#x-ray machine removal

[briseroyawritingsblog]

𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖

𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒂𝒏 𝒉𝒐𝒘𝒍𝒆𝒕𝒕 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎!𝒓𝒐𝒃𝒐𝒕!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

• +18 minors do not interact. fluff, growth, feelings, pains, living in 2051, domestic things, marriage thinking, kissing etc.

𝒇𝒖𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒄 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 / 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

dividers by @anitalenia & @cafekitsune 🤍

“Somebody help!!” Logan rushed through the sliding double doors holding you in his arms, tears in his eyes. “Help, nurse I need help!” He called as she rushed over to him checking you over. “We.. we were at home.. and she started to cough up blood, not blood! Fuck.. I don’t know what the fuck it is just help her” he placed you down on the bed. The nurse opened your eye lids to check your eyes. When she saw your sclera black pupils she gasped. “She’s not human Sir, how can I help her we do not have specialist here on robotics!” She called her team quickly cutting down your maid dress and apron. She removed your shoes and your socks. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!!!” He growled following the doctors to the room. “Sir you cannot be here! Please! Wait outside we will check her over I located the pulse.” She held two fingers on your neck.

“Seems like her heartbeat is normal. What were you doing exactly?” Logan shot the doctor a glare.

“We were at home. And she was cutting some vegetables for dinner and then suddenly she touched her stomach and cough up blood. Check her over! Fuck!!” He growled—

That night when you grew a human heart in your chest, everything changed. You felt things which humans were supposed to— your brain was not as fast as you once knew. Three months had passed since that night. Logan watched you as you slid into the tunnel for a scan.

“How old is she?” The doctor approached him standing next to him while the machine started to take pictures of your body.

“She was made few months ago.” Logan answered feeling his heart squeeze in his chest. God his hands trembled—

“That can’t be. She must be older” Logan shook his head signalling a no.

“She’s not. She was made few months ago—”

Logan paced in the waiting room anxiously, the nurse approached him several times but he kept looking in the window watching the nurses take care of you do so many necessary things like tests. The doctor then walked out the x ray room holding several photos in his hand.

“How is this possible?” The doctor slammed a photo on the table in front of Logan. It was an x ray of a brain.

“What the fuck is this?” Logan asked him touching the photo.

“That’s your girlfriend’s brain. I see that she’s been using hundred perfect of her brain, and the brain is not as human as it looks. It’s made of a different substance. Now look at this. She has a human heart, but not lungs. How is that possible? How is that even possible she is alive with adamantium skull, limbs, spine and human bones in her legs! How?”

Logan pushed the photos away from him taking a deep breath trying to calm his breathing.

“Who is she?” The doctor asked him sitting in front of him.

“I was there, when she grew the human heart. It lighted the whole room.. I could see the wires under her skin she was transparent for a moment before it disappeared.” Logan rubbed his cheek anxiously so worried about you.

“Now I can see she’s growing every single organ in her body, because some parts of them are already inside of her but trust me she’s in a lot of pain. Growing bones or simple things like humans usually do— this one is twice as painful”

Logan gazed at the doctor furrowing his eyebrows. “Will she..please don’t tell me that I will lose her. I can’t..” Logan shook his head giving the doctor a hopeful look.

“No I think we have something extraordinary here, she will live.”

When Logan heard him say ‘extraordinary’ he groaned pushing his claws out grabbing him by the collar slamming him against the wall beside the window.

“Listen to me, bub. If anything happens to my girl—I will come for you and rip you apart. I will be here all day everyday watching your fuckin step— I will be watchin you taking care of my girlfriend. You will handle this with extra confidentiality. No media. And she’s not a fucking experiment do you fucking hear me?” He snarled. The doctor nodded rapidly listening to every word.

“Yes, but it’s going to cost you” he freed himself out of Logan’s grip.

“I don’t fucking care.” He snarled pressing his claws right to the doctors throat.

“Calm down please I shall do everything in my strength to help your girlfriend. I promise you” logan let go of the doctor and walked out the room. Halting his steps in front of your room— you lied there so peacefully almost as if you were sleeping again. The nurses were there with you running some more tests before your eyes fluttered open. Logan immediately opened the door walking over to you kneeling beside the bed touching your hand.

“Lo..” you whispered wincing in pain.

“Sir she needs to rest. If she won’t— we have to sedate her” Logan groaned.

“Don’t you fucking dare.” You cupped his cheek tracing it with your little fingers tears rolling out of your sclera tearducks soaking the pillow under your head.

“Shhh, don’t speak princess I’m here..” he whispered kissing your palm.

“I feel so much pain..” you breathed out.

“I know but it’s all right okay baby? The doctors will help you because I can’t lose you”

“I want to be in your arms..” you sobbed feeling something cold rolling out of your eyes.

“You’re crying..” he then noticed wiping away your tears with his thumb.

“Don’t leave me..” you let out a broken sob touching his hands pulling him closer so he adjusted to slide his arms underneath you to hug you close to his chest.

“Hurts everywhere..” he kissed your mouth tenderly hearing those words come out of your lips.

“I know princess you need to stay here and I’m going to watch over you.” Confirming holding you in his arms you sobbed out softly kissing his lips again and again until he responded kissing you more. Your tongues touched and you moaned pulling him closer to you.

“I love you”

“I love you with my everything” you responded touching your own forehead with his own.

It was like part of you was missing when Logan left the room. Your test results were coming back positive and negative at the same time because of the growth of your human organs. Logan would rest next to you at night sitting in an armchair a book spread lying on his chest. You wanted him so close to you, you only held his hand. The growing was painful, yes it was.. especially your legs. The bones alone was the worst— you didn’t count days, or weeks or how long you stayed on that hospital bed.

“Your lungs..” Logan smiled softly giving you the x ray results.

“They are beautiful..” you looked up at him with awe in your eyes.

“And your heart.. look at that.. it beats just like mine” he whispered pulling a chair close to your bed. Turning your head to look at the heart monitor.

“Few more days.. and I’m able to take you home.” Kissing your cheek you turned your face to kiss his lips instead and he immediately cupped your cheek eagerly covering your mouth in kisses. “I’m missing you everyday” he breathed. “Me too— so much” it was time for your blood work to be done by your favourite nurses. They were giving you extra, and then taking some of your blood for more testing. It turned out you had a certain mutation which they weren’t familiar with.

“Your husband is a keeper” one of the nurses smiled.

“If only I had a husband like that” the other nurse giggled.

“He’s my boyfriend..” you blushed. “And I hope one day he will become my husband”

“He’s here everyday and spends nights here watching over you my dear. He’s definitely going to be your husband.” One of the nurses confirmed. You giggled at their little talk fantasies spreading in your brain as you let them do their work.

“Oh my my.. it’s positive. You’re a lucky woman” another nurse entered the room showing you a positive result of something you didn’t quite understand.

“Looks like you will welcome womanhood every month” she touched your lower belly.

“I can? Is that possible?”

“Of course it is. You have everything what a woman is supposed to have to create children” she smiled at you.

“Children?” You asked her parting your lips looking at the rest of the nurses who stopped doing their job approaching you.

“Yes, children.. well first, you know— you and your husband will make love and then if you’re lucky enough to catch most of his seed. You will carry a baby” one of the nurses explained making your heart race.

“You have done it, before all this haven’t you?”

“Yes.. we did but it was always protected I wasn’t human.” You breathed replaying all of the moments of you and logan made love.

“Oh ladies he’s definitely a keeper.” They giggled making your face twist in curiousness but you couldn’t hide your elation. You wanted to be a human so much and now.. it was happening. You were real for him.

Overnight you lost your love mode. You welcomed your new vision although your eyes did not change. Your vision was so colourful it stunned your heart. Finally you were able to see Logan like a normal human being. He walked inside your room bringing you flowers, biting your lower lip you asked motioning with your arms up to cuddle. “Hi Princess” he kissed your cheek before dragging his mouth over to yours, licking into your mouth kissing you passionately. You mewled, feeling so many emotions at the same time. “They said I’m already fit to go home” you clung to him he held you in return burying his face against your neck. “I know I just spoke to your doctor.. your test results were all positive.” You smiled cupping his cheeks kissing him. “Take me home please” your fingers running through his hair and he nodded nuzzling his nose to yours. “I will take you home princess. I will carry you in my arms if you want to.” You giggled and he smirked. “I can see all of the colours and my vision is not pink anymore.. I’m human” you whispered looking over his face leaning in to kiss him. “And I love you so much” you breathed removing the heart monitoring device off your finger climbing to his lap. Logan hummed kissing you feverishly sticking his tongue in your mouth and you couldn’t feel safer. “And I love you” he breathed planting kisses on your collarbone and your chest. “I can’t wait to have you to myself when we come home” he smiled and you blushed thinking of the nurse talk.

“She’s good to go. She will get nurse visits twice a week.” The doctor handed Logan your health records and said his goodbyes. You wore new clothes, a pair of black sweats, fluffy socks, a matching hoodie, and a backpack and black sneakers. Linking your hand with his you walked to the elevator. Taking out your glasses putting them over your eyes in case people would judge you because of your sclera pupils. “You don’t have to wear them princess.. you’re different. People are used to it now” you nodded snuggling to his side his arm wrapping around you holding you.

When you walked inside your home, you sighed with a relief. Taking a deep breath. “Finally home..” letting go of his hand approaching the kitchen. It was a mess everywhere— you didn’t blame him. You were gone for months. Removing your back pack you placed it on the couch and rolled your sleeves up.

“You don’t have to clean this.. you just came home.” He caressed your sides. You kissed his shoulder “Sit down.. I’ll get you some beer Just relax..” you smiled. Logan nuzzled his nose to yours “Okay sweetheart.” Picking up the laundry off the floor you walked to the bedroom— the bed was made, but no signs of him sleeping there. “You haven’t slept in the bed?” You asked carrying the laundry basket in your hands and Logan shook his head. “No, I couldn’t so I slept here..” he admitted sleeping on the couch. Putting a load of washing on, you joined him on the couch giving him a beer when you heard the strangest noise coming from your belly. “What is happening to me.. in hospital they fed me something, it was liquid it didn’t taste nice.. I can’t stop thinking about food.” You touched your belly and Logan chuckled. “That’s because you’re hungry for food. Not the awful hospital shit” you nodded “it was quite awful that’s true” he nodded pulling out his phone. “How about some pizza?” Suggesting with a smile you nodded immediately “yes please any kind.” He ordered some pizza and you touched his hand. “I can imagine it costed everything.. you know for keeping me in the hospital. I’m so sorry” you breathed eyebrows furrowing in worry. “Money can’t buy my happiness princess, but you can. You’re my happiness. I want to provide for you even though we will have to downgrade to a normal one bedroom apartment soon.” He whispered softly. “I lost my job.. well I sold the company. Your treatment was fucking awful and I was this close to kill everyone” he sighed. “It’s okay, I will find a job. We will figure it out..” you kissed his knuckles “I am so sorry..” he shook his head “No princess.. I am so sorry. I will make it all right.”

Walking inside your new home felt like taking a deep breath of fresh air. It was new.. it had a large kitchen, one large bedroom, opened living room with the joined kitchen, a balcony, one space closet, and a large bathroom. Logan carried the boxes inside your new home with the necessary new things and you watched with awe. Your heart was blazed on fire with love for him. He took care of you— he promised you the best and he did the best. He managed to buy a new car as well.

“All done..” he sighed with a relief putting your new couch together meanwhile you wiped down all the surfaces, cleaned the bedroom and put away your both clothes in the closet. Your bed was supposed to arrive in few days so a mattress was doing just fine. Pulling new sheets on the mattress, changing the pillows and the covers you suggested to cook dinner. Putting your hair in a messy bun Logan caught a glimpse of you being so normal. Just like an ordinary human being. Switching on the lamp you turned to look at him with a smile on your face.

“Come here..” he whispered.

Walking over to him you captured his mouth in a soft kiss.

“You’ve done so much for me already. Caring for me, I can’t thank you enough” his words caused your heart to swell with joy. Yes, you felt lots of happiness with him.

“You did everything for us too. You did so much Lo.. give yourself some credit.” You smiled cupping his cheeks

“I love you”

-

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Supervised AI isn't

It wasn't just Ottawa: Microsoft Travel published a whole bushel of absurd articles, including the notorious Ottawa guide recommending that tourists dine at the Ottawa Food Bank ("go on an empty stomach"):

https://twitter.com/parismarx/status/1692233111260582161

After Paris Marx pointed out the Ottawa article, Business Insider's Nathan McAlone found several more howlers:

https://www.businessinsider.com/microsoft-removes-embarrassing-offensive-ai-assisted-travel-articles-2023-8

There was the article recommending that visitors to Montreal try "a hamburger" and went on to explain that a hamburger was a "sandwich comprised of a ground beef patty, a sliced bun of some kind, and toppings such as lettuce, tomato, cheese, etc" and that some of the best hamburgers in Montreal could be had at McDonald's.

For Anchorage, Microsoft recommended trying the local delicacy known as "seafood," which it defined as "basically any form of sea life regarded as food by humans, prominently including fish and shellfish," going on to say, "seafood is a versatile ingredient, so it makes sense that we eat it worldwide."

In Tokyo, visitors seeking "photo-worthy spots" were advised to "eat Wagyu beef."

There were more.

Microsoft insisted that this wasn't an issue of "unsupervised AI," but rather "human error." On its face, this presents a head-scratcher: is Microsoft saying that a human being erroneously decided to recommend the dining at Ottawa's food bank?

But a close parsing of the mealy-mouthed disclaimer reveals the truth. The unnamed Microsoft spokesdroid only appears to be claiming that this wasn't written by an AI, but they're actually just saying that the AI that wrote it wasn't "unsupervised." It was a supervised AI, overseen by a human. Who made an error. Thus: the problem was human error.

This deliberate misdirection actually reveals a deep truth about AI: that the story of AI being managed by a "human in the loop" is a fantasy, because humans are neurologically incapable of maintaining vigilance in watching for rare occurrences.

Our brains wire together neurons that we recruit when we practice a task. When we don't practice a task, the parts of our brain that we optimized for it get reused. Our brains are finite and so don't have the luxury of reserving precious cells for things we don't do.

That's why the TSA sucks so hard at its job – why they are the world's most skilled water-bottle-detecting X-ray readers, but consistently fail to spot the bombs and guns that red teams successfully smuggle past their checkpoints:

https://www.nbcnews.com/news/us-news/investigation-breaches-us-airports-allowed-weapons-through-n367851

TSA agents (not "officers," please – they're bureaucrats, not cops) spend all day spotting water bottles that we forget in our carry-ons, but almost no one tries to smuggle a weapons through a checkpoint – 99.999999% of the guns and knives they do seize are the result of flier forgetfulness, not a planned hijacking.

In other words, they train all day to spot water bottles, and the only training they get in spotting knives, guns and bombs is in exercises, or the odd time someone forgets about the hand-cannon they shlep around in their day-pack. Of course they're excellent at spotting water bottles and shit at spotting weapons.

This is an inescapable, biological aspect of human cognition: we can't maintain vigilance for rare outcomes. This has long been understood in automation circles, where it is called "automation blindness" or "automation inattention":

https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/29939767/

Here's the thing: if nearly all of the time the machine does the right thing, the human "supervisor" who oversees it becomes incapable of spotting its error. The job of "review every machine decision and press the green button if it's correct" inevitably becomes "just press the green button," assuming that the machine is usually right.

This is a huge problem. It's why people just click "OK" when they get a bad certificate error in their browsers. 99.99% of the time, the error was caused by someone forgetting to replace an expired certificate, but the problem is, the other 0.01% of the time, it's because criminals are waiting for you to click "OK" so they can steal all your money:

https://finance.yahoo.com/news/ema-report-finds-nearly-80-130300983.html

Automation blindness can't be automated away. From interpreting radiographic scans:

https://healthitanalytics.com/news/ai-could-safely-automate-some-x-ray-interpretation

to autonomous vehicles:

https://newsroom.unsw.edu.au/news/science-tech/automated-vehicles-may-encourage-new-breed-distracted-drivers

The "human in the loop" is a figleaf. The whole point of automation is to create a system that operates at superhuman scale – you don't buy an LLM to write one Microsoft Travel article, you get it to write a million of them, to flood the zone, top the search engines, and dominate the space.

As I wrote earlier: "There's no market for a machine-learning autopilot, or content moderation algorithm, or loan officer, if all it does is cough up a recommendation for a human to evaluate. Either that system will work so poorly that it gets thrown away, or it works so well that the inattentive human just button-mashes 'OK' every time a dialog box appears":

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/21/let-me-summarize/#i-read-the-abstract

Microsoft – like every corporation – is insatiably horny for firing workers. It has spent the past three years cutting its writing staff to the bone, with the express intention of having AI fill its pages, with humans relegated to skimming the output of the plausible sentence-generators and clicking "OK":

https://www.businessinsider.com/microsoft-news-cuts-dozens-of-staffers-in-shift-to-ai-2020-5

We know about the howlers and the clunkers that Microsoft published, but what about all the other travel articles that don't contain any (obvious) mistakes? These were very likely written by a stochastic parrot, and they comprised training data for a human intelligence, the poor schmucks who are supposed to remain vigilant for the "hallucinations" (that is, the habitual, confidently told lies that are the hallmark of AI) in the torrent of "content" that scrolled past their screens:

https://dl.acm.org/doi/10.1145/3442188.3445922

Like the TSA agents who are fed a steady stream of training data to hone their water-bottle-detection skills, Microsoft's humans in the loop are being asked to pluck atoms of difference out of a raging river of otherwise characterless slurry. They are expected to remain vigilant for something that almost never happens – all while they are racing the clock, charged with preventing a slurry backlog at all costs.

Automation blindness is inescapable – and it's the inconvenient truth that AI boosters conspicuously fail to mention when they are discussing how they will justify the trillion-dollar valuations they ascribe to super-advanced autocomplete systems. Instead, they wave around "humans in the loop," using low-waged workers as props in a Big Store con, just a way to (temporarily) cool the marks.

And what of the people who lose their (vital) jobs to (terminally unsuitable) AI in the course of this long-running, high-stakes infomercial?

Well, there's always the food bank.

"Go on an empty stomach."

Going to Burning Man? Catch me on Tuesday at 2:40pm on the Center Camp Stage for a talk about enshittification and how to reverse it; on Wednesday at noon, I'm hosting Dr Patrick Ball at Liminal Labs (6:15/F) for a talk on using statistics to prove high-level culpability in the recruitment of child soldiers.

On September 6 at 7pm, I'll be hosting Naomi Klein at the LA Public Library for the launch of Doppelganger.

On September 12 at 7pm, I'll be at Toronto's Another Story Bookshop with my new book The Internet Con: How to Seize the Means of Computation.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/23/automation-blindness/#humans-in-the-loop

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

--

West Midlands Police (modified) https://www.flickr.com/photos/westmidlandspolice/8705128684/

CC BY-SA 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/

[alyrasturnz]

can you write a biker!chris x reader oneshot about "but daddy i love him" by taylor swift?

BUT DADDY I LOVE HIM {{ chris sturniolo }}

summary — in a rigid town where tradition's grip is ironclad, y/n, a scion of propriety, encounters chris, a tempestuous artist embodying freedom's spirit. enchanted by his untamed essence, she finds herself at a crossroads, her heart yearning for the wild unknown. one fateful night, she casts off the chains of expectation, leaving a life of duty for a journey with chris into the boundless night. as dawn's first light caresses the horizon, y/n embraces her newfound liberty, ready to sculpt her destiny amidst the whispers of the open road.

warnings :: a god awful excuse for a father

— angst with a happy ending

a/n ,, double update!?!?!?!?! 😮

your laughter reverberated through the narrow, cobblestone streets, intertwining with the gentle zephyrs that tousled your hair. the warm, crisp embrace of the summer air mingled with the echoes of your joy, creating a symphony that danced upon the twilight breeze.

the sun cast its golden rays upon your face, illuminating your features in a radiant glow. as your grip around chris’s torso tightened, you released joyous squeals, each sound a testament to the exhilaration coursing through you.

chris, with a wild grin etched across his face, revved his motorcycle. the engine’s roar reverberated through the night, a defiant challenge to the encroaching darkness.

the wind whipped through your hair as the two of you sped past familiar landmarks, each turn a deliberate step further from the life you had always known.

the moon hung low, casting a silver glow upon their paths, as if illuminating a nascent destiny woven from threads of starlight and shadow.

your heart pounded with exhilaration and fear, the boundaries of your world expanding with every mile

in chris’ presence, you felt the stirrings of a new beginning, a life unbound by the chains of expectation

the motorcycle came to a gentle halt, its hum subsiding as he gracefully dismounted, the machine's quieting purr echoing in the stillness.

you removed your helmet and gazed at the gentle waves crashing into the ocean, a grin slowly spreading across your face as you absorbed the tranquil beauty.

your gaze fixes upon chris as he removes his helmet, his impeccably disheveled brown locks tumbling forward to obscure his cerulean eyes, which shimmer with an enigmatic depth.

chris delicately placed his helmet on the handle of his motorcycle, then ran a hand through his hair, the motion both casual and deliberate, as if smoothing the chaos of his thoughts.

his gaze shifted to meet yours, and a soft smile slowly spread across his lips, a subtle yet profound connection forming in the silent exchange.

