistent anxious shaking of your body woke your girlfriend, though, an alarm in and of itself. 

It took her a second to realize what had woken her, as she couldn’t hear the alarm going off. Soon, though, she processed the way you were clinging to her, feeling her heart simultaneously melt and break.

“Oh, mi amor.” Alexia sighed, sliding her hand up the back of your shirt and splaying it across your spine, knowing you liked to feel her skin on yours. 

“Sorry I woke you early.” You whispered. 

“Don’t be sorry. I am always happy for 15 extra minutes to lay with you.” She said sweetly, tucking her face into your hair and sighing contentedly. She knew that if she kept herself calm, and didn’t react to your anxiety with her own, you’d be able to stay calmer. 

It felt like only minutes later that your second alarm was going off, and you groaned into your girlfriend’s chest as it did. Extracting herself from your rather tenacious grip, Alexia quickly rose from the bed and walked around to your side, grabbing your hand before you could bury yourself under the covers. 

“No hiding, amor. Time to be brave for me, sí?” 

Not one to deny any of your girlfriend’s requests, you let her tug you from the bed with a pout, one she very determinedly kissed off your face. Once she was done with that, she pulled you into the bathroom. 

“Okay. Shower quickly, I will eat something, and then we leave at 7:03.” She said, as if that was a normal time to plan to leave. You were long used to Alexia’s strict punctuality, though, so you just shook your head fondly at her. It was only when she attempted to pull away from you that your anxiety really rose, and you clung onto her hand with a look of panic on your face. 

Alexia turned back to you, expression completely open, as if she was ready to do whatever you needed her to do to feel better. 

“Shower with me?” You asked shakily, looking up at your girlfriend with wide eyes. 

“Siempre, guapa.” 

Your movements were practically robotic as you undressed yourself and allowed Alexia to guide you into the shower. For a moment, you allowed yourself to just rest against her under the warm stream of water, forcing yourself to breathe in and out slowly. As always when you showered together, Alexia insisted on washing you herself. Somehow, she knew that you needed to use the special medical soap on your chest, but could use your regular body wash everywhere else. 

You thought you caught a glimpse of sadness as she gently washed over your chest, and she must have felt you stiffen under her hands, because she was tilting your chin up and looking down at you, forehead crinkled in concern. 

“Are you sure you won’t hate what I look like after?” You asked, voice wobbling. 

Your girlfriend’s face softened. “I am sure. I will love you all the same.”

“You won’t miss them?” 

“Oh I will miss them. I should say farewell, no? Goodbye,” Alexia said wistfully, cupping each of your breasts in her hands. “I will miss you, but I will be happy when you stop bothering my pretty girlfriend.” 

“Oh my god.” You rolled your eyes, flushing at the attention on your chest, but feeling your heart soar at how genuinely she seemed to mean what she was saying. You appreciated her honesty. It wouldn’t have been believable that she wouldn’t miss them at all; the blonde had made it very clear in your time together that she very much enjoyed them. But for Alexia, she’d happily give that up if it meant that you were happier and more comfortable. And then felt like another level of love she must have for you. 

 Alexia leaned down to kiss you again, this time a bit more intensely as the water rained down over your heads. 

She broke away after a minute, a satisfied smile on her face telling you she was pleased that she had successfully distracted you. And distracted, you were. 

“Do we have time to-”

“No.” Alexia said sternly. “That is why we made sure to have enough time last night. We will not be late because you are horny even after I made you co-”

“OKAY. I don’t want a reminder if I can’t really enjoy the reminder.” You argued, barely noticing how Alexia turned the shower off and wrapped you in a towel. She really was doing a good job distracting you, because the mere step forward in your morning routine didn’t make you nauseous like it normally would have. 

The rest of the morning, Alexia went out of her way to keep you distracted. Whether it was giving herself a beard with bubbles in the shower, or forcing you to have an impromptu dance party in the kitchen while she ate a quick breakfast, your girlfriend gave you very little time for your mind to wander. Once you were in the car, though, it was inevitable. You were on the way, and there was nothing else to think about. 

Alexia kept her hand on you throughout the ride, noticing as you grew quieter as she pulled out of the drive, and brushed a few tears away when you thought she wasn’t looking. 

“Alright, mi amor?” She checked, well aware that you were not even close to alright.

“I’m so scared.” You whispered, Alexia just barely hearing your voice over the hum of the car engine. She moved her hand from your bouncing knee to grab onto your hand, squeezing it three times. 

“I know. Everything is going to be okay, amor. They do this every day, you will be in such good hands.” 

“What if I wake up in the middle?”

“You will not.” She sounded so sure. 

“What if I don’t wake up at all?

“You will wake up.” Again, her voice was filled with confidence. Whether it was truly what she believed, or if she was just saying it for your sake, you didn’t know, but you appreciated it nonetheless. 

“What if something goes wrong and I come out with three boobs or something?” 

“I will buy a sewing machine, and get to work making bras for three boobs.” Alexia said seriously. 

You gave a wet laugh, wiping at your eyes. Alexia smiled at you happily, fixing her eyes back on the road as the light turned green. Her hand didn’t leave yours the rest of the way to the hospital. 

------

Without Alexia there with you, it was likely that you would have bolted out the front doors of the hospital within a few minutes of arriving. You weren’t alone, though, and Alexia began to resort to absolutely ridiculous tactics to distract you and see a smile on your face. 

First, she blew up a glove she found in the room you were brought to wait in and then let it fly all around. It wasn’t really funny but the way she released it, and then looked at you with a hopeful grin on her face made you laugh anyway. If you counted correctly she made six bad jokes when they made you take a pregnancy test, that had you giggling even though they were quite juvenile. As the nurse put your IV in, the blonde reminded you of the time she got stitches in her leg on the sidelines of the football pitch, in the middle of the game, going so far as to point out the scar on her shin that you’d seen many times before. This wasn’t really funny either, but the somewhat disturbed look on the nurse’s face was. 

She was goofy when you needed her to be, she was serious and listened carefully whenever anyone was telling her important information, and she didn’t let go of your hand for the entirety of the pre op process. The minute your heart began to pound in your chest, or tears began to well in your eyes, you’d feel her squeeze your hand, and feel inexplicably comforted. Realistically, you knew Alexia had no ability to keep you safe once you were in the operating room. Still, you had the overwhelming feeling that because she was here with you, nothing bad could happen. 

“Okay, it’s time.” The nurse said kindly, walking into the room just moments after the surgeon had left. He had drawn all over you while answering Alexia’s seemingly endless questions about your recovery. 

You looked at the blonde next to you, willing yourself to remain calm, breathe deeply. She leaned in, kissing you softly. Once on the lips, then once on each cheek. 

“I love you. You are going to do so well, mi amor. I will be right here when you wake up.” She promised, helping you to your feet and squeezing your hand one last time. “Brave for me, okay?” the last part was whispered just for you to hear, and you nodded.

You could be brave for her. For her, you could do anything. 

“I love you, Ale.” 

She smiled at you until you disappeared out of sight, finally allowing the anxiety she’d been repressing all morning to let itself be known. It was going to be a long three hours, and she’d known that. She was absolutely resolved not to let you see her own nerves, knowing they’d only make you feel worse. Already calling her Mami as she was led to the waiting room, she hoped she did a good job at making you feel more comfortable. And she hoped, more than anything, that you’d be okay. 

-------

It felt nearly impossible to keep your eyes open. They opened and closed of their own accord, the room a bit different every time. Very vaguely, you recognized the surgeon coming to talk to you, saying something about everything going well. A nurse asked you about pain, and you focused enough to notice a slight twinge on your chest. 

The only coherent thought you had, though, was of your girlfriend. She said she’d be here when you woke up, and the beautiful blonde was nowhere in sight. 

“Would you like a sip of water?” The nurse asked kindly, holding a straw up to your mouth. You shook your head, though, frowning dramatically. 

“Alexia.” You murmured, eyes falling shut once again. The nurse chuckled, replying even though she wasn’t sure you were hearing her. The heart monitor attached to you was making a rhythmic beeping sound, and you were bobbing your head along to it gently, though you didn’t seem aware of it.  

“We’ll bring you out of recovery in a few minutes, and then you can see her.” 

Sure enough, you felt the strange sensation that you were moving, before you opened your eyes once again. Now in a different room, there was a smiling face next to yours, a gentle touch on your cheek. 

“Ale.” You sighed happily, eyes half shut, but a big smile adorning your features. 

“Hi, bonita.” Alexia chuckled. “How are you feeling?”

“Mmm.” You hummed. “Sleepy.” 

Alexia thought you looked incredibly adorable, all groggy and happy to see her. Clumsily, you reached for her hand, pulling it to cup your cheek. Your girlfriend laughed lightly, stroking her thumb over your cheek bone. 

“Are you in any pain?” 

“I loveeeeeee you.” You sang, clumsily patting her face with your free hand. 

Alexia laughed again, her features soft as she gazed down at you. “I love you too, cariño. Can you tell me if anything hurts?” 

“Nothin’ hurts.” You slurred. “Are my boobs small?” 

“Sí, look. The buttons on your shirt aren’t pulling apart anymore.” 

You’d bought several cotton button up pajama shirts especially for the occasion, having been told not to lift your arms above your head to put a shirt on. As always occurred with button ups, though, the buttons pulled tightly across your chest. Or, they had. Now, the shirt sat unstretched across your chest, and you felt a staggering amount of joy course through you. 

“Oh.” You said weakly, blinking hard as your eyes filled with tears. 

Alexia’s face fell. “What? Does something hurt? What’s wrong?” She asked frantically, looking around for something to stop the pain you weren’t actually feeling. 

“No, no. It’s good, it’s happy. They’re small and my shirt fits. Shirts like this never fit right and now they do.” You cried, too out of it to really feel embarrassed for crying so hard over such a small thing. 

“Oh, amor.” Alexia whispered, feeling like crying herself. She knew more than anyone how much you struggled with the way you’d looked before. She’d genuinely never seen you look so happy over your appearance before, and it was her new favorite thing. “I’m so happy you’re happy.” 

“I’m happy.” You mumbled, allowing Alexia to dry your face of tears. Carefully, Alexia brought the water to your lips again, and this time you drank some, feeling more and more awake with every passing second. And even though she was pretty sure you wouldn't remember this later, Alexia had to make sure you knew something. 

“You know what, amor?” She asked. 

“What?”

“You are beautiful. Even more beautiful now, with such a happy smile on your face.” 

It didn’t matter that you’d just cried, or that your hair was a mess. It didn’t matter that you were decidedly not beautiful at the moment. Because Alexia thought you were, and that made you think it, too. More than ever before, you felt beautiful like she said you were. 

------ 

The first two days went pretty smoothly. Everything ached a bit too much for you to really do anything on your own, and Alexia was more than happy to help. The trouble came after you were given clearance to shower, on the third day of your recovery. You wanted to do it by yourself, and Alexia was insisting on helping you. 

“No, Ale.” You snapped, trying to sit up and get out of bed on your own. Alexia wouldn’t move, though, still perched next to your legs, arms resting on either side of you, and honestly, you needed her help to get upright. 

She was being overly patient with you, and that only bothered you more; you didn’t like to be treated like you were fragile. “Amor, it says in the instructions, ‘have someone nearby to help for the first few showers.’’” 

“Nearby. Not in the bathroom with me. I’ll be fine, please just let me do this myself.” 

“It is not safe, I would like to be in there with you. I don’t understand, you have never had a problem with showering me before.” Alexia’s hazel eyes squinted at you, as though she was trying to visually ascertain what the issue was. 

“It’s different.” You grumbled, feeling your stomach twist at the idea of your girlfriend having to do another thing for you. Enough was enough, you had to be independent. If you couldn’t shower on your own, you’d feel completely helpless and you hated to feel helpless. 

“How is it different?” Alexia wondered, her patience with you still unwavering. 

“It just is! Move so I can get up, please.” 

The blonde just shook her head. “Not until you tell me how it’s different.”

“Alexia, I am disgusting right now, I’m gonna be all bruised and swollen and I haven’t showered in two days. It’s gross, I’m gross.”

She didn’t even blink, as though she’d already known this. “I don’t care about that, cariño. I just want to make this easier for you. Please let me help.”

“I don’t need help.” 

“You do, and that’s okay. Please, amor, just let me come into the bathroom with you. I’ll sit on the counter if you want me to, but let me be in the room. Please.”

Your girlfriend had a way of asking you things and making her eyes wide as she did so, making you agree without really thinking. It was genuinely difficult to say no to someone so pretty, who very clearly just wanted the best for you. This was how you found yourself in the bathroom, allowing Alexia to carefully unbutton your shirt and remove the bra from your chest. 

You’d tried to do it yourself at first, but it was ridiculously difficult to get your arms to do what you wanted them to do without pressing against your chest or your sides, and your yelp of pain had Alexia firmly telling you that she was helping you, and that was that. 

You waited for her face to turn disgusted, or at least for her eyes to give her away. It didn’t happen. She looked pained at the sight of the bruising on your body, but that was sympathetic. The kiss she gave you filled your body with warmth, but that warmth disappeared as soon as Alexia stepped away to turn on the shower, and you turned to look at yourself in the mirror. 

It was the first time you were really seeing your reflection, seeing the full results of what had been done, and you were more than a little horrified. 

When Alexia turned back around to help you into the shower, you had turned several shades paler, and your legs were shaking. Eyes fixed on your chest in the mirror, you looked completely disgusted with what you saw reflecting back at you. 

 Worried that you would pass out or something, Alexia stepped in behind you, carefully placing her large hands on your upper arms to hold you steady. “Amor? Feeling okay?”

“Dizzy.” You managed, leaning back into her. Alexia grabbed the water she’d had the foresight to bring into the bathroom, and carefully urged you to take a few sips. She knew how you were with stuff like this, ever since you’d passed out once watching her get stitches after a nasty tackle. 

“Just breathe. In through your nose, and out through your mouth. Don’t look if it’s bothering you.” 

“I-I… please don’t look, either, Ale.” You requested, shutting your eyes tightly. Alexia only hummed in response, resting her chin on your shoulder and rubbing her hands up and down your arms. “It’s awful, it’s so gross.” 

The bruising and the sight of the incisions through the tape over them was enough to make you nauseous, but Alexia being there only made it worse. She shouldn’t have to see you like this. 

She seemed unphased, though, her eyes on your face in the mirror, not distracted by your chest. “It looks exactly as the doctor said it should look. Your body went through so much, healing isn’t going to be perfect and pretty. Everything is okay, I promise. Just look at my face, and focus on me. Everything is okay.” 

You did as she asked, breathing deeply for a few minutes, your eyes fixed on hers in the mirror. Only when some color had returned to your face, and you weren’t shaking as badly, did Alexia move from where her body pressed to yours. 

“Are you ready? She murmured in your ear, enjoying that at least from this angle, from behind you, she could feel your body against hers. You enjoyed it too, your head dropping back to her shoulder as you nodded. “Okay. We’ll go quick. I’ll wash your body, wash your hair and then you can lay down.” 

Too afraid of what would happen if you stepped into the shower by yourself, you nodded again. 

It always struck you how gentle Alexia could be. On the pitch she was a force to be reckoned with, her body a well oiled machine that always got the job done. Her job was so physical, it always surprised you how soft her hands were, how gentle her touch was. 

She was so careful with you, especially now. The blonde maneuvered you under the stream of water, getting to work right away, as if she knew how exhausted you already were, just from standing for a few minutes. She hummed as she worked the loofa across your skin, intermittently leaving kisses wherever she saw fit. Done with that, Alexia moved on to your hair, her fingers feeling absolutely magical on your scalp after several days of it being tied back in a bun. 

You were mostly silent, only speaking to reply to Alexia’s quiet check ins every few minutes. It was only when she was facing you, massaging the conditioner out of your hair as you tilted your head back under the stream of water, that you said anything of substance. 

“Thank you for helping.” 

“Always.” Alexia mumbled, her lips pressed to your forehead. “I miss hugging you.”

You melted even further, as if the careful way she washed your hair for you wasn’t soft enough. “You’re adorable.” 

“No, I am tough and strong.” Alexia objected. 

“And incredibly adorable.” You insisted. For the first time that day, Alexia saw the ghost of a smile on your lips, and she made herself a promise that she’d make you smile more often. Even if she had to be ridiculous to do so, though it would prove to be harder than she wanted. 

------

It felt like there was a dark cloud hanging over you. You were irritated and depressed and near tears for no discernible reason. Alright, there was a reason, but you were too upset to really think rationally about it. Everything hurt more once you’d stopped taking the prescription painkillers you’d been prescribed, and the lack of the drugs was definitely not helping your mood. The last two days had been horrible, your recovery hitting a wall. It had been a week exactly, and suddenly, nothing was moving fast enough. 

Now that you were used to the sight, your breasts didn’t seem as small as they had at first. They were swollen, you kept reminding yourself, but the worry that they wouldn’t be small enough, that you’d gone through all this for nothing, persisted. It didn't matter that logically, you knew they were smaller. You’d seen what was removed, been told the measurements, and still. You’d convinced yourself they looked mostly the same. It hurt to move and showering took you at least an hour every time. You hyper fixated on your appearance, worried that now that your chest was supposedly smaller, everything else would be bigger. Alexia kept taking days off work, and when she didn’t, her mother or her sister would randomly show up with something random to drop off or pick up. You hated that she felt like she couldn’t leave you alone, and you hated even more that she was right to feel that way. You couldn’t lift anything, could barely sit up on your own. Your girlfriend was stuck helping you with every little thing, from showering to walking down the stairs. It was miserable. 

It felt like she asked you every other minute if you were in pain. And god, you were. More than you thought you’d be. Everytime, though, your answer was the same. Just a bit, you’d tell her. Both of you knew you were lying. You’d grit your teeth and bear it, unwilling or perhaps unable to admit to Alexia that your chest ached and stung and pulled and hurt. Your brain didn’t feel much better. 

Of course, Alexia knew you were miserable. The doctor had warned her this might happen; it wasn’t uncommon for individuals to fall into a depression after surgery like this. There were a lot of complex emotions involved. Combine those emotions with pain and narcotics, of course you didn’t feel like yourself. She’d been awake last night, when you’d cried next to her, holding her hand like a lifeline even as you stayed as quiet as you could. Alexia knew you didn’t want her to see you in pain, and if she could bring you comfort because you thought she was asleep… she’d take that. 

Still, though, every part of her ached with how sad you seemed, and how shut down you’d become. She was sure that if you talked about even one of the things bothering you, you’d feel so much better. You weren’t talking, though, and Alexia was running out of ways to help you. 

The blonde had one final idea before she broke and called your doctor to tell him that you just weren’t coping well, and she really didn’t want to do that. So, she made you tea, put on a boring documentary, and played with your hair until you were half asleep on top of the covers of your bed, as snuggled into Alexia’s pillow as you could get at the moment. 