"staring now, are we?" he teased, his smile broadening as you playfully rolled your eyes, the banter weaving a tapestry of light-hearted camaraderie.

"shut up, chris," you retorted, placing your helmet on the opposite handle as you dismounted, your footing faltering slightly in the process.

"whoa, easy there, princess," he chuckled, his hands swiftly reaching out to catch and steady you, the warmth of his touch grounding you amidst the stumble.

"that's unbearably cheesy," you say with a grin, wrapping your arms around his muscular arm as you both walk off towards the beach, the sand whispering beneath your feet.

the soft, alabaster sand beneath you gradually infiltrated your shoes, its fine grains weaving their way into every crevice.

the gentle symphony of waves caressing the shore brought a subtle smile to your lips as chris settled himself onto the sand.

chris glanced up at you, a warm invitation in his eyes as he patted the sand beside him. "c’mon, don't be shy, princess," he murmured.

"my pants are hermes," you lament, a note of distress coloring your voice, fearing the potential ruin of your cherished garment.

chris released a low, resonant chuckle, the sound filled with warmth and amusement.

with deliberate care, he shrugged off his leather jacket, the material creaking softly in the evening air. he then placed it gently on the sand beside him, as if creating a welcoming space for you to join.

“better?" he inquires with a mischievous grin, his eyes twinkling with a blend of humor and anticipation.

you couldn't help but smile at the warm gesture, feeling a rush of warmth spread through your cheeks as you delicately lowered yourself onto his jacket.

you lean into him, allowing the weight of your head to rest tenderly upon his shoulder, while his arm sinuously winds around your waist, pulling you into an embrace that speaks of both protection and intimacy.

"I feel a twinge of guilt sitting on your jacket," you murmur, your gaze fixed upon the luminescent moon hanging in the night sky.

"It's alright, don't be," he mutters, planting a tender kiss upon your head. "after all, it isn't hermes," he adds with a playful grin.

you release a soft giggle, playfully swatting his thigh with a lighthearted touch.

you both sat in contemplative silence for a while, your gazes lost in the ethereal glow of the moonlight, as the waves rhythmically crashed upon the shore, weaving a symphony with the night's stillness.

you lifted your wrist to glance at your watch, a sigh escaping your lips. "I have to get going soon," you mutter softly.

chris glances down at your watch, a hint of reluctance in his eyes. "mmm, stay for a little while longer," he murmurs, gently resting his head upon yours.

you smiled softly, allowing your wrist to fall gently onto your lap as you leaned into chris, finding solace in his presence.

"the waves possess such a soothing cadence, don't they?" you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper, as chris responds with a gentle hum of agreement, "mhm."

"It's as though they cleanse all our worries, if only for a fleeting moment," you mutter, your fingers absently twisting the rings that adorn your delicate hands.

"It's like a brief escape, isn't it? just you, me, and the endless horizon," he whispers, his voice barely audible. "no expectations, no judgments."

you sigh softly, lifting your head from his shoulder, your gaze falling to the rings on your fingers. a myriad of thoughts whirl through your mind, each one a fleeting specter in the vast expanse of your consciousness.

"I wish we could stay like this forever," you murmur, lifting your gaze to meet his. "just... be."

"why can't we?" Chris mumbles, his fingers gently tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear. "what is it that prevents us from making this our reality?"

you sigh heavily, the weight of frustration beginning to course through your veins like a slow-burning fire.

chris would bring this up every time, and with each instance, he would attempt to persuade you to abandon your glittering life for the uncertain promise of a future with him.

"you know why, chris. my life isn't that simple," you say, shaking your head. "there's so much at stake."

"but is it worth it, n/n? all those stakes, all that pressure?" he asks, his voice tinged with concern as you close your eyes tightly. "a life that isn't truly yours?"

"you don't understand, chris! I have responsibilities, a reputation to uphold. I can't just abandon everything like you," you declare, your voice tinged with exasperation, while chris shakes his head in disbelief.

"responsibilities? or chains? you are ensnared in a life dictated by the expectations of others, rather than one of your own making. Is that truly living, y/n?" chris retorts, his voice teetering on the brink of snapping.

"It’s not that simple. my family, my future—everything is inextricably bound to this," you say, running your hand through your hair as tears begin to well up. "i cannot simply walk away."

"why not? what is the purpose of a future that does not belong to you? you are sacrificing your happiness for what? the approval of those who do not even know the real you?" chris snaps, his voice sharp with frustration, as you rise to your feet, shaking your head and turning away.

"and what would you have me do? flee from it all? confront the scandal, endure the judgment?" you retort, spinning around to face him as he rises to his feet.

"yes! face it n/n. for at the end of the day, it is your life. you deserve to live it on your own terms, not theirs," chris declares, his voice firm yet controlled. "the river shapes the stone not by force, but by persistence. be the river, y/n."

"you do not understand, chris!" you cry out, your voice breaking into sobs as tears stream down your face, mingling with the streaks of mascara. "It is not about me," you croak. "It is about my family, their expectations, their legacy—"

"and what about your legacy, y/n?" he questions, running a hand through his hair in exasperation. "what about the life you yearn to live? are you truly willing to sacrifice your happiness for a future that has been meticulously mapped out by others?"

"I... I don't know," you whisper, shaking your head as chris scoffs. "it's all I've ever known, chris!" you sob out, your voice trembling. "the very thought of breaking free terrifies me."

"fear is a formidable chain, yet it is one that can be shattered," chris murmurs, drawing you in by the waist and planting a tender kiss on your lips. "I know you, and you deserve to live a life that brings you joy, not merely one that garners the pride of others," he whispers against your lips.

"It is not that simple, and you are well aware of it," you sigh, your breath mingling with his. "the repercussions... the inevitable fallout..."

chris draws away from you, his eyes searching yours with a determined intensity. "consequences be damned, y/n. at some juncture, you must decide whether you are living for yourself or merely existing for the sake of others."

"and what if I cannot make that choice? what if I fail?" you whisper, tears cascading down your cheeks.

"then you’ll never know the true essence of freedom, n/n," he says, his voice tinged with slight irritation. "but if you ever change your mind, you know where to find me."

chris was on the verge of walking away when you desperately clasp his wrist, your grip trembling with unspoken pleas.

"chris, please..." you implore, your voice barely above a whisper, laden with desperation and longing.

"no, y/n. I am done waiting for you to choose yourself, to choose us," he says, his tone heavy with exasperation. "I cannot continue to watch you live a life that breaks you."

with a heavy heart, chris turns away, the frustration and resignation evident in his stride as he walks away from you. he leaves you to wrestle with the weight of your choices under the dimming light, each step echoing the finality of his departure.

»--•--«

you stood in the grand library, the weight of your father's expectations pressing down upon you like an invisible shroud, each tome and scroll a silent witness to your inner turmoil.

your father, stern and unyielding, sat behind his imposing desk, his gaze cold and disapproving, like a judge delivering a silent verdict.

"but daddy, I love him," you plead, desperation lacing your voice as your father pinches the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

"love? you think love is enough, y/n?" your father exclaimed, his voice rising in a crescendo of frustration as he slammed his desk, causing you to flinch. “that boy has nothing to offer you!”

"no status! no future!" he roared, rising abruptly from his chair, his fury reverberating through the room.

"he has everything that matters, daddy," you implore, desperation tinging your voice. "he makes me happy. he understands me. Isn't that worth more than all the status and money in the world?" you continue, tears brimming in your eyes, threatening to spill over.

"happiness? understanding?" your father questioned, disbelief dripping from his voice as he scoffed. "those are fleeting, frivolous things. your duty is to this family, to uphold our name and legacy."

"and what about my happiness? my legacy!" you croaked out, your voice rising with each word. "am I just a pawn in your grand scheme?" you whispered, the weight of your anguish hanging heavily in the air.

"you are my daughter, and you will do as you’re told," he hissed through clenched teeth, his cold, stern eyes boring into yours. "this infatuation will pass, and you will come to see reason."

"no, daddy, it won't pass!" you say, your voice trembling as you shake your head, tears cascading down your cheeks like a relentless torrent. "you cannot dictate my heart. I will not sacrifice my love for a life filled with empty expectations. I refuse to relinquish the one genuine thing in my otherwise fabricated existence."

"do you even hear yourself, y/n?! you're willing to throw away everything we’ve built for centuries for a fleeting romance?" your father yelled, his voice echoing with a mix of incredulity and anger.

"It's not fleeting! It's real, and it's worth fighting for!" you yell back, your voice cracking under the weight of desperation. another sob escapes your lips, your body trembling with the intensity of your emotions.

"haven't you ever loved someone so profoundly that you would defy the entire world for them?" you whisper, your voice barely audible, yet laden with an intensity that speaks volumes.

"I loved your mother, and I sacrificed my dreams for this family," your father said, his voice heavy with the weight of past decisions. "now, it is your turn to bear the mantle of sacrifice."

"that's the difference, daddy. I don't want to live a life of sacrifice and regret," you pleaded, your voice nearly breaking under the strain of your emotions. "I want to live a life filled with passion and fulfillment!"

"passion fades, yet reality endures. you will marry whomever I choose, and that is final," your father declared, his tone resolute as he turned away and returned to his desk, seating himself with an air of unyielding authority.

"no, daddy, this time, I choose," you say, standing your ground with unwavering determination. "I choose love, and if you cannot accept that, then I have no place in this house."

You begin to walk out of the library, each step echoing with the weight of your resolve.

"you are making a grave mistake, y/n," your father bellows, his voice reverberating with a mixture of anger and desperation.

you halt in your tracks, turning to face him with defiant resolve. "If it is a mistake, it is mine to make. I will no longer allow you to dictate the course of my life."

with those words, you pivot on your heel, your heart pounding with a tumultuous blend of fear and resolve, a storm of emotions swirling within you.

you stride out of the grand library, each step reverberating with your newfound determination, the echo of your footsteps a testament to your unwavering resolve.

the weight of your father's expectations still looms heavily, a shadow that has long haunted your every move, but for the first time, you feel the stirrings of true freedom.

it is a fragile, nascent sensation, blossoming within the depths of your soul, whispering promises of a life unbound by the chains of obligation and duty.

as you pass through the towering columns and intricate archways of the library, the grandeur of the surroundings mirrors the magnitude of the choice you have made.

the ancient tomes and silent corridors bear witness to your silent rebellion, a declaration of your right to chart your own course.

for the first time, you breathe deeply, savoring the taste of autonomy, the exhilarating realization that your destiny is now yours to shape.

though the path before you is fraught with challenges and unknowns, the spark of freedom ignites a fire within you, a beacon of hope guiding you forward.

the weight of your father's expectations remains, but it no longer defines you. instead, it becomes a distant echo, a reminder of the strength you have found within yourself.

with each step, you embrace the journey that lies ahead, ready to face whatever trials may come, secure in the knowledge that you have chosen your own path.

you take a moment to gather your thoughts, allowing the gravity of the situation to settle within your mind. Then, with a sense of resolute purpose, you make your way to your room.

there, you swiftly pack a few essential belongings, acutely aware that this departure may be final, and you may never return to this familiar sanctuary.

with a heavy heart, you sit down at your desk and begin to write a heartfelt letter to your mother.

each word is carefully chosen, laden with emotion and sincerity, as you explain your decision.

you pour out your love and gratitude, expressing the depth of your feelings and the reasons behind your choice.

the letter becomes a testament to the bond you share, a poignant farewell that encapsulates your appreciation and the difficult path you have chosen to tread.

with your resolve as steadfast as the ancient mountains, you slip silently from the house, the silvery moonlight casting an ethereal glow upon your path.

each step is deliberate, guided by the celestial luminescence that bathes the night in a serene radiance.

you make your way to the outskirts of town, where the love of your life awaits, a beacon of hope and passion in the enveloping darkness.

"chris!" you exclaimed, your voice piercing the tranquil night air, reverberating with a blend of urgency and hope.

chris halts, his silhouette etched against the waning twilight, with the ocean's murmurs whispering the echoes of their shared memories.

he turns slowly, a flicker of hope and disbelief intertwining in his eyes, as if the very essence of the past and present collide within his gaze.

"y/n?" chris uttered, his voice a delicate tremor that carried the weight of unspoken questions and the fragile tendrils of hope.

you stepped forward, your heart pounding with a newfound resolve. "I've made my choice," you declared, your voice steady yet brimming with emotion. "I can no longer live a life shackled by fear and the weight of others' expectations. I yearn to be with you, to embrace a life of freedom and profound love."

chris' expression softens, his eyes delving into hers, searching for any trace of hesitation. "are you certain?" he murmured, his voice a blend of caution and hope. "this is a monumental step, y/n. once taken, there is no turning back."

you nod, your voice unwavering. "I understand the gravity of this decision," you say, each word imbued with newfound conviction. "but for the first time, I feel as though I am choosing for myself. I seek happiness, and I desire that happiness to be with you."

a slow, relieved smile unfurls across his face. he extends his hand, its warmth and reassurance palpable. "then let us embark on this journey together," he says softly.

hand in hand, they traverse the shoreline, each step shedding the weight of societal expectations. the horizon unfurls before them, a vast canvas of endless possibilities. the waves crash against the shore, a testament to their newfound courage and the dawn of their shared journey.

you gaze up at chris, your heart swelling with a profound mixture of love and hope. "thank you," you murmur, your voice laden with emotion, "for waiting for me."

chris gently squeezes her hand, his touch both tender and resolute. "I would have waited a lifetime for you, y/n," he whispers, his voice imbued with unwavering devotion.

together, you disappear into the embrace of the night, your spirits unburdened and your hearts entwined, ready to write your own story of love and freedom.

[darkbluekies]

Dr Kry is the Yandere of all time, I want him.

Deja vu / Welcome home

doctor!yandere OC x fem!reader Summary: 8 years have passed. Dr Kry gets your son as his patient and decides to get you back once and for all — and to keep you forever. Warnings: kidnapping, manipulation, gaslighting, blackmail, drugs, medicine, involuntarily removing clothes Word count: 4.6k

A/N: here you have him, all to yourself :)

It’s just like any day. Nothing out of the ordinary. Dr Kry looks down at his patient list. Just three people, one being a seven year old boy. It won’t be hard. he might even get to go home early today. He has leg pain, possibly a broken foot. 

Dr Kry grabs a wheelchair and walks out into the waiting room where he sees the little boy sitting all alone on a chair, swinging his legs carefully. 

“Noah?” he asks. 

The little boy looks up and jumps down from his seat. He limps. Dr Kry smiles warmly and holds out his hand to help the little boy up in the chair. 

“Are you here alone?” Dr Kry asks and starts to push the wheelchair. 

“Yes … mom and dad couldn’t get of off work”, the little boy mumbles. 

“You have nothing to be afraid of, I will take very good care of you. You’re very brave to come here all by yourself. Like a big boy.”

Noah giggles. Dr Kry smiles slightly, feeling his heart swell. He does like children … just not the loud, crying ones. 

“There we go”, Dr Kry says as they enter his office. He sinks down in his chair. “Now, won’t you tell me what happened to you? It says in your journals that you have some leg pain.”

“I hurt myself while playing football”, Noah answers. “The grass was wet and I slipped.”

“You have to be careful playing sports. Too many injuries and then it’ll be irreversible.”

“Oh …”

Dr Kry senses the fear creeping over the little boy. He smiles warmly. 

“I’m sure there’s nothing to be afraid of”, he reassures him. “I’m going to take an x-ray scan of you. You’re a brave boy, you’ll let me do it, won’t you?”

Noah nods carefully. Dr Kry smiles and ruffles his hair. He takes out the x-ray machine and moves the little boy over to the bed. He’s careful and comforts Noah along every step. He can tell that the little boy’s foot has gotten sprained. 

“Alright, brave boy”, he says and removes the machine. “You have a sprained ankle.”

“Is that bad?” Noah asks with wide, tearful eyes. 

“No, it’s not. It could have been broken and then you’d have some troubles, but this is nothing.”

He picks up the journal to write it down when something catches his eyes. The full name of Noah’s mother is so familiar. Dr Kry can feel his heart stop. It can’t be true. 

“Noah, is your mother Y/N L/N?” he asks while trying to control the tremble in his voice. 

“She has a new last name now”, Noah says. “That’s her name before she married dad.”

An invisible punch lunches against Dr Kry’s chest. But he feels a weird liberation. After eight long years he might finally meet you again. You can be together again!

“Why?” Noah asks quietly. 

“Nothing, nothing”, Dr Kry says quickly and smiles. “She’s just an old friend of mine. Nice to see her name again …” He looks around. “I should uh … move you … to a room instead. I think you’ll have to stay here overnight.”

“No! I don’t want to sleep here! I want my mom …”

So do I, Dr Kry wants to say. 

“It’s okay”, he says. “I’ll stay with you. And maybe your mom can come too.”

He lifts the young boy in his arms and walks out of his office. He holds one of his hands in the back of Noah’s neck, gulping. This is the closest he’s been to you since you escaped from him. Your DNA is in the very boy he’s holding. Dr Kry nods. He has to protect this little boy. 

He takes the elevator up, looking at Noah in the mirror with a small smile. Dr Kry walks into the room. The exact same room he kept you in eight years ago. He places you down in the exact same bed you’ve been lying in. He has kept the room the same as it was when you left, in hopes of you one day returning. The books in the shelves are still there with their bookmarks showing where you stopped. He can’t wait for you to pick up where you left off.

“I’ll go call your mom”, Dr Kry says and lifts up the journal. 

He copies the telephone number from the page into his phone. His hands are trembling. He can’t believe that he’s going to speak with you again! Dr Kry walks out into the corridor and dials. He holds the phone to his ear, swallowing. 

“Hello?”

Your sweet voice is enough to cause his legs to shake. He suddenly feels like a schoolboy again. Oh, how he hates it. 

“Y/N …”, he whispers out when remembering how to speak. 

Silence. 

“Why are you calling me?” you ask harshly. “How did you get my number?!”

“Your son came into my office and-”

“Oh my God! Don’t touch him, please! Kry, please, he’s innocent.”

Hearing you plead like that again gives him the confidence back. 

“Don’t freak out now”, he says. “I’m not going to hurt him. Better yet, I’ll cure him … but I won’t let him go unless you come here. Alone. And if you tell anyone I’ll have to cause an … accident. You’re familiar with those, aren't you?”

“You fucking madman, Kry!”

He smiles. 

“So you’ll come?” he asks excitedly. “I’ll see you in twenty minutes then. I’ll be waiting.”

He hangs up.

You barely park the car. You're not sure it's even straight in the parking space, but, frankly, at the moment that's the least of your concerns. With a heart beating in your ears, you run towards the hospital's that once nearly killed you. You can tell that he's waiting in the lobby. Abruptly, you stop. He looks the exact same as he did eight years ago. Your heart drops. Suddenly you feel like you did all those years ago — heavy, small and cloudy. It's as if the poison has entered your veins again.

Dr Kry smiles and jogs over to you before he wraps his arms around you. You're too stunned to move. 

"Y/N, oh my God, it's actually you", he whispers, fingers digging into your back. "You're so pretty."

You finally get control over your limbs. Harshly, you push him back. He's visibly upset by your action, but keeps his composure.

"I just want my son, Kry", you say with make believe courage. “I’m not here to forgive you.”

“Very well”, he sighs out shortly and fixes his white lab coat. “I understand.”

“Just show me where he is.”

“I think you know the way very well.”

Your eyes widen. Mortified, you shake your head. Dr Kry revels in your fear. It’s your punishment for leaving him. You should be scared of him after everything you’ve done to him.

“Kry … no …”, you plead in a low voice, feeling smaller than ever. “I don’t want to go there! Just get me my son, this isn’t funny.”

“Do you really want me to go alone and get your son?”

You realize the danger and quickly change your mind. Dr Kry waits patiently. He doesn’t have to rush things. He has you right where he wants you. You’re in his territory now, he’s in charge again. 

“No, no, no”, you ramble in panic and quiet down, relaxing voluntarily. “Okay, fine … I’ll come with you.”

“Good girl.” He holds out his arm towards the elevators. “Shall we?”

You glare at him before walking in front of him. When you pass him, you can tell that there’s a wicked grin plastered on his face. You’re very well aware that you’re walking right into the lion’s den, but what other choice do you have? Your son is here all alone in the hands of a madman. As a mother, you can’t leave him here. 

Dr Kry presses the elevator button and the doors slide to the sides. You walk in and curl up in the corner of the metallic elevator, hugging yourself and hating how you feel so small. You shouldn’t. Dr Kry moves closer. 

“Don’t cry, little one”, he says comfortingly. 

That nickname.

“Don’t call me that”, you tell him. You’re meant to say it firmly, but it comes out as another pathetic plead. 

He terrify you like none other, still, after all these years.

He cups your face between his large hands. Never before have you wished that the elevator ride could be quicker. He caresses your cheeks with his thumbs lovingly. It makes you sick. 

“Your son is okay”, he whispers, ice blue eyes staring right into yours. “And I do not intend to hurt him. 

“You fucking liar”, you whisper and sob. 

He collects a tear with his thumb and stares at it adoringly before leaning forward and kissing your forehead. Finally, you gain control of yourself and push him off. 

“Let me go!” you shout angrily. 

The elevator doors finally open and you scurry past him out into the familiar corridor. Dr Kry grabs your arm firmly, stopping you abruptly. You spin around to meet him with a hammering heart. 

“Before we go in, you need to get yourself together”, he warns you. “Your son is in there. Do you want to scare him with your tears and frantic behavior?”

“Of course not”, you whimper. 

Dr Kry picks up his handkerchief from his lab coat pocket and hands it to you. 

“Then wipe your tears”, he advices you softly. “We’ll do some breathing exercises.”

You dry your eyes and take a deep breath, hating that you once again follow his lead. When he’s satisfied, he walks over to the door that kept you locked in for months and months on end. You stop, preparing yourself. You’re not sure how you’ll react to seeing the room. After you escaped, you’ve dreamt nightmares about it. 

“Sweetheart, are you alright?” Dr Kry asks, sounding genuinely concerned. 

“Yes, I’m fine”, you say coldly. 

He opens the door and you walk in, heart skipping a beat when you see your poor little boy sitting in the same bed you’ve been tied to. 

“Noah!” you breathe out and run over, hugging him tightly. “How are you? Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“My leg is broken”, he mumble embarrassedly. 

“Not broken, little man”, Dr Kry smiles. “Sprained, remember? It’ll be okay in no time.”

You hug your son again, trying to hide how terrified you really are. Dr Kry stands behind you and watches you with loving eyes. He shows you the results of the x-ray and asks you to step outside with him again. Carefully, he closes the door behind you both. 

“You said you’d cure him”, you say quietly with a venomous voice. “You said you’d cure him and let him go if I came here … and I’m here now. Keep your end of the promise, Kry.”

“I guess I could do that”, Dr Kry says thoughtfully. “If that’s what you want.”

“Of course it is.”

“But in that case, I want you to stay here.”

“No fucking way!” you almost shout. “I’m not going through this shit again!”

Dr Kry raises his eyebrows warningly. “Lower your voice.”

You bite your cheeks. 

“I won’t let you treat me like that again, Kry”, you hiss. 

“I see”, he says and sighs heavily. “In that case, I guess I’ll have to do what I feared. I don’t want to hurt anyone with your genetic material … but if you don’t let me care for you again, I’ll do what is necessary to keep you with me.”

“You’re sick.”

Dr Kry takes a step forward. You back.

“You will do what I want unless you want me to kill your son”, he says quietly. “You know what I can do. Do you really want to test your luck?”

You hide your face in your shaking hands to prevent yourself from going insane. Tears starts to flow once again. Dr Kry puts his hand on your shoulder. 

“What do you say, Y/N?” he asks. “I will let your son and … husband … go if you let me have you again. I have no use or interest in them. They’ll be completely safe. All I want is you. No one else.”

Your sobs make his heart shatter, but he has to stand his ground. 

“It’s not a hard choice”, he says softly. “Don’t you want to save your son? I know you want to. You’re such a good person, the best I’ve ever met. You always want to care for others. So what do you say? Will you do what I want?”

“Yes, fine”, you mumble defeatedly into your hands. “If that’s what it takes to keep him safe.”

Dr Kry breaks out into a smile and hugs you tightly. He leans his head on yours and breathe out in relief. You’re his patient again, you’re his. He tries to remove your hands from your face. 

“Will you stay here while I contact Noah’s father?” he asks. 

He feels better calling your husband Noah’s father than your spouse. Dr Kry takes your phone to call him. While he’s talking to your husband, you feel like you’re going to throw up. Dr Kry tells the man that he can come get Noah, but that you have to stay for checkups that will mostly take the rest of the evening. You’ll have to stay the night. You listen to it all. You want to snatch the phone and scream that you’ll be hurt again, but you can’t move. Things are starting to sink in. 

“Let’s go inside the room and wait for him”, Dr Kry says and puts his hand on your back. “Come here, sweetheart. Wipe your tears and put on that smile I love. He’ll be safe soon, think about that.”

You nod and dry your eyes with your sleeve. Dr Kry opens the door again and you enter. The doctor gives your son a pair of crutches and tells him to stay off his hurt foot for a while. He should do more, but he can’t think straight. All he wants is for him to get out of the hospital so he can have you all to himself. 

When your husband has come to the hospital, Dr Kry leaves the room with Noah, locking the door behind him. You have ten minutes for yourself in the room. You take the opportunity to walk around and look at it. Eight years have passed, and yet everything’s right where it was left. The bookmarks in the books are still where you stopped reading. A lump forms in your throat. Will you go back to that terrified, weak woman again? Will he strip you of everything again? Tears run down your face. You’re really back in his grasp. He will isolate you, deprive you of everything but him. He will kill you.

The door opens behind you, but you don’t dare to turn around. Fast footsteps reach you and you feel his arms around you. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks. “What happened?”

You only shake your head. 

“Come here, Y/N”, Dr Kry says and gently leads you by your upper arms to the bed. “Let’s talk.”

He sits you down and roll over on his stool. You keep your head down, hands trembling in your lap. 

“Y/N, I don’t want us to start off on the wrong foot”, he says and tries meeting your eyes. “I’ll do anything for you. You know that. I let your son and husband go. I wanted to do a lot to him for having a kid with you, but I didn’t.”

Don’t fall for it.

“Do you think that will make me forgive you?” you hiss and sniffle. “You killed so many people … and you poisoned me. My heart nearly failed! I had to have surgeries after I got out of here … I could have died.”

“I know. I’ve learned from my mistakes. I won’t do that again. I promise.” He reaches for his stethoscope. “Speaking of that, we need to check you. Do you mind taking off your clothes for me?”

“Yes, I do mind.”

He sends you a tired glance. “Y/N, don’t be so difficult. I’m not going to do anything weird. Have I ever done anything weird to you?”

You honestly can’t come up with a single thing he’s done that has gone over the top. Everytime he helped you in the bathtub, everytime he checked for lumps, he’s been professional. You might not trust Dr Kry in many areas, but this is one where you’re ready to give him the benefit of the doubt. 

“Exactly”, he says and gives a reassuring smile. “I just have to make sure that you’re okay. It’s been eight years. A lot can happen in those years.”

You sigh and remove your shirt. Dr Kry walks behind you and places the circular palette of the stethoscope against your spine. You shiver at the cold touch.

"Sorry", he whispers apologetically. 

You wait as he moves the stethoscope around.

"Your heart sounds okay, thankfully", he says in relief.

"It's not thanks to you", you mumble. 

"You can stop saying it. I'm not dumb, I know."

He asks you to lay down as he feels around your body after any abnormalities. You're suddenly exhausted, not sure of how long you can continue to stay alert. Too much has happened in the span of two hours. Of course, Dr Kry picks up on it. Of course he does.

"Are you tired?" he asks.

You don't answer. You keep your eyes down in your lap where your fingers scratch at your nails.

"I don't want to sleep here", you mumble.

"You won't do it many times", Dr Kry reassures you and walks over to the book shelf. "We're not going to stay here."

You look up. "We're not?"

"No. You escaped me one time. I can't let that happen again. We're going home."

Home? You remember Dr Kry talking about his home a few times. A 20th century villah with a big, spacious garden in the woods — far, far away from everyone and everything. 

"Now, what book do you want to continue?" Dr Kry asks.

You lower your head.

Dr Kry spent the night with you. He lied down beside you in the bed. You had been handcuffed to the bedpost to make sure you'd stay in case you got any ideas.

"Are you hungry?" he asks as he sees you hold your hand over your stomach. He folds some papers and puts it in a box he's going to bring with him. "We'll stop somewhere for breakfast. I don't want to waste a single second here."

"I don't want to go anywhere with you, Kry", you say bitterly.

"That's 'Doctor' to you. You're my patient again, and hereby you shall call me 'Doctor'."

"Not a chance. You want me to call you that because it gives you authority. If we're leaving the hospital, you're not a doctor for me anymore."

"I didn't go to university and earn my degree for you to diminish my title." He smiles crookedly. "For every time you call me something other than a doctor is an hour you go without entertainment."

"You haven't even told me your first name, isn't that better than your title?"

Dr Kry turns to his box, picking it up."You don't need to know my first name."

"Why? Are you scared that I'll be able to sue you if I get away again?"

Dr Kry scoffs and turns to you, box in hand. "You could have sued me with my title and surname, Y/N. But you didn't." He raises a blond eyebrow. "And why was that? Hm?"

You glare at him. He takes a step forward, wickedness written all over his face.

"Deep down, I know you're scared of me", he says tauntingly. "You can pretend as much as you want, but you forget that I'm a doctor. I can read your body language better than anyone else. And do you know what I can read?"

He takes a step forward, causing you to take a step back. You shake your head at his infuriating question. 

"That you're absolutely terrified of me", he smiles. "And that's why you didn't sue me. You knew that I'd win one way or another and that I'd get my revenge on you. You didn't dare to meet me in a court room. So I'm happy that you used your brain and didn't do it. I didn't doubt you one single time. If there's one person in this world I actually trust, it's you."

Baffled, you blink. "What?"

"You were scared and I understand that. I know you never mean to do anything to hurt anyone, but you were scared that I'd kill you … so you escaped. It had nothing to do with me. But things will change now. You don't have to be afraid of me anymore."

Do not fall for it.

I don’t want to believe you. I don’t want you in my head anymore. I don’t want to fall in your traps again. Please be silent. I know your mind games. Please, be silent. Please.

“I love you, Y/N”, he says. “I really do.”

You don’t answer. You don’t know what you should answer. 

“Are you ready to go?” Dr Kry asks instead. “If you behave well, we can get whatever breakfast you want. Even junkfood.” 

How generous.

"And if I don't behave?" you ask and regret it immediately. 

"Then you'll have to sleep the entire ride", Dr Kry says and halts. "But maybe that's a good idea? That way, you won't see the road."

"Forget I asked."

"I'll give you a sleeping pill after you've eaten. Come now, let's go."

You sigh and follow him. Should you try to make a run for it? You're getting put to sleep after all. Doesn't matter if you behave or not.

"Don't try", Dr Kry says as you enter the elevator. "If you try the slightest thing, I'll have to do something I don't want to."

You decide to keep your mouth shut instead of asking questions this time. You follow him through the lobby, out to the parking lot, to his white car.

"Get into the front seat", Dr Kry says when you reach for the backseat doors.

You sigh and give up. When he's behind the wheel, the doors lock.

"Okay, Y/N", he says while breathing out in relief and watching the rear view mirror. "What do you want for breakfast?"

"McDonald's", you say. "I want their breakfast muffin."

He grimaces. "Eugh … fine. Okay. I did promise."

He doesn't turn on the radio, leaving you in silence with him. 

You get your breakfast just in time. While you eat, you can see how Dr Kry picks out a sheet of pills from his box and cracks one open from its shell.

"Swallow this with your water", he says.

You want to snarl something back, but hold it in. Defeated, you swallow the pill. You can physically feel it slide down your throat.

"Good girl", Dr Kry says pleased. "Now you just have to sit back and relax."

You're not sure what he gave you, but just ten minutes later, you've blacked out harder than on a Friday night. Dr Kry can now drive in peace without having to worry about you memorizing the way. He glances at you from time to time, just to make sure your head isn't in an uncomfortable position or if you're awake. Swiftly, he drives off the main road, onto a smaller asphalt road, and eventually into a dirt road looking more like a bicycle path. The dirt road is divided in the middle with grass, creating enough space for the wheels of his white car. Out from the bushes a Scandinavian 1910s white tree villah exposes itself. Two floors with a green attic and bushy garden in the same color. A glass verandah meets them. Everything taken directly out of a Studio Ghibli movie.

Dr Kry jumps out of the car and walks over to your side. He picks you up in his arms and carries you inside. He remembers the first time he returned to the house after you escaped his claws. An unwelcoming smell hit him right in the face when he walked in. He felt like a cheater, spending more time at the hospital than at home. In reality it had been the lack of fresh air and after opening all the windows, it was gone.

Dr Kry walks upstairs and into his bedroom. Although you never came here — like his original plans stated — he kept his king sized bed. Just in case. And he's glad he did. Carefully, he places you under the covers, gently tucking you in.

"You're finally home", he whispers and caresses your forehead. "After way too long."

You sit up and look around. Where are you? Right. Dr Kry's house. 

Quickly, you pull the covers off of you and sneak over to the door. It creaks slightly when you open it. First though crossing your mind is: where the hell is Dr Kry? Second: where is the front door? You sneak over to the white stairs and slowly move your way down. 

You feel every door you find, none leading out to freedom. Finally, you find the front door, but it’s locked. Every window as well. You sigh in fear. At any time, Dr Kry could find you. You’d rather know the place before that happens. You look around, peeking your head into every room you find. Finally, your eyes lay on a glassdoor leading out to the backyard garden. You walk out into a glass verandah and see how Dr Kry is standing by one of the mighty bushes, cutting come of the dead branches. In the soft sunlight, he almost looks ethereal. He doesn’t even resemble the doctor you know. 

When you realize that you’re staring, it’s already too late to slip away. He has noticed you.

“Oh, you’re awake, I see”, he says with a smile, lowering the hedge shears. “How are you feeling?”

“I … I don’t know”, you admit hesitantly with a shrug. “I feel kind of numb.”

“That’s okay, you’re not used to this house. Soon enough, you’ll love it as much as I do.”

You stand there awkwardly, not knowing what to do. You’ve never felt so lost — both mentally and physically. You have no idea where you are or what you should do. If you escape, where should you go? How do you get back to your family?

Dr Kry puts down the hedge shears and walks over to you. You flinch, but stand still, avoiding eye contact as best as possible. He puts his hands on your shoulders in a manner making you shiver in disgust. Dr Kry tries meeting your eyes, but you refuse to look in his general direction. Maybe you should have stayed in bed …

“Don’t you think it’s pretty here?” he asks softly. 

You do. Oh, how pretty you think it is, but you don’t want him to think you’re okay with being here. 

“I really want to go home, Kry- … doctor”, you mumble. 

He smiles at your little slipup. You corrected yourself, he won’t scold you. 

“You are home now”, he smiles and caresses your cheek. “You’re right where you should be. And I’m so happy about that. Come, let’s go inside.”

He leads you inside and close the doors behind him. You can hear the door lock behind you. When the there’s no escape anymore, the house suddenly feels cramped, almost claustrophobic. You gulp and glance at doctor Kry who’s smiling lovingly. 

“Welcome home, little one. We have so much lost time to catch up on.”

[fortheloveofwonderland]

Rusty | Chapter 24 FINAL | S.R

Previous Chapter

A/N - not originally where I planned to take this it felt right for me to take the fic in this direction. There is a happy ending but I guess it’s kinda bittersweet?

Summary - Spencer takes one final blow in regards to his health and Luke makes a decision. Will you and Spencer get your happy ending or were you just too rusty?

Pairing - Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - strangers to friends to lovers | angst | smut minors DNI

Warnings - heavy hospital talk, swearing, terminal illness, DID, catheterisation and urination, medication, lots of tears, hints at oral (m receiving), penetrative, unprotected sex.

WC - 6.3k

Chapter 24 - Bless the Broken Road

Over the next few days, Spencer started gaining some independence. But with the ups came some terrible lows. 

He was gradually weaned off of the ventilator, which was an experience in itself. Doctor Wells was confident in his ability to breathe on his own. However his chest x-ray hadn't yielded entirely good news and she confirmed her unfortunate findings with tissue samples. One thing at a time. She would get Spencer off the vent and then have the conversation.

He was given a mild sedative to relax his airways and calm his nerves. He was conscious but hazy which was for the best. 

His tube was suctioned one more time before Doctor Wells started slowly decreasing the ventilator's support and monitoring his response. 

His lungs kicked back into gear albeit leisurely. At first he struggled to remember how to take his own breaths, still heavily relying on the ventilator and gasping a little between each staggered inhale and exhale. 

Doctor Wells continued to lower the machine, while he desperately fought to breathe on his own. Once the machine was completely disconnected, the tube still down in his throat in case he needed the vent suddenly, he was subjected to spontaneous breathing trials. 

For over an hour he was watched closely by the doctor while he sat in bed and simply breathed. Every now and again he would gasp, stutter out a ragged breath and heave air back into his lungs. 

She reminded him to stay calm, to just let it happen naturally which was hard given he’d had something breathing for him for nearly a week. 

She monitored his oxygen levels and vitals and was pleased with his progress even if he didn’t think his breathing felt at all normal. She assured him it was all par for the course. 

After she was suitably pleased with his breathing, his lungs feeling like they were ready to expand right out of his chest, she informed him she would be extubating him. 

The feeling of the breathing tube being removed from his throat caused him to gag violently and cough so hard it burnt. His breathing became completely erratic and he silently begged to just be hooked back up to the machine.

It’s too hard, can’t do it alone. Can’t remember how to breathe on my own. Can’t do it. Can’t remember. S’too hard, please? 

“Doctor Reid, you’re doing great. It’s okay to feel some anxiety, it’s perfectly normal. Just breathe in and out like you’ve been doing your entire life.” 

At first he was inhaling too sharply, through his nose and sending the air spiralling too quickly into his exhausted lungs. 

Why can’t I remember how to breathe? Been doing it since you were born. It was six days, you can do this you fucking idiot. 

After several long minutes his breathing started to return to something close to normal although he had to concentrate extremely hard on each breath. 

Doctor Wells provided him with a nasal cannula although instructed he try to only use it when he really felt he needed it.

She explained it would be an adjustment. His respiratory muscles needed to generate the necessary force to move air in and out, and those muscles had been depleted whilst on the vent. 

“Can you try swallowing for me, Doctor Reid?” She asked him once he started getting his breathing somewhat under control. 

He did. And it felt magnificent. He did it again. Then she handed him some blessed water for his extremely dry throat but told him he had to sip slowly, despite wanting to guzzle it down. 

The water was glorious, quenching his hideous throat and mouth. It was such a wonderful reprieve and he relished every second. 

“Do you think you can try and talk for me now?” Doctor Wells encouraged after he finished the cup of water. 

He rolled his cracked lip between his teeth - a small action he’d missed being able to do - before gently nodding his head. 

He cleared his throat and sucked in a breath which caused his lungs to freak out and he started coughing. 

Another cup of water and several minutes of trying to calm him down he sat back against his pillows feeling a little light headed. But he persevered. 

“H-hello.” His voice was so croaky he barely registered it was his own. 

It made his throat tickle and he almost succumbed to another coughing fit but thankfully breathed through it. 

“Great, and again?” Wells prompted. 

Does she have any idea how difficult it was just to say that? 

He fought the urge to huff another breath for fear of sending his lungs into a panic again. He’d wanted his first words to be to tell you how much he loved you but since your first time visiting him yesterday you were yet to return. 

You’d stayed with him for a few hours and talked to him while he listened and dozed in and out of sleep. You talked to him about Willow and Rusty and Copper, told him Grant and Luke were staying with you and how weird it was. He continuously tapped away on your hand, repeating his morse code mantra. 

dot-dot. dot-dash-dot-dot. dash-dash-dash. dot-dot-dot-dash. dot. dash-dot-dash-dash. dash-dash-dash. dot-dot-dash. 

And to his knowledge he hadn’t dissociated or slipped into one of his alters once the whole time you were there. However, as soon as you left the old ghosts had reared their ugly head and chatted amongst themselves until he willfully fell asleep. 

Doctor Wells was watching him expectantly, waiting for him to speak. He had no idea what he was supposed to say, it was a very strange and new experience. But despite everything, he forced his voice to cooperate.

“H-hello, I am S-Spen…Spe-Spencer Reid.” The effort with which it took him to say those five words caused a heat to spread to his lungs again and he was huffing and puffing once they were out. 

Doctor Wells was quick to hand him the nasal cannula which he gratefully took from her, stuffing the little tubes inside his nostrils and deeply inhaling the sweet, sweet oxygen. And that was when she decided to deliver the blow. 

“Doctor Reid…Spencer,” her expression changed and Spencer knew that look, he’d used it so many times in his FBI career.

Bad news. She has bad news. Oh god I’m dying aren’t I? Oh fuck you’ve really done it this time. 

His head started to spin, his vision blurring. 

No, no don’t dissociate now, you need to understand what she has to say.

He focused himself on his breathing, squeezed the bedsheets in his hand. He needed to stay present, stay focused. The fuzzy edges of his vision became slowly sharper. 

We can do this, just be Spencer. 

“W-what is it?” He spoke breathily. “Just tell me, please?” 

“I’m afraid there is no easy way to say this.” Doctor Wells sighed. “During your chest x-ray we found some scarring on your lungs and the diagnosis was confirmed by having your tissue samples analysed. I’m afraid it appears you’ve developed pulmonary fibrosis, I trust you know what this is?” 

Spencer’s jaw clenched. He focused on keeping himself as Spencer, not allowing the alters to take over. Not now, he needed just a moment to deal with this himself. 

“I-I…” hardened, thickened lung tissue, makes it hard to breathe, harder over time. Shortness of breath, coughing fits, constant fatigue. “Y-yes.” 

“It is terminal, Doctor Reid, and it is progressive. However, we caught it early and although it's not curable it is treatable. It is possible that you can live for years with this disease if properly treated.” She smiled softly, her tone laced with melancholia. 

“But it w-will kill me? O-one day?” He stuttered. 