She gently roused you, informing you that she had to run out for groceries but she’d be back very soon, before grabbing her list and slipping out the front door. Alexia had assumed you’d gone right back to sleep, but you hadn’t.

Instead, you’d realized you had to use the bathroom, dragging yourself off your bed and into the bathroom. It was there that you bumped into the door, which hurt way more than it normally would have. It had been the last straw of an already horrible day, and you just couldn’t take it anymore. Couldn’t be brave anymore. 

Alexia had been in such a rush to leave so she could come back, that she forgot her wallet, turning the car around only a few minutes into her drive to return and grab it. 

“Amor, I forgot my-” Alexia’s whispered words halted as she walked into the bedroom, and the sounds of your sobs hit her ears. You weren’t in bed where she’d left you, and your girlfriend whipped her head around in panic. “Baby, where are you?” She shouted, able to tell that you were closeby. Answering her own question, she rushed towards the bathroom, only relaxing slightly when she found you. 

Hunched over by the sink, your shoulders shook with the force of your sobs. Somewhere in her mind, Alexia realized that the movement was likely causing you pain. The blonde hadn’t ever heard you cry this hard in her life, and when you whipped your head around to look at her when she pushed the door open, you looked broken. You only looked more upset at the sight of her, and your girlfriend tried not to panic. 

“Baby, are you hurting?” Alexia questioned, moving forward as her hands fluttered uselessly in the air. All you could do in response was continue to cry, and reach one shaky hand towards the blonde. “I need you to talk to me.” 

It was all just too much; you couldn’t hold it in any longer. You needed her to kiss you and hold you and promise that everything would be okay. “I..I- hurts, Ale, it hurts so bad.” 

“I’m so sorry.” Alexia frowned, giving your hand a squeeze. “What can I do?” 

“I d-don’t know, it just hurts.” You sobbed, your chest stuttering. 

“The crying is not helping, amor, try to breathe.” She encouraged, exaggerating her own breaths for you to copy. It worked only slightly, and your face was still contorted in pain. “Let me get you some more medicine.” 

“No, stay.” You panicked, only tightening your grip on your girlfriend’s hand. 

“Okay, I’m right here.” She cooed, trying to move closer and give you a gentle hug. You winced away from her, though, in too much pain and too afraid of it worsening to allow her close to you. 

“I don’t know what to do,” you whimpered, wanting the pain to stop if only so she could hug you. 

Pausing and pursing her lips, your girlfriend tried to think logically. Getting up was difficult for you, standing only worse.  Sitting propped up on the bed was the only way for you to be even slightly comfortable, so Alexia took each of your hands in hers. “Back to bed, okay? You’ll feel better sitting.” 

You nodded, and allowed your girlfriend to carefully lead you out of the bathroom, and back towards the bed. “Okay, almost there. You’re doing so well.” 

It felt ridiculous to be praised for something as simple as walking back to bed, especially as you needed her help to do so. Still, she sounded so earnest and encouraging you couldn’t doubt her sincerity. 

Alexia got you settled on the bed just how you liked, and adjusted the pillows until they were just right. You sighed shakily, shifting as you tried to get comfortable. 

“Tell me how to help you.” Alexia practically pleaded. 

“I want ice please.” You sniffled, desperate for anything to numb the pain on your body, and the pain inside your head. Alexia tucked the blanket around you, using her thumb to wipe a few tears off your cheeks, gazing at you regretfully. 

“I’m sorry, amor, the doctor said no ice, remember? It is bad for the circulation. I can get you more medicine and a cool towel for your head?” Her suggestions felt weak, and she wished she could just take it from you, take away how badly you felt. 

You nodded, a few more tears falling from your eyes as you did so. It seemed to Alexia as though every time she offered to help you, you cried more. She rose to go get what she needed, and you let your head fall back on the pillows, a few quiet sobs escaping. You wished you could stop needing her so badly. 

Crying too hard to notice her return, you jumped when she placed her hand on your upper arm, crying out quietly as you did so. 

“Easy, amor.” She soothed, handing you two pills and holding a straw to your lips. Once you took the medicine, she wiped the tears off your face with the wet washcloth in her hand, her features wrinkled with worry. You hadn’t stopped crying, and she didn’t know what else to do to help you. 

“Are you crying because it hurts, or because of something else?” She wondered. 

“I don’t know, I just can’t stop.” You whimpered, clutching almost desperately at your girlfriend’s hand. 

Letting out a sad, sympathetic sound you’d never heard her make, Alexia took her place on her side of the bed, scooting over so she was pressed up against the pillow that was pressed up against you. It was the best she could do at the moment, even if she wanted to pull you into her and never let go. You reached over the pillow to grab onto her hoodie, the brown one with holes all over it you liked to make fun of. She’d put it on earlier, hoping you’d do just that, but she’d had no luck. 

Alexia just watched you for a few minutes, both of her hands on you, tracing patterns into your skin wherever she was sure wouldn’t hurt you. It became clear to her that you were exhausting yourself, your eyes barely even open anymore as you wiped at the tears that wouldn’t stop falling. 

“Amor, you need rest.” She whispered, watching your eyes flutter open to look at her helplessly. 

How were you supposed to sleep when you were so upset? 

“I can’t.” 

“Try for me. Close your eyes, relax your body.” The blonde instructed, smiling despite herself as you instantly did as she asked. Grabbing the cool washcloth again, she folded it in half and draped it over your eyes. Sighing you settled back into the pillows a bit, chest still stuttering every few seconds, but less intensely than it had been. “Sleep, cariño. I’m right here, I love you, and everything is okay.” 

Her words had an incomprehensible power over you, and it wasn’t long before you were barely clinging to consciousness. The tears had stopped, and all you could really think about was that you were really glad that Alexia was here with you. 

------

Alexia wasn’t sure how long you’d cried for before your grip on her sweatshirt had gone slack, and you’d finally relaxed. She let you sleep for an hour or so, though, unmoving so she didn’t disturb you. She busied herself with her phone, placing an order of the things she needed so she didn’t have to leave you, but mostly, she just watched you sleep. Swollen and red eyes, tear stained face, uncomfortable frown on your face even as you slept, you were still the most beautiful person she’d ever seen in her life. 

Once the delivery was made, your girlfriend slipped out of bed as carefully as she could, heading for the front door. Turning around with the bags from the front porch in hand, Alexia jumped a little at the sight of you standing behind her. She hadn’t heard you follow her out of the bedroom, but she saw you now, more tears falling down your flushed face. 

“Hey,” she said soothingly, moving closer even as you backed away from her. 

“You were supposed to go grocery shopping and I ruined it,” you cried, feeling a little ridiculously upset that you’d messed up her plans. You just thought she needed the time away from you. It wasn’t as though you were pleasant to be around right now. “You didn't get to run your errands, I’m so sorry.”

“You haven’t ruined anything, mi amor.” Alexia cooed. “Come on, sit on the couch for me, and I’ll show you what I got.” 

Sniffling, Alexia led you to the couch, helping you sit down and once again, placing the excessive amount of pillows exactly as you liked them. She began to pull items out of the bags once she sat down next to you, explaining what she’d gotten as she did so in a very quiet, almost shy voice. 

“A new candle, it makes the crackle sounds you like. Your favorite candy. Some roses, and I will put them in a vase and you could put them next to your bed, if you want. This is supposed to be a cooling blanket, so you don’t get too warm. I noticed you were almost out of the hair ties you use, so I got more of those. You liked that one button up shirt you got, so I got more because they are easier than other shirts, and these are very soft.” She listed everything out, putting it all on the coffee table in front of you. 

It was endless, the number of things she’d bought for you. Favorite snacks, a book you’d mentioned wanting to read once. A new coffee mug, even though she always complained that you had too many already, just because she knew you’d like the color. One bag was full of the ingredients to make your favorite dinner. She grabbed the last bag off the floor, really rambling now that you hadn’t said a word in at least 2 minutes. 

“I can return this if you don’t want it.” She finished, pressing the small, plush elephant into your hands as her face turned red. “I thought he could keep you company when I’m at work, but it’s probably stupid-”

You cut her off, tucking the elephant under one arm as you tilted her chin up with your other. Her face fell further, because you were still crying. 

She didn’t know that they were no longer sad tears. 

“I love you.” You blubbered, absolutely sure that there weren't words to describe how grateful you were for her at that moment. Ale, your perfect, sweet Ale. What had you done in your life to deserve her? “I love the elephant, I love everything. What did you do all this for?” 

Alexia looked at you incredulously, her fingers linking with yours. “You have been so down. I just wanted to make you smile. I thought maybe one of these things could.” 

“Oh. I… I didn’t know you noticed. I thought I was doing a good job hiding it.” 

You would never be winning an Oscar, Alexia thought to herself. “Why would you hide that from me?” She wondered, her face adorably confused. 

“You’re dealing with enough from me right now, you don’t need-”

“I decide what I need and don’t need.” Alexia cut in, her voice so firm it had your head snapping up to stare at her. She wasn’t angry, though, just… passionate. “Don’t push me away because you think you are being too much. I knew what I was getting into when you scheduled this surgery. I arranged to have time off so I could take care of you. I know you are hurting and I know you are upset, and I want nothing more than for you to talk to me.” 

“You’re too good to me.” You murmured, eyes flitting all over her face, trying to memorize the sincere expression on her face. 

“This is what you deserve.” Alexia disagreed, her knee shifting over until it pressed into yours. “Now, I know you are hurting because you just had surgery, but I do not know what has you so sad. Can you tell me? Please?”

How could you say no to that? The issue was, you weren’t even sure where to start. “There’s too many things. I’m just… I don’t feel right.” 

Alexia hummed. “Amor, it is normal to be depressed after a surgery like this. It says in the post op notes, your doctor talked to me about it. This is normal, how you are feeling is normal and it isn’t going to last forever.”

It was the same thing you’d been telling yourself, except now it echoed around your head in Alexia’s voice, and that held so much more meaning. Nodding meekly, you wondered if you should keep going. 

“What else?” 

Nervously, you glanced down at your chest. You didn’t want to sound ungrateful. Not everyone got the chance to have this surgery, even if they needed it, and it felt so disgusting to complain. The feeling that they were still too big was unshakeable, though. 

“You don’t like how they look.” Alexia stated simply. You stared at her, jaw dropped, wondering suddenly if she could read minds. She gave you a small smile, tugging at her ponytail and fiddling with the ends of her hair. “That is normal, too. I read about it. They don’t feel different enough?” 

“No.” You replied quietly, still ashamed of your feelings. 

“They are still swollen. It will take three to four months for them to look how they are going to look. You have to be patient, you have to give yourself time. I know everything is overwhelming right now, but I promise you, they are smaller, and they will get smaller still.” 

This time, Alexia raised your intertwined hands to her lips, pressing a kiss to the back of yours. “What else?” She asked again. A mind reader, for sure, you decided. 

You bit your lip before speaking, though it was progress that you verbalized your feelings without Alexia having to guess. “I’m in so much pain. It’s taking so long to go away. You can’t do anything or go anywhere because you’re here helping me. I’m such a burden right now and I hate it. I’m so tired of this. I don’t want you to have to help me with every little thing.”

Alexia looked almost offended. “You have never been a burden a day in your life, and I am sorry that anyone has ever made you feel that way. I am happy to be here, and help you heal. Really, amor. You’ve wanted this for so long, and this part isn’t very fun, but you’re doing so well. It hurts, and it sucks, I know that. It feels like it’s taking forever, but it’s just barely been a week. You aren’t helping yourself by keeping all these negative thoughts in your head, either.”

“Probably not.” You agreed timidly. 

“Probably not.” Alexia echoed, her hand coming up to cup your cheek. “I am here for you because I want to be, so let me help, okay? It isn’t your instinct to tell me when you are hurting, or when you need help, but I want you to try, okay? Just try.” 

“I’ll try.” You promised. Because, honestly, if Alexia was this good at making all your fears and stressors melt away and she was happy to do it, there was no justification for suffering in silence anymore. 

“I”m proud of you. You are doing so well, and I love you. Everything is going to feel better soon, and until then, I am right here with you.”

“Are you going somewhere once I am better?” You asked teasingly, just the hint of a smile tugging at your lips. This did not go unnoticed by your girlfriend, who leaned closer and got a look on her face you knew to be her I just won look. 

“A smile.” Alexia grinned, pressing her forehead against yours, still making sure to give your entire midsection a wide berth. 

“It’s just for you.” You whispered, holding eye contact with her, and enjoying that it no longer felt insincere because you were keeping so much to yourself. 

“I’m not going anywhere. Ever.” Alexia promised. Her words were barely more than a warm exhale on your mouth, and before long, she was brushing her soft lips against yours, giving you the world’s most careful kiss. 

She had magical kisses, you decided. Magic hands, as they linked with yours. A magic smile that made you grin, too. Good taste in get better soon gifts, you thought, picking up the elephant and asking her if she’d thought of a name for it. 

“Alex.” She smirked, looking rather proud of herself. 

And maybe she had egotistical taste in names, but you were more convinced every second that she was right, that things would get better, and a bit of ego was something you could handle. Especially when it came wrapped up in a package with overwhelming amounts of love and care. You were the luckiest girl in the world, you’d never been more sure of that. 

Hours later, after you’d eaten your favorite dinner and lit your new candle, settling into bed with a much more relaxed look on your face, Alexia thought the same thing. She was the luckiest to have you. Your smile was worth everything, and she’d missed it these past few days. It didn’t feel like she’d have to miss it anymore, though, especially as you drifted off, your hand in hers. Lips curved just slightly upward. You always had a smile to give Alexia. 

------

i'm honestly not sure if this is too niche for people to enjoy, so i'd appreciate any thoughts anyone has :) this feels wildly vulnerable and i will do my absolute best to not get embarrassed and delete it 🙏 love to you all 🫶🏻🫶🏻🥰🥰

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

𝓘𝓷𝓽𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓼𝓲𝓬 [Main Work]

You're supposed to keep him in check and integrate him into earth's society while he recovers from the aftereffects of catching a viral infection on his planet. All that, while you get to earn a pretty good monthly compensation for your efforts from the government of his and your planet.

Or more simplified: You're a paid babysitter for a 7' tall alien who's caught a virus that makes him act purely on instincts, rather than logic. Oh yeah- and he tried to eat your neighbor's pet bird. Yeah...

Tags/Warnings: Alien!Jungkook, Human!Reader, Yes I'm writing that story..., mentions of doctors visits (needles, injections, medical terms, blood), mild Angst, so much chaos, he almost eats a bird once oops, mild Angst, strangers to lovers, more TBA

Length: 4k words

A/N: THERE IS NO TAGLIST. THERE IS NO TAGLIST FOR THIS. THERE REALLY ISNT. DO NOT ASK.

-> Masterlist

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"Are you sure that's a good Idea?" Jimin asks, and you shrug, dipping your piece of bread in the sauce.

"Yeah, why not?" You say. "They're not dangerous or anything. I've met Yoongi, and he's cool. Can live alone, even!" You tell your best friend across from you, who doesn't seem convinced.

"Yoongi is different though. He's, like, recovered already." Jimin says. "You'll be getting one straight out of quarantine. I'm sorry but, are you sure you can handle that?" He worries, and you roll your eyes.

"Jimin you're acting as if he's gonna try and murder me in my sleep." You scoff, denying any of his worries. "I went to all the lessons and readings and educational stuff- I wouldn't have gotten approved if I didn't. So calm down, I got this." You chuckle.

Jimin simply shrugging, well aware he can't change your mind.

"Jungkook, no, come on." The careworker who's nametag reads 'Kim Namjoon' gently says, holding the hand of who you assume must be Jeon Jungkook-

26-year-old Vrota, straight out of quarantine, having been brought to earth for treatment earlier this year. He likes sports, has a pretty big appetite, and dislikes being left alone for too long. He used to work as a physical health coach before catching the virus on Vilia, and stayed in self-isolation for about half a year before being sent to earth to be treated in quarantine for the most severe portion of his sickness.

Now, he's deemed healthy enough to stay with a human 'caretaker'- or babysitter, how you'd call it. And to be honest, you didn't really think much about taking care of a Vrota at first, having met one by the name of Min Yoongi during your earlier days at the education center for Vilian people- and he was a pretty cool guy.

What you didn't take into thought was apparently that Vrota can look very different just like humans. So yeah.. the guy standing in front of you right now with his big brown cat-eyes and colorful tattoos isn't really comparable to the chill, rather laid back Yoongi you had met.

No.

Fuck no.

Walking into your home is a at least 7-foot tall young man of your age, simply black shirt stretching over the muscles of his biceps, jeans seeming to barely contain his thigh muscles. Jesus christ.

Maybe Jimin was right in his worries that you might end up dead at the end of this.

"So, Jungkook here doesn't have any allergies, so you don't have to worry about that. He's overall low maintenance, sleeps a lot, but when he's awake you might want to start taking him out a bit, since he get's a bit restless if he's got nothing to occupy himself with." Namjoon explains, giving you all the necessary papers in an envelops, while Jungkook walks around to explore your apartment. "Also, don't be intimidated by him. He's gone through multiple rounds of behavioral analysis, and has been deemed no threat whatsoever." He offers when he notices you watch the way the young man walks around, looking at pictures on your wall.

"So like, I guess he has to put that on when we go out?" You wonder, pointing at the simple black collar with a GPS tracking device on it.

"Yes, please. And also, keep a hold of his hand, just so he doesn't get lost." Namjoon chuckles.

"Sorry, but I don't think me holding him by his hand is gonna do much." You joke, making Namjoon chuckle.

"Ah, no-" He agrees. "-it's not to physically keep him with you. It just reassures him, in a way. He enjoys physical contact a lot." he explains.

"So- does he talk?" You wonder, watching how Jungkook looks out the windows, cat eyes jumping around at the nature and scenery outside.

"Sometimes, but barely. He understands speech fluently though. It'll take some time for him to come out of his shell, but once he's comfortable, he'll talk. The virus didn't injure his brain whatsoever, so he's expected to make a full recovery by the end of this year." Namjoon informs you, and you nod. "His scheduled appointments are in there, his current doctors are marked down as well. If you can't take him to one of those appointments, please call in advance, alright? Otherwise they'll immediately try and pick him up themselves, and that's gonna be a lot of paperwork on your side, and a lot of unnecessary stress on his." He explains further, and you nod.

"So, basically- cook him food, make sure he doesn't go missing, and take him to his doctors. Got it." You nod, making Namjoon chuckle.

"Pretty much. Like I said, he's rather low maintenance. You can occupy him with video games or movies as well- and when it comes to food, he's not picky. Doesn't like sour snacks though." He laughs, and you nod.

"No sour stuff, got it." You nod, and at that, Namjoon claps his hands together.