“I’m afraid so. And we have no way to know how long that will take. The average life span is generally three to five years, but I’m hopeful you can beat those odds.” 

He sucked in the oxygen through his nose, biting back a cough. His breaths were coming in short, sharp bursts. 

Better get used to that, never going to be able to breathe properly again. 

“I want to get you started on medication right away. I’m going to prescribe pirfenidone which will help slow the lung scarring, but won’t be able to reverse it. We can set you up with at home oxygen therapy once you are discharged, portable oxygen cylinders with nasal cannulas that you can use when you feel the need. 

“I can enrol you in a pulmonary rehabilitation which will help you stay active without over exerting yourself and will improve how easily you will be able to do every day tasks. This sadly doesn’t end well, Doctor Reid, as you know. But with your age and the fact we caught it early, I do believe you can live a long, relatively normal life.” 

“But not as l-long as if I didn’t h-have this, right?” He felt the tears well in his eyes.

“Right.” She agreed. 

Well done, Reid you did it. You wanted to kill yourself and ultimately got your wish. It's just going to be a slow, painful death while your lungs steadily give up on you. 

“I, uh, can I b-be alone, p-please?” He let the tears fall, rolling his head on the pillow away from the doctor.

“Of course.” She nodded and he heard her push the chair back.

“And I d-don’t want…my friends, d-don’t tell them this. I’ll t-tell them when I’m ready. N-not yet.” His chest stuttered with each painful breath. Was it normal that his lungs hurt more now he knew this?

“Of course Doctor Reid, that’s your call. But I will say that it helps to have people around while you’re dealing with something like this. Your life will be exceedingly different now and you will need people to aid your adjustment. You aren’t going to be able to do all the things you used to do, accepting help from people who love you will greatly improve your quality of life and even lengthen it.” Doctor Wells spoke but she could see he was no longer listening.

She could tell by the glazed look in his eyes he wasn’t even Spencer anymore. 

Somewhere in the deep recesses of his fractured mind, Spencer registered her words. But his presenting alter wasn’t listening. 

“Look what you’ve gone and done you fucking puta. After everything you survived, this is what you’re going to let kill you? Mierda, what a waste of such a perfect cock sucking mouth.” 

Lea-leave me al-alone. I c-can’t. Can’t. Not now. P-please just let me pro-process. 

Spencer Reid who wasn’t Spencer Reid cried himself into a fitful sleep while his slowly dying lungs tried desperately to keep him alive a little while longer. 

***

Three days later Spencer was dealing with his diagnosis the way he always dealt with things - by ignoring them. 

He’d started PT to aid his breathing for his disused lungs which he thought was pointless seeing that they were giving up on him anyway. 

He was off his catheter and allowed to move about as long as he had his portable oxygen tank at his disposal. 

Coming off of the catheter offered him a distraction from his illness albeit not a particularly nice one. The feeling of having a full bladder was an uncomfortable and new experience. He’d gotten so used to the catheter draining his urine constantly he’d forgotten what it was like to need to go. 

He often found himself not quite making it to the bathroom before he expelled himself, once in bed and a few times on the floor on route to the toilet. And when did go it was painful and oftentimes he wasn’t able to empty his bladder to the extent he needed and was left feeling dissatisfied. 

It was slowly starting to pass, he was at least able to make it to the bathroom before urinating himself now but the slight discomfort remained. 

He was prescribed pirfenidone for his pulmonary fibrosis and after a few meetings with Doctor Vikram she put him on a strong dose of olanzapine for his DID which was yet to go away. 

He’d refused at first, desperate to not be reliant on an antipsychotic used to treat schizophrenia. But as the days drew on and the alters grew louder and louder in his head, he decided he would do anything to make it stop. 

He was eventually able to shower which was an absolute godsend. And finally after nearly two weeks in the hospital, Spencer was allowed to be discharged. 

Honestly it felt like an absolute lifetime since he’d last stepped outside. The air seemed fresher, crisper somehow. 

Spring was in full bloom and he wished he could properly smell the flowers over his nasal cannula which was attached to the little canister of oxygen that Luke insisted on wheeling for him even though he was perfectly capable. 

He still hadn’t told any of you about his diagnosis, he simply lied and said he’d need the oxygen for a little while until his lungs would get back to their full capacity, knowing they never would. 

Luke drove home, Grant sitting up front and you in the back with Spencer, hand in hand. He leaned his head back against the headrest and closed his eyes, slipping the nose cannula out and letting it hang around his neck.  

He wasn’t supposed to use it all the time anyway, only when he really needed it. Although his lungs did noticeably burn when he wasn’t using it. 

He just wanted to enjoy this moment with you, knowing it would all soon be over. None of you had discussed what happened now but you all knew it was inevitable. 

It was late and so Spencer offered Luke and Grant to stay one last night, more out of wanting one final night with you before Luke carted you away to federal prison. 

Grant cooked a large meal for which Spencer barely touched, he had other things on his mind. After you’d all eaten, he removed his cannula once more and let himself take in a fresh breath. 

All eyes were already on him. You were all far too smart and all knew he was keeping something from you. 

He closed his eyes briefly and pinched the bridge of his nose before opening them and looking back around the table. 

“Luke, I need you to do me a f-favour.” Spencer spoke breathily. 

“Anything man.” Luke quickly replied. 

“I need you t-to call the team. I n-need to tell you all some-something and I can only say it on-once.” He panted as he spoke.

You whimpered pathetically, reaching out and clutching his hand at the implication. Luke swallowed thickly, glancing at Grant as he freed his phone from his pocket without a word. He called Emily and put the device on speaker. It rang three times.

“Hey, Alvez. How is Reid?” She was speaking rapidly.

“I’m h-here, Emily.” He spoke before Luke could. 

“Reid, it's so good to hear your voice.” She smiled as she spoke.

“Prentiss, are you with the team?” Luke’s voice cut in. 

“Uh, yeah we’re all at the BAU, why?” 

“Can you g-gather them please? Need to…p-please?” Spencer whined, pressing his knuckles to his chest as a wave of pain pulsed through him.

“Of course, give me a minute.” Her tone was laced with the fear you all felt in the room. 

You clutched Spencer’s hand tighter, already feeling the tears well in your eyes, knowing whatever he had to say wasn’t going to be good. 

A few minutes of thick and tense silence passed before Emily was speaking again.

“We’re all here, Reid. The whole team is here.” 

Spencer nodded, lifting his cannula and holding it to his nose whilst taking a long pull on the liquid heaven that was his oxygen. He let it hang again from his neck and looked around the room. If he focused hard enough he could imagine the whole team was here with him.

“I don’t know h-how to say this other than to-to just s-say it.” Breathe, remember to breathe. “The d-doctor found scar-scarring on my lungs. She dia-diagnosed me with pulmonary fib-fibrosis.” Struggling, he picked the cannula back up and inserted it fully into his nose. “My lungs are going to slowly shut down. The thin w-walls of my l-lungs air sacs are t-thickening which m-makes it harder for t-them to get o-oxygen to the rest of my body. 

“The t-typical prognosis is th-three to f-five years, but D-Doctor Wells is h-hopeful I might out-outlive those odds. But either way this…this is going to k-kill me one d-day.” Breath, just breath. “I’m on m-medication to slo-slow the sc-scarring and I w-will need supplemental ox-oxygen. I…uh…I just needed you a-all to know. I n-need you all to know that I lo-love you all. And, uh…yeah.” 

He closed his eyes against a wave of tears and tugged the cannula back out of his nose. He leaned back in his chair, feeling your hand trembling in his own. He heard you sob loudly as the words sunk in.

Across the table a few tears had escaped Luke’s eyes, the eyes he couldn’t tear off of Spencer. Grant was gripping his shoulder, clinging to his boyfriend while he silently cried. 

Down the line was a lot of gasps and cries he discerned as belonging to Penelope and JJ. He heard the mutterings of “oh kid,” from Rossi and various other sentiments from the others. 

“Oh my gosh, Spence.” JJ sobbed, he could imagine her holding her chest the way she did when she was sad.

“Is there anything we can do? Anything at all?” Tara was speaking now, tone laced with concern and heartbreak. 

“Boy wonder, my heart, my soul.” Garcia was crying too. 

More words came swarming down the line but Spencer couldn’t comprehend them. They all had a lot of questions but Spencer was too exhausted to answer them right now. 

He promised to stay in better touch with them and he would answer everything in due course but right now he was too overwhelmed and when he got overwhelmed his ghosts like to come out to play.

He was still getting used to his olanzapine and had slipped into one of his dissociative personas once or twice in the last few days but thankfully it was already starting to become few and far between. 

He heard the voices still regularly but mostly in his head and they didn’t often come to the surface. But maybe that was more due to the fact he had far more important things on his mind. 

After the call ended he took in the teary eyes around the table as he pushed his chair back. He grabbed the handles of his wheely canister to steady his shaking legs, the cannula still hanging around his neck. You jumped up and placed your hands on his chest. He bowed his head and placed a soft kiss on your lips.

“I just need some fresh air.” He mumbled to you with a small smile.

He knew he ought to be spending every second he could with you as come morning Luke would be taking you away. But right now he just needed a second to gather his raging thoughts before he became someone he didn’t want to be. 

He wheeled the oxygen out onto the back porch, Copper following behind him. He cautiously lowered himself to the swing chair and Copper jumped up, immediately curling up at Spencer’s side. 

Spencer’s breathing was a little fraught from the short walk but he tried to calm it himself rather than constantly relying on the blessed oxygen, no matter how much he might like to. He brushed his knuckles over the smooth coat of Copper’s neck trying to keep the others from taking over his rampant thoughts.

“This is all your own fault.”

“You have no one to blame but yourself.” 

“You’ve not just hurt yourself but the people you love too. You’re no better than any of us.”

Maybe, maybe not. Doesn’t matter anymore. None of it matters anymore.

He cast his eyes out in the dark across the expanse of land down the hill. Eventually his breathing started returning to normal, or at least what was his new normal. He was surprised he was allowed any semblance of peace from the three of you but after a little while he heard the screen door open and close behind him. 

Spencer glanced up at the man who looked so much older than his years right then. Spencer imagined he didn’t look much better himself. Luke offered him a sorrowful smile as he pulled a wicker chair over to sit in front of him. 

“Hey,” Luke whispered, tears glistening in his eyes.

“Hey,” Spencer replied. 

“Love you, you know that right, cariño?” Luke sniffed heavily.

“Love you too, querido.” Spencer sniffed too but it caused him to cough a few times before he managed to stem it.  

“Life is just so fucking unfair.” Luke shook his head, his sadness suddenly replaced with malice. “This shouldn’t be happening to you. After everything you’ve already been through this should not-”

“Luke,” Spencer’s wispy voice cut him off before he could start ranting. “It’s my own f-fault. I tried to dr-drown myself, this is my ret…ret…retribution. Probably shoulda just l-let me die.” 

“Don’t say that, please don’t say that.” Luke’s tears returned and scored hot and heavy down his cheeks. 

“I’m terminally ill, I don’t get to ma-make jokes?” Spencer smiled wistfully. 

“Only if they’re funny.” Luke rolled his eyes. “Do you want me and Grant to stay out here a little while? Just until you get yourself sorted with your meds and everything?” 

“No off-offence Luke, but that sounds incredibly fu-fucking awkward.” He panted. 

“Fair enough.” Luke agreed. “Is there anything I can do?” 

Not arrest my fiancé. Don’t take her away from me. 

“No,” Spencer shook his head, patting Copper’s back. “Right n-now I’d really just l-like to take Y/N to b-bed and try and not def-deflate a lung in the p-process.” 

“Now who's making it awkward?” Luke frowned, wiping his tears. “We’ll take the guest room downstairs tonight I think.”

“Appreciate it.” Spencer reinstated his cannula and Luke helped him to his feet while Copper jumped up too. 

The two men stood under the sky, beautifully alight with the glistening stars peppering the otherwise black blanket above them. 

Luke reached out and cupped Spencer’s jaw lightly and the younger man hummed at the contact. 

“I’ll always…always…” Luke choked. 

“I k-know.” Spencer breathed. “I’ll always t-too.” 

Luke nodded, leaning closer and brushing his lips across Spencer’s in the most featherlight kiss he could almost believe he imagined it. 

But he knew he hadn’t. 

Spencer was soon turning on his heels and wheeling his canister back towards the house with Copper trotting behind while Luke remained still on the porch. 

Once Spencer was gone he pulled his phone out again and redialled the familiar number. This time she answered on the second ring.

“Hey Alvez,” Emily Prentiss had without a doubt been crying no matter how hard she tried to hide it. 

“Prentiss, sorry to just keep piling it on but…” he took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “Effective immediately, I quit the BAU.” 

***

Spencer didn’t know if it was the lack of oxygen filling his shattered lungs that made him light headed or if that could be attributed to the fact he had just experienced the most intense orgasm of his entire life.

He was on his back, panting around the cannula which was most certainly keeping him alive at that moment, staring at the ceiling while you laid next to him, curling into his side.

“I d-don’t have any wo-words.” Spencer breathed as you placed kisses on his bare chest. 

“Hmm, I did my job then.” You laughed a little wistfully. 

It was your last night together and Spencer wanted to feel everything with you before it was too late. So ignoring the voices in his head, he had finally succumbed to feeling your mouth around his shaft. 

It had been so long since he allowed someone to do that to him, he’d almost forgotten how incredible it could feel. You’d made him come in no time at all and you’d swallowed every last drop of him down. But he needed more. 

He lifted your head from his chest and kissed you, tasting the remains of his seed on your tongue. He rolled you on top of him and it was easy to feel he was already halfway to erect again. 

One hand took purchase on the back of your neck while he kissed you as fervently as his lungs would allow while the other dipped between your legs, gasping at how wet you were from simply pleasuring him. 

The gasp caused you to pull away from his lips, concerned he was struggling to breathe, which truthfully he was in spite of the cannula feeding him oxygen. His fingers slid between your folds as you looked down on him with slightly sad eyes.

“I don’t know if this is a good idea.” You whined as he brushed over your sensitive clit.

“I don’t care.” He shook his head. “Y/N, this is o-our last night together. I n-need to feel you on-one last time. P-please?” He whimpered in that breathy voice you were already growing so accustomed to.

“It could literally kill you Spen…oh fuck” You moaned as he pressed deftly against your bud. 

“I h-honestly don’t care. If th-this is how I die then I’ll con…consider myself a l-lucky man.”

“Don’t joke.” 

“Who’s joking?” He suddenly removed his hand from between your legs and wrapped it around his fully hard cock. “P-please princess, ri-ride me? We can go n-nice and slow and I’ll be f-fine.” 

Or I’ll die. But at least I’ll die doing what I love. 

“Spence, I really don’t want my last memory of you to be of you dying while I’m riding you.” You huffed. 

“If this whole t-thing has taught me a-anything it’s that our time is fin-finite. L-life is not a gu-guarantee. But love…love is infinite. And I l-love you more than wo-words can say. Let’s remember us this w-way.” He sucked in a breath around the cannula. “Whadda you say pr-princess? Hop on up here and g-give me something to rem-remember.” 

Your eyes were wet with tears as you looked down on him. Life was intrinsically unfair. In less than twelve hours Luke would be carting you away while Spencer was left here to die a slow and painful death. 

Time was finite, you knew that to be true now more so than ever. And if Spencer wanted you in that way one last time, who were you to deny him that. 

You bowed your head and captured his chapped lips in a kiss while moving his own hand aside so you could grip the base of his shaft. 

You lined him up with your entrance while sitting back on your haunches. Spencer’s eyes fell between your legs and he watched in slack jawed awe as he disappeared inside of you inch by glorious inch. 

He slowly bottomed out inside of you, your ass nestled on his thighs. He smiled up at you, breathing in through the cannula as he took in every intricate detail of your body. 

You were a work of art, sculpted by skilled hands just for him. You were magnificent in your beauty, an ethereal creature for whom he surely didn’t deserve. 

He loved every single tiny piece of you from your head to your toes and every wondrous curve in between. Even if your time together had been short, he treasured every second of it and would for the rest of his life, however long that might be. 

He gave you a soft nod, encouraging you to move. You were slow and steady in your movements, careful to listen out for any ragged breathing from him. 

Every time his pants got a little too violent you stilled to allow him to catch his breath. 

With each leisurely roll of your hips Spencer swore he felt himself ebbing impossibly deeper inside of you, reaching places he swore couldn’t be real. 

The gentle tapping of his blunt head against your cervix over and over again in a blissfully sluggish rhythm caused you to teeter closer and closer to your brink. 

Spencer held eye contact with you the whole time, laying perfectly still as he didn’t think his lungs could cope with any unnecessary movement. 

In truth his chest burned in agony with each aching intake of air but he didn’t care. All that mattered was the way you felt sheathed around him, rutting against him, clenching around him. 

By the time his second orgasm snuck up on him, pinching in the pit of his belly, he was light headed again but this time it was most certainly from lack of air. 

With a few more rocks of your pelvis you both came undone, reaching your peaks simultaneously. Spencer spilled his seed inside of you while your walls tightened around him, sending shockwaves through his entire body. 

You rode out your orgasms together but once you were starting to come down, you noticed the frantic heaving of Spencer’s chest and his slightly blue tinged lips. 

“Oh my gosh, Spence?” You threw yourself down to the bed, stroking his messy hair off his face. 

“I’m f-fine. S’fine.” He closed his eyes. 

“You're not fine!” You cried, gripping his face. 

“T-tired, okay? I’m s-sorry. Maybe…was a bit m-much. Worth it t-though. Okay. I’m o-okay…love y-you princess…”

You didn’t sleep. Not even a wink. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from him all night. You stared at his chest to make sure he was breathing and if you couldn’t see any movement you’d hold your hand above his mouth and nose until you felt his breaths against your skin. 

The fear and adrenaline coursed through you at the thought of his lungs collapsing because of his insistence to have you one last time. 

The flood of relief washed over you when he opened his eyes the next morning, smiling sleepily up at you through his lashes. 

“You scared me to death last night.” You spoke in hushed tones. 

“Hmm, sorry p-princess.” He panted, his hand rising to entwine in your hair and draw you in for a kiss. 

You cuddled for a while draped in that sleep addled bliss before you both became painfully aware that your time was almost up.

You helped him shower, massaging every inch of his body much like you had done all those months ago back in Bandera. It seemed like another lifetime ago now. 

Afterwards you dressed and you assisted him carrying his canister downstairs, feeling much like you were walking the plank. 

Luke and Grant were already up, the front door was open and Copper puttered about on the porch while Grant heaved his suitcase into Luke’s rental. 

Luke was in the doorway and he turned when he heard the two of you heading down the stairs. He smiled a little wistfully at you both and stepped back inside. 

“Guess this is goodbye.” Luke shrugged at Spencer, holding his arms open for the other man. 

Spencer practically fell into them, nuzzling against Luke’s strong chest while the older man tucked him in his arms as though he was made of glass. 

“Stay in touch this time, please?” Luke whispered into Spencer’s ear.

“Promise.” He replied. 

As they were pulling apart, Grant headed back in, Copper hot on his tail. He smiled softly at Spencer with a small nod of his head. 

“Ready to hit the road, stud?” Grant nudged Luke’s arm. 

“Yeah, I think so.” Luke turned his attention to you. 

There was an indescribable look in his eyes, his lip quivering ever so slightly at the corner as you prepared for what came next. 

“Well, uh, take care then guys.” He offered you both a wave, wrapping an arm around Grant’s shoulder and turning them both back to the open door. 

You stared at the back of his head while Spencer looked frantically between you and Luke. Your heart was rampantly thumping against your chest, confusion riddled in your bones. 

“What’s…what’s going on?” You croaked out. 

Luke and Grant slowly turned back around, a curious look on Luke’s features. You were too busy looking at Luke that you didn’t notice the smile on Grant’s face. 

“What do you mean?” Luke’s lips puckered, forehead creasing. 

“You…you’re supposed to be arresting me.” You swallowed around your dry tongue. 

Luke and Grant exchanged a look before Luke turned back to you with a small shrug. 

“As of last night I no longer work for the FBI. So I guess I can’t.” 

“What?” Spencer breathed. “What d-do you mean?” 

“It was time for a change. Think I might work at one of those rehab facilities for veterans. Maybe train service dogs like Roxy, who knows. Guess the world is my oyster.” He shrugged again.

“You…I don’t understand what’s happening.” Tears flooded your vision, your bottom lip quivering. “If you don’t arrest me, your old partner will still be looking for me. I don’t…I don’t understand.” 

“Don’t worry about it.” Luke’s lip twitched into a smirk. “I’ve got it covered. Just have a good life, okay? Both of you. Everyone deserves a second chance at happiness, god knows I got mine.” 

He glanced at Grant with a smile, entwining their fingers and giving his hand a small tug. 

“Shall we go, cariño?” 

“Please,” Grant replied.

You and Spencer watched them go in bewildered silence. You kept watching them until they were in Luke’s rental car, strapping themselves in and driving away down the gravel path. 

Finally you turned to Spencer, tears flowing heavily down both of your faces. It was hard to say which one of you crumbled first but suddenly you were in each other's arms, holding each other upright while you sobbed in the doorway of that old Victorian home. 

You had no way of knowing at the time, but four weeks later Spencer Reid would receive an email from someone called queenbabygirl72@prontonmail.com on his newly acquired laptop. The email would contain no message, simply three attachments. 

The first would be a death certificate promoting your name. The second, a birth certificate sporting your own date of birth alongside the name Elizabeth Reid. And the third would be a marriage licence declaring the union of the aforementioned Elizabeth Reid and Spencer Reid. 

And later when Spencer would call Luke and ask him about it, he would deny all knowledge of it. 

The two of you would make the decision to move away from Tombstone, as much as you loved the place, it wasn’t yours. You and Spencer’s fresh start would come in the form of Grant’s idea that he sell you and Spencer his old ranch. 

And so the two of you would live out your days back in Bandera on Grant’s family ranch, equipped with a summer house in which he and Luke would frequently vacation. Eventually you would acquire more horses and more cattle and even another dog to keep Copper company. 

But that was still all to come. 

For now, Spencer took hold of your hand and wheeling his canister in the other, the two of you headed down towards the stable, Copper running on ahead. You aided Spencer in mounting Willow, leaving his oxygen supplement behind and insisting he would be alright for a little trot down to the creek. You saddled up Rusty and with Copper still in toe, the five of you headed outside into the morning sunshine. 

Spencer reached over as the mares walked side by side and took hold of your hand, offering you a slightly wistful smile as he did so. There was no way of knowing how much time the two of you had left together, it was impossible to know how long Spencer had until his life was cut tragically short. 

But with any luck the two of you still had some wonderful years left ahead before you needed to worry about his diagnosis. And you would relish every single second of them. 

His hand squeezed yours tightly, his breathing a little heavy but he gave you a look that told you he was okay. The two horses took to the incline leading down through the trees towards the babbling brook beyond, Copper running happy little circles around Willow and Rusty.

You took in the beautiful morning, allowed yourself to relish in your own freedom for which you had been certain would end today. And you swore you would never take life granted again. 

You gently patted Rusty’s neck with your other hand, silently thanking her for knocking Spencer off of his horse all those months ago, for if she hadn’t the two of you would never have met.

It wouldn’t always be this way, there would still be some challenges along that broken road you travelled, but you would weather them together. Spencer still had a long way to go with his mental health and there would be blips, times in which the ghosts would rear their ugly heads and threaten to destroy everything he’d worked for. And of course understanding how to live with his illness would be a learning curve but he knew with you by his side, he could conquer anything. 

He brought your hand to his lips and kissed your knuckles as the five of you continued on your journey. You both still had a lot to learn, there would most certainly still be bumps in the road, but together the two of you could navigate just about any hurdle. 

And even if you couldn’t, it would still be okay. You were both still a little rusty, after all. 

@kalulakunundrum @katrina0-0 @bakugouswh0r3 @prettyboyandthefangirl @zooni92802 @babyspiderling @pleasantwitchgarden @djsjjsjsjsjsnsnsns @bringitonhomejohnb @chineray1234

[girlwtdragontattoo]

Painted for me

Stardew Valley Elliott x GN Farmer

Art by O3tofu on Twitter/X

WARNING: 18+, obsessive and toxic behavior, masturbation, general nsfw

Couple Notes: This is my very first attempt at anything Yandere related. I'm tatted and always wondered how Elliott would react to one on the farmer. Enjoy my indulgence! [:

If you're curious what music I was listening to for inspo, it was mostly Florence and the Machine mixed with Bon Iver and Beyonce lol

Word Count: 2k

--

The unusual warm breeze on an autumn morning seemed to have whispered across the valley: today was a Beach Day!

Elliott awoke with paper stuck to his face, adhering to the tiny drivel of spit around his mouth. The crumbled-up pages decorated his dusty floor, evidence of another night spent frustratingly giving up mid-sentence. The intense writer’s block wasn’t ceasing.

He could hear people laughing outside his cabin. 

Letting out a huge yawn, the poet stretched his aching body and wandered groggily to the nearest window. 

It can‘t be the Luau again, he deduced, having only sleepily stumbled into that party a few weeks ago.

Peering through the glass, he saw no wild decorations, but most of the villagers in beach clothing taking in the beautiful rays. Elliott scanned the sand for his friends, spotting Leah in a sunhat sketching by the water and found Willy gazing excitedly into the water near the pier.

The writer’s heart skipped a secret beat, when he recognized the back of the farmer’s head, unpacking their gear near his neighbor. They were tying their hair up, the little baby hairs on the back of their nape made the him quiver.

Frantically grabbing his pants and jumping into one leg, Elliott brushed his teeth with fervor. The farmer was always a bit unpredictable with their schedule, so he didn’t want to waste any time. Another chance to talk to them! He could feel the heat of the day seep through the wooden planks of his shack, so he decided against his red overcoat.

Opening his door, he was met with a sweltering wall and was blinded briefly by the blaring sun in his eyes. Blinking to get accustomed to the brightness, he could barely make out the silhouettes of Willy and the farmer, who were moving strangely – what were they doing? The fuzzy movements were unusual for fishing.

Elliott squeezed his lids hard to adjust them quicker to the glare. Once he opened them, his face turned purple.

The farmer was taking off their overalls. So was Willy, but that wasn’t as exciting to him. A flush of hot static overtook Elliott’s entire body and it wasn’t due to the pressing sun above him. He had never seen the farmer with anything other than their work clothes and now…

Th- that’s their underwear!

The writer could see their bare legs emerging from the pants, their skin dotted with little droplets of sweat. And what was that?

Adorning one of the legs of the farmer was an intricate tattoo. The way it curved around their thigh made Elliott moan squeakily. It wasn’t enough that he was seeing parts of them he had been fantasizing about for the past few months. Now, he would give anything to kiss all over that gorgeous painting and work his way up.

The farmer straightened themselves and tucked their T-Shirt up, exposing their stomach.

Oh, sweet Hell, what are you doing to me?

Willy and the farmer were now removing their boots and stepping into the water together, carrying a large net. They chatted loudly, giving instructions on how to hold the net or what to look out for. He could hear a light raspiness in the farmer’s voice, clearly tired from previous work. Their hands were gripping the rope tightly.

“Hey Elliott!”

The way the water caressed their thighs, leaving shadowy marks of it having touched them. How he wished he could leave hand prints all over them.

“Elliott?”

That gorgeous tattoo was teasing him. What other beautiful things could he discover on them, if they let him explore?

“Elliott!!!”

Elliott finally whirled around and was met with Leah staring at him. He had been rooted in front of his door, staring like a mad dog the entire time.

“O-oh, good morning, Leah! Sorry…”, he rubbed the back of his head. His face was crimson, but could be mistaken as the fastest sunburn in history.

“Bad night?”, the artist tilted her head slightly, looking him up and down.

Elliott had to concentrate and not let his eyes continuously slip back to the almost naked body of the farmer. His head felt dizzy. In the corner of his eye, he saw them flip their hair away from their shoulder.

“Just up late”, he mumbled quickly in response, “Seems everyone’s enjoying this lovely day in the ocean breeze!” He tried to pretend he was looking out at the rest of the villagers speckled across the sand, but his eyes were really flittering over to the lower half of the farmer’s soaking wet form.

Leah caught his gaze and grinned to herself: “Yup, everyone’s here…” He pretended not to hear the suggestive intonation in her voice. “Well, if you’re looking for me, I’m over there,” she pointed at her sketchbook lying on a shallow rock near the water, “after you’ve greeted everyone.” She winked and returned to her spot.

Elliott waved at Leah while she walked away and started to come up with a plan.

How can I get closer without being too weird?

The writer scanned the beach. Sam and Sebastian were standing in the shade, deep in conversation. Not a great excuse. They seemed to be bantering about something important. Pam was roasting herself on her towel, occasionally lifting her head to sip from her beer can or burp. She didn’t look like she wanted to talk to anyone, not that he particularly wanted to, either. Emily, Haley, Maru and Penny were sitting together at the far side of the beach, while Jodi read a book serenely behind them. Vincent and Jas were throwing sand at each other.

Too far away. Too much sand in my face.

None of these were the best options for an easy transition to talk to his crush.

What about…

He suddenly showed a particular interest in Alex, who was playing catch with himself. Coincidentally, he was standing close to where Willy and the farmer were working.

Alex! He’s fun to talk to!

Elliott hadn't really talked to him, ever. They just waved at each other, occasionally, when their paths crossed on the beach.

Convinced of his amazing plan, the red-head walked with gusto towards the unassuming gym rat who was too preoccupied with his workout. Before he knew it, Elliott stood near him awkwardly. Alex caught the ball and blinked at him.

“Uh…”, he looked confused, “hi?”

“Hello Alex! Lovely day for stretching and overexerting our muscles, right? You seem to be doing well! Hahaha.” He had no idea what Alex liked to talk about. Probably exercise. The nervous laugh came out involuntarily.

“Oh- uh hi Elliott. Yeah, yeah. I’m getting a good sweat going.” He turned slightly and wanted to continue tossing the ball, but Elliott hadn’t left. He looked him up and down. He clearly wasn’t dressed for a workout.

“Are you alright?” Alex asked.

“Oh yes, of course. Just making conversation!” the writer babbled. His face was still scorching red.

Elliott put his hands on his hips and pretended to stretch, clearly having no clue what to say further. He stole a few glimpses towards the water, where the farmer had stood up straight, still holding the net. Their leg muscles were tense. Their behind peaked out from the short, soaking wet underwear.

Alex watched the writer for a moment, then turned away from him. He resumed tossing the ball and catching it, ignoring the weird stretching sounds Elliott was faking.

Ok I can probably go say hi now, right?

As he gulped, he stopped his pseudo-stretching and slowly made his way towards his goal.

I’ll say hi to Willy first. That’s less obvious.

Inching closer, it took everything in his soul not to continuously stare at the farmer’s ass, while they were bending over and tugging the net.

“G-Good morning, Willy!”, Elliott blurted out when he felt like he was close enough.

Both turned to him. Willy’s wide smile met him as he gave a joking salute. The farmer turned their head at the sound of his voice as well, their face drenched in sweat with a small streak of blush coating their nose and cheeks. Their striking eyes were glittering in the sunlight. Once they smiled, too, Elliott could’ve fainted into the ocean.

“Hi Elliott!”, they said kindly. There were a few pants after they spoke, clearly holding the net against the waves was exhausting.

Oh my God.

“What are you two doing?” He could barely control the shakes in his voice. He was so close to them. The tattoo was so much clearer now. Their whole lower half was so much clearer now.

“We’re catching shrimp! There’s an explosion of ‘em this morning! Farmer Name offered to help me out.”

The farmer nodded in response: “Happy to help!”

In that moment, a giant wave crashed into them. Elliott stepped back a bit to avoid the splash, still wearing his loafers. Willy and the farmer stood their ground, but the might of the current had pulled the farmer’s underwear to the side slightly. It wasn’t exposing too much, but the writer clearly got a brief glimpse at their privates before they readjusted themselves.

“Whoops, sorry!” they laughed, while Willy repositioned his hat.

Elliott’s body froze. His face had now turned a thick shade of maroon and he could feel himself growing against his belt.

“I have to go!”, he spat out and sprinted away with such velocity back towards his shack. Willy and the farmer looked at each other, shrugged and then continued collecting what they had caught in their nets into the whicker baskets beside them. By the state of his face, they could’ve easily deduced he had gotten sun stroke.

The writer slammed his door shut and leaned against it, panting heavily and muffling out the cheerful chatter of the beach.

Elliott stood there, heaving, the bulge in his pants growing larger as he thought about what divine beauty he just glimpsed at. All the things he wanted to do in that moment flooded his senses.

He wanted to tackle them into the water and rip their flimsy underwear off, inserting a finger into them as he kissed them impatiently.  He wanted to caress their salty skin and lick the beautiful artwork etched forever on their upper thigh. Painted for him, to adore and use.

He wanted to tear his pants open and take them right there in the shallow water, in front of everyone, while they moaned and begged for him to go harder. He wanted to feel their narrow walls and hold their face up towards his, as he came.

The sound of his belt buckle hitting the wooden floor echoed through the shack. He couldn’t hold it any longer. Still leaning against his door, Elliott touched himself fiercely, imagining all the things he wanted- no, needed to do to them. All of those filthy thoughts circled frantically within his mind, imagining their face in pure ecstasy: he would be the cause of that. Holding their legs up and seeing the art up close, it was too much.

Painted for me.

That phrase etched itself deep within him. He felt electricity crackle its way from his shaft all the way through his lower body, as he threw his head back and moaned harshly, sinking into the orgasmic sensation.

Elliott felt his knees waver, as he slid down the door and sat on the surprisingly cold floor. His right hand was sticky, so he placed his left palm against his forehead in shame.

He could barely last a whole conversation with the farmer, fully clothed. But this, this had been a true test of Yoba, if he could control himself. Alas, he clearly couldn’t.

One day.

Staring across the room, he caught sight of his quill. Could he craft something worthwhile out of this shameful experience? Having just seen his muse in an unprecedented way, poetry engulfed his being.

Picking himself up, the writer put his pants back on, leaving the belt to hang open on his hips. He slid his feet towards his desk and hunched over it, taking the quill in his hand.

On a piece of scrap paper, he wrote:

Painted for me

A work of art no thief could rip from my grasp

I will keep it safe, here by the sea

My fingers ache to trace its creases

He stared at the words. Proudly. A delicious thought slithered up his spine.

What if he sent the farmer a letter?

[whoreish-behaviour]

Revenant 3

Previous - Next

Na'vi!Colonel Quaritch x Na'vi!Reader

Warnings >~< = None yet (I do plan I making this story quite dark tho, so please keep that in mind for future chapters)

The colonel watched you quietly, arms crossed over his chest as he inspected the damage done.

You were laying on your side, completely knocked out, breaths even under the breathing mask.

He knew he'd never get you to lay still enough for the X-ray and that you'd panic over the the machine looming above so slipping you into your unconscious state was the only way to go.

He also knew it would be easier to observe your body if you were asleep, not wanting your glaring eyes and hissing face tracking his every move.

You were a lot different to him.

You skin was a lighter, more aquatic colour and your tail thicker in comparison to his. You had white stripes all over, his eyes tracing them carefully.

The difference intrigued him.

He knows it also meant that you had different strengths, combat not being one, and he wanted to learn more. What exactly made you tick?

He knew he'd never get answers to the questions swirling in his head, so for now he opted to learning your body, your adaptations. The scientist around him pointing to different areas and explaining.

They're a lot lighter so they're better able to camouflage in the water.

They're arms provide balance and strength in the water, similar to fins.

They're tails also give them a lot of speed, they're able to move a lot quicker in the water.

The more he learned, the more he wanted to see you in the water, showing him your tricks and abilities.

It poked something primal in him and he gritted his teeth at himself.

You were set on killing him multiple times, granted in your defence, he had no time to associate with his thoughts about you.

You were nothin'.

'We'll need to strap her to the table, snapping it back will definitely wake her up.' The colonel nodded, multiple doctors moving to grab each limb.

After you were secured, face down, the colonel moved to stand near your head, ready to bark at you if you grew to hi-rate.

The same doctor from earlier gently took your tail in both hands before running his thumbs over the base.

Before the colonel could even blink, a disgustingly loud snap echoed throughout the ward and he grimaced, tail twitching behind him as if it had happened to him.

You woke almost instantly, a gasp leaving to lips and ears up and alert.

You immediately whimpered and cried out, beginning to swing your tail around as if that would remove the extruciateng pain, hands pulling at your restraints.

The doctor took a step back, not wanting to be hit by the moving limb.

The colonel placed his hands on either side of your head and lowered closer to where you were laying, tilting his head so you could see him.

'Easy, easy.' He repeated his words from earlier, eyes dancing over your features as utter distressed flickered over them.

You then looked up at him, eyes vibrant and rimmed with fresh tears.

He was taken back at the pure emotion, there was no anger - just a sullen look of desperation.

'Please stop! Take me home, I beg you - Have mercy!' Your english was muddled with Na'vi but he knew what you wanted, what you were begging for.

Knowing he couldn't communicate back to you, to tell you that unless you wanted a broken tail this was the only way, reassure that you were indeed okay, he cursed and looked down.

'You're fine.' He grunted, before standing back up and walking down to the other end of the table.

Knowing you were causing yourself more pain, he didn't hesitate to grab the base of your tail in a firm unmoving grip.

You thrashed more and instead of releasing you, he lifted his other hand and grabbed the end, using that to keep it as still as possible.

'Calm down! You making it worse.' He argued, ears flattening at your disobedience but he didn't give in.

And finally, after a few tense minutes, you stopped. Your body and tail going limp in his hands and he loosened his grip slightly.

You were still whimpering quietly to yourself, Na'vi words leaving your lips but falling on deaf ears.

'You got some real listening issues kid.' The colonel shook his head at you, a smirk threatening on his lips at the fact that you always did eventually cave under him.

With you secure, he then beckoned the doctor over, ordering him quietly to go get Spider, almost laughing as the name left his lips.

'They fixed it, that's why it hurts.' Colonel watched Spider make a dramatic snapping motion with his hands before watching your face closely.

Safe to say, you were not happy.

It made him wonder what exactly Spider was saying to you, jaw tightening at what he didn't know.

'Tell him to take me home!' Your faced screwed up, eyes thunderous.

You were now sitting up, feet strapped to the bed below but your arms free and crossed over your chest.

To the colonel, you looked like a brat.

Spider then turned his back to her, face disapproving.

'She wants to go home! Why did you take her in the first place?' Spider questioned angrily and the colonel flatten his ears at him, eyes narrowed.

'I asked you to tell her to stop moving her damn tail.' Spider rolled his eyes before looking away.

'Now let her know she's going home after we've found Jake sully. I expect her to get the clans to cough up his location. She has no loyalties to him, unlike you.' He pointed at him and the boy scowled in response.

The colonel didn't trust 'his son'. The language barrier meant that Spider would be able to hide if he was indeed told the where abouts of Jake.

You however, wouldn't. You had no reason too.

The only thing you cared about was returning to your family, and he would do just that after you help him out.

The colonel turned away after that, leaving two of his crew members in the room as he walked out.

He tracked his way to his lieutenant, taking a few deep breaths through his mask before entailing her about his plan change.

She agreed of course, her dislike for spider apparent.

'And the boy?'

'Leverage.' Colonel spoke casually, the lieutenant nodding stiffly in agreement.

Now with the green light, he was free to do whatever he wanted regarding you.

He couldn't keep the grin off his face.

You observed the boy in front of you, a deep line between his eyebrows as he watched the blue soldier leave.

You wondered why he was here? He didn't seem to have any respect for anyone around here, always fighting and talking back.

'He says you’ll be released after you help him find Jake.' The boy turned to you, a sullen look on his face.

You bared your teeth at him, anger bubbling at the audacity these people had. You didn’t even know of a 'Jake Sully', how were you suppose to help?

'I do not know if this Jake! Let me go!" You shouted, tired of hearing the same thing over and over.

'I know but he wants you to tell the other clans to give him up - But you can’t! Please!' The boy pleased, stepping closer.

You stared him down, his wide eyes staring back with panic pooling in them.

'Then help me escape.'

Part 4

Kofi <33

Taglist = @simplefools @gremlinfuck @jupekali @cypherpt5fttaehyung @pturnersblog @namor-is-the-way @kimqueenofhell

[chlorinecake]

𝐟𝐥𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐬𝐚 𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐩𝐭 𝟏 — a riki nishimura fanfic

𖦹 ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: a cute and flirty airport security assistant gives you a hard time before boarding your flight

♡ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: brief language, mentions of hunger pains, flirty behaviors (duh), riki invades your privacy

𖦹 ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 0.7k ~ read pt. 2, pt. 3, and pt. 4

〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰〰

Of course, the x-ray machine detected something foreign in your suitcase. It happens to everybody at airports, right?

Introducing the helpful airport security assistant:

Male, check.

Tall, check.

Attractive, triple check.

You always despised having your luggage inspected, but from the surface, your agent appeared easy to work with. Or at least, that’s what you thought until the young man began with a smug “Hey, you,” greeting you with his piercing dark eyes and playful smirk.

That was about five minutes ago, with the time in between consisting of his frequent coquettish remarks. By now, he had asked you a number of questions, ranging from your favorite color to your relationship status.

“I doubt your flirty behavior follows protocol. Or is this your way of making luggage checks with women more interesting?”

He eyed you through his messy bangs, still rummaging through your belongings.

“Me? Flirty behavior?” He scoffed, humored by your remark. “I can assure you that I am thoroughly incapable of such a thing, Miss?...”

“____,” you blurted out.

He then offered a hand and smiled, “Riki. Nice to meet you.”

“Hopefully never again,” you replied sarcastically, returning his handshake. Firm, you thought to yourself. This guy has confidence pumping through his veins. You couldn’t help but wonder what game he’s playing. Pleasantries aside, his behavior was wildly unprofessional, and you weren’t sure how much longer you could take his insipid remarks and annoyingly handsome face.

Ugh.

He’s turning you into one of those girls that get upset about a cute flirty stranger for no good reason.

Whatever. The sooner you got through this awkward situation, the better. You’d literally never have to deal with him again after this, so you swallowed your pride, relaxed your posture, and tried to take a few calming breaths. Inhale, exhale…inhale, exhale…inha-

“Well, well, well, what do we have here,” he smirked, cascading a sexy pair of light blue lace panties high in the air for the entire first floor of the airport to see. Heat rushed through your neck up to your cheeks, and you’d damn yourself if you knew how hot and bothered you suddenly appeared.