"Alright kook, I'm gonna leave you here then." He says, making the man in question walk closer again, nodding. "Do you like it here?" He wonders, and Jungkook shrugs, looking around-

before he nods, looking at you.

"Alright. His clothes and everything has arrived, right?" Namjoon asks, and you nod.

"All in his room." You say, making Namjoon nod.

"Don't cause too much trouble, alright?" He tells Jungkook, who nods a bit deflated, visibly a bit upset he's gonna leave now. But he doesn't show it too much, waves Namjoon goodbye until the door closes, leaving him alone with you.

"Your room is here-" You say, leading him to a small guest room where he spots his suitcases on the bed. "I didn't unpack them, cause.. privacy and stuff. So you can do that while I make something to eat?" You ask, and he nods, walking past you- and only now do you realize just how much taller he really is than you.

Jesus christ.

You break away your eyes from the sight of his broad back to instead run into your kitchen, putting away the papers and starting to cook instead to both calm yourself down- and make sure Jungkook feels comfortable too.

━━━━━━━━━━.~°👽°~.━━━━━━━━━━━

It's been a few weeks- and thinks have definitely settled quite well.

You're currently sitting in the waiting room of the doctor's office- waiting to be called in, as Jungkook keeps rubbing his ear. "No, don't." You quietly scold him with a soft tone, carefully pulling his hand down by his biceps, causing him to whine under his breath in complaint.

He's been having some issues with it recently- an underlying problem that had been overlooked due to more pressing issues. An elderly woman with a young looking Vrota girl smiles at you from where she sits across, watching rather fondly how you hold Jungkook's hand in yours. Namjoon had been right- it works wonders in reassuring the young man.

And it also kept him close at your side.

"Jeon Jungkook?" Is called by a nurse, and you follow her into one of the examination rooms, where Jungkook sits down on the bed, while you took a seat close by on a chair. It's routine to you both by now, after all. "Ah, there. Hello!" The doctor offers, bowing politely before he sits down across from you behind his table. "So- apparently he's got some trouble with his ear?" He wonders, and you nod.

"He's been pretty frustrated with it for some days now. Keeps rubbing it, and he doesn't like it being touched either." You inform the man, who nods and writes some stuff down in his computer with the help of his keyboard.

"Hm yeah, that looks pretty sore." The man says as he inspects Jungkook's ear further, his tail whipping around as he tries to stay composed.

Unbeknownst to you, he only really does it to impress you.

As soon as the doctor is done, Jungkook get's up to walk closer to where you sit, hand curiously playing with the shoulder strap of your top while the doctor explains what medication Jungkook will have to take. Touches like this aren't unusual- Namjoon had been right, after all. The Vrota standing next to you is very touchy, enjoying you close and seemingly seeking you whenever he can. From sitting on the couch so closely next to each other that your legs are touching, to snoozing during a nap with his full upper body on your thighs.

It's what happens later when you're back home, as you're scrolling around on your phone, while he purrs in his sleep on your thighs. He's full on hugging your middle, arms around you keeping you close while the tip of his tail moves a little as he dreams. He really is currently like a big cat in a humanoid body- and you wonder if it's still the aftereffects of his virus, or if he's always like this in general.

Almost as if on pure instinct, one of your hands falls into his slightly curly hair, nails running over his scalp, and at that, his almost unnoticeable purr turns into vibrant rumbling in his chest. His arms wrap a bit tighter around your body as he adjusts his position, a soft smile on his face as he buries his nose in the front of your t-shirt. In this moment, you have to think about Jimin, and his big worries.

What a load of bullshit, you think to yourself, as you watch the happy cat-boy-alien snuggle just a little closer to you.

━━━━━━━━━━.~°👽°~.━━━━━━━━━━━

Scratch that. Scratch all of that. This young man is a menace, and you'll surely go to jail for not looking after him by the end of this entire situation.

"Jungkook…" You say, at a stand-off with the big cat-like alien across from you who stares you down with his stupidly cute big round eyes as if he's not doing anything wrong. "Where is pudgy?" You ask, and at that he fully turns around, squirming bird in his hand. "Jungkook, no, no no no-!" You dramatically call out, hands reaching for him- when he looks at the bird, then at you. "Give him to me, yeah?" you try, and he seems completely taken aback for a moment, and almost- shy?

Unbeknownst to you, he thinks you want the bird for something entirely different. In his mind, you're not asking for the bird itself- you're asking for him to offer it for you.

You want him to… court you?

He seems to deeply think for a good moment as he watches the bird breathe heavily, it's life probably flashing before it's very eyes before Jungkook brightly grins, sharp canine teeth making his happy grin look more dangerous than it probably is.

You don't know why he's suddenly so chipper, tail held high and eyes sparkling.

Suddenly, he holds the bird out to you like he's offering it rather than returning it- and you carefully take the poor thing from his rough hold, accepting it. It's something that makes the tip of his tail snap upwards in excitement, eyes scanning you for every reaction as you walk back.

"I'll be… right back.." You carefully tell Jungkook, who shrugs. "Do not do anything while I'm gone." You warn, before you dash out the front door to return the pet yet again, violently knocking on your neighbor's door.

"What?!" Seokjin yells almost, when you hold out his bird to him. "Pudgy!"

"Yeah, fuck your bird Jin!" You yell at the young man. "Jungkook almost fucking ate him, keep the thing in his cage for god's sake! Do you know how much trouble I would've been in if he actually ate him? I'm not ensured for accidental pet-ingestion!" You complain, making the man laugh a little.

"I'll keep the windows closed from now on." He reassures you, and you nod, pinching the bridge of your nose as you make your way back downstairs into your apartment-

where a not so happy Jungkook waits, arms crossed and tail whipping angrily from side to side behind him, knocking down some papers on the kitchen table. He's clearly unhappy, growling a little with every breath, eyes sharp and glaring at you dangerously.

"What happened?" You wonder, and Jungkook himself wants to just yell at you.

You're so stupid, he thinks to himself.

Why would you insult him like that? He caught that bird, and you wanted it- so he offered it, thinking you finally understood his intentions at this point- but no. Instead you insult him by giving HIS offering to that stupid human man upstairs, as if to mock him!

Do you want something more impressive? Maybe a tiny bird isn't enough to win you over. But on earth, there's not much prey to hunt- and considering he's a little bound to the interior of your apartment, he doesn't have any other options, really. And even if he was to catch something better- like the deer he'd almost caught if it wasn't for you scolding him for it- you still don't seem to like that at all. He doesn't know what else he could do to impress you.

What the hell do human woman want?!

Maybe he just really chose to court the most stupid and ungrateful human he could find- but he'll make sure you understand his intentions soon enough, and he'll teach you proper manners as well, once he's better. Right now, he's still unable to really do much in his state- but once he recovers a little more, he'll make sure.

He'll make sure you know exactly what he wants from you.

━━━━━━━━━━.~°👽°~.━━━━━━━━━━━

It's been a few months, and Jungkook has started to find his voice again, it seems like.

He hums a lot when doing household tasks, sings to himself while he folds laundry, throws random half-sentences at you here and there whenever he feels like doing so. And all of that is fine and dandy- if it wasn't for that very specific nickname he's come up with for you. You try to tell yourself that he just doesn't know any better, that he's just overly friendly, that there's no way he'd be using it for those specific reasons. It doesn't help that he's horribly attractive, and nice, and, ugh.

This is getting more complicated than you hoped it would.

"Kitty!" He chirps, as he leans over the couch, and holds something out to you. You can't help but flinch a bit internally at the way he says that nickname. You're guessing it came from when he'd asked what those cat-plushies in your bed had been called, and you had answered Hello Kitty to him. He'd laughed, pointed at the toy, and then pointed at your cheeks, poking them.

Ever since then, you'd been stuck with that name in his head, it seems like.

You eat from his fingers as he puts the piece of meat on your tongue, an odd, focused gaze on the action found in his eyes as he licks his own lips the same way you do yours. "It's good!" You praise, and he grins brightly, eagerly running back into your kitchen to finish whatever he's cooking. He's been becoming a lot more independent- and it makes you a little sad, considering that once he's deemed healthy enough, he'll leave you behind, move back to his planet one day, and forget you even existed.

A little bit of a bummer, really. But at the same time, there's nothing you can do about it. You don't feel good about asking him out- because what if he feels obligated to say yes?

It's like he senses the slight shift in your mood, slowly walking back up to the couch again where you sit, sitting down next to you on the couch, knees digging into the soft cushions while he curiously watches you with a tilted head. "Huh?" You wonder, smiling- but he frowns, shakes his head.

"What?" He asks. "Sad?" He questions, and you shrug, shaking your head.

"No no, don't worry." You shake it off. "Are you done cooking? Turned everything off?" You ask him, and he nods, but doesn't let off from his question it seems. He opens his arms, makes a grabbing motion with his hands, and you laugh. "You want a hug?" You giggle, but he shakes his head.

"No, you." He argues gently, urging you once more. "You, hug. Sad." He explains, and you laugh.

"Jungkook, I'm not sad." You say, and suddenly, his hands flop down, a frustrated look on his face.

"Don't want?" He hufffs. "Hug me?" He complains, and you look at him with questioning eyes.

"I do wanna hug you, kook." You say, and he perks up at the nickname used. "Just- you don't have to do that just cause I'm like, not feeling happy." You explain to him. "I'm here to take care of you, after all, not the other way around." You laugh, and he watches you a bit more serious right now.

"Right." He suddenly says with a flat tone. "You.. hm, get paid." He says more or less to himself. "For me." He finishes his sentence, sitting properly on the couch now, feet on the floor, arms crossed.

"I mean.. yeah." You say, carefully. "You're gonna leave as soon as you're good to go, you know that." You say. "Would be kinda weird to start like, a friendship or stuff when your stay is limited down the line. I just wanna look out for you- and myself too. Save us the hurt later on." You shrug, and at that, a lightbulb seems to blink out of nowhere over his head, as he looks at you.

"So you? Like me?" He asks, and you stammer an answer.

"Uh, no- like, yeah as a guy you're pretty cool but like I said-" You scramble for an explanation, but he just crawls back on the couch, over you, until he's got you practically pinned down beneath him.

"You like.. me." He says, as if it's a fact- and yeah, it is one. But it shouldn't be. "I like you." He offers. "I.. tried, hm.. Im-pressive- impress you!" He seems to think hard to make his words make sense, brain still a bit slow most of the time when he tries to talk. It shows by the way he still stutters, gets stuck on syllables or by the way his brows scrunch together in thought. "But you- dumb!" He scolds, pointing at your head.

"What the fuck- I'm not dumb!" You complain, and he laughs, sharp canine teeth showing.

"Yes!" He argues, though he seems to not mean it badly. "Really dumb!" He continues.

"Well at least I don't try to eat the local animal population!" You argue.

"But- offer!" He argues, tail puffed up and swaying around. "I need.. to impress! Hunt!" He complains.

"For what?" You laugh.

"You!" He whines loudly. "Mate, make mate- impress mate! You, so you- argh!" He growls out, and you can't help but laugh.

"Jungkook." You softly say, and he looks at you with a face looking like you just told him he has to sleep on the balcony outside. "You don't have to do that, you know? Just cause I take care of you, doesn't mean you.. have to like, be nice like that." You say, and at that, he huffs angrily to himself, tail all fluffy as the fur stands out to all ends in his growing frustration, his arms crossed.

"No.!" He argues. "Stupid!" He curses, getting up to walk into his bedroom, before he emerges back out with some papers in his hand, and red ears as he slaps them on the couch, fleeing the scene right after before slamming the door shut, and locking the door.

And on your couch are two papers, one of them having writing on both sides- the handwriting sloppy and crooked, but readable. And while some sentences don't make sense, it seems like he's tried to take his time and write down what he can't say, at the moment.

'Kitty is stupid' is written on top of the first paper, and you scoff to yourself. 'Kitty doesn't get it.' it reads further.

'I want cry. I catch her prey, I offer it, and she give away to man downstairs. Man downstairs can't even hunt at all, keeps stupid bird in a cage but doesn't ever eat it. Who keeps food alive in home? Why she likes him I don't know- he stupid, just like her. But I like her. Maybe I can teach her one day. But what if she hunt for her then? No, I want to do that.'

'I want to show that I can be good partner. I learned to cook with human foods! She likes food, likes eating. I like eating too, so we eat together often. Then we hug, and she scratches my head. I like that. She's warm.'

'Maybe she doesn't like me. Doesn't like my kind. Doesn't want my kind. Or me. Just me? Maybe just me. I'm the problem. She doesn't want me.'

You turn the page around. It's written with a different pen- probably written on a different day.

'She likes me. I know she do.'

'I made nest for her, today, and she smiled. Smiled happy, cute, like kitty-toys on her bed. Has cheeks round just like them. Soft, too. She is soft. Body soft. I like holding her often. I like holding her in nest I made. And she hugged me, too. Let me hold her instead. Normal, she hold me. But this time, I hold her. I want to hold her more from now. She can be held anytime she want. She smells nice too. Smells best when happy, and after shower.'

You chuckle as you remember that day. It had been raining, you'd gotten caught up in it on the way home from grocery shopping, and after putting all things away and showering, Jungkook had waited on the couch for you, blankets from his bed placed on it, his hand inviting you to sleep there with him. And you had simply accepted the offer-

After all, you didn't know what exactly he'd been trying to offer you with those pillows and blankets placed there. You were educated on his physical health and general behavior- not about courting rituals and how to spot if the Vrota you've been taking care of has developed a romantic interest in you. Why the hell would they teach that anyways? It's not like they are known to have a huge interest in humans.

If anything, they're typically looking down on humans.

You move the paper, and turn to the last one. There's not much written on it, but the sentences are clearer, showing how his health had started to increase again, brain starting to work better these days. They're not perfect, there's a lot scribbled out, but it's clear that it must've been written recently.

'I don't know if she enjoy my company as much as I do her. I know she gain money from taking care of me, but it feels like she also doing it because she care about me. Will she abandon me once I am healthy? Will she leave me once I recover? Will I forget her if I go back home? What if home is here now and not where home was? I don't want to go home anymore if she not there.'

'It's not home if she's not there. It's just a house, just a planet, just a place. But I want home. I want to be her home. I want us to be each other home.'

Can you even be a home? You haven't at all planned any further than up until he's healthy enough to go back home. You've got no clue what to really do after he leaves- so what the hell are you supposed to do now? A relationship with him would be perfectly legal, sure, but he's also only got a Visa for his earth-stay up until he's healthy enough to return to his home planet, once they've gotten their whole pandemic situation back under control. You don't know what to do now.

Maybe you really are stupid, like he says.

So you decide to be even more stupid, as you take a small post it note from your kitchen, and write down a single sentence, before you slide the little note under his bedroom door.

And as he reads it, his eyes become wide, while his fingers clench the pastel pink paper.

'I want to be your home, too.'

[lemonlover1110]

She’s Everything. He’s Just Ken.

Pairing: Kento Nanami x f!Reader

Summary: Kento is a stay-at-home husband for a wife who seems to have multiple jobs

Warnings: Pure Fluff

*just a drabble, and if you couldn’t tell I’m very excited for the barbie movie

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

The moment Kento got married, his wife assured him that she’d be able to handle all the costs of the house. Kento never really got to know her job, and it seemed like she was job hopping from time to time. Sometimes he thought she was a doctor, and other times he swore he saw her wearing an astronaut suit.

Either way, Kento never really worried because his wife managed to pay for everything. And now he’s like a trophy husband, which he doesn’t mind. He gets to sit back and relax while his wife pays for everything. But of course, he has to make sure everything is ready for his wife.

“Blissa, get down from the fridge.” Kento lectures the cat, however, she stays in her place. Kento tries to get her to come down, but he fails. He’s not going to get on top of the counter to get her to come down– But he ends up getting on top of the counter to pick her up and bring her down to the floor. He has nothing better to do anyway. She ends up going elsewhere, probably to the living room to scratch the couch.

“Stupid cat.” He mutters, although he adores that cat more than anything. Blissa is what keeps him company while his wife is out working some thrilling and exciting job. He looks for the recipe book to start making a cake, since he has nothing else to do. He already cleaned, did laundry, organized everything– He can’t think of anything else he could do.

“Kento! I’m home!” You yell, and he stops looking for the recipe book and walks to the front door. He greets you with open arms, and you run to hug him and kiss him. “I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too, honey.” He responds as he takes your purse from your hands and puts it away. “How was work?”

“Work was great.” You answer. “What about you?”

“Everything is great…” He says, knowing he hasn’t done much while you’re probably out there saving the world. “I was about to make a cake, do you want to join me?”

“Sure.” You smile and you follow him to the kitchen. He begins to look for the recipe book while you wash your hands. He finds the recipe book and turns to the right page, and you begin to bake.

It becomes too much for you quickly. You instead end up sitting down on the kitchen island as you watch your husband do all the baking. You cheer him on and he just laughs. “So what were you doing at your job today?”

“You know.. This and that.” You respond, watching your husband crack two eggs into the pink bowl. “Just a little flying and—“

“Flying?” Kento interrupts and you furrow your eyebrows before nodding in response. “What do you do, honey? I thought you were a doctor.”

“I’m a pilot, baby. I thought you knew that.” You nonchalantly answer, as if it’s something so logical. He doesn’t understand how you’re here now. Maybe it just wasn’t a long flight. You were gone a reasonable amount of hours, so Kento tries to make sense of it all.

He pecks your lips and mutters an apology, and you grab the collar of his shirt and pull him into a more heated kiss. As much as he doesn’t want to pull away, he still has to finish baking a cake for you. You’ll continue later. He tries to turn away so you won’t see his pink cheeks.

“Did you say hi to Blissa?” Kento questions and you shake your head. You begin to call for her,

“Tsk tsk tsk, come here kitty.” You say as you pat the space next to you on the island. It lets Kento know why Blissa is always climbing the counters. Blissa ends up climbing the counter, and Kento doesn’t say anything because in the end, you pay for everything. Although he does side-eye as you pet the cat.

“I’m thinking about quitting my job.” You share while Blissa purrs under your hand.

“And doing what?” He asks as he looks for a container for the cake.

“Becoming an envelope licker.” You answer, making Kento hold back a laugh. He stops looking for a container and walks towards you. He cups your face before pecking your lips.

“This is why I love you, honey.”

[wolveria]

The Anomaly Archives - Reality #003

AU of The Raven's Hymn

Pairing: SCP-049 x Reader

Chapter Warnings: Sex pollen, non-consensual drugging, dubious consent, noncon, mutual noncon, vaginal sex, cold!049

AO3

SCP-049 was a wonderful subject to work with.

You didn’t really work with him, as such. You watched him perform his mysterious surgeries, scribbling in his leatherbound journal as you observed from the security of the room adjacent. He was fastidious, intelligent, and above all, polite. At least, when you gave him instructions through the intercom, he obeyed with a pleasant, “Very well, Doctor.”

You weren’t a doctor, but you didn’t correct him. He knew of your credentials from when you’d introduced yourself roughly a month ago. 049 was a new SCP in your rotation, and he was a nice change. You already had so much new data to work with, as something had sparked the SCP from his lethargic state soon after you assumed your new station.

Logic would dictate you were the introduced variable that stirred him from his dormancy, but you doubted it. A new researcher was... well, nothing new. As far as you could tell, you simply had good timing.

Still, the anomaly paid close attention to your presence. The glass was mirrored—so you’d been told, you’d never been inside the chamber itself—but the way he gazed at it, straight to where you sat before the monitors, left you feeling exposed.

Despite the unsettling attention, your hard work paid off. Just on the other side of the door was the anomaly, currently being restrained and secured in the interview room. Dr. Puli had finally acknowledged your progress and allowed the interview, despite his reservations.

You didn’t understand his hesitancy. SCP-049 was a relatively tame anomaly, and your new methods had helped placate him further. Sure, he wasn’t technically allowed any human subjects, but no one would miss the corpses from the morgue. They were tagged to be destroyed, and it would have been a waste of resources.

“Are you ready?”

You jumped, nearly spilling your mostly empty cup of coffee. They must have upped the caffeine concentration; you’d been jittery all morning after taking your first sip, sweat dotting your forehead as your skin prickled with heat. You reminded yourself to cut back the next morning.

“I am,” you said to your boss where he stood beside you, facing the interview room. There was a second door to the right that led to the observation room.

“Good. Because I, uh... won’t be able to sit in on this one, unfortunately.”

You eyed his apologetic smile, spotting the frustration underneath.

“Oh? Why not?”

“We have a couple of humanoid transfers and I’ve been asked to oversee it.” Dr. Puli glanced toward the two doors, releasing a breath. “But I know you’ll do well. And if anything goes wrong—not that it will—you’ll have all the help you need. Our new Site Director will be observing, and he wants things to go smoothly.”

You nearly choked on the coffee you’d brought to your lips.

“The Site Director is here?”

“Yes, he... asked to sit on it. It sounded like he was impressed with your progress. No one else has been able to get the anomaly to engage, let alone cooperate.”

You gave a nervous smile. At least no one seemed to be mad about those bodies you designated for 049’s use. Still, the news put a damper on your excitement. Dr. Puli wouldn’t say what happened to the last Site Director, and no one else would speak about him either. Your interactions with Leahy had been sparse and rare, but you hadn’t had a problem with him.

But his replacement, Site Director Johannson, was another story. He was an older man, perhaps in his 60s judging by the white hair, but there was nothing grandfatherly about him. When he looked at you, you got the sense he wasn’t seeing you at all.

Your assessment of him didn’t improve after you’d been requested to wear a very specific ensemble for this interview. No one had asked you to wear a skirt before, and you felt like progress had been set back a good 50 years.

A radio chirped to your left, belonging to one of the guards where it was clipped to his vest. He clicked on the microphone and spoke to his counterparts inside.

“You’re clear,” he informed you, though his head remained stiffly forward.

“Wish me luck.”

You handed Dr. Puli your empty coffee cup when he held out his hand for it.

“You don’t need it, but... good luck.”

He gave you one last smile and stepped away, your two escort guards moving at your back. It was overkill, in your opinion, but you wouldn’t wave off the extra security. You didn’t plan to make the same mistake your predecessors did, underestimating what 049 was capable of simply because of his disarming presence.

There was nothing very disarming about the SCP waiting inside. The door slid back to reveal the dark form sitting at the table, his shoulders hunched, and his head bowed. His mask lifted upwards so quickly it was almost a jerk, his eyes focused on you like a large hawk spotting a mouse in a meadow.

You frowned at the unusual behavior but continued forward, your tablet held against your chest as you entered the interview room. The Class III Humanoid Restriction Harness was in place, two extender bars connecting the collar around his neck to the grips of the two guards who flanked him. Even sitting down with his wrists shackled to the table, they weren’t taking any chances.

Typically, you would be at ease in the SCP’s presence, but something had clearly agitated him. You assumed the guards had been rougher than necessary, leaving the poor entity ruffled and misused.

You sat at the table opposite of 049, laid the tablet flat on the table, and gave him a reassuring smile.

“I’m going to ask you a few questions today. Is it okay if I record this interview?”

The SCP stared at you, but his grey eyes seemed fixed on the wall behind you.

“SCP-049?”

“I would not suggest making a record of what is about to transpire, but I fear that decision is outside your control.”

It was your turn to stare. His words were low, grinding in his throat as if it was difficult to speak, and his gaze was on you, too sharp and jagged.

“SCP-049, are you feeling all right?”

One of the guards behind you clicked his radio, but you heard nothing else, indicating he had switched to his headset. Behind the glass, the weight of stares were heavy on you, a reminder that your position was on the line.

There was a crinkle of chains as 049’s folded hands shifted on the table.

“Are you?”

The question brought you up short. The way it was presented was fairly neutral, but this level of stubbornness was unlike him.

“SCP-049, if you are unwilling to cooperate for this interview, then you will be escorted back to your cell.”

“No. I will not.”

He leaned forward, chains pulled taut at the movement.

“Neither you nor I will be leaving this room. Not, I suspect, for a while.”

You opened your mouth to ask him what the hell was wrong with him, and then fell into shocked silence as the two guards at his flank unhooked the extender bars. Without explanation, all of the guards turned away, opened the doors on their respective sides of the room, and walked out.

All you could do was watch, frozen until the room was emptied of all but you and the SCP.

You leapt from your chair, tablet forgotten as you swiped your keycard in front of the reader. It didn’t so much as beep. You pounded on the door, calm professionalism forgotten as panic crawled up your throat.

You went to the mirrored observation window next, banging your hand against the surface so hard it wobbled, and then you stared at your reflection. Your forehead was beaded with sweat, your hair already damp, and heat sufficed your skin.

“You are feeling the effects.”

You met 049’s reflected gaze in the mirror.

“Of what?”

His head tilted, as of the answer was obvious.

“Of what they have given us both.”

Your mind immediately backtracked to earlier that morning and the unusually bitter coffee some tech had handed you before the interview. You’d heard of things like this happening before, mostly through sensationalized rumors after someone disappeared, but you never thought it would happen to you.

You and the SCP were caught in an experiment, exposed to an unknown chemical, and the results would be documented.

049 must have glimpsed it in your eyes, the hollow dread eating away the pit of your stomach. The SCP yanked through his chains, the links scattering across the floor like spilled jewels from a broken necklace. He rose to his feet, broad shoulders blocking out the light behind him, his beaked mask dipped as his gaze burned through you.

You bolted to the far corner of the room, but the entity was right on your heels. He grabbed a fistful of your coat, yanked you backwards, and slammed you sideways into the closest wall. Your scream was choked off from the hand wrapped around your neck.

Your struggles to escape were as fruitless as a bird slapping its wings against the side of its cage, his fingers as unyielding as the bars. He glared down at you with that same predatory focus, and you were so terrified of what he would do that your mind took several long moments to catch up.

049 gripped you with direct skin-to-skin contact, and you were still alive. That shouldn’t be possible. No one understood why his touch was lethal, or if he had control of it. Perhaps this answered that question.

But his eyes narrowed and searched your face, as if he too was stumped by the situation. You weren’t given a moment of reprieve; 049 pulled you way from the wall, readjusting his hold so it was on the nape of your neck, and he shoved you down onto the interview table, bent over its edge.

An animal noise was ripped out of you as he followed you down, his torso pressed against your back, his metallic, rasping words in your ear.

“You have been betrayed, Doctor,” he said low enough that only you could hear. “Though I do not believe you were sent in here to die by my hand. After all, what would be the purpose of dosing you if the expectation was for this experiment to be done on a corpse. Of course, these charlatans conduct nonsensical and disturbed tests and call it science; I would not be surprised if necrophilia was on the agenda.”

His tone was almost conversational, as if you weren’t trembling and gasping in his grip, the gazelle trapped under the lion. You winced as he leaned closer, belatedly remembering he couldn’t actually bite.

“They must already know you are… special. This does not bode well for you.”

You agreed with that—none of this looked good. Had you done something to piss off someone up the ladder? Or was this Johannson getting rid of Leahy’s hires to make room for his own?

You supposed it didn’t matter, you were here now, and your only real focus was on trying to ignore the ache between your legs, made worse the longer he leaned on your back. You pressed your forehead against the cold metal of the table with a desperate attempt to remain still, but your body was traitorous, swayed by the drug that had been slipped in your coffee.

049 let out a strained breath as you lifted your hips and rubbed against him, desperate for friction through the thick fabric of your skirt. You’d never worn a damn skirt to work before, had never been required to, and now, you were almost grateful for it. Every second that passed made your skin burn hotter, and you whined low in your throat. You would do anything to make it stop.

049 released his hold on your neck; he no longer needed to worry about you running. His hands trailed along your sides, the touch curious, and when he reached the hem of your skirt and pushed it up to your hips, you arched your back in anticipation. You were aware of the mirrored observation window, but it was a thought at the back of your mind, nowhere near as important as the promise of relief.

The SCP surprised you by flipping you over, your back now flat against the table as he loomed over you. He reached under your skirt and pushed your underwear to the side, his fingers sinking deep inside with one smooth motion.

The back of your head banged against the table as you bucked against his hand, and your legs naturally found their way around his hips. He plunged deeper, his fingers squeezed between your tight walls, and when his thumb found your clit you lost the sense you had left.

“Please,” you begged for something you weren’t sure he had. Previous researchers hadn’t found evidence of any sort of genitalia, but they hadn’t exactly been looking. Even if all he had were his fingers, you didn’t care. You just needed something. Anything.

But he removed his fingers, kept your underwear pulled to the side, and something unmistakably phallic prodded your cunt.

You pressed your heels against the small of his back, the head of his cock breaching you not enough, and he snarled in response. Fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thighs, he hauled your hips off the table and slid inside you with a single thrust.

There was no air in your lungs to scream with, and honestly, oxygen didn’t seem a priority when it felt like he was going to split you in half. You didn’t know if it was the drugs or the fact you were dripping wet, but it didn’t hurt—in fact, it only ached when he stopped moving.

You sensed a similar restlessness from him, even as he paused to take a breath, he couldn’t hold still, his hips rubbing against yours. Your fingers dug into the thick fabric of his arms as he held your hips at an angle, beyond words and even thoughts at this point.

049 pulled back only a couple of inches before thrusting in again, as if he couldn’t bear to not be buried in your heat. Your fingers increased their grip, and 049 gave an irritated growl at your impatience, snapping his hips forward in answer. You let go of him, pleasantly boneless as he decided to stop testing the new sensations and started to fuck you in earnest. He thrust forward in the same movement of pulling you to him, like you were a thing he was using to chase his own pleasure.

You throbbed around his cock at the idea of being used like his personal toy, and you weren’t sure you could blame it on the drugs.

049 changed his angle, laying almost flat on top of you as he hitched your legs around his waist. Your hips were on the table again as his pace slowed, but the deeper thrusts hit a spot that wound you tighter with each hit.

Your breath staggered and small whimpers escaped. Able to remain silent for most of it, you couldn’t now as you gripped him like a vice.

A litany of French expletives spilled out of him, and the harsh sounding vowels and the loss of control behind them shot straight to your gut. You wrapped your arms around his chest and clung to his back, desperate for something to hold onto, and then you crashed over the edge.

You buried your face in his shoulder and gave a wordless cry, scratching your nails into his thick hide. And still 049 continued to thrust, fucking you as you continued to throb. Something large and warm pressed against your entrance, and you didn’t know what it was, only that you wanted it inside you.

049 hissed and grabbed your thighs, forcing you still when you tried to push back against the barrier, and then he groaned and shuddered. He remained inside you for a moment before he abruptly pulled out, come spilling onto you in thick, white ropes.

The remainder spilled onto the floor as he aimed downward away from you, and you caught sight of the bulbous knot at the base of his cock before he covered himself with his outer robes.

The SCP was trying to catch his breath, and you were doing the same, your thoughts still fuzzy and distant, as if a part of you didn’t want to go back to reality yet. But 049’s eyes were focused and clear, and to your surprise, gazed at you with regret.

“I… did attempt to avoid ejaculation inside you, but I fear I may not have fully succeeded.”

His attention drifted to the door, and at the reminder, you pulled down your skirt and winced at the mess between your legs.

“Why?” you asked as you sat up and tried to collect what was left of your dignity. There wasn’t much to find. “What’s it matter at this point.”

049 turned his focus back on you, his eyes grim.

“Your Foundation may lack humanity, but everything they do is with the intention of an outcome. And what, pray tell, is the outcome one would wish when breeding two assets?”

Two assets? Breeding?

“That’s not… not what this is.” You shook your head. “You’re wrong.”

049 rose to his full height, dwarfing you where you sat on the edge of the table.

“I rarely am.”

He reached forward and took you by the chin. Though it was a gentle gesture, you still trembled at the touch, and the unreadable coldness of his pale eyes.

“And if I’m correct, then we’ll be seeing much more of each other.”

“N-no. This has to be a mistake.” You didn’t believe the words even as you said them, and tears collected unwillingly at the corners of your eyes. “Doctor Puli wouldn’t let them—”

“He would, and he has.”

049 released you and leaned in, so close his mask brushed your neck.

“You’re one of us now, my dear.”

You closed your eyes and the tears spilled down your cheeks. 049’s arms went around your shoulders, and you were too tired to fight it, and you leaned into the embrace. The muffled footfalls of guards outside the door signaled you wouldn’t be alone for much longer, and 049 tightened his grip.

Possessive.

Next Entry

[shegatsby]

Hi! I dont really now how requests work so I’m so sorry for any mistakes!! I was wondering if u could do a Hannibal x fem(or gn) reader where she gets kidnapped and he finds out and saves her(but she’s injured). Heavy angst to pure fluff!!

PS: I couldn’t find if ur requests r closed or open so if they are closed rn I’m so sorry!!!🌷🌷🌷🌷

A/N; Hi! Thank you for this request i hope you'll like it. Sorry for any typos. Enjoy! Let me know what you think :)

Warnings; Kidnapped reader, injuries etc.

(gif isn't mine)

When she woke up from her nightmare her head was hurting her like a bitch.. only her nightmare was real. She was trapped in a basement, the last thing she remembered was that someone broke into her house and hit hear head, she was cooking dinner when the attacker came, her plan was to have Hannibal over for dinner, to thank him for helping her etc. She wanted to impress him so bad.. but now she was in a dark basement and her hands and feet were tied. She had to take deep breaths to calm herself in order to make logical desicions. The door of the basement was opened and soon her attacker hit the light, it was yellow and hurt her eyes, ''Rise and shine sweetheart.'' a man's voice was heard, ''Why am I here?'' she asked trying her best to not freak put, the man had a mask and he was wearing an expensive suit, he came close to her, holding a knife, obviously trying to scare her, ''You're just a pawn in my game little dove. It's your boyfriend I want.''

''Boyfriend? I don't have one, sorry.'' she rolled her eyes, what was he talking about?!

''Aww you haven't realized? Doctor Lecter is quite smitten by you. Even a blind person could see that.''

Well, she wasn't sure but she had been feeling a strange pull towards him, recently they've been seeing each other, bumping into each other, it was as if Hannibal was just standing where ever she goes... or was it not a coincidence?

When Doctor Hannibal Lecter walked into her apartment the door was wide open, only sound he could hear was the stove cooking something, he silently walked in, didn't close the door just in case if he had to run. Turns out, there was no one except the broken plates, he turned off the stove with his gloved hands and picked up the small piece of paper on the kitchen table.

''Come find us Doctor Lecter...''

This must be about the latest case Hannibal has been helping the FBI with, a murderer was loose, killing young women and dropping them in the forest, his heart skipped an awful beat when he thought of the possibility that his Y/N is being killed... if he alarmed the FBI Y/N most likely would be dead in a couple hours so he had to be alone on this case.

He quickly drove to the place where he had suspicions of, there was an abandoned house close to one of the victim's body, of course the FBI searched but couldn't find anything but Hannibal had to try and find her.

Meanwhile Y/N was on the ground, her right side hurt, ''If you let me go I won't tell anyone... please..'' she had to give..

The tall man with the mask laughed, punched her lower stomach, she coughed up blood. ''Shut up before I cut your face.''

She didn't dare to say anything else.

After a while the masked man went upstairs and she heard some noises, like two people fighting and then a gun shot... she almost jumped from the ground and started to pray to any god that's out there. Her back was turned to the door this time so she couldn't see anyone, but familiar footsteps approached to her.

She looked up to see Hannibal with few bruises on her beautiful face, he left a relieved sigh, ''I was so worried Y/N...'' he knelt to free her hands and feet, they felt numb. Hannibal started to rub her hands quickly, ''Hannibal,'' he wasn't hearing her, ''Hannibal,'' she stopped her, looked with her dove eyes, ''I'm fine.''

''No,'' he lifted her chin to take a good look at her face, ''I should've tortured that man thing before killing her. How dare he?!'' he was actually talking to himself than talking to her but she didn't mind, she was happy that he came to rescue her... for once in her life she had someone who would choose her.

Hannibal lifted her and carried her outside, ''You'll be living with me from now on. Understood?'' he asked with a dominant tone, ''Yes Doctor.'' she said sarcastically and it made them both laugh.

She had a new home and someone to spend her life with.

[t0ast-ghost]

Star Trek II: Wrath Of Khan thoughts:

For this post if I could simply embed the entire movie and just write the word, ‘queer’ I would. Unfortunately you are all stuck with this, happy pride month!

Spoilers for the entire movie will be featured in this post

Going forth:

- I know what the kobayashi maru is so I know they’re not in danger but that’s some good acting Bones

- “‘Physician heal thyself.’” “Is that all you’ve got to say? What about my performance?” “I’m not a drama critic.” Thinking about this pose thinking about this pose thinking about thi-

- “Galloping around the cosmos is a game for the young, Doctor.” He’s feeling something and projecting

- “Aren’t you dead?” That’s certainly a way to greet your husband

- They’re so cute. And sad. And cute.

- tiny guys hehe. The boots got sluttier somehow

- McCoy got him glasses cause he can’t read the book without it and bring up that post that’s saying how Spock and McCoy’s gifts go together but McCoy got the logical thing and Spock got the emotional one

- Don’t quote me on this but the things I would do to that man… I wouldn’t.. but holy shit that outfit is killing me.

- hi checkov

- Carol Marcus? Doesn’t she have Kirk’s-? okay then I won’t spoil that just yet

- Creature in a jar moving under the sand

- BOTANY BAY????? Oh wait a sec I should’ve seen that coming it’s called wrath of khan

- Did they kill Chekov?