“Did you want me to find these? Tempt me during my shift? How about finder’s keeper’s?”

“Loser’s weepers,” you retorted, snatching the lingerie from his grasp, folding it back neatly, and placing them on the cold metal side counter.

“Aww,” he pouted mockingly. “I think she likes me! Guys!” He shouted across the room, “She’s totally whipped for me!”

All you could do was roll your eyes. His bold energy intoxicated the entire space, provoking you to act more immaturely than usual. He was certainly a mood maker.

“Are we almost done here,” you questioned, narrowing your eyes at him. Your patience had officially left the building, as you couldn’t wait any longer for this crippling interaction to end. You leaned forward, tapping your fingertips on the countertop out of frustration.

“Shh, I haven’t found your diary yet…nowww, where is it-“

“Gosh, you’re such a jerk,” you whined, smacking his hand from your suitcase and removing it from the counter. He had really pushed your buttons this time, and you’re afraid that the crowded room was the only thing holding you back from literally blowing up. Or maybe it was his pretty privilege?

He ignored your retort, and opted for a more professional personality than the one you’d been graced with before.

“Perfect! You’re all set, ma’am. Enjoy your flight, and thank you for partnering with Nishimura Airlines!” He smiled, bowing before you.

“You too- I mean, thank you? No, you’re welcome, have a good day!” You cringed at yourself. It boggled you how flustered he managed to make you feel just from that short interaction alone. Still, his switch in behavior confused you until you spotted a tall man dressed in khaki pants and a collared shirt. “Ahh, the manager,” you thought to yourself. It would’ve been lovely if he came out to your rescue 10 minutes ago, because now you’re pushing for time just to get in line for your flight.

“Damnit,” you scolded yourself, realizing that you forgot your underwear on the counter in front of Mr. “Finder’s Keeper’s.” On top of that, the rising hunger pangs in your abdomen only added to your growing frustration. All you could do now was hope that the staff would board you and the rest of the travelers quickly for the sake of your emotionally affected stomach. It’s amazing to think that all of this stress erupted thanks to…

Wait-

What was his name again?

………………………………………………………………………………….

ᴀ/ɴ 𓂋 thanks for reading! feel free to send in any content requests for future works ~ love always <3

[autisticadvocacy]

Yesterday, the Department of Health and Human Services announced its final rule implementing Section 504 of the Rehabilitation Act of 1973. This is an important rule that we have been waiting for for a long time. This rulemaking is the first update to the regulations implementing Section 504 in 50 years, and is all the more important due to developments in health care and disability rights over the past five decades.

The federal rule out today does several things to further protect the lives, health and rights of people with disabilities. This rule:

Prohibits discrimination in medical treatment decisions based on negative stereotypes or beliefs about the value of the lives of people with disabilities. Medical providers cannot refuse to give treatment to people with disabilities because they believe we won’t have a good value of life or would be a burden to others. ASAN has previously talked about the problems these sorts of discrimination create for us when hospitals are relying on crisis standards of care or deciding who to give organ transplants to.

Prohibits any value measure that values life extension for a disabled person less than life extension for a nondisabled person. These value measures are often used to determine what drugs and treatments are available and which ones are considered cost-effective to give people. ASAN has also talked about this and how measurements like QALYs discriminate against disabled people.

Makes sure that websites and apps meet accessibility standards for people with disabilities, so that we can use these resources and services to address our health care needs.

Ensures that medical equipment, including exam tables and x-ray machines, are accessible to people with disabilities.

Makes sure that the child welfare system does not discriminate against children and parents with disabilities. This includes making sure that children are not removed from their families because of ableist stereotypes about disabled parents, and ensures that families with disabled individuals will have equal opportunities to preserve their families. The rule also cautions states about discriminating against disabled people who want to be kinship caregivers or foster parents.

Updates the rules for 504 to make it consistent with the Americans with Disabilities Act, including the Integration Mandate which says that all people with disabilities have a right to live, work, and receive services in the most integrated setting. This allows people to stay in their communities and avoid being institutionalized. 

This rule is very important for making sure that the rights of people with disabilities are protected in health care. People need to know about what this rule is and what it does – it’s important for all of us to know our rights under these rules, and also for doctors to know what they need to do to make sure our rights are protected.

The HHS final rule is a very important regulation interpreting Section 504, but it isn’t the only one!  As we mentioned yesterday, there are going to be more rules for Section 504, rules which will cover how the rights of people with disabilities should be protected in education and in housing.  We will let you know more about these rules and how you can get involved when they are released.

[insomniumstella]

as we slowly die (4) | bucky x avenger!reader

summary: Steve’s silly joke happened to inspire the best, or possibly the worst, idea Wanda had ever come up with — send James Buchanan Barnes and y/n on an all-expenses-paid honeymoon in Hawaii. the problem? they cannot stand to be around each other.

warnings: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, explicit language, alcohol consumption, sarcastic!bucky

word count: 4,620

taglist is down below (please let me know if you want to be added or removed from the list!)

author's note: i cannot believe we're at chapter four already ahhh. also, thank you for all of the love and support, it means the world! this series has been too much fun to write. i cannot wait until we get to the end, if you've peeped at the playlist you might've noticed some steamier songs on the bottom for the last chapter — i fear they've given me too many ideas haha

WHERE DREAMS GO TO DIE masterlist

series' SPOTIFY playlist

The third day in Maui had started eerily serene. Dreamy, as if she had not yet abandoned the vivid scenarios and vibrant colors her mind had created.

She had woken up in the early hours of morning alone, with the warm sun rays that had managed to sneak past the blinds and into the bedroom dancing across her exposed skin. Furthermore, the suite’s temperature had been adjusted and the faint buzzing of the AC resembled the most glorious of music. James gave in to my complaints, she had realized, have pigs started flying too? 

He had not, however, bothered to leave a note before leaving, and she had not taken the trouble, or cared enough, to text his work phone and uncover the soldier’s whereabouts. 

The suite had a Nespresso machine with a delightful selection of coffee pods, and, as y/n lounged on the terrace, cozily curled up on one of the chairs, she couldn’t help but indulge in the faint sounds of the onshore breeze and bitter smell of coffee. She closed her eyes, committing the blissful moment to memory, and stored it deep within the chaos of her thoughts for far scarier and inevitably more uncertain times than a false honeymoon with an insufferable sergeant.

It would’ve been perfect if not for the tinges of anxiety at the pit of her stomach. Last night, she had been convinced that she was in desperate need of Steve’s advice, and, in some ways, she was. He could provide help, but could the woman convince Captain America to lie? Would he trust y/n’s instincts enough to stay silent if James admitted to reopening Elijah’s case? Shit, she realized, dragging a palm across her face out of irritation for allowing one major detail to slip past her plans. 

On one hand, she could let go of the idea that James had contacted Steve, but on the other — Steve would skin them both if he found out they had begun reinvestigating Elijah Williamson. Mark Basso, the person she craved to probe, had never been tied to the politician, as far as y/n was aware, but Steve wouldn’t need to suddenly possess Wanda’s magic to miss a blatant lie. There had to be a way to obtain information without arousing suspicions.

Wanda had been on probation since the destruction of a building complex in Paris. Natasha had left for a mission in Singapore before the Maui trip and would, lamentably, return after. Tony would be no better than Steve if he found out James and she had gone against the wishes of the justice system and the FBI. 

Sam, she scoffed at her absurdity for excluding The Falcon, Sam would know what to do. 

The coffee had been long forgotten by the time she gathered the courage to text Sam’s number. Perhaps her concerns had been for nothing. Sam was a righteous man, yes, but he was also y/n’s floormate, and the two would often find themselves in the middle of trouble. The fun, laugh-until-we-can’t-breath kind of trouble. Though it was not the foundation of their bond, the pair’s mutual dislike towards James had led to countless nights of free-flowing tequila and extensive conversations. Sam was a compassionate friend and an incredible soldier who, unlike the captain, trusted y/n’s abilities and judgment entirely. It was never Steve who she had needed. Sam had been the answer all along. 

BEST AVENGER: Sam! I’m in desperate need of a favor. 

BEST AVENGER: I’ll do whatever you want. 

SAM THE MIGHTY FALCON: anything? 

BEST AVENGER: ANYTHING. 

Anything was not a word she’d often use when it regarded offers, but if he’d gather the information she needed to prove her theory, there was a slim chance of y/n performing anything Sam wanted of her.  

SAM THE MIGHTY FALCON: I want my laundry washed, ironed, and folded for the next month.

Except for that. She had bribed Rhodey to do laundry for her years ago. It had been surprisingly easy, considering he enjoyed a particular Portuguese dessert, and y/n, as a fan of pastel de nata herself, had the best spots in New York to obtain said dessert memorized. Rhodey would receive a bag of pastéis de nata, and, in return, she’d receive her laundry washed, ironed, and folded week after week. The woman doubted Rhodey would agree to do the same for Sam as the Falcon had been an avid pastéis de nata hater. 

BEST AVENGER: we can negotiate the terms when I get back. 

SAM THE MIGHTY FALCON: what do you need? 

SAM THE MIGHTY FALCON: if this is about Thomas, I took him out.

BEST AVENGER: who’s Thomas? 

Confusion clouded her features. Thomas, Thomas, she searched her brain for anything until it hit her, fuck. The last few days had been too hectic to remember Thomas, the compound’s weaponry assistant, inviting y/n out on a date to a nearby dive bar with incredible appetizers and dirt-cheap cocktails. The bar would never be treated as the best place for dates, but she had fallen in love with it, including Jennifer, the bartender, who’d ring her vodka Red Bulls as single-shot cocktails and pour two shots in the concoctions instead. 

BEST AVENGER: never mind, except for the part of you TAKING HIM OUT?!

SAM THE MIGHTY FALCON: on a date. 

SAM THE MIGHTY FALCON: it was a manly date. We drank beer and ate nachos. Watched a football game. He’s a pretty cool guy. Why’d you ghost him? 

BEST AVENGER: what is a ‘manly’ date?

BEST AVENGER: also, I forgot.

SAM THE MIGHTY FALCON: you have to apologize when you get back. I’d love him as a brother-in-law.

SAM THE MIGHTY FALCON: and don’t worry about it.

SAM THE MIGHTY FALCON: I thought you needed a favor?

I should apologize, she silently agreed. Thomas was a man not only kind but beyond funny. She had stayed up for hours to talk to him, and though she had found herself being lectured by James the next day when she could barely keep her eyes open during a meeting, y/n had not regretted the decision. Thomas and his witty jokes had been worth it.

BEST AVENGER: please look up Mark Basso. Send me every file you can find, any photos or security cam footage, especially if he’s near Elijah Williamson. 

SAM THE MIGHTY FALCON: Elijah Williamson? 

She could almost hear the interest in Sam’s tone as she raked her eyes over the words.

BEST AVENGER: pinky promise to not tell Steve? 

SAM THE MIGHTY FALCON: if the laundry will get washed, pressed, and folded for the next month, yes. 

Tony might give into y/n’s innocent eyes and distressed monologue of ‘we need to hire a housekeeper, so the world can get saved’. He had to because she texted Sam back without giving the action much consideration. 

BEST AVENGER: fine. 

Sam’s reply came several minutes later, proving the minor of her concerns. 

SAM THE MIGHTY FALCON: wanna tell me the reason why you’re interested in a former HYDRA operative?

She did, except there was no way to reveal her outrageous theory of Elijah Williamson and Mark Basso without terrifying Sam, so the only response she could think of sending was limited to a short and simple —

BEST AVENGER: no. 

It was deep into the evening when she had abandoned the suite. 

The single time James had returned, y/n had been on the terrace, basking in the sun and scanning over the room service’s options; he had disappeared as hastily as he had come. It shouldn’t have bothered the woman, she had tried to not let his behavior disturb her peace, and yet … it did.

A sole greeting would’ve sufficed, an acknowledgment, whether surly or amicable, would’ve lifted the weight off her heart, but James had chosen radio silence as his weapon. It had been a foolish mistake to wonder whether something between them had changed. 

It had not. 

She needed a break from the break or the vacation Wanda had fooled her into. 

Wanda and Steve would decidedly receive a lengthy monologue of ‘what the fuck were you two thinking by sending James and me on a fucking honeymoon in Hawaii’ when she got back. She had always refrained from cussing too much when Steve was in earshot, but desperate times allowed desperate measures. 

The past two days had been the opposite of y/n’s expectations. Had she expected margaritas, scorching sun, and below-average pizza in the 24/7 lounge? Yes. Had she foreseen being roped into the eminently criminal lives of Elijah Williamson, Mark Basso, and the unfathomable reason why would the two take interest in Steve Rogers? She would’ve predicted a truce with James Buchanan Barnes before she had anticipated the disaster. Or sex. She would’ve envisioned sex with James before she would’ve forecasted the mess they had gotten into. Not that y/n would ever want to have James naked, sweaty, and hot from sinful activities, of course. Absolutely no. 

She forced her mind to return to the problem at hand. Steve Rogers was an intriguing man, a mere science experiment in the forties, a true hero in modern times, and crowds of people desired to meet him. However, a corrupted politician and a former HYDRA officer? As soon as they had entered the suite after enduring the yacht party, she had wondered whether it was a lighthearted chat over a beer they’d want from him, and each thought had led to the answer of definitely not. She had also pondered over Bucky and his muscular arms, but that she’d rather not remember, for the shame would consume her whole. Get a grip, she had scolded herself then. 

Mark Basso and Elijah Williamson as formal acquaintances would be the best-case scenario. The worst scenario she could conceptualize had been Mark and Elijah hoping to recreate the super soldier serum. It had been the fall of HYDRA, and it would be poetic for it to be the beginning of a new wave of criminals. It’d also explain Elijah’s interest in The Winter Soldier rather than in James.

That was her final theory — Elijah and Mark desired to produce super soldiers. She had decided it was far better than James’s ‘HYDRA exists’. It only needed the answer as to what the two had been planning on using the super soldiers for and what crimes had they already committed. And proof. It desperately needed evidence.

Sam had confirmed Mark to be a HYDRA operative, but he had also observed that Mark had been marked as deceased. He had gone through heaps of files, each identifying the man as deceased or missing, dating back to seven years ago. She hoped Sam would find the footage from the gala in Germany. It had taken place two years ago, she was certain, for she had attended. The database had to contain fraudulent documents. 

Sam had a unique method to the madness, but y/n trusted him on the field, and she trusted him to meticulously search through complex databases. He’d contact her soon, and, in the meantime, the perfect opportunity had presented itself. It was as if her intuition had led y/n to a secluded area on the beach just south of The Maui Resort. 

She trailed after the sound of music, ducking palm leaves. The sun had long fallen, and the icy touch of the sand clawed at her bare feet. Jordan, the woman remembered, the party’s tonight. She would not describe her worn-out tee and tiny shorts as party attire, but it’d have to do.

“Hi!” Jordan abandoned the lounge chair, weaving around people on the bamboo deck. “She remembered.” She had not realized their height difference until he was standing in front of the woman, looking down at her with a boyish grin. “I’m glad you’re here.” 

“Hi.” She returned the grin, studying his drunken expression. “I like the braids.” It was an honest compliment, and she returned his embrace when he hugged her as a thank you. 

“Appreciate it.” His smile showcased his teeth this time. “I like the shirt.” 

“Thank you.” She spun around to showcase the vintage AC/DC tee she had thrifted almost four years ago and cocked her head to the side. “I don’t usually wear oversized tees to parties, but it might’ve been the correct choice.” Playfulness colored her tone as she referred to his bare chest and lounge shorts. 

“It was.” The boy nodded. Though he had mentioned recently turning twenty-four during the anniversary dinner, she decided he’d do a great job at blending in as an ordinary freshman at college. It might’ve been his carefree attitude at the core of it all. 

“Mmmh,” she watched him through hooded eyes, holding his stare before her eyes dipped lower. 

His skin was scattered with tattoos, intricate art pieces, and tiny doodles adored most of his upper body, resting on the lean muscle of his biceps, adonis belt, and pecks. The ink was on the verge of blending into the golden brown of his skin, creating a strikingly beautiful contrast. 

“Let me get you a drink,” Jordan’s hand slid to the small of y/n’s back as he led her further into the backyard, “can I get you a drink?” He questioned, flashing another grin when she perched on the terrace’s wide railing. Hints of cockiness had infiltrated his tone.

“Yes, please.” 

James had zero recollection of the path he had taken to wind up at an unfamiliar house. One moment he had been at the Hale ‘A bar, drowning his solicitudes in dirty martinis, and the other, his own body had stopped listening to his commands, leading the way against Bucky's wishes. 

Fairy lights bled a soft glow onto the cozy couches and the tiny kitchen on the first floor of the house. The backyard was decorated with lights too, James could see through the window, from where he was sprawled out on the cushions. His body had taken him to The Maui Resort’s staff party, a place in which he shouldn't have been, yet decided upon staying in anyway. 

This morning he had woken up at the crack of dawn, laying motionless as he listened to y/’s shallow and uniform breathing. He had taken a peak at the woman, her figure deep in peaceful slumber, before slipping into the bathroom and swiftly abandoning the suite altogether. 

James had silently cursed himself out for the heavy silence between them. It was, partially, on him, but she had not made an effort to text him either. Forced conversations had been the norm for years, and yet the pair had strayed far away from the shared standard in the past two days. A line had been blurred, both had sensed it. Perhaps he had been a fool to indulge in fictitious hope of the relationship between them ever shifting. The two were not destined to become friends, James would never want to be friends. It was best they stayed somewhat professional, balancing on the line of nemeses and cordial co-workers. 

“You look like a gin and tonic kind of guy,” a redhead pushed a drink into his flesh hand, “god,” she sighed, plopping next to him, “I hope you’re a gin and tonic kind of guy.” 

James was a Thor’s Asgardian ale kind of gal, favoring the only alcohol, which could effortlessly provide him a pleasant buzz, but the woman’s expression reeked of insecurity, the hue of her eyes overflowing with doubt. 

It was evident she found James attractive from the way she’d play with the ends of her fiery waves to the way, she scooted closer and closer until the space between them had vanished. Though James didn’t move a muscle to push her away, the closeness between him and the stranger was fairly uncomfortable. It had been more relaxing to have y/n, the last woman he’d think of for such an occurrence, sit on his lap. Her sun-kissed skin had been remarkably soft against the soldier’s, her thighs a perfect weight to rest atop his own, her nimble fingers subconsciously drawing patterns on his forearms the most peculiar of comfort. Get a grip, James, he winced at the direction his mind had taken, you cannot find y/n attractive. 

“I am,” James lied through his teeth, wondering whether the woman had recognized him as the Winter Soldier. 

“Good,” she nodded, propping a bent arm on the couch’s backrest. “You look awfully familiar,” the redhead drained half her drink, “have we met before?” 

James sincerely hoped they haven’t, for it would mean she had encountered the version of him James preferred to keep under wraps these days. 

“I doubt it.” He shrugged, staring at her. 

She was an undoubtedly gorgeous woman, and she wanted him. The redhead desired James, and it was the strangest emotion. He could never sweep his past as a ruthless assassin under the rug. She, presumably, had not identified James as such, and yet he couldn’t allow himself to believe she, or most women for that matter, would crave him. 

Except for y/n. He had permitted himself to accept that y/n had wanted him by the way she had repeatedly clenched her thighs on the god-forsaken boat. It might've been delusional, he understood, but if she had not squirmed in his lap for the reason of lust, what else could it have been? 

Anxiety, you big buffoon, James scolded himself. The disgraceful thoughts of y/n would one day be the end of him, and the soldier feared the day might be closer than he could envision.  

“Maya!” A deeper voice rang through the room. It was Jordan, the waiter, James recognized, who was leaning against the doorframe. “Where are the mics?” 

The redhead jumped from the couch, rummaging through a woven basket before waving two microphones in the air. James stared at the man, attempting to distinguish the figure behind him. He could not see the person’s face, but dread washed over James as soon as the woman giggled. 

“I love karaoke,” she admitted, drunkenly holding onto his waist, “can we sing Life Is A Highway?” The sound, which slipped past y/n's lips, was muffled, and James guessed she had rested her face against the waiter's exposed back. 

Jordan stepped aside, reaching back to catch y/n's forearms in his tattooed hands before he tugged her in his direction to clear the doorway and make room for someone else, a guy less intoxicated.

"Jordan!" A sound from the deck slithered inside. "I think you two should stop with the drinks!" He called out, popping his head into the room to rake his eyes over Jordan's figure once more before disappearing. 

"Alright!" Jordan called after him and focused his attention on y/n, a lazy smirk painting his expression. "Yes, we can," he squatted down to mess with the TV, a tangle of cables, and the pair of microphones, "and we should." 

Though the house, both inside and out, was crowded, she’d undeniably notice James, cheeks flushed, shirt wrinkled from when he had hurriedly dressed in the morning without ironing the clothing article. Unless, of course, the state of her mind was beyond heavy tipsiness and bordered on harsh intoxication.

“It’s only the best song ever,” She giggled again, leaning against a dresser, her eyes fixated on Jordan’s hunched form. 