- hello Khan. That’s a very long and dramatic reveal he’s kinda hot tho

- Thinking about genetic engineering and augmentation and how they’re illegal but star trek presents cases where people now exist and it’s not the fault of the person that they are what they are so they have to question if an entire person should be illegal because of the actions of others… anyway I don’t wanna get deep into this right now, back to the movie

- Are they going to kill Chekov? (edit: not sure why I’m so fixated on thinking they’re gonna)

- WOW THAT IS CERTAINLY A SWEAT DROP

- brain worms… this sounds recently familiar

- HES READING HIS BOOK WITH THE GLASSES THEY DIDNT NEED TO SHOW HIM DOING THAT BUT THEY DID AND ITS ADORABLE OMG

- The conversation between Savik and Spock is so precious. And it’s in Vulcan. And she says “He’s more human than I expected” and it’s like that’s her commenting on Spock’s husband

- Kirk does not want to do this inspection

- McCoy does a little bounce

- “For everything there is a first time. Wouldn’t you agree, admiral” “mmhhmm” “Would you like a tranquilizer?” *Kirk shakes his head*

- I think this one has a more solid plot. I’m enjoying so far :)

- Does McCoy serve on this ship or is he just following along?

- (Had to stop watching around here because I left for the weekend so these thoughts are potentially a bit different)

- wowah! Cool ship!

- uh oh. Chekov on the monitor with the brain worm!

- khan is kinda- yeahh

- I LOVE SAAVIK! RAHHH! Also apparently Saavik is canonically half Vulcan half Romulan according to the trivia

- I like how Bones is just there :)

- Putting Spock in black… they knew what they were doing

- They’re husbands your honour. Spock knows Kirk wants to take command and isn’t to proud to get in the way of making his wife happy

- “You are my superior officer. You are also my friend. I have been and always shall be yours.” Kissing would have been less romantic

- George Takei’s voice is majestic

- “He tasks me. He tasks me and I shall have him. I’ll chase him round the moons of Nibia and round the Antares maelstrom and round perdition’s flames before I give him up.” Not obsessive at all.. nope this is something completely and totally normal to say about your nemesis

- “Uhura, have Doctor McCoy join us (Kirk and Spock) in my quarters.” Hmmmmm.. gotta inform the whole polycule about the shady government experiment

- lmao BOTH Spock and McCoy know who Carol Marcus is

- oh so terraforming… NEVERMIND REALLY FAST TERRAFORMING

- “Really, Dr. McCoy, you must learn to govern your passions. They will be your undoing.” Flirting, gentlemen?

- How and why does Starfleet continually put Spock and McCoy together? Like this alert would be sent out 24/7

- Spock and his awesome daughter Saavik

- falling

- Kirk with the breast flap down

- such a good moment… such a great moment (sorry for shitty photos)

- Kirk has to put on his little glasses <3

- Kirk does NOT fuck around

- Poor Scotty. He’s got so much emotion about his dead crew mate and the doctor apologizing to him 🥺🥺🥺

- Saavik making up rules to make sure the admiral is safe. Love her.

- “Jim, be careful.” “We will.” MCCOY IS SO BITTER. Like ‘no wishes of luck for me, Spock? Fuck you!’

- The collar on that uniform is silly

- hehe McCoy got scared by a rat. OH HE ALSO GOT SCARED BY A DEAD BODY

- Kirk’s little disappointed “oh my god” as he finds Chekov in the cupboard

- “Suppose they went nowhere.” “Then this’ll be your big chance to get away from it all.” McCoy’s not leaving Kirk, but he still looks like he wants to strangle him sometimes

- Kirk not afraid to punch a bitch

- WAIT THATS KIRKS SON?!? Isn’t it?? I thought David was Carol’s brother. But nope!

- aww dammnit I knew they were still mind controlled :/

- Saavik saving David. Y’know it would be pretty cool if there was something about Saavik, David, and Johanna meeting and maybe serving on a ship of their own.. idk just thoughts.

- ewwww brain worm.

- OH THE ECHOING “KHANNN”

- mmmm Kirk without the jacket. The white turtleneck with sleeves… also McCoy and Saavik are slaying with their turquoise and orange turtlenecks

- “Food the first order of survival.” I bet the fanfic writers had a field day with this one (cause cause it’s a reference to Tarsus IV)

- Imagine this: you’re stuck underground with your husband, your other husbands adopted daughter, your ex, her son (who’s also your son), and your old Russian navigator who’s unconscious and tried to kill you while being mind controlled by a worm which came out of his ear

- David’s got Kirk’s curls <333

- Kirk has a thing for people who look good in blue. Change my damn mind.

- “I don’t believe in a no win scenario.” He immediately calls Spock afterwards cause he’ll never lose with his husbands around

- “You lied.” “I exaggerated.” Yep, he IS that bitch

- Saavik is learning so much from them

- They still just.. let anyone onto the bridge. Like David is just there now

- oh no Scotty! Well McCoy was miraculously there to catch him

- CHEKOV BACK ON THE BRIDGE!

- Once again. Kirk does not fuck around! He just killed those guys

- “To the last I will grapple with thee.” WOW. Okay. Well.

- Khan’s about to terraform this bitch

- McCoy stopping Spock from going into the chamber..

- “You’re not going in there!” “Perhaps you’re right. What is Mr. Scott’s condition?” SIKE BITCH SPOCK JUST FUCKING NERVE PINCHED HIM. McCoy you should’ve been tipped off by the fact he 1. Said you were right and 2. Gave up trying to self sacrifice so easily

- wait why’d Spock connect to McCoy’s psi points and say remember? Remember what?

- I like there’s just a sign that flashes the word ‘radiation’ in red letters

- McCoy and Scotty BEGGING Spock not to do this. Break my fucking heart why don’t you?

- Kirk’s little run to the engine room <3

- I know he’s dying but those boots are so slutty

- Solely watching Kirk’s face is already like watching 10 puppies get killed

- “Don’t grieve, admiral.” Has me crying already. Your closest and longest friend is watching your slow descent into death and you ask him not to grieve you. You want him to know your death meant something. It meant he’d be safe and that is nothing to grieve. I’m going to be sick

- don’t touch me I’m thinking about this

- SAAVIK IS CRYING OMG GIRL ME TOO

- Kirk’s voice breaking.. god. Shatter my fucking heart why don’t you?

- if they play bagpipes at my funeral I’m rising from the dead (violins would be nice though)

- NOO HIS CUTE LITTLE GLASSES BROKE

- “They’re just words.” “But good words. That’s where ideas begin. Maybe you should listen to them.” POP OFF DAVID ! Good line

- SON REVEAL! NOT CLICKBAIT

- There’s 8 minutes left of this. Did they leave this one with Spock dead?

- “He’s really not dead, as long as we remember him.” Good words McCoy. But perhaps maybe you might have some.. assistance remembering him?

- got distracted and drew Kirk but I love the last little Spock narration. Really brave to end a WHOLE MOVIE with one of the best most well known characters being dead

Well that movie did have its pros and… khans

…

See you next time

Masterpost

[leggerefiore]

ive been marinating this idea in my head for a week and now i must request: ingo, emmet, larry, and cyrus (all separately ofc) when their beloved is hopped up on anasthesia after a surgery and when s/o finally awakens the poor thing temporarily doesn't remember who the stunningly handsome man at their bedside is but they sure don't mind when they get kissed by him... (bonus funny: confusing the twins for one another. hope emmet doesnt get too jealous...) its all the anathesia tropes in one lol

I can finally return to this after having gone under anesthesia and recovered from it....

cw: nondescript surgery mentions, temporary memory loss, confusion, fluff,

characters: Ingo, Emmet, Cyrus, Larry

The procedure went well to your poor boyfriend's (and your own) relief. He had stayed for the entire length, simply far too worried and ready to act as your medical advisor for anything that may arise. Thankfully, nothing had, and it had entirely gone to plan. Now, you were still under the effects of the general anaesthesia and thus unconscious. However, you had been otherwise cleared, and he was able to come in and wait for you to regain consciousness. Naturally, he did.

Sitting at your bedside, he quietly did things to pass the time until you began to awaken. He was a bit distressed to see you in such a condition, yet was happy that you had made it through everything so well. Everything moved slowly until… you began to stir. He put down whatever he had been using to distract himself to focus on you. Your eyes opened, and you sat up weakly. Blinking, you met his gaze. Something about your general behaviour told him that you were not entirely back to normal…

Still, he leaned forward to press a kiss to your forehead and grasp your hand.

● “… Emmet?” you asked, bewildered to see him at your bedside. Ingo blinked at your words and opened his mouth to speak. That was not an uncommon thing he heard, but it felt strange coming from you. “Emmet… Why are you here…?” you held on to his hand tightly, “… You kissed me, too…” Ingo felt somewhere between chuckling and losing his mind. He certainly hoped you were not letting Emmet randomly kiss you, but he supposed it was the anaesthesia causing your brain to not think logically.

▲Ingo▼

● “Emmy…” you called out to him again, “Your clothes are weird today…” Your hand began to play with his sweaters' sleeve. He sighed. You definitely were not in your right mind. “… I like you, Emmy, I really do,” you suddenly continued and looked a little embarrassed, “You're really cute, but… I love Ingo, you know? He's so sweet… A real gentleman…” Your gushing made his eyes go wide. His chest fluttered. Gentleman…? “Oh, don't tell him…”

● “… Dearest,” he mumbled, holding your hand again, “… I'm Ingo.” You blinked and opened your mouth. “I love you, too,” he chuckled and pressed another kiss to the corner of your mouth. You began to laugh yourself. “Emmet might pop in later… He mentioned something about getting you a cake…” Ingo's free hand went to sweep his hair back. Would your doctor approve that? He would need to ask and stop Emmet from wasting his time if you could not… Before he could get lost more in contemplation, you reached your free arm up to pull him in. It seemed that you wanted a hug now. Who would he be not to oblige you?

○ You stared at him for a long moment extra when he pulled back. Emmet tilted his head while you grasped his hand tightly. Your eyes squinted. For a moment, the twin debated if you were unable to recognise him. Before he could begin to fret, you spoke. “… Ingo?” you questioned, “Hey, Ingo! What are you doing here…? Where is… here?” You looked around the room in confusion. Emmet felt floored. Ingo? You mistook him for his brother? He blinked. “Did you kiss me, too?” you seemed to avoid his gaze. Emmet wanted to speak, but you moved to stare at your IV, confused. His hand tightened around yours before you tried anything.

▽Emmet△

○ “You aren't wearing your normal clothes,” you instead shifted your attention back to him, “… Hey, why are you wearing a Joltik t-shirt?” The print on the front of his shirt was a Joltik chewing on a wire. It was something that you had bought for him while out shopping. His heart hurt. Did you not remember? Why did you think he was Ingo? Why would Ingo be at your side after a surgery? “I'm sorry, Ingo…” you sighed, “I'm genuinely complimented you feel that way about me, but I love Emmet… You know that, right? Emmy is so cute… I just want to cling to him all the time…” The younger twin's eyes went wide. Oh… Oh, that was verrrry adorable.

○ “Darling,” he cooed and leaned forward to peck your lips, “I am Emmet.” You gasped when he pulled away. A giggle left him. It was truly no mystery why he loved you so much. His free hand went to remove a few stray strands from your face. “You are verrrry sweet,” he continued, “Ingo said he would come later. The station needed one of us.” Emmet was truly grateful Ingo had offered to handle all of their work today so he could be by your side today. The older twin had also offered to bring food in for you both whenever he got off. You lightly tugged his arm. Right. You. He smiled at you and was ready to listen to you more.

🌌Cyrus🛰

☄️ You were silent as he pulled back. Your eyes seemed to stare right through him as you remained wordless. Worry entered his mind, but Cyrus quashed it quickly with a logical explanation. Your throat was likely parched. His eyes scanned the room for a water he had bought. Seeing it on a nearby table, he went to stand up and grab it for you. However, his actions were halted by you reaching out a hand to grab his sleeve. “… You're really handsome…” you mumbled. Cyrus nodded. That was not exactly what he expected the first words out of your mouth to be, but he could accept that nonetheless.

☄️ “… Who are you, mister?” you asked. The blue-haired man froze in his spot. The water was forgotten. What…? That question… You surely recognised him. He was your boyfriend. That felt like something impossible to forget with how often it weighed on his mind. “… You're quite a bit older than me, aren't you?” you continued. Cyrus was dumbstruck. Quite a bit… Older than you…? Were you messing with him? “You kissed me… But we don't know each other… Did you mistake me for someone?” you babbled, “I hope you didn't… I want you to be single…”

☄️ Cyrus sighed. That was quite enough of that. Clearly, the anaesthesia was altering your cognition and making you forget specific things. Fine. He was not bothered by that. Or you comment about his age. “… I am your boyfriend, so I am not single,” he explained, “My name is Cyrus… And I'm only twenty-seven, actually.” You gasped at his words. Another remark about his age was made. It was against his usual behaviour, but he leaned forward to kiss you on the lips and silence you. It working and being reciprocated calmed him. This would pass… He just needed to be patient. You gazed up at him with adoration when he pulled away. Suddenly, his confidence returned.

🍙 You squinted at him as he moved away to sit back down. His nerves tensed as he recalled the last time Geeta had given him a look like that. Larry did not understand what was going through your mind. Were you in pain? He hoped not. Though he was more than ready to call for someone if needed. You remained silent for an awkward moment. He supposed he had not said anything either. Maybe you were not sure what to say. Should he start talking? Asking you how your surgery went did not seem like an appropriate thing. Before he could open his mouth, you finally spoke, “… Hey, did I take your bed here?” Larry went still. What did that mean?

💼Larry🏢

🍙 “… This is a hospital, right, mister?” you continued, “Isn't this… like, your bed? You seem like you belong here…” There was no response to that from the salaryman. You were out of it. That much was more than obvious now. He also could not deny that there was some truth to that statement. Him falling asleep at his desk the other day was a bit concerning, certainly, but he wondered how you missed the IV in your arm. “Why am I in your room? Do I care for the elderly?” your words cut deeper each time you spoke. His trained facade was almost ready to shatter under your innocent harshness. “… You are kind of cute... In a non-traditional way, I think,” you mumbled to yourself.

🍙 You having apparently forgetting him was not the worst thing, he supposed. Larry was going to avoid thinking too much about the last words that you had spoken. Maybe a refresher would help you. He certainly did not plan on leaving your side. Geeta might make a surprise visit, and the last thing he wanted was her ire. Well, that, and he did not exactly want to leave you alone after surgery. “… I'm your partner,” he explained, “I'm Larry. We've been together for a few years now… You insisted on us dating, actually.” You nodded deeply and mumbled an acknowledgement. Somehow, this felt less exhausting than the league office. You tugged his sleeve and demanded another kiss to prove it. Now, he felt the exhaustion settling in.

[superblysubpar]

potentially very silly thought that’s been on my mind for forever so feel free to ignore! but stevie has glasses right? but he never wears them bc he doesn’t like how they look/doesn’t believe he really needs them (spoiler: he does). imagine dad!steve’s little baby comin back from the doctor and needing specs :( and his kid is all sad bc they think they’ll get bullied and that they look silly, but dad!steve puts on his like “see? glasses are cool, bud!” and they wear them together <3

dad!steve harrington x mom!fem! reader

a How Sweet It Is story

summary: steve's kiddo doesn't want to get glasses | even if a fic is not marked 18+, my blog is

1.7kwords

Spring, 1993:

Steve rubbed at his forehead as he stirred the spaghetti sauce on the stove. Grace had fought him for hours, screaming and crying and throwing toys at him. He knew that all she needed was a nap but she refused, insisted that she wasn’t tired and wailed with a set of lungs that gave her Uncle Eddie a run for their money. He’s used to headaches by now though - too many hits to the head over the years and what felt like a constant squint to see things clearer, toddler tantrums were nothing when it came to the things that caused him headaches. 

But that didn’t mean he wanted her to wake up anytime soon. So when the loud crack of the front door handle hitting the wall pulled him from his thoughts he rushed out of the kitchen, hushing loudly. Whisper-shouting to you and your oldest, “Hey, hey, Grace is finally asleep!”

Nora kicked the wall as she tried to take off her shoes and coat at the same time, a flourish and frenzy of tiny grunts and zippers clicking together. Yellow dots on her sneakers lighting up and the yellow of her rain coat a fast moving blur - yellow was the color, or so he’s been told repeatedly by her in the last two weeks. He looked past his yellow blob of movement to see you slowly following her up the steps, rubbing your temple. 

Oh boy.

Nora was six. Opinionated and strong and curious. Sometimes she shocked them with her big ideas and her logic-searching questions, but every once in a while they were reminded she was in fact, a kid. A tiny human with too big of feelings and not always the right words to describe them. Right now, he’d bet money on some very large feelings bubbling up inside of her, and he just didn’t know if he could handle another tantrum. Her brown curls a mess like she’d run her hands through them too many times (a habit you’ve pointed out she picked up from him before she could walk), her face flushed and her jaw clenched, tiny hands trying to get her coat off too quickly and a furrow between her brows when it wouldn’t cooperate. 

Steve bent down to her level, hands reaching out towards her, "Hey cutie, slow down. Let me help-"

"No! I can do it myself!" tiny hands forming fists and a fury behind her eyes that would be alarming if she wasn't so small and cute. This was another new development - dad yellow is the color of the moment and oh by the way I’m a big girl now. It’s a lot for a dad to wrap his head around. 

Steve raised his hands up in surrender, "Okay, sure."

As you closed the door softly, Steve looked up and mouthed, "What happened?"

You gestured to your eyes, forming glasses with your fingers as you mouthed the word at the same time. 

His brow furrowed because why in the world would she be so upset about glasses? Heart breaking that she’s obviously incredibly worked up about something that isn’t really an argument if she needs them. 

As she flung her coat to the ground and went to stomp around it he snaked his arm around her waist, "Oh no you don't,” she huffed and crossed her arms as he squeezed her waist, “Nora, what's wrong?"

"I don't want them!" she cried out, stomping her foot against his thigh as he stood up holding her.

Steve pushed a stray curl from her forehead, faking obliviousness, "Don't want what? You gotta catch dad up here."

Her chin wobbled as she looked anywhere but at his face and his heart shattered into a thousand pieces. How can she hate glasses so much? She’s six! 

Nora clings to his neck as he goes back to the kitchen, the heat turned down and stirring it once more as they sat in silence, her little huffs of frustration mixing with the bubbling sauce. He’d wait patiently until she wanted to tell him. You followed wordlessly behind, pulling down a cup for water and setting it across from him. Steve’s arm supported under her butt and he leaned against the counter to face you. 

Nora spoke finally, quietly and forced out of her pouting lips, "Glasses."

Steve rubbed her back with one hand, cheek resting on top of her head and sighed. She was way too big to hold like this anymore, and he missed it. 

"Baby, why don't you want glasses, huh? Lots of people wear glasses,” you questioned softly from your spot at the otherside of the counter. 

Nora mumbled into his neck, "Daddy doesn’t like them. People make fun of glasses."

Steve made eye contact with you over the top of her head, swallowing harshly and blinking away tears. A small and sad smile rested on your lips. You leaned your chin into your palm and sighed, raising your eyebrows at him. 

His heart dropped into his stomach as he set her down on the counter and cleared his throat, “I love my glasses, what are you talking about?”

Nora shook her head quickly, curls flying everywhere, a deep breath as crocodile tears fell down her cheeks. Voice wobbly and on the cusp of some big sobs ready to break as she spoke rushed and loudly, “No. No you do-n’t. Mommy, you, y-you told Mommy that…that…” she hiccuped but pushed on, “Losers wear glasses. And, and Jacob…hims said…he…people who wear glasses are weird and, and…”

As Nora kept going Steve clenched his fists against the counter. He’d take back any and every thought he’d had about glasses if he could. He could throw up from the guilt swirling in his stomach, that he was somehow a part of the reason his little girl was so worked up about something she needed. Something so tiny and materialistic. He’d fix this. He had to fix this. 

“Woah, woah, who’s this Jacob kid and what does he know, huh?” He kissed the top of her head, pushing curls from her face that clung to her wet cheeks.

“Jacob, daddy,” she sighed his name out, bored and exasperated like Steve should know while she hiccuped again.

Steve nodded, face serious as he snapped his fingers and you smiled from behind her, “Right, that Jacob. Okay, but babe, Jacob doesn’t know what he's talking about. He doesn't know the super special secret."

Nora's hands swiped at her cheeks, "Secret?"

Nodding he chucked the side of his knuckle under her chin and handed her the glass of water, "Super special secret."

Nora's eyes went wide above the rim of the cup and you bit the inside of your cheek as Steve nodded and leaned in, "Only people who wear glasses get to know the super special secret," he glanced at you, “Oh, and mommy’s.” 

"Tell me," Nora whined, fidgeting and tugging at his shirt.

"Well, the secret is, is that people who wear glasses are super duper crazy awesome. They can see better, like superhero vision,” the small white lies building as her smile grew and he spoke with his hands, “And because they can see better they can read faster and get smarter. They can see so good with their glasses that they can sneak into the kitchen in the dark for late night snacks and-"

You made a disgruntled noise from the back of your throat and shook your head, mouthing the word no, but tried to hide your smile. 

Steve grinned wider at you but Nora frowned, not buying it. Too smart for her own good as she countered, "But, daddy, you don't wear your glasses. And you said lose-"

"You're right, I did say that,” he bit the inside of his cheek and ran his hand through his hair before waving them around, “But that's because I didn't want anyone to know how cool the super special secret is. But now," he leaned in and kissed her forehead, "I can wear mine all the time because I'm not alone! We can be crazy awesome together."

"Really?" Nora looked up at him, wide eyed and hopeful and he had to blink back tears again. 

"Really, really," he brushed the last stray tear slipping down her cheek, "Go grab mine for me and we can head to the store and pick out yours together."

He lifted her and set her down and she raced away. Steve fell forward onto the counter, moaning as he pressed his forehead to the cold tile. 

He listened as you stood, holding his breath until he felt your arms wrapping around his waist. A kiss between his shoulder blades before he spun to face you. 

He pressed his nose into your cheek as you whispered, “Good job, dad.”

He huffed, not unsimilar to his daughter and mumbled, "I hate my glasses."

You hummed, running your hands up his back before speaking, "I love your glasses,” you laughed and kissed his jaw, voice laced with fake shock and wonder, “And why would you hate them? Didn't you hear the super special secret, Steve?"

Moved to your neck, he grumbled, "Ugh, I'm gonna punch that Jacob in the face."

A laugh bubbled out of you as you squeezed his waist, a kiss to his temple as you reminded him, "He's six, Steve."

"Right. Well. Maybe his dad then," he kissed your neck and removed himself as tiny feet raced back down the hall.

"Woah! You're right daddy! I can see crazy awesome!"

He stood up fully to see Nora zooming around the corner with his glasses on her face too big and dangerously close to falling completely off and you covered your smile with your hand.

He swiped the glasses from Nora and slid them up his own nose. Picking her up he smiled and asked, "Should we go pick out yours now?"

Nora nodded excitedly and bounced up and down once her feet were back on the floor, energy radiating off of her as he tied her shoes and zipped her coat. 

When they returned home, she nearly broke his arm, she was tugging so hard, "Mommy! Mommy! Look, look, look!"

You came around the corner holding his sleepy toddler and grinned, "Woah! Yellow! Crazy awesome!"

As he turned to close the door Nora beamed and shouted, "Daddy said the yellow was even more super special because yellow would help me see the cookies waay on the top shelf better."

Steve bit his lip as he spun to face you shaking your head, a smile twitching on your lips. He shrugged and stole Grace out of your arms with a kiss to your cheek as he mumbled, “Yellow is the best color, mom.”

Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you thought, and I hope you consider reblogging my work to get it circulated to new readers - thanks for being here 💛

[illegalpaladin]

Drabble idea: door malfunction leads to some kind of shenanigans

Thank you for the prompt, Affix!! I immediately knew what I wanted to do with this one.

“I don't think he's coming, Spock. Maybe we should get going.”

McCoy motions towards the door, and Spock nods. Jim had told them to meet him in this rec room for a game of chess, but he must have been roped into some other obligation. The doctor is not a worthy opponent, and Spock thinks it only logical to cut their losses for the night.

McCoy leads the way and walks confidently into the door.

“Damn it,” he hisses.

“Doctor, it would appear the door is stuck.”

McCoy shoots him a glare. “I'm aware.” He makes his way over to the panel in the wall and slams the button to manually force the door open.

The door begins to smoke.

Spock opens his mouth.

“If you tell me the door is broken,” McCoy warns, “I'm gonna make you regret it.”

“Well,” Spock says with a minute shrug, “it is.”

McCoy takes a long moment to breathe. Then, he points to the air vent. “Climb through there and unlock the door from the other side.”

Spock raises an eyebrow. “And why should I be the one to climb through the air vent?”

“Because I'm a doctor, not a programmer, and I don't know the first thing about overriding a door.”

“I could simply force the door open.”

“Scotty would kill you.”

Spock sighs. Logically– and he hates to admit it– the doctor is right. The best course of action is to climb through the air vents and unlock it from the outside.

Spock approaches the vent. It's high off the ground, and it will take some effort to get up there. “Doctor, I will need to climb on top of you in order to reach it.”

“You can't use a chair?”

“A chair would not provide adequate height. Stacking two would be dangerous.”

McCoy groans. But he moves to stand under the vent, and he cups his hands In front of him. “C'mon. I'll give you a boost.”

Spock steps into his entwined fingers. McCoy lifts him– with a lot of grunting and grumbling– and Spock manages to pry off the vent cover. “Just a little higher, Doctor.”

“I'm doing my damn best, Spock,” McCoy hisses. With some straining, Spock feels himself moving higher. Just as he manages to crawl into the vent, McCoy gives up beneath him and falls backwards onto the ground.

The vent is too tight, and Spock barely manages to squeeze through. It's slow going, but he inches along dutifully to the other side. He hits the other vent cover with a closed fist, and eventually it falls away. He drops down to the ground. Free.

He approaches the panel next to the door and prepares to override it. This one seems to be in pristine condition.

“What's taking so long? Hurry up and get me out of here!”

Suddenly, Spock senses an opportunity. A chance to make sure his evening doesn't go to waste after all.

A chance to mess with the doctor.

“Actually, Doctor, it appears the panel is broken on this side as well. I will have to leave to seek out assistance.”

McCoy's fist bangs against the door. “You can't just leave me here, Spock!”

“My apologies, Doctor. It would appear I have no other choice.” He turns to leave. He'll come back later– or perhaps a passerby will hear him first and let him out. Regardless, the doctor will escape the room with nothing to show for it but a bad attitude.

“Spock!” McCoy's voice grows farther away as Spock moves down the hallway. “Spock!”

[the-hopeless-haze]

Honey, I Ain’t Accustomed to Lose (Ch2)

Gregory House x reader, chapter 2 of If You Want It, You Can Bleed on Me

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: none

James was cheating on him.

Logically, Greg knows his partner in crime was bound to have someone on the side to eat lunch with. Greg wasn’t available every lunch break. Patients could be so ignorant about the times they decided to go into cardiac arrest, or seize, or have groundbreaking symptoms he needed to be present for. So he knew James would scope out his office or the coma patients’ rooms and then if Greg was nowhere to be found, he’d find someone else to go to the cafeteria with. Someone else to buy lunch.

He just wasn’t expecting it to be you.

No, you’re far too pretty for a married man to be dining with alone, that’s his first assessment. And he says as much when he walks into James’ office.

“This is Dr. Gregory House,” James says tiredly, grimacing in the way he does when he knows nothing he can say will excuse his friend’s behavior and that he knows worse is coming.

You stand up to introduce yourself to him, and he raises an eyebrow, grabbing your badge in his hand. “You’re not a doctor. Is this the nurse you’re cheating on your wife with?” Greg asks, glancing at James.

James is about to protest, but you’re quicker on your feet, or well, tongue. “Yeah. You came just in time for the foreplay. Want to join?”

Greg breaks into a smile; he can’t help himself. He now thinks James’ quiet irritation was more due to the fact that he never wanted the two of you to meet, and not for obvious reasons but because he knew the two of you together would make his life a living hell. “So. How long has this been going on for?”

“Oh, you know, since I started in this…position. Pun intended,” you say, a playful gleam in your eye. “I am a doctor, though.”

Greg rolls his eyes. “Your badge says 'nurse'.”

“Doctor of nursing practice.”

“Mm. So you think you’re efficient at diagnosis? What’s your specialty?” Greg asks.

“Psychiatry,” you say. “And yes.”

“Psychiatry? You’ve been hanging out with a psychiatrist? Wait, sorry, psych nurse. Are you sure this isn’t the nurse you were talking about?”

“House. Stop it,” James scolds.

“You know, that confuses patients. They think you’re a doctor, but…”

“Good. Because I am,” you say, grinning at him. “We’re all providers. My scope of practice is just slightly smaller.”

“Psychiatry. Why do you need a psych consult?” Greg asks.

James guffaws. “Have you met my patient population? Everyone’s dying or someone they love is. Nearly every one of my patients needs a psych referral.”

“And does she take on every one?”

“I take on most of the pediatric patients. This isn’t my only job, though. You know you can talk to me. I’m right here. You don’t have to address all these questions to Wilson.”

“It’s just… it’s just I get so nervous talking to pretty women, you know?” He says mockingly. “Where else do you work, then?”

“I work at a children’s psych hospital.”

“Interesting,” Greg says, taking you in fully. Your hair, your eyes, your breasts… you’re definitely hot. And psych… psych was interesting. Least chosen field…. For a reason.

Also interesting was the fact that James kept you hidden for who knows how long.

“Really?” James says, somewhat incredulous. “You think children’s psych is interesting?”

“I’m sure she has some interesting stories.”

“Do I ever,” you say, smiling.

“How long have you been here?”

“Six months?” you estimate.

“And I never saw you? No, I would’ve remembered. You would have remembered." Greg’s pager beeps and he scoffs. “Guess I’m needed back. To be continued. But wait? What’s your page number? You know. In case I need a psych consult.”

You look at Wilson after Greg leaves, your eyes gleaming. “Is there a nurse—?”

“Oh, stop it,” he says, but smiles, turning a little red.

“It’s Cynthia, isn’t it?”

“How did you—“

“She’s always talking to you every time I come here. Flirting. Lucky guess.”

“I do not flirt with her,” he says indignantly. “If anything you were just flirting with House.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “I was doing no such thing.”

“Inviting him to a threesome? Jesus, you sound just like him.”

“I was kidding. Unless you wanted me to be serious?" you respond, grinning.

He shoots you a withering look and doesn't say anything. Point taken.

"Everyone says he’s a sociopath," you say, shrugging your shoulders. "I mean... I'm a lot of things, but I'm not a sociopath."

“Well, he’s not, either. He’s just miserable and has a shitty bedside manner. There’s a difference. Anyway, can we go through these patients?”

“Yes, sure… wait. I’m being paged,” you say and look down at her pager clipped to your belt buckle. “It’s House.”

Wilson sighs. “I told you. This is why I kept you two apart for as long as I could.”

“You don’t want your friend to be happy?”

“I don’t want you to be miserable.”

“I’m going to keep him waiting. We can go through a couple of files.”

———

You waltz into Greg’s office, his eyes gleaming playfully when he sees you through the glass doors. “I thought hookers took pride in punctuality,” he says when you enter the room.

“Really? I’m late? As far as I’m concerned, I came… just in time,” you say, pausing for emphasis at the exact moment. Two can play. You could go for hours. Could he?

Greg chuckles, smiling almost in spite of himself. “Yeah. James has a lot to answer for.”

“Does he?” you ask, meeting his sparkling blue eyes, such a contrast against his otherwise dominating demeanor. He’s tall but doesn’t stand up to his full height, leaning on the cane. Tone acerbic, bitter, yet a hint of lightness that lets you know he’s not taking his cynicism all too seriously.

He’s dangerous. Sharp as a knife and he’d cut you just as deep.

But he is attractive, albeit in a disheveled manner.

“Who is this?” Foreman asks, already exasperated.

“She’s a woman, Foreman, look, there’s another one right here,” Greg says and gestures to Cameron. “She’s our psych consult.”

You introduce yourself to the team, and Cameron starts to introduce herself to you, just getting to her specialty before he cuts her off. “No. She doesn’t need to know your names. There’s the Second Hottest Woman in the Room, Pretty Boy with a Stupid Accent, and Doctor Who Skipped His Psych Rotation Yet Is Somehow a Neurologist.”

“What a team,” you tease. “I want to hear the pretty boy’s accent, though.”

Chase opens his mouth but Greg glares at him. “Dude. She’s totally into me. Don’t even try.”

Chase scoffs audibly, but ever the yes-man, he keeps quiet. Greg will really have to buy him a dog collar one of these days.

“Why do we need a psych consult?” Foreman asks.

“Because. Some people… think restraining a woman with Haldol to get a blood sample instead of, you know, doing your job correctly is the way to go about things. Clearly, we need a refresher.”

“You try getting blood from her,” he says, rolling his eyes.

“Hm. It’s almost like we don’t restrain patients to make our job easier,” you say, meeting his eye. You’d heard a little about his lackeys, albeit not as much as you heard about the man himself. You know their names, though, without having to be introduced. Working with House seemed to bring infamy. They were the topic of most of the gossip these days, and it was a big hospital.

“Oh. The lecture from Dad didn’t work so you bring Mom in to give it again?” Foreman asks, rolling his eyes.

“What? No,” Greg says, furrowing his brow. “Cuddy is your Mommy, foreman. Don’t get confused, now. She won’t come over here unless I do something egregious. Like chemically restrain a patient that didn’t need to be.”

“She was attacking me!”

“She spit at you! And now she’s vomiting blood because of your screwup,” House says firmly.

“Last time I checked, Haldol doesn’t cause that.”

“Jesus Christ,” you mutter. “Like I said. We don’t restrain patients to make our job easier. She’s a human being. She deserves respect even if she’s being difficult.”

“Okay. Like you never restrain patients?”

“Of course I do. But not because they spit at me,” you laugh. “And not to make my job easier. If they’re a danger to themselves or someone else and it’s the only option, yeah.”

“Give the patient some dignity, Foreman,” Greg agrees.

All three of his ducklings look at him incredulously. “What? I said there was no dignity in death. Not in living.”

“Well. This is going to go back and forth and I don’t have all day for a consult I’m not getting paid for. What’s wrong with the patient?” you ask.

“She's crazy, that’s what’s wrong with her,” Foreman says.

“Yeah. Helpful 19th-century assessment. Do we have an actual diagnosis?”

“Schizophrenia,” Cameron says, trying to reel it back in and be helpful.

“Okay. Does she actually have schizophrenia or does she just hear things? Because hallucinations can be caused by a myriad of things, alcohol withdrawal, unmanaged cirrhosis…”

“She is an alcoholic,” Chase says.

“It’s not a stupid accent, House,” you say, winking at Chase. “Stupid comment though. She’s not an alcoholic. She has alcohol use disorder.”

“Right. I don’t have a pain management problem, I have a pain problem,” Greg grins at you, nudging your arm as he takes a couple pills. “She gets it.”

You lose the fight in the urge to roll your eyes.

“She wasn’t withdrawing when the hallucinations started,” Cameron points out.

“Okay. Liver levels?” you ask.

“Elevated but nothing crazy. She was brought in for a DVT.”

“Ammonia?”

“We… don’t have it.”

You look at Greg. “Slacking? No one thought of the liver in a patient who drinks alcohol?”

Greg shrugs. “When I asked for liver levels I don’t know why they didn’t assume I meant ammonia, too.”

“Or you didn’t think of it,” you say, smirking. Anyway, DVT? How old is she?”

“38.”

“And when was the schizophrenia diagnosed?” you ask.

“Two years ago,” Foreman answers.

“Too young for a DVT and too old for a schizophrenia diagnosis…” you mutter, trailing off.

“That’s what I said,” Greg says.

“Well. I would test ammonia levels and look into her diagnosis. For her to make it to see psych, they had to have missed something if it was something physical that was causing the hallucinations.”

“You think she doesn’t have schizophrenia?” Greg asks.

“I don’t know. She could. But she’s displaying more physical symptoms. Wouldn’t hurt to work backward. Also wouldn’t hurt to get ammonia levels on a patient who drinks alcohol? Can’t believe you missed that one.”

“I thought it was the alcohol,” Chase says.

“Oh. Shut up. She’s not into you,” Greg scolds. “Why nursing?" he asks, turning to you.

“Cheaper. Smaller scope of practice, sure, but I was able to save money sooner. Not as much of a student loan debt,” you answer.

“Why psychiatry? Least chosen field for a reason. Clearly.”

“It’s interesting. I don’t do well with life or death, either.”

“Yet you work with dying cancer patients?”

“They know they’re dying. They’re accepting it, or fighting it, but they know it.”

Greg looks her over once more. “Yeah. One more thing. Why are you going to dinner with me tonight?”

You laugh, trying to gauge if he’s serious or not. “I don’t recall agreeing to that.”

“Mm. Wear something slutty. I’ll pick you up at 8.”

“In your dreams, House,” you giggle, fighting the blush on your cheeks. “You don’t know where I live.”

“Wilson does.”

“You better hope so,” you say, and you walk out the glass door, smiling a little bit too wide for your own liking. Yeah. He was right. James did have a lot to answer for.

“What the hell was that?” Foreman mutters.