James had never seen y/n loosen up as if the world outside the territory of the staff house did not exist. As if every single one of her worries held no weight at that moment. As if he was not sitting just a couple feet away from her, the redhead breaching his personal space, her head lazily resting on his flesh shoulder. She wouldn’t care, he thought, why should I? 

“Lick It Up by KISS is a close second,” Jordan chuckled when the karaoke app on the TV belatedly turned on, the screen glowing dark purple. “Right above You Shook Me All Night Long by AC/DC.” He offered her a microphone.

The woman took it without hesitation, turning her back to James entirely.

“You did shake me all night long,” yet another giggle slipped past her lips, her drunken movements far slower than customary, “and I loved it.”

James had zero clue of what the comment could reference.

“C’mon,” Jordan chuckled, clicking on Life Is A Highway in the app, “it was the least I could do after that bastard husband of yours abandoned the anniversary dinner.” He narrowed his eyes, lost in the memory. "I suppose he did show up, but what kind of a man is almost an hour late to meet his wife for a celebratory evening?"

“No!” Maya, the redhead next to James, gasped. “Are you married?”

She stayed silent for a beat longer than she should’ve. “Yes," the innocent piece of fiction rolled off y/n's tongue.

“And your husband missed a fourth wedding anniversary celebratory dinner?” It was a mess of a sentence, but James had a sober idea the gin and tonics were to blame.

“Partly,” she replied, gawking at the TV — the track was about to play, "he arrived late on purpose and,” she blurted out before the white letters had the chance to turn yellow, indicating it was her time to sing, “I’m considering a divorce.”

It was apparent the two had either consumed more alcohol than their limits supported or were too preoccupied with one another and the karaoke to notice James, the abhorrent husband, sprawled out on the sofa. 

"How can a man get married," Jordan commented, eyes glued on the screen in front of him, right arm loosely draped across y/n's shoulders, "and treat his wife in such an outrageous way is beyond me." 

"Agreed," James chimed in, exhausting the red plastic cup of the gin and tonic, "the husband is a jerk." The sound of his voice was louder, bolder. 

She didn't notice his presence or, perhaps, she did, and solely pretended to miss Bucky's distinct tone. Perhaps Life Is A Highway had consumed y/n's attention, too. James would've never deemed her as a great singer, but then again, he had never heard y/n sing, the man observed as she stayed on key, effortlessly hitting all of the notes.  

It was only Maya, who acknowledged James, mumbling a low “mmmh.”

Jordan's hand snaked down to y/n's waist, and James averted his gaze to silence the ugly emotion some tended to describe as jealousy.

"I found a water bottle in the mini-fridge," his voice was a meek sound in the night's wind, "placed in on the bedstand in case you'd need it," she didn't speak when he dropped into an empty seat on the suite's terrace beside her, "you look rough." 

You look rough, she replayed the remark in her head and chuckled, surrendering into Bucky's sarcasm, for it was an understated statement. The staff party, while fun, had not been kind on y/n's appearance, though the woman couldn't care less as the memories, if she could remember any in the morning, had been worth it. The night had been rich in alcohol, music, and dance. 

A silence settled between the pair. She sought to establish a description best fit for the stillness, yet every acceptable name would die on the tip of y/n's tongue. 

The moment sanctioned James an opportunity to forget life outside Maui. To care for y/n by ensuring she had water and a brisk bedroom to sleep in. To abandon the emotions, she had been familiar with and showcase his inner self that had never desired war in the first place. 

It was James who disturbed the peace, "have you always been carefree, or have I been too big of an asshole to notice?" 

She laughed, the sound of it boisterous and genuine. "I am everything, but carefree," her tone was firm, calculated, mournful even, "but the world continues moving forward as we slowly die." 

Carefree was a foreign word in her vocabulary. The woman had not been a carefree agent nor a carefree friend, always concerned over problems that were not her own. Her heart had always been y/n's greatest strength and worst weakness, she realized, staring into Bucky's curious eyes. It might be the vodka speaking, she considered, but I could be nicer to James. In the past, she'd rather perish into dust than involve herself in anything regarding the soldier.

"We are dying," he observed, "every last one of us." 

"It's the cruel truth of the universe," she nodded, bringing her knees to rest on the woven chair, "we experience living in parallel with death." It was the harshest of jokes. "If I notice a rare opportunity to melt away stress and lift the weight of saving the world off of my shoulders, why wouldn't I take it?" The question was one of the rhetorical kind. 

The burden of rescuing the world and its residents would inevitably break y/n into unsalvagable pieces one day, but, it was also a remarkable reason to push forward. 

"When I sneeringly suggested we kiss yesterday," the corners of his mouth turned up into a weak smile, "it wasn't an invitation." 

The woman gasped, amusement glimmering in her eyes, and spoke before James could clarify the sentence, "I would never take it as such." 

"Outstanding," he cocked his head to the side, eyebrows raised in merriment, "but the remark wasn't all sarcasm," his fingers mindlessly picked at the loose strands of the chair's cushion, "I don't hate you." 

And there it was — a second observation for y/n to add to her mostly blank image of James Buchanan Barnes. The former soldier was vulnerable, despite his icy exterior suggesting otherwise. 

"I don't hate," she began declaring and hastily paused, thinking her next words through, "alright, I do hate you," Bucky's mouth fell open in faux shock, but she continued before he could bite back, "but you break me in training, and you snitch to Tony whenever I drive his stupidly expensive cars, and you bring Rhodey pastéis de nata, so he'd stop doing my laundry," she hiccuped, drunkenly eager to list further reasons. 

"It hasn't worked yet," James admitted, "I'd guess there are a lot more arguments for your disdain towards me," the sentence, though not formulated as such, rung through the night as a question. 

"You'd be correct. You hid Natasha's favorite suit and blamed it on me. Who does that?" A soft punch landed on his bicep. "That was an exceptionally low blow, Barnes, even for you." Playfulness colored her tone with hints of resentment clinging to it. 

"Yes," there was no shame in the sentiment, "but you knew I was lactose intolerant when you switched out the milk." 

She giggled under her breath, "oops." The word held no guilt. "Besides, I am James Barnes intolerant." 

A tender sigh slipped past his lips, "how about a truce? I carry you to bed, and you never touch my almond beverages ever again?" James suggested, taking notice of y/n's heavy eyelids as she attempted to appear awake.

The answer had not been a sound but rather an action. The woman outstretched her arms, suggesting Bucky's almond milk would remain untainted if her body would soon reach the comfort of the suite's bed. 

It did. She had fallen asleep as soon as her figure had ended up in James's arms. 

Sleep tight, he thought, retreating back to the couch and abandoning the sinful idea of sleeping beside y/n on the single bed in a massive bedroom, for tomorrow's hangover will be brutal.  

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@legohe4rts @missvelvetsstuff @browneyedgirl22 @gr33nleo @thatrandomcatoverthere @fiftywhore1 @buggy14 @nt-multi-fandom @physically-im-fine @marygoddessofmischief @fuckthealarm @nyutasgirl @cjand10 @stokzr @jesterstrange @youtubersshipper @oneshotofvodkaa @emily-roberts @desert-fern @itsyellow @love-of-less @melissareadsstuff @mcucatlady @xxwritemeastoryxx @lilbloggs @ambrosia1846 @verrahigh @skittle479 @she-wolf09231982

[bellewintersroe]

Ron Speirs x ArmyNurse! OC

Margaret ‘Maggie’ Emerson, an army nurse attached to the 506th parachute infantry regiment, finds herself growing closer to her company’s captain, Ronald Speirs. With war drawing to an end, a side to the mystery that is Captain Speirs is revealed. Both Maggie and Ron have a difficult time resisting their attraction to one another.

This is the third part to this mini-series, here’s the link to part 2 where you can find the first piece also linked. This chapter is gonna be a cliche nurse has to do a physical exam of the soldier she has the hots for lmao- no warnings, just some swearing and mild sexual tension.

“More, switch lines with me.” Speirs head was tilted, looking towards the door ahead of him.

“Sorry, sir?” More frowned. Speirs held out a pack of cigarettes and More gladly accepted, swapping places with him in the line with no further questions asked. The Captain smirked to himself proudly as the door opened, revealing Sergeant Alley walking out with Maggie swiftly behind.

“Thanks, Mag’s.” Alley teased causing some of the men to jeer and tease. Maggie rolled her eyes, giving Alley a playful kick to the back of his leg before calling out a polite, “next.”

Ron stepped forwards and her lips immediately tugged up in a smile she couldn’t quite bite back. “Captain Speirs, sir, how are you?” The door closed behind them both. From the outside, Luz watched on, mouth hanging open in surprise.

“What the fuck?” He muttered to himself, stunned at the exchange. “Hey, Babe, you see that? Speirs swapping lines with More to get into Maggie’s?” George nudged at the man beside him.

“Oh yeah? Didnt think we’d see the day Captain Speirs was chasin’ a broad…” Babe snickered.

On the inside, Maggie double checked the door was shut before heading towards the check board to write down Speirs’ name and tick him off the checklist. She’s been doing physical exams all morning, blood tests, checking their skin, weight, height. Maggie thought she was growing bored until Captain Speirs walked in.

“Would you take your shirt off for me, real quick?” She muttered, without thinking too much. Ron sat in the chair, removing his tie and moving his hands to unbutton the shirt. “I gotta just get a few measurements from you before I do the blood test and X-ray, that alright?” Maggie turned around, digging her pen a little too hard into the paper when she saw him unbuttoning his shirt.

“Yeah.” He casually nodded, as she pursed her lips, averting her eyes, before remembering she had to take his blood pressure. Spinning around again she retreated the device, stethoscope also around her neck. Her face was flustered and she dared to look up to him when his shirt was completely discarded. Maggie had been around shirtless men all day, it didn’t discompose her until now.

Ron’s gazed followed her tensely, swallowing and tensing his jaw when she took a seat in front of him. Her hair was longer than Ron realised, blonder than the other nurses, curls that weren’t pinned back hanging loosely. He didn’t even care that she was probably breaking every uniform rule, he was too enthralled by her.

“I’ll take your blood pressure first, sir.” He held out an arm as she shuffled a little closer, wrapping the material around his bicep. His muscles were protruding, as were his veins. If Maggie felt like melting just from the sight of his arm then she was curious as to how she reacted from seeing the rest of his seemingly, very toned, body.

“Get the boring stuff out of the way.” She giggled, glancing up to him. “Taking bloods fun?!” Her head snapped up again, pausing her actions. “It is when they faint.” Shrugging, she continued wrapping the strap around his arm before pumping to tighten the machine and read his blood pressure.

“Who fainted?” He questioned, a slight smirk covering his face. “You wanna know?!” Her smile turned into a devious grin as his teeth dug into his bottom lip, nodding. “Well it’s confidential.” She borderline teased, Speirs felt his stomach tighten as he unconsciously leant a bit closer. Maggie noticed and stole another glance over his face. He was even more handsome close up…

“Secrets safe with me.” He played along, eyelids heavy as they met hers. For a second her lips were parted and straight, captivated in the way he was looking at her, the way he spoke- and that was totally unprofessional. Maggie sat up straighter before her lips stretched into a smile again, shaking off the urge to lean closer into him. Ron wondered if all her exams were like this, or if it was just for him.

“I’ll let you guess, sir.” Ron cleared his throat, pursing his lips and looking around to distract himself elsewhere. Maggie scribbled down his blood pressure, “blood pressures good.” She then commented as he quickly snapped back to her, remembering what she’d said before.

“Liebgott. Acts tough but screams at the sight of needles.” He quickly commented, resulting in her laughing a little harder now. “No not Liebgott, stand up for me, Ron.” The name slipped as he smiled to himself. Maggie pulled the stethoscope into her ears and stepped around him so she was directly ahead of him. God, he was muscular. Trim from the physical demand of war, but he was undeniably attractive. Maggie’s tongue pushed to the inside of her cheek, tilting her chin up to look up to him before she pressed the devise up to the left of his chest.

“Sorry it’s cold.” She whispered as Ron felt his breath hitch, heart rate immediately speeding. “Talbert then.”

“Didnt faint, but he nearly threw up.” Maggie muttered, listening to his heart. Ron chuckled as they shared a smile. “Your hearts going so fast.” It fell out of her mouth as he took a deep breath. “I wonder why?” His eyes gazed over her, causing her own pulse to accelerate. The tension was too much, they were so both openly showing their attraction to one another, Maggie thought she might faint if she swooned any harder.

“Take a deep breath for me, sir.” She then instructed, listening carefully. Everything sounded perfect as she listened once on his chest and again on his back- that was also incredibly muscular.

She stood on a literal stool chair in order to reach and measure his height perfectly, Ron’s head tilted up in amusement before she nudged his jaw so he was looking straight. “I’ve been doing this all day.” She reminded, scribbling some more notes down, taking his weight and then doing an x-Ray, hands adjusting his arms in the right position.

“What time do you get off later?” Ron questioned, whilst he was stood in the machine. “You have to ask me that now when I need you to be still?” She gazed up to him. “Would you rather me ask when I’m taking your blood?”

“Preferably not, no.” She smiled to herself, heading over and pushing his arms a little further back so she could get a better view of everything to send to the surgeons to check everything was okay.

“Keep your back straight, alright?” Her warm hands touched slightly the mid of his back nudging him a little more upright. “Alright.” Ron spared her another glance.

“Hold still a second.” A moment later the X-ray was taken. “4.” She then answered, Ron looked at her in a little confusion.

“You can take a seat again- and 4. You asked me what time I get off at?” Again, she felt a little shy, fumbling for the tourniquet and slowly dragging over the tray with everything laid out on. Ron smiled, feeling the words ready to spill off his lips. He knew he shouldn’t, but he so desperately wanted to completely break professionalism and ask her out. He saw how happy all those other men looked to be in her line, he could bet they’d try anything on with her now the war in Europe was over.

“Oh yeah.” Ron muttered to himself as she tightened it over his bicep. “Clench your fist for me.” She muttered, wondering what the question was for. His veins were already popping, she slapped on his skin slightly before returning to get a clear pair of gloves.

It was silent for a minute or so. Not awkward, just a little tense, the unspoken words making the two of them nervous. “Sharp scratch, you okay with needles?” She muttered. Ron gulped, tense at her presence, not the needle. “Okay.” Her whispered tone made him shiver as he watched her prick the inside of his vein, never being one to bother about injections or needles. Ron inhaled, looking up and her head snapped up, making sure he was okay.

“You okay?”

“Go out with me later.” The words on his lips were finally spoken, he blinked back to her, seeing her breath catch in her throat before she turned back to the vial and needle with a slight amusement.

“You’re asking me whilst I’m taking your blood?” She watched it fill up, looking like a freak as she smiled to herself uncontrollably. “Yeah.” His voice cracked, raspy from overuse.

“Okay.” She nodded, not really having to think twice about it. Ron had to tense his jaw to avoid smiling too much. “Great, I’ll pick you up at 8?”

“Where are we going?” She removed the needle gently, dealing with that before disposing of everything she didn’t need and scribbling down everything she needed to, trying her hardest to focus on everything but the fact Captain Speirs had just asked her out.

“There’s a bar in town- don’t ask me to pronounce it.” Now she looked back to him, a smile reaching her eyes and nodding. “8 is good, I’ll see you then.”

“Good.” He gently spoke, looking back to her with a smile. Maggie hadn’t seen Speirs smile this much before. “You can put your shirt back on now, Ron.”

“Oh, right.” God, Ron had Maggie smiling like a lovesick teenager, even when he’d left and the next person, Malarkey had come in, Maggie was grinning like a goddamn child.

“Captain Speirs got you smilin’ like that?!”

[misscinnamonroll16]

This is what my blog has become, just brozone and trolls. Have a fanfic. this is part one of Please for God's sake, rest

Normality had fallen over the band of brozone. Hanging out and catching up. Ever since coming back to Pop Village, Clay, Floyd and John Dory were all staying in Rhonda until they finished moving all of Branchs survival supplies and such out of the rooms that he had made for them. That's what they were currently doing, moving the boxes of stuff. John Dory went to lift a box of stone spear heads, he got part way up when his back gave out. John let out a yell and fell to his knees, dropping the box. The other bros came rushing in to see what was wrong. They saw John Dory knelt down on the floor, shaking slightly. "John, you ok buddy?" Bruce asked, slowly reaching his hand towards his brother to check on him. "Please don't touch me right now." John said quietly while gritting his teeth. They could hear the pain in John's voice. Bruce sat next to John Dory, placing his hand next to JD's in case he wanted the comfort. "JD, what happened? Are you ok?" Clay asked as he sat down near John as well. Branch and Floyd looked on, concerned and wanting to help. "I finally blew out my back." John mumbled grumpily. At first none of them caught what he had said, so they asked him to repeat it. "I blew out my back, ok?!" John said, frustrated. "Oh John." Bruce said softly, gently placing his hand on JD's back. John let out a little yelp, his hair flaring out like he had been electrocuted, Bruce removed his hand immediately. "John Dory, I understand that you don't wanna be touched right now but it can't be good for your back to stay in the position you're in. Let us help you get to bed or at least the couch." Floyd suggested, gently taking John's hand, ready to help him when he needed it. "Nah, I'm good. I should be fine in a little while." John Dory responded, shifting so he was fully laying on his stomach. "I'll go get Dr. Moonbloom." Branch said, exasperated as he walked out the door and to the elevator. Branch took the elevator to the surface in search of the doctor.

Branch returned with Dr. Moonbloom, explaining the situation the best he could. Dr. Moonbloom examined John, giving him a routine check up before getting to the root of his problem. The doctor pulled out a portable x-ray machine (cartoon logic) and further examined John Dory's back. "Well, I have good news and bad news. The good news is I finally get to try out my new sedative. The bad news is he's going to have to be on bed rest for at least a month, maybe more. He pulled the muscles in his lower back pretty badly." Dr. Moonbloom said, excited to use the new sedative. "But wouldn't moving his cause him more pain and hurt his back even more." Clay asked as the doctor readied her syringe with the sedative. "That's what the sedative is for. It's going to take away all his pain for a few hours and make him feel pretty good. As for moving him, I brought my portable gurney. That way moving him won't hurt his back even more." The doctor said, pulling a portable cloth gurney out of her bag (again cartoon logic). Dr. Moonbloom stuck John with the needle, injecting him with the sedative. After a few minutes, she instructed them to move him on to the gurney. A little apprehensive at first, Clay and Bruce started to move John Dory. They moved John Dory to the nearest bed, by that point he had started to doze off. Dr. Moonbloom handed Branch a prescription for pain killers and instructions on how often he can take them and side effects and such before heading off. The brothers looked at John Dory, he was barely awake and singing some intelligible tune. "Are we sure he's gonna be ok?" Floyd asked, just as worried as the rest of them. "I'm sure he'll be fine. Dr. Moonbloom is a very good doctor. But I think her sedative might be a little strong." Branch said as he set the pain killers on the nightstand.

The brothers decided to take turns watching over John Dory, making sure he doesn't need anything when the sedative wears off. Bruce goes first watching John, looking at him in a similar way to when they were little. The way he'd look at JD before bouncing on him to wake him up on Christmas morning or on one of their birthdays. Bruce got up from the chair he sat in next to the bed and reached over to remove John's goggles. They slipped off with ease. As Bruce removed John Dory's jacket, he was reminded of when they were younger and John would help Clay and Floyd take off their jackets after playing in the snow or rain. John Dory would always take theirs off first then his own, Bruce was simply returning the favor all these years later. He unbuckled John's fingerless glove and tucked it into one of the pockets on his jacket, taking note of the tan lines on his hand. His brother almost looked naked without all that on him, Bruce couldn't remember ever seeing John Dory without those silly goggles. Bruce chuckled to himself as he made himself comfortable in the chair and pulled a book out of his hair. The book was an old trollings book that he managed to find, he had read to his kids last night, remembering when their grandma had read it to them when they were little ones. "Guess I forgot to put it back in the kids' bookcase." Bruce said quietly to himself before deciding to read the story aloud to his sleeping brother.

[petersprincesss]

Security Measures

It’s been a long time since I wrote anything… but I decided IM BACK BABY!

It felt like it was time for some good old fashioned smut. I really went back to my roots with this one. I still personally prefer to refer to this character as Peter Ballard, and that’s gonna be his name in the fic. I apologize if that’s not your thing, but you don’t have to read it 🫶🏻

Genre: Porn with minimal plot

Rating: so crazy explicit lmao. Minors please leave 💞

Tags: dom!Peter, sub!female!, bdsm kinda?, edging, fingering, orgasm delay, orgasm denial, dubcon? kinda?, choking, hitting, hair pulling… all that good stuff

As always, I appreciate any and all feedback. You know I love to hear you, baby 🙏🏻

Hawkins National Laboratory was going to be the biggest story in my journalism career. Like many children in this area of Indiana, I had grown up hearing all kinds of rumors, stories and conspiracies surrounding the mythic brick building in the woods.

Being a casual column writer for the Indianapolis Recorder gave me access to plenty of information, but most of it felt so mundane compared to what I might be able to uncover in the source of all my childhood nightmares. Through my boss, I was able to secure an interview with one Dr. Martin Brenner, the supposed mastermind behind the madness. The only question now was whether or not I would learn the truth.