“A woman. Jesus, Foreman. I know you don’t get a lot, but come on,” House jokes.

“Hm. Flirting over diagnoses?” Chase laughs. “That’s one way to get a woman.”

“What? She’s damaged, too?” Cameron asks, trying not to betray her hurt.

“Oh, almost definitely,” Greg says.

“So what? You’re going to date her until you figure it out, then leave her?”

“Save your moral outrage. I’ll make sure to sleep with her for as long as she lets me,” he responds, grinning.

Cameron scoffs and rolls her eyes. “Nice, House.”

“I thought so. Now, you heard the woman. You all have jobs to do.”

——---- You head back to Wilson’s office, shaking your head, feeling like you had just gotten in too deep already.

“He asked you out, didn’t he?” Wilson asks, not looking up from his paper.

“Yeah.”

Sighing, he puts down the file and looks up at you. “It’s unprecedented, though. He hasn’t been on a date in five years.”

“I’m a little rusty myself,” you say, shrugging.

“Yeah. He… it’s been a long time since he’s opened up to somebody. You better be sure you want this because if he opens up and he gets hurt… I don’t think there’ll be a next time."

“Jesus. I just met him. Relax."

“Yeah. It’s just… keep it in mind.”

You furrow your brow at him. “You kept us apart. You could’ve introduced me a million times by now. Either you never wanted us to meet… or you felt it had to happen by chance.”

“You two are both the most stubborn people I’ve ever met,” he says. “Not to mention both of you are constantly looking for people’s ulterior motives. Case in point… this exact conversation. I know I don’t know you as well as I know him… but. You’re not him, no, you’re not as callous and you care much more about the consequences of your actions, but… had I purposely led the two of you to each other you would’ve hated each other just on that principle.”

“So… half the reason he’s interested in me is because you hid me from him.”

“Precisely.”

“Hm. You’re a conniving bitch yourself, you know that, right?” you say, leaning back in your chair.

Wilson breaks into a smile. “Guilty as charged.”

“You think I’m going to break his heart?” you ask.

“Oh, you could. Like you haven’t trampled on men’s hearts in the past.”

“On occasion. I feel like I’ve been fucked over more times than I’ve fucked someone over.”

“Right. I think we all feel like that. It’s never our fault. It’s always someone else’s fuck up.”

“I mean, sure,” you agree. “How else are we going to live with ourselves?”

There’s a brief, comfortable moment of silence. You like Wilson, and had grown closer than acquaintances over the past six months. You can see how it would be difficult not to like him. Nothing he does could be described as offensive or rude, and if nothing else he could be charming, with his dry humor and kind eyes.

That being said. You can tell he’s got issues. Not that it would take a doctorate to diagnose that; the man is on his third marriage and this one isn’t going any better than the other two. Something lurks underneath there, something about how he accepts things he can’t change. It’s a good quality, a healthy quality, even, to not rage and battle with the world. He has much to be thankful for, anyway. White man, presumably straight, good paying job, the intellect and ability to go through med school and the intelligence and skills to head the oncology department in his 30s.

Still. Some of that rage is healthy, it’s human. And you can see how the lack of it might lead to fights, to growing distant, and because he doesn’t fight the things he can’t change, he lets woman after woman go.

You wonder what his actual other half’s deal is. And you say as much.

“What’s got him all fucked up?” you ask. “He’s older than you. Never married, I presume.”

“Did you notice the cane?” Wilson snarks. “I’d start there.”

“No,” you say, leaning back in your chair, crossing your legs. “No. He was messed up before that. Sure, chronic pain would exacerbate any problems he had, but… I don’t believe that that’s the cause of it.”

“All I’ll say is it’s been a while since he’s put himself out there. I kept myself out of this because I can’t be involved or he’ll sabotage it. And I… I don’t want him to. I think you’d be good for him.”

“I don’t know how much good I’d be anybody,” you mutter. “I seem normal, but it’s a good mask.”

“Well. If nothing else you two can be miserable together. Most people are.”

“Hm. Like you and your wife?”

“Don’t go there," he says, tone a little more firm. “I think it’s fair game since you just waltzed into my love life,” you counter.

“You let him in all by yourself. But… this is why. I say this in the kindest way possible, but having worked with you for half a year, there’s something wrong with you. It comes out here and there. You have learned to mask it to some extent. But you… you’re damaged goods. So. Either the two of you will destroy each other, feed off each other’s worst parts and make a suicide pact I’ll have to talk you out of… or you’ll both find comfort in finally meeting somebody as fucked as you are.”

“Wow. What a glowing review of my personality,” you say sarcastically, but you don't have much of a counter because you know he isn't wrong.

"I... I don't know if it's your personality or if it's even your fault. I'm not House. I'm not going to pry. I don't need to know to be friends with you. But... he will."

“Whatever. We all hurt, Wilson. It’s part of the human condition.”

“Okay. Just… be careful."

"I thought you wanted this to happen?" you ask.

"I do... but... I just want you to be aware."

“Well. I'm one step ahead of you. I’m taking files out of my medical records,” you say, grinning.

Wilson furrows his brow. “Why? What does that have to do with anything?”

You laugh. “I’ve heard enough stories from you in passing, and I know he’ll be looking for them.”

“Yeah. Yeah. If there’s one thing he likes…it’s games. Nice courtship techniques.”

“You play games just as much.”

“Yes, but I don’t commit crimes.”

“Being friends with House? I doubt that," you laugh. "Didn’t you… I don’t know… reduce a patient’s tumor to con another doctor into removing it?”

“How do you even know about that?”

You shrug. “Everyone knew about that. Anyway. I’ll leave enough so he knows some are missing.”

“What? Enough… oh. Files. We’re back to that.”

“Yeah. Keep up,” you say, grinning.

"Mm. Well. Have fun."

And you know, you did. For a while.

[spiralwriting]

Yandere! Doctor Who x Reader

[Can be imagined as any doctor you wish... except the most recent one I suppose.]

- Yandere! Doctor Who, the man that mysteriously showed up in your garden one night. A man without a name, without a family, and without a logical explanation as to why he was here.

- Yandere! Doctor Who, the man that completely enraptures you. From his tails of other dimensions, to his claims of being an alien with a time-traveling police box. He's odd, but oh so enchanting.

- Yandere! Doctor Who, the man that offers to show you amazing things, go amazing places! Places where few humans get to go.

- Yandere! Doctor Who, the man that asks you to trust him... And you do. You take his hand, entering the magical box that's somehow bigger on the inside, and set off to places unimaginable.

- Yandere! Doctor Who, the man that shows you the universe in all its ethereal glory. Galaxys upon galaxys, planet upon planets, timelines upon timelines, all with their own unique beauty.

- Yandere! Doctor Who, the man that protects you against evil, that helps the vulnerable, that saves the universe as you know it. The man you grew to love.

- Yandere! Doctor Who, the man that's horribly rusty with human love, yet an amazing charmer. A wink and a smirk dazzling enough to make your knees wobble and your heart sore. Contrasted with those adorable puppy like eyes staring up at you as you take control.

- Yandere! Doctor Who, the man that finds it hard to focus with you around. He tries and tries, but his mind always wanders back to you. Your safety, your touch, your warmth, your comfort. You've captured him in a web he's not sure he even wants to try untangle.

- Yandere! Doctor Who, the man that catches wind of your homesickness before your even aware of it yourself. He panics for merely a moment before coming to the conclusion that he just needs to show you more, give you more! The feeling will pass any day.

- Yandere! Doctor Who, the man that falters when you ask him to bring you home. His body freezes, grip tightening on your waist, whilst he listens to your heart beating against your ribs. He calms at the feeling of your fingers in his hair.

- Yandere! Doctor Who, the man that asks you: why? Aren't you having fun? The man that doesn't understand that you've thrown your life away without thinking, because you are the only life he has. He manages to convince you, he can bring you back to exactly when you left, nobody will know, you won't have missed anything, so why not enjoy yourself a little more? It works, but for how long will you be content?

- Yandere! Doctor Who, the man that practically throws a fit when you demand to be brought home. He's bargaining, then yelling, then crying, then yelling some more. It's like whiplash. You need him! Just as much as he needs you! Without him, you can't be safe, you could get hurt... Or die! Boom, and your life is over! Wouldn't you rather live this life with him than possibly none at all?

- Yandere! Doctor Who, the man that eventually gives in to your demands, but not without a plan. Sure, he'll bring you back to earth, but you never did specify which one. He brings you back and for a while, things are normal, until an outbreak of disease and evil sweeps through the world.

- Yandere! Doctor Who, the man that you wish and pray to come back for you. You regret everything, he was right, you'll go with him if it means you'll be safe.

- Yandere! Doctor Who, the man that hears it all, sitting in an unspoken corner of your house, camped out in the TARDIS, waiting for the right moment to swoop in and save you. That moment comes along just as an infected goes to attack you, he grabs your hand and drags you into his box.

- Yandere! Doctor Who, the man that you hug desperately, tears burning your eyes as you beg him to forgive you, while thanking him for saving you. You never did seem to notice that the TARDIS was in your livingroom.

- Yandere! Doctor Who, the man that so graciously forgives you and promises to protect you no matter what, as long as you promise to never doubt him again. Foolishly, you agree.

- Yandere! Doctor Who, the man that looks over his shoulder, towards your sleeping form, smiling gently to himself. The man that's quite proud of himself for coming up with such a plan. The man that has you all to himself now.

[Nobody asked for this, but I delivered anyways. I actually haven't watched Doctor Who in quite a long time, so I apologise if this isn't accurate to the character at all, feel free to tell me your thoughts.]

[dreamwritesimagines]

I hope you're ready for more headcannons cause I am hyperfixating on Logan and SPECIFICALLY Sunshine RN so I am full of thoughts

Headcannon: Logan asks Sunshine's 'Family' before proposing

- He starts by asking Jamie if they can talk, just the two of them and James, of course, is thinking he's gonna get murdered. Like, brings mace or whatever cause he is not going down without a fight

"Look, I know we didn't get off on the right foot and we don't always see eye to eye but you're important to Y/N so I wanted to do this right." Logan would slide the ring across the table to show Jamie

"I'm flattered but Nik and I are-"

"IT'S FOR Y/N, YA DUMBASS."

"... You're serious about this?" 

"Believe me, bub, I wouldn't be talking to you if I wasn't."

James would be touched that Logan was asking him before Sunshine but could never tell Logan that so there would be an awkward pause as he's computing

"So?"

"... So?"

"Well! Say something! I know you're not her father but you're the closest thing she's got and she cares what you think. So. Whatdya think? Is this a good idea or am I just kidding myself?"

Jamie would be so confused by Logan showing real emotions that he wouldn't know what to do so he'd probably shift into Doctor mode, being all logical and what not

"Well she certainly seems to love you and I love my sister so I would never get between the two of you if this is what the both of you want. I think the next step would be talking to her about what her expectations are for this relationship you two have. Would you be moving in? Are you expecting her to move? What are your thoughts Theo's place in your life? Does she even want to get married? You can't just surprise her with an engagement you know, this isn't 1832."

Logan would sorta blink as he takes in all the information and questions he hadn't considered before

"... She loves me?"

"Holy fuck, y'all are a lost cause."

MEANWHILE I think he would ask Julie almost immediately after Jamie to start checking off his mental list (consisting of: Jamie, Julie and Theo but only RIGHT before Sunshine cause baby boy can't keep secrets)

"I wanna ask Y/N to marry me."

"FUCK OFF! I'VE GOT A PINTEREST BOARD FOR THIS! WHEN? WHERE? HOW ARE WE DOING THIS?!!?!"

"We??"

"Nevermind, you're right. I'LL plan it. It'll be perfect!!! Oh! She's gonna be so excited!!!! You've got three months to make sure she's ready for that ring! AH!"

Logan wouldn't even have time to ask what she meant before she'd leave the table to start power planning (probably in the middle of lunch, or better yet before she even got a chance to order something)

HONEEEY OMG OMG-

I LOVE THIS AND I LOVE YOUR TALENT SO SO MUCH! ❤️ This is absolutely amazing, thank you so much! 😍❤️

Oh Logan would definitely ask Sunshine's family 😍

James, of course, is thinking he's gonna get murdered. Like, brings mace or whatever cause he is not going down without a fight I CAN'T STOP GIGGLING 😂 James would be checking his surroundings while Logan can't even understand why he's so nervous, because he is the one who's supposed to be nervous 😂

"I'm flattered but Nik and I are-" JAMIE HONEY😁

Would you be moving in? Are you expecting her to move? What are your thoughts Theo's place in your life? Does she even want to get married? You can't just surprise her with an engagement you know, this isn't 1832." Logan.exe stopped working at that point, and Jamie being like, "Bro I know you're from the 19th century but..." 😂

"... She loves me?" ASDFGHJKL LOGAN-

Lolll telling Theo last because he can NOT keep a secret😂

Of course Julie has a pinterest board for this! ❤️

"We??"

"Nevermind, you're right. I'LL plan it. It'll be perfect!" Lolll the next time they meet, Julie will show up with a binder and go like,

"Alright so, I feel like I know the answer to this but I'll ask anyway, do you have a Pinterest account?"

"Do I have a what?"

"Figures. So here is the binder I prepared for you, it's about five hundred pages long-"

"What?"

"You obviously don't want to propose to my best friend who is an angel walking among us mortals-or mutants in your case, whatever- with the wrong ring, or at the wrong place?"

"...No."

"Good, then you'll listen to everything I say."

[violetlunette]

The Ramshackle Un-Birthday Interview: Prologue

Summary: This is a slight prologue for the Un-birthday interview for my Yuusona who is Twisted from the Mad Doctor.

Notes:

*Mild language

“So what do you think our resident mad scientist is up to doing today?”

Two first years students of Heartslabyul followed the autumn trail of NRC. The two were excited to visit their unique and interesting friends on that day, especially as they had a special surprise for the two.

His dormmate closed his teal-colored eyes in thought and worry.

“Knowing Yuu, it could be anything.” And he meant that literally. Ace hummed in agreement, bouncing the package in one hand.

“You’re right.” They faltered in step for a moment.

Yuu R. Hoo (a name Ace was pretty sure was fake) was quite famous around Night Raven.

To begin with he had come to Twisted Wonderland from another dimension all together, one very different than theirs if Yuu was to be believed. Coming from another world, or other worlds even existing, was unheard. Yet, looking at Yuu, it was impossible not to believe it. At first glance he looked like everyone else, however, the longer one looked, the easier it was to see he wasn’t like the people of Twisted Wonderland. The shape of him, the odd gleam of his eyes, the odd accent, way he moved—it was hard to explain but one look and everyone instantly knew the boy was alien to this world. And it was this peculiar other-worldliness that convinced Crowley to allow Yuu to enter the college as the first magicless student.

That was main point of interest for others.

Night Raven College was a prestige magic academy built to educate mages of the future. Therefore, when someone without magic enrolled, it caused a huge stir, for better or worse. However, with his cunning intellect Yuu managed to navigate most troubles that befell him.

That was another curiosity about Yuu—his intellect and his very unique demeanor.

Ah, how to describe the young man? The polite way was to say that Yuu was that he was—eccentric. The accurate way, however, was to call him “madder than a hare and hatter drinking coffee at tea time.”

Yuu was a person who tore away the line between genius and stupidity. He did things that not only defied logic and common sense but also raised a rebellion and took the two to the guillotine.

If there was something he wanted the mad man would get it. The path there would be jagged, twisted into a knot, and so cracked he would have to hop-scotch across with a dead body here or there, but he would get there. The question—usually asked by the frightened masses—was how.

As they pondered their weird pal, Aduce came to the gates of the Ramshackle Dorm.

Ramshackle could be described in the name; the place was falling apart, only held together by rust, moss, and the spiders who worked over time in their webs. In the yard there were grave stones, though none knew why. Perhaps to entertain the residents within.

The teens stepped onto the porch, which creaked and groaned under their weight.

“You think the doorbell’s fixed?”

“Let’s see.” Deuce reached out a hand when--

“Uwahh~”

“Whoa!”

“What the--?!” Ace and Deuce fell back as three ghosts flew past them, giggling in ghoulish delight. They were quickly followed by the door being tossed open by seven skeletons. They all seemed to be missing something as they ran past, clattering like angry chipmunks. Adeuce then noticed that the ghosts were playing keep away with various bone parts.

The brunet let out a breath, his palm over his beating heart.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to those guys,” he muttered. Ace shivered next to him.

“Right? Ghosts are one thing, but animated skeletons…” He couldn’t accept that. He wouldn’t accept that. If he did, he’d be as mad as a dodo—no, he’d be mad as Yuu. A line he prayed never to cross.

He coughed and forced himself to look away from the sight.

“Anyway, let’s get going! We gotta hurry if we’re going to get ready for the unbirthday party!”

They entered the old Ramshackle abode and casually strolled down the halls, leaving foot prints in the dust.

They stopped when they came to an old portrait of Yzma, the famed advisor of a spoiled Emperor and the mother of theme parks. (Honestly, the picture was the second scariest thing here.)

Ace moved it like a sliding door to the left, revealing two iron levers. Ace grinned playfully.

“Okay, Deuce! Pull the lever!” he ordered, excited for the ride they were about to have. Deuce mimicked the expression, just as excited.

“Yes!” Deuce pulled the left lever.

"Wait, not that one--” The floor opened, and Ace fell. “Wrong lever~!!” Deuce winced as the trap door closed.

Ace eventually returned, soaked with murky water. Gnawing on the coat of his uniform and the package he had been carrying was Brutus the alligator.

“Dammit! Why does he even have that lever?” He back-kicked Brutus in the jaw and snatched the item back. The gator “harrumphed” before turning and crawling away to chase two white mice that ran by.

The student then stomped forward, puddles forming with each step.

“Get outta the way!” He pulled the RIGHT lever, and the floor flipped them into a wall and into a rollercoaster.

They giggled with anticipation, even Ace, as the safety bar closed over them. They then screamed with joy as the coaster shot down the half-hazard mining-like rails.

They went up, down, left, right, southwest, north-west, sky-high, down under, looped one, two, three! Shot around an “o” through a “z” down to the double D and over the CC, till finally they reached the end.

There, the boys were flipped onto a safety mat, wearing safety gear. Yuu valued safety, after all—for others, that is. He himself “wasn’t a pansy.”

“Awesome!” Aduce shared a high-five with one another, grinning broadly. The dangers that awaited them in the lab were always worth the cool roller coaster ride that came before it.

The pair could hear the fizzle-dizzle and see glops popping as they searched for their friends in the basement lab. Experiments and weird inventions littered every nook and cranny, looking like something out of a horror movie. Potions that were stored in glass jars, plastic bottles, paper cups, soda cans, and whatever else he could get out of the trash. Technically, he was forbidden from making potions outside the potions class under Crewel’s strict orders. However, Yuu figured that it was fine as long as Crewel—or the law—never found out. Speaking of potion making;

“WHOA!” A burst of wind threw Ace and Deuce across the room and into the rubber walls, where they bounced to the floor in a heap.

“Burst of wind’s been added, Yuu!” A short teen ran a black rubber hand through his messy choral hair to move it back from his forehead, reveling a stitched scar as he did so. His grin was broad with excitement.

“Excellent! We’re almost there, Grim! Once we succeed in this, nothing will be able to keep me from my darling treasure. Not even Batman!” His skin, pale as and gray as death, was layered with sweat due to the heat of the large cauldron Deuce had procured for him a while back. The concoction glowed, reflecting in dark eyes that had as much life as a dead fish. The teen hummed and began to count on his fingers.

“Let’s see~! Scream of fright, sun stalk, magnesium, blast of wind, thunderbolt—thunderbolt! Grim, where’s the bottled storm we made last week?”

“Here it is!” A black Dire Cat floated over with a tall coffee pot and shook it. Green lightning poured out and zapped potion—and Grim, who made the mistake of holding it at the base rather than the rubber handle.

“Meyaah!!” Grim cried as his form lit up. Yuu laughed as Grim fell from the air.

“Glad you managed to get your jolt of energy this morning.” He caught the pot with the base of his hand, which sent electricity throughout his form, illuminating his bones. Unlike Grim though, he didn’t cry out and casually returned it to a random place on the shelf. As he twirled back around, he grabbed a green apple from the basket and bounced it in his hand.

“Okay, last one!” He announced. “Get ready to see an angel!”

“I’m already seeing them.” Grim Groaned. Yuu pecked the apple with a kiss and then shot it like a basket ball into the pot. It landed with a splash and sank with a plop. The liquid began to glow and sizzle.

“Meow… This better be worth it,” Grim complained, climbing onto Yuu’s shoulder. His fur was extra fluffy as it stood on its ends, static circuiting through it.

“Oh, it will! It will!” Yuu promised, face lit with desire. From the sidelines, Ace and Deuce had a premonition of disaster. Quickly, they made their way to the “anti-death” shields. Neither Grim nor Yuu had this foresight.

“Is it okay to fizzle like that?” Grim asked, slightly nervous.

“Only if it’s not blue—oh, shit.”

KA-BOOM!

There was a large blast of color, and everything in the lab jumped as the foundation shook like a tambourine. Ace and Deuce, who had been pushed back, peaked over the shields.

“Yuu?! Grim?!” They called. “You okay—who’s that?”

Standing in the middle of the room appeared to be a man dressed in traditional prince clothing. He looked around, confused.

“Hello? How did I get here...?”

“That’s the question,” Ace said. Everyone in the room turned to Yuu for the answer.

The mad scientist had been tossed into a pile of junk parts he used for his inventions and was now digging himself out like a parry dog. When he poked his head out, he seemed excited. It faded instantly.

“What the hell?! You’re not my sweet Moonshine!” Prince Charming raised a brow.

“Er, no. What’s going on? I was searching for my true love using this mysterious slipper when I ended up here.” Yuu’s brow furrowed into a pout, upset his experiment failed. He grumbled to himself as he flipped to his feet.

“Here’s some advice,” Yuu said, snatching the glass slipper away to look at it. “Don’t base your future wife on her footwear.” He paused as he took a closer look. “Hmm, even though it is fabulous—no, no, never mind! Be gone!” The scientist tossed the shoe back to the prince, who scrambled to catch it before it shattered on the floor.

He then went to one of the many potion cans along the wall, peeking in them for the one he wanted. (He didn’t bother with labels.)

He found a banishment potion and tossed it at the prince, who vanished in a puff of smoke. (Everyone was pretty sure he went back to where he belonged.

“So, what was that about?” Ace inquired as he and Deuce approached the cauldron. It was empty now, but they kept their distance just in case.

“Hm? Oh, I was working on a summoning potion.” Yuu dug in his coat for needles and thread. He had gotten a long gash from his hand to his forearm when he landed in the junk pile. Still, he didn’t miss a beat or slow as answered Aduce’s question, even as he started to repair himself. “That way, if something were to happen—like I was stranded on a beach somewhere—I could summon Silver to me and we could still be together.” Every other person in the room groaned.

“Of course it’s something like that,” Ace muttered.

“Honestly…” Deuce sighed, dropping his chin to his chest.

“You told me it was something cool!” Grim complained, shaking his paw like a fist. “If I knew it was something stupid, I wouldn’t have bothered.”

Grim was a magical beast who had a desire to enter the school as a student. He was determined to prove himself become the greatest sorcerer in the world. However, because he was a dire beast he had always been rejected. It wasn’t until Yuu came along that Grim was able to get his chance to prove what he could do.

“What’s stupid about being able to conjure your true love wherever you are?” Yuu argued. He knotted the stitch and bit the string off. “Especially in a world where curses are a thing and true love’s kiss is the cure-all remedy?”

Ace ran an exasperated hand through his hair as he stated, “That’s just in stories, you loon!” Yuu rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, well, this entire world is made up of fairy tales. Fuck, it has actual fairies!” he scoffed. “And even without that, why wouldn’t I want the ability to call my sweet moonshine to wherever I am? Be here here at school, or in a distant galaxy faraway? To lift a curse or simply be cuddled during a storm, don’t we all want to be able to instantly bring the one we love to our side? To hold under the sweet caress of twilight?” The others, who didn’t have a romantic bone in their body, all turned and felt their stomachs turn.

“Oh, brother!” they all said at once, slumping forward.

For reasons that no one in NRC could understand, Yuu was OBSESSED with Silver, who was a 2nd from Diasomnia and a retainer to Malleus, the Dorm head and Prince of Briar Valley. Yuu’s affection for the ever-drowsy teen teetered on creepy and pathetic.

To Yuu, Silver was the beauty and light of the world. A presence that could only be described in purple prose and a Shakespearean play. Quite simply, Yuu was moonstruck by the knight in training.

During one of their earlier meetings, Yuu was so captivated by Silver’s charm that he proposed in the lunchroom in front of everyone. The sad thing was that Yuu believed that Silver was thinking it over, not realizing the silver-haired beauty had been asleep at the time.

Yuu continued his rather odd methods of courting Silver to this day. And while his actions were shameless, the rest of the student body took solace in the fact he wasn’t a yandere (though Idia had doubts). Rather, they all agreed Yuu was “a pathetic, love-struck puppy” and that the wild actions he took seemed to be a mixture of ignorance and passion.

“Well, moving on from that nonsense--” Ace said loudly, waving his hand as if to brush the topic aside. “You free today?” Yuu raised an inquiring brow as he wound a gauze around his arm.

“I don’t plan on letting myself be arrested,” Yuu answered as Grim hopped on a shoulder. “Why?” Ace and Deuce held up the bundles in their arms with a large grin.

“Happy Un-birthday!” They cheered. Yuu and Grim blinked in surprise.

“Huh?”

~end~

A/n:

*The potion is a reference to Villain’s Revenge, an old Disney PC game.

[typically-untypical]

The Last Experiment

I wrote this for this years @tss-storytime! It is also a sequel to one of my most popular fics, The Logical Exception.

Read the whole story here on Ao3, but have a taste of the first chapter!

Also please check out this post for @starsinger 's art work!

CW: This first chapter does mention blood and injury

Chapter 1 - Aftermath - Isolation

Typically, Logan was a very literal person. Most of the time, exact language was a better way to express his thoughts. Sometimes, words weren’t enough. Literally, Logan could pull oxygen into his lungs. Literally, the world hadn’t changed it’s gravitational pull, yet he couldn’t breath, and the world was heavy. 

Roman’s blood was on the pavement.

Small droplets outlined the path to their home, their safe place, yet Logan couldn’t seem to care. All that mattered was getting Roman to safety. He had been downed. He lay unconscious in Remus’ arms. It was Logan’s fault. His brother had stepped in the way. He had protected Logan and now his life was in danger. A hospital would have been closer, but they couldn’t risk it. They couldn’t risk what doctors would do with a powered person. 

Instead, they had to risk Roman. 

“Pat, I need you!” Remus shouted after kicking open the door. Logan hadn’t even been able to help, he wasn’t strong enough to carry Roman. His leg was still unstable. Remus had had to step in. He had held Roman the entire way, briefly using his powers to conjure something similar to a horse. Remus had gotten them all to safety. He had conjured two ‘horses’ and guilt flooded Logan knowing Remus had still been thinking about him even with Roman injured in his arms. He hadn’t trusted Logan to take care of himself, and Logan couldn’t blame him.

The house smelt of paprika. It should have comforted Logan, the smell of Patton’s cooking was the smell of home. 

Instead, his eyes tracked Remus, watching as he placed Roman on the couch and Patton’s healing warmth lit up the room. Logan was thankful he had purchased a house where the front door walked into the living room. More than once Patton had had to help them after patrol. Typically it was minor bruising, or a few scrapes that healed in barely any time at all. This injury…. This time….

Logan swallowed, his throat tight as he continued trying to breathe. Color was returning to Roman’s face. His breathing evened out and he groaned in his unconsciousness. Relief flooded Logan’s senses. Roman would be fine. 

Roman would have been fine if Logan wasn’t a failure. He couldn’t rest. This was his fault. If he rested for even a moment it might happen again. Turning from the living room, Logan walked to a door that connected to a second house. He had bought a duplex, able to get both houses to give the six of them more living space. He had expended the resources he had. He had spent all of the money he had saved trying to make sure the six of them would be safe and comfortable. He had at least outfitted the house with security. Logan had thought of everything, everything but his own ineptitude. 

Once through to the other house, Logan turned right to a coat closet, slipping behind the long peacoats into a hidden door. He stripped off his visor, hands shaking, and plugged it into the charging base. He had to work harder. He had to fight to protect them. He knew it wasn’t going to be easy. He knew that.

His hands were shaking.

“Welcome back Sherlock, shall I start the post patrol protocol?” his computer called but Logan didn’t respond. He couldn’t open his mouth. The vision of Roman’s blood was burned into his brain.

Logan collapsed into the chair by his computer, he closed his eyes, feeling the tears streaming down his face. He wanted to go numb. He didn’t want to feel any of this. If he had to feel hollow from missing his powers, why couldn’t he feel hollow with this as well? For the past few months he and his brothers had been going on patrols, attempting to help those who needed help. His brothers had been against Logan joining in, telling him he needed to rest further, that his leg would keep him from being helpful, but he insisted. Logan had fought, and clamored, and worked to make himself useful to his brothers, to be what they needed and still he was the reason Roman got hurt. 

Logan clawed into his leg, nails attempting to bite into reinforced clothes. They did nothing. He didn’t feel an inkling of pain. He should at least be able to carry some of Roman’s pain. He shouldn’t be fine while Roman was unconscious on a couch. Logan wanted to slam his head into the desk, to pay for what he had done to his brother, but he knew that wouldn’t help. Self destruction wasn’t how he fixed things. Instead, he could work. It was the one thing he was good at. He would work on his visor, he would work on his strategies, he could work on the serum. 

Logan finally turned to his computer, “Irene, please start the post patrol protocol.” For a moment he hesitated before pulling up another file. This one didn’t have an automated command, and it was locked behind multiple layers of encryption. Logan hesitated as his finger hung over the enter button. He had saved his parents' research. He had recreated his own research. He wanted to make sure he could combat it if his parents ever came back, and in the darkest parts of his heart, Logan wondered.  His parents’ experiments had never been ethical, and though experimenting on himself was far more ethical, it was also dangerous. Not everyone who had asked for powers had made it out alive. Logan shouldn’t rely on something so destructive to make him useful, but if there was a chance to feel less hollow…. He knew how to use his powers. He could be useful if he had control again. He knew how to help when he could feel the world around him. 

Logan looked at the screen, at the number of scenarios he had run. Theoretically, because he had had powers before, the serum would be less deadly, but Logan had a sample size of one, and that had been a very different scenario. He could make a serum, but it would take doing a few illegal things. He had promised his brothers he would behave; he would abide by the ideals they wanted to see in the world. Logan shouldn’t risk everything he had built.

But Roman had gotten hurt.

“You slammed your way in here quite dramatically. I almost thought one of the twins had been kidnapped.” Logan jumped as he heard the voice behind him, immediately slamming the escape key on his keyboard. Everything shut down. It had been a dumb idea to begin with. Since the fight with his parents, Logan had done his best not to keep secrets from the others. He didn’t need to intentionally start something that would require lies and secrecy. He wasn’t going to use the serum.

“What do you want, Deceit?” It was hard to keep the frustrated edge out of his voice. If he wasn’t going to use the serum he had to think of something else, some other way he could prevent Roman, or any of them for that matter, from being hurt.

“It’s Janus, now, actually. I found a name that perfectly suits me. God of duality and beginnings.” Was this really the time for Janus to be expressing his name change? Roman had almost died, and Logan was spiraling. He knew that’s what was happening. He had to stop. He had to breathe. His chest puffed out as he filled his lungs with air.

“I’m happy for you, now what do you want Janus?” His voice was softer, and he slowly let the air out of his lungs. Closing his eyes, Logan counted. Virgil had taught him what to do when he spiraled, late at night when the world was quiet, his boyfriend would hold his hands and count. In the shadows Virgil was learning to be comfortable again, he would turn his focus to Logan. He would count slowly, quietly, and as Logan counted now he was able to calm his mind. Anxiety slipped away as guilt crawled its way back in. Logan had been lucky to be born with powers, but Virgil, Janus, Remy, everyone his parents had hurt had been forced to attain their powers through the worst possible means. How could Logan consider going down the same path the others had been forced to walk? How could he consider putting his life in danger like that?

“I came to check on you? After all, your brother was injured because of your idiocy. I’m sure that’s weighing on you pretty heavily.“ Janus traced along one of the training dummies at the side of the room before moving forward. He walked across the floor mat without taking his shoes off, disrespecting the space Logan had set up to let people train. Something in him tightened, each condescending foot step dropping him deeper inside of his own mind. He forgot to breathe again.

Janus turned his eyes to Logan, staring him down, and Logan had to look away.

“Is that why you ran in here? To hide from your responsibilities?”

He wasn’t hiding, he was finding a way to move forward. He was pushing himself so he wouldn’t fall apart. He was trying. Logan desperately wished he could be numb. He hated how the past few months with Patton and Virgil had started to break down the walls he had set up to protect himself. “If your sole purpose was to check on me, I am fine. However, your words suggest you came to taunt me instead. If that’s the case, please leave.” He was trying so hard. His computer was filled with strategies, planning, work outs, anything and everything he could get his hands on that might make him a better fighter, that might make him useful.

Janus didn’t seem to agree. He was staring at Logan, even without looking at him Logan could feel the burning his eyes left. Janus was judging him. He deserved to be judged.

“Pity doesn’t suit you, Logic.” He heard the other man turn, stopping his feet across the mat again as he walked away. Logan was certain if he had been looking at Janus’ face, the other man would be rolling his eyes. He was right, pity didn’t have a place here. Taking in a deep breath, Logan squared his shoulder, watching the screen. His hand hovered a moment before he clicked on information for the serum one more time. Who would it hurt if he tested this? Only himself. 

“Irene, please initiate lockdown protocol.”

He heard the door lock and Logan turned his eyes to the ceiling. He wasn’t a religious person, but hopefully if there was a divine being in the world who judged people on their actions, that being would forgive him.  

Pity didn’t suit him, but power would.

[veryace-ficrecs]

could you do some heart pirate centric fics?

of course!! []~(￣▽￣)~*

Heart Pirates Centric Fic Recs

it takes every organ by Anonymous - Rated T

It really is hilarious that any pirate crew would use a submarine, rather than a ship. Who would want to go down, instead of having room to go up? Who would rather be below water, with nowhere to stretch one's wings, than be close to the skies? Law thinks about the twines of thorns on his back, the scaled feathers on Penguin's and Shachi's. None of them can even fly anyway, so fuck it. If they can't go up, they'll just go down instead. (Or: Law, the flightless pirate captain of a flightless pirate crew in a world where most everybody has wings, through the eyes of all those who matter.)

Reliving a Nightmare by PumpkinPieTimb - Rated T

Grand Line is where the infamous Devil Fruits come from. Fruits that can grant its eater a unique ability that can either be so stupid it would make you question why it even exists, or so overpowered that you'd think the user is a god. Speaking of Devil Fruit users with overpowered abilities, did you know that some can alter time? Or, in this case, a person's age? Because Penguin sure as hell didn't. It was wild, like any other thing in the Grand Line. It was unpredictable. Unknown. Unheard of. Hence, the lack of proper response. "This can't be happening," Shachi muttered in disbelief beside him. "This-- this is a dream. I'm dreaming, right? Someone pinch me-- fuck, punch me." He laughed hysterically.

Bioluminescent Hearts by Harmonica_Smile (Rescue_Remedy) - Rated T

"No bodies?" Blackbeard fumed. Doc Q and Stronger had bounced across rocky Winner Island when that bear had gone all Sulong and knocked them out. Van Augur's range for warping wasn't that great, and was tricky over open water. He could sharpshoot the skin of a hangnail, but the bear was fast. If he'd managed to get a shot in, they could've finished the Mink off, and pulled the shitty doctor from the water, taken his heart and returned triumphant. Once the horse had woken up. *contains spoilers for chapter 1081*

Visiting Home by Nehszriah - Rated M

Law wants to go back to Flevance to run some tests on the remaining Amber Lead, though the excursion turns into another sort of thing entirely.

on grandma's baking and also grand larceny by Chockyyyy - Rated T

Law always felt most in control standing at the head of a table, a map sprawled before him to guide each person into their place. He thrived on well-oiled machines and plans that ran bump-free. These kinds of things were good stress relievers for him and carrying them out was a good stress reliever for his crew. Simple logic. Thus: here he was. “The information we need is held inside a trapped and guarded office, but there's a massive banquet occurring that night that will give us a better shot with the lowered security. Several of you will be infiltrating the party, keeping an ear out, and if needed, providing distractions. What we’re after is classified to hell and back; as long as we get out, there's no way those nobles will admit it was stolen if that means they had it in the first place.” “Dibs on the dress!” Shachi called in the silence after Law’s spiel.

Forty-Two Superior Teeth by Harmonica_Smile (Rescue_Remedy) - Rated T

Law, Bepo, Shachi, and Penguin: Kids growing into their dreams on Swallow Island.

echo by MuffinsInSummer - Rated G

the clock strikes midnight - it's October 7th, Law is drunk, he doesn't plan on celebrating his birthday until he sees the treasure chest that has the fruit he's been searching for so long. The Nagi Nagi no Mi. "Hey sorry it took so long. Just in time too." "This is..." (or in which I forget Law's birthday minutes after it hits midnight AGAIN in my country and I write this to make up for it. Sorry Law.)