Parked outside of the structure, it felt no different than those creepy campfire tales my friends and I had swapped in our youth. This time, however, I knew I was going to go inside. I was going to settle fact and fiction.

I smoothed out my smart pencil skirt and clutched my notepad and two pens close to my chest (I had to have two, just in case one ran out in the middle of the interview, but I had tested them both twice before leaving the house). My modest high heels clicked against the pavement before stopping at the tall glass front door. I took one final deep breath before pulling it open.

The lobby was beyond what I was expecting. Panels of sleek, dark wood lined the walls, and a kind-eyed brunette woman sat behind a mahogany desk with a warmly lit lamp set atop it.

“How can I help you?” She spoke, folding her fingers together and resting them on her appointment book.

“I have a two o’clock with Dr. Brenner,” I replied. I could feel my knuckles turning white around my notepad.

The young lady glanced down at her calendar before tapping twice on my name.

“You’re right on time. I’ll buzz you through the main doors. Go down the hallway and go through security. They’ll guide you from there.”

“Thank you so much,” I responded, already making my way around her desk towards a set of hospital-like doors. She pressed a button behind her desk, sending a buzzing ring throughout the lobby, followed by the click of the door’s lock. I swung it open and entered a lengthy hallway lined with sterile white tile.

Scents of various disinfectants stung my nose as I rushed down the corridor. My watch read twelve minutes before two, and I prayed whatever security measures I had to clear wouldn’t take long.

Around the hallway’s corner stood a second pair of doors with a metal detector and X-ray machine before them. A slender, blonde-haired man dressed in all white stood patiently with his hands clasped in front of his belt next to the machinery.

“Hi, I have an appointment with Dr. Brenner,” I sputtered, paying no mind to the orderly as I set my belongings on the conveyor belt into the X-ray.

“Just remove your shoes, jacket and anything in your pockets,” his gentle voice instructed me.

I followed his orders, sending each of my items into the machine before I stood tall in front of the metal detector. The spotlessly clean man mirrored my stance on the opposite side. Our eyes met for a second before he silently raised two fingers and motioned me towards him with them. I felt a sting of intimidation rush through me as he locked his eyes on me while I stepped forward. My heart skipped a beat when the metal detector beeped.

“It’s okay. Step out and try again,” he commanded, his eyes still motionless.

I did as I was told, stepping backwards and then forwards. The metallic chime rang out once more.

“Are you wearing any jewelry?” He questioned, tilting his head slightly.

“None at all…” I trailed off, touching my earlobes, fingers and neck.

“…Any I can’t see?” He spoke softly.

My eyes shot up to his, half offended by the question, “No.”

“One last time, then. Raise your hands above your head this time.”

I repeated my action, raising my hands as instructed. As predicted, the machine buzzed again.

“I’m going to have to pat you down. We’ll step into the security office for some privacy, okay?”

“Excuse me?” I spat, feeling my eyebrows raise with my temper.

“You don’t have to,” he smiled kindly, “you can always leave.”

I wished in my heart that he was joking, but I could tell he was deathly serious.

“Fine,” I spat, shaking my head in disbelief.

“You can put your shoes back on,” the orderly spoke gently. He picked up my blazer and notepad for me as I slipped my feet back into my heels impatiently.

“Let’s get this over with,” I sighed.

“Right this way,” he gestured into an open door. I walked in before him, nervously kneading my knuckles.

He set my items on a sterile steel table and turned to face me as I glanced around the office. The walls were the same bland tile, nothing on them except for a clock, which read ten minutes before two.

“Please hurry, I don’t want to be late for my meeting,” I pleaded, feeling the rising urge to tap my heels.

“You won’t be, I promise,” a cheeky smile spoke, “I’m Peter by the way.”

“Great, nice to meet you Peter. Let’s go,” I hurried him, not bothering to introduce myself to the security guard orderly that I would never see again.

“Arms out, feet shoulder-width apart,” he instructed. I obeyed yet again.

His palms clasped around the top of my right thigh and began to slowly pat inches at a time down my leg.

“You don’t have a female security guard to do this?” I huffed.

“I’m afraid not. The only women here are the nurse and the secretary,” Peter sighed. I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at the response.

Once down to my ankle, he raised his hands to check left leg, but the tip of his thumb grazed me where I was most sensitive, causing my breath to hitch. I prayed he hadn’t noticed as he worked his way further down.

“Nothing yet…” he reported once down to my foot.

A lightbulb went off in my head. My IUD. I had a copper birth control device in my cervix. Could that have set off the metal detector? Surely copper couldn’t trigger it. But what else could it possibly be? I knew that I genuinely had nothing, but how could I tell Peter that without proving it?

Peter began to pat down my right arm, from shoulder to wrist, before moving to my left.

“Listen, I swear I have nothing. I’m just a journalist…” I began to bargain.

“I actually do believe you, but it’s just laboratory protocol,” Peter grinned. His eyes shone a bright blue even in the dingy fluorescent lighting, and I felt a twinge of happiness that at least he was a gentleman.

“The metal detector indicated something at waist level, so I’ll need to examine there further. Again, you may leave at any time.”

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, exhaling slowly through my nose.

“Okay. Let’s get it over with.”

“I’m just going to slide two fingers into the waist band of your skirt, okay?” Peter informed more than he asked.

“Okay,” I nodded with a deep breath.

As he had narrated, his slender index and middle fingers from each hand slipped into the top of my skirt next to my hip bones, resting atop the hem. As I exhaled, the pressure on his knuckles decreased, the warmth of them abandoning the crisp caress of my blouse.

“Just going to slide them around to the back now,” he gently described his action. As promised, those slim fingers slithered around my hips towards my spine.

With his arms around my waist, I paused to glance at his sapphire eyes, preciously surveying his work. A breath left his lips and cascaded down my chest just as he lifted his touch from my body.

“All looks well, but I’m afraid that means I still have searching to do,” Peter sighed, clasping his hands in front of his belt buckle.

“This is ridiculous,” I fumed, “look, it must have been a fluke. I promise I just want to go to my interview and then leave.”

Peter’s doe-like eyes blinked innocently as I ranted.

“I believe you, miss, I really do. Unfortunately, it’s not my decision. You may either continue, or leave the facility,” his honeyed, overly calm voice stated.

“Fine. What next?” I asked, placing my hands on my hips.

Peter cleared his throat as his eyes darted to the floor between us before responding, “I’ll need you to remove your skirt so I may assess what’s underneath.”

“Assess what’s underneath? What are you, a fucking cop?” I protested, my voice growing in volume with each syllable. Peter didn’t bat an eye.

“You’re welcome to leave at any time, but this is protocol,” he assured me, “I’ll turn away while you undress.”

I thought back to all the time I had spent dreaming about being able to interview Dr. Brenner. The countless nights of sleep I lost staring at my ceiling dreaming about what I would write and what questions I would ask. Was I really going to back out now? Could I just chalk this up to one of the things a girl has to do to fulfill a dream?

I silently nodded and Peter turned on his heels to face the door.

The parting of the zipper was the only noise in the uncomfortable silence. I shimmied my skirt off my hips, allowing it to pool around my ankles before picking it up and grasping it timidly at my waist. The cool, sterile air brushed across my bare backside, sending a wave of goosebumps up to my neck.

“Okay,” I spoke shakily.

The orderly turned back to me and immediately placed his hand on my skirt. I allowed him to take it, kneading my fingers anxiously with nothing left to protect my modesty.

Peter crouched curiously at eye-level with my panties. I felt like a common whore standing before the stranger in nothing but my undergarments and high heels. Of course, today was the day I had decided to wear garters instead of regular pantyhose, which only amplified my bashfulness.

“Could have been these,” he noted, slipping his index finger beneath one of the nude garter straps holding up my stocking, snapping one of the metallic clasps against my thigh.

I felt my heart rate increase dramatically beneath his touch. Blood rushed to my core, causing a noticeable temperature increase between my legs. The visual alone of golden blonde locks kneeling before me was enough to create a knot in my abdomen that grew harder and harder to ignore.

The orderly tsked and shook his head, “I think that’s too small of an amount of metal. It must be something else.”

My palms began to grow clammy as I debated telling him about my contraceptive. 


“Could there be something… inside you? A medical device, perhaps?” Peter asked, his eyes shooting up to mine from between my legs. I had to tell him now.

“Yes,” I spat out, feeling my stomach turn, “I have a copper birth control device.”

“I see…” he trailed off, shifting his gaze to the floor.

“That’s it. I know that’s all. I was just scared to tell you, I had this crazy idea that you would have to confirm it or something.” I blurted, vomiting my words all over him.

A silence grew between us, and Peter’s choice not to disprove my absurd theory became increasingly worrisome. Finally, he rose to his feet, returning to his polite stance with his hands held above his belt.

“I”m afraid that actually is the case,” Peter finally confessed.

My head fell back as I took a deep breath. I closed my eyes imagining what exactly this process might look like. I glanced back at the clock on the wall. I had seven minutes left.

“You better be fucking fast,” I voiced sternly, turning back to those blue eyes.

“Not a problem. Remember, you may leave at any time,” he reassured me.

I nodded as he gestured towards a padded table lined with parchment-like paper, beckoning me to lay back across it. I relaxed back against it, closing my eyes as the orderly shuffled over and stood patiently next to the table.

“Would you like to remove your undergarments, or would you prefer I work around them?” He asked cordially, as if any of this process was anything less than crass.

“I’m in a hurry, just do what you have to do,” I instructed, closing my eyes and clasping my hands above my stomach.

His fingertips wasted no time snaking under my panties and pushing them aside. I exhaled slowly as his warm touch glided over my pussy.

“Breathe for me,” he guided. On my next inhale, he slipped a finger inside me.

Something between a pornographic moan and a wince escaped me, and I found myself biting my lip to prevent more from following it.

“You’re doing such a good job,” that silvery voice cooed.

A twinge of shame crawled from my stomach to my chest as I realized that I was already dripping wet from the interaction. Something about his maintained innocence -everything from his crisp white uniform to his “this is strictly protocol” attitude”- ignited a craving I didn’t know I had. Whatever it was, I knew it was going to make me miss my interview.

“Okay, I think I feel the string,” Peter remarked, shifting his body to give his arm a better angle.

I felt his finger begin to slide out of me when I jolted my eyes open and gripped his wrist assertively.

“Are you sure?” Was all I could managed to spit out.

I lessened my grasp on his wrist and relaxed slightly, “I mean. Are you positive? You don’t need more time?”

“I’m fairly certain, I mean…” he trailed off, clearly missing the memo.

“Peter,” I finally spoke his name, “I think you need to check more thoroughly.”

“Are you sure? You’re going to miss your interview…” those blue eyes batted at me, and suddenly I wasn’t the one feeling so bashful.

“Fuck my interview,” I moaned, guiding his middle finger up to join his index inside me.

“Oh my,” Peter’s voice dropped an octave and those precious blue eyes shifted infernal.

“Please?” I urged, shifting to allow him better access.

“I don’t know,” he falsely contemplated, sinking two fingers into my pussy as he spoke, “are you going to be good for me?”

I choked on a moan rising in my throat before closing my eyes and nodding rapidly. Peter clicked his tongue, uncertain of my answer. I squeezed my eyes tightly and allowed my chest to relax. The grim, florescent light suddenly felt warmer as his slender fingers thrust into me.

“Jesus,” he remarked, slowing his pace, “tightening up on me already, hmm?”

I whined a vague response, bucking my hips against him. Wordlessly, Peter grabbed my leg nearest to him and swung kit over his head so it rested atop his shoulder and stepped forward, forcing my back to arch to accommodate him. Whimpers flowed freely from me as he quickened his pace, and I couldn’t help but open my eyes to look down and take in the sight of his fingers sinking into me.

With his free hand, he reached up and snatched a fistful of hair at the crown of my head and jerked forward, “That’s right, watch my fingers fuck you.”

Whimpers fell into wanton moans, and Peter switched to using his middle and ring finger, curling devilishly where I needed him most.

“Shit, Peter, I’m going to c-“

Before I could even speak the words, the orderly removed his touch entirely from my pussy and released his grip on my hair. My leg slid off of his shoulder, hung carelessly off the edge of the table. Dumbfounded, my misty eyes searched for his. Peter stood motionless, watching me with no readable expression on his face.

Once I had managed to find my breath a little, he spoke, “Are you done?”

“What? No, I was about to and you-“

The back of Peter’s hand landed a heavy smack across my cheek as he leaned in close to whisper, “Are you done being a needy bitch?”

Holding my stinging cheek, I gazed up at him in erotic trepidation.

“Y-yes,” I whispered, not even convincing myself of my answer.

“Good,” he praised, creeping his hand back to my pussy, “let’s continue.”

My panties were pushed to the side once more, and my body lurched forward onto Peter’s fingers as they writhed back into me. He leaned over me, placing his free hand at the base of my neck and whispered in my ear, “I knew you were fucking dirty the second you walked around that corner.”

I felt myself grip him tighter as he accused me, enthralled with his whorish perception of me.

“Fuck, I’m so glad you had to search me, Peter,” I panted, squirming beneath him as his grip on my neck grew stronger.

A sinister chuckle crept from his throat, “I know, baby. Almost like it was meant to be, hmm?”

His question would have felt more ominous if the orgasm that I was fighting against wasn’t growing stronger by the second. I writhed beneath him harshly, now with the intention of staving myself off until Peter was ready. I spread my legs further for him, wrapping my right calf around his waist to give him direct access. My toes curled against the inside of my shoes as I struggled to pull him closer to me.

“Please, Peter, I can’t hold it back much longer,” I squealed, my vision blurring as I starred up at the bleak white ceiling tiles.

“What’s that? Are you begging me to let you cum?” Peter mocked, slowing his pace ever so slightly.

I nodded intently, feeling my chin brush against his knuckles.

“Almost. I know you can hold out just a little longer. Can you do that for me?” He positioned his face just inches from mine, tilting his chin up so he still looked down upon me. Appearing pathetic no longer mattered to me, I just wanted him to grant me release.

“Yes,” I told a half-truth. If he quickened his pace in the slightest, there would be no more waiting.

The stern grip on my throat vanished, his hand now working its way to the collar of my blouse. Without breaking eye contact, Peter effortlessly undid two of my buttons, leaving my sternum and the center of my bra exposed. Nimble fingers pushed the cup of my bra to the side, leaving half of my chest fully exposed. He traced around my nipple slowly at first, sending a shockwave sensation through my abdomen. As my pleasure peaked higher and higher, Peter’s lips swapped with his fingers, sucking teasingly at my flesh.

“Christ, I can’t- I have to-“ I stuttered between breaths.

“Go ahead. Let me hear you cum,” Peter permitted.

My leg’s grip on his waist doubled, and in my senseless passion, my hands clawed at his shoulders and across his back, finally releasing myself upon him. A stream of curses and lustful whimpers echoed through the overly-hygienic office, mixing flawlessly with Peter’s determined grunts as he pushed himself. Peter lifted his head from my chest as my climax began to fade, a bead of sweat falling from his furrowed brow to my sternum. His sapphire eyes bore into mine as the two of us panted back and forth.

“Taste yourself,” Peter commanded, sliding his fingers out of me and up to my tongue. I obliged, pleased at how his scent mingled with my taste. Pearly white teeth smiled approvingly at how eager I was to fill his request.

“I have a confession to make,” the orderly informed, bracing his weight on his palm, now resting next to my head.

“Yes?” I replied, slipping his fingers out of my mouth and holding them delicately between my own.

“I always set off the metal detector when pretty girls come through.”

[multific]

Crushes

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Doctor!Fem!Reader

Summary: In which he has a crush on the Doctor and asks her out.

You were convinced army men were a different species.

Like Soap, tall, handsome muscular, funny and yet when needed to be extremely dangerous.

Price, funny, kind, and always knows what to say to you after a hard day yet he is a captain and rightfully so.

Gaz, the one who you barely saw in your infirmary, and yet you still met him many times. Gaz always made you laugh and he was a proper gentleman, and yet when needed be, he would shoot anyone with zero hesitation.

And then there was Ghost. The man is huge, you remember the first time he came to you after he got a gun shot wound. He walked in as if he only had a scrape while the bullet was still in his shoulder. He always had his scary mask on, or a mask on, never showing his face. 

Anyone who would do the jobs they are doing would be a troubled person but somehow you felt like Ghost was the most broken.

And yet, being so big and scary, he was still extremely kind and respectful with you, barely talked and yet said so much.

His eyes were truly a window to his soul. You could only imagine how he was on the battlefield. Given his huge size and muscles.

You only heard stories about the missions Taskforce 141 went on, you mainly saw the aftermath. Like Gaz's dislocated shoulder or Soap's stab wound. 

They were for sure a different breed.

A very sexy breed.

You were sure the danger that came with them was one of the reasons you felt like this.

But even you had to keep up the professional look.

Being a doctor, you had to be strong and professional. But then why did they make you into a shy teen as soon as they entered? 

Simon especially. 

Now, you did hear other women at base talk about him and the things they would do, so you knew you weren't alone in your crush. But even so, you needed to stop.

Men like him don't go for women like you, they are basically married to their jobs. No relationships.

You knew your place. And so, you never went over the line.

"Hi Doc,"

"Jesus, Johnny, giving me a heart attack so early in the morning." you said as you placed your hand over your heart.

"It's 10 in the morning."

"Your point?"

"Alright, so just wanted to give you a heads up Lt and I are going on a mission."

"And you plan on getting stabbed again?"

"Of course not." he laughed. "But somehow, every mission Lt goes to, he ends up here. He's a big boy, and he never went to the infirmary unless Captain yelled at him, but now, he just willingly goes every time. So, just wanted to let you know." Perhaps Johnny was too oblivious to understand what he just said, but your heart skipped a beat.

Either he was coming to meet with one of the nurses. Or he wanted to see you. But you doubted he was there to see you.

He barely spoke so it had to be a nurse.

Johnny was right, after the mission both ended up in the infirmary, Johnny had a bullet wound while Simon got a dislocated shoulder which was poorly put back.

"Okay, so Johnny can leave if he promises he will come back tomorrow so I can change his-"

"I promise, Doc, thank you." MacTavish said as he rushed out the room. You could only blink.

"What's with him?" you asked Simon who only shook his head. "Alright, but you Simon, I need an X-ray, I suspect the reason your shoulder hurts is more than just a dislocation but when you put it back, you might have cracked or fractured the bone. So, I will have to ask you to please follow me so we can do the x-ray."

Simon followed in complete silence. 

"Can you please remove your shirt and stand facing me by that machine?" He did everything you asked. But your mind began to wonder as he wanted to pull his shirt over his head. But soon stopped and looked at you.

"Can you help? It hurts." was all he said.

"Oh, yeah, sorry, I thought you preferred to do it yourself." you really shouldn't let your mind wander as you helped him, of course his mask stayed, but you now had a better look at his body. Littered in scars and tattoos the man was fine as hell.

But you didn't want to use this situation to your advantage, yet you still couldn't help but feel warmer than a couple minutes ago. The fact that your fingers touched his skin when you lifted his shirt also didn't help your position.

You held the scan up before finally sitting down.

"Thankfully nothing serious. I assume when you put it back incorrectly, it must have hit a nerve and that's why it hurts more. Let's wait until tomorrow and see if it's better."

"Thanks, Doc." he said before he stood up and left. 

A couple days after, you still didn't hear from him or his shoulder. You assumed it got better, so you left it at that.

Not like you wanted to chase him down the corridors asking how his shoulder was. 

So, you just let it go.

One evening, you were working later than usual when the door opened. Thankfully it wasn't an emergency, only Simon.

"Simon, how's your shoulder?"

"All good." 

"Perfect, what brings you here then?"

"I saw the light was on and... you shouldn't be up so late." you looked at him, the black mask covering his face as usual, only his eyes visible.

"Yes, well, I have a lot of work to do."

"You should go and sleep."

"Thank you Simon, but I'll have to finish this."

"How long?"

"About 30 minutes." you watched as he sat down on the chair in front of you. "What are you doing?"

"I'll wait 30 minutes and then bring you to your room, you need to rest,  you look after our health, wouldn't want you tired and make mistakes."

Who were you to argue with him?

Instead, you just tried to finish everything up, because you saw him setting a timer.

"Time's up." he announced just as you closed the folder.

You made sure everything was put away before heading to your courters. 

"Are you sure you are okay Simon? Johnny said you  never went to the infirmary before but lately you come a lot." you asked as you two started walking, you didn't expect him to walk with you, but you weren't complaining.

"I'm fine, just wanted to make sure you are all good."

"Thank you, Simon."

You two arrived at your door as you turned and gave him a smile.

"Thank you again, have a good evening." you turned to open the door but he spoke up, making you stop.

"I-I was thinking...I have a mission but after if you are free, we could go for a tea or scotch or something?"

"Are you asking me on a date?"

"Yes." his voice was pure confidence, not like before. "If you want to, of course."

"I would love to, but I thought you liked one of the nurses?"

"Sorry?"

"Wasn't there why you came so often to the infirmary?"

"Oh, actually I went because of you."

"Oh. We can go for tea of a drink after your mission, but you have to promise me something."

"Anything."

"Don't get hurt too bad." you knew asking him not to get hurt at all would be a stretch, given his position he would most likely get hurt, even if just a little.

"Copy that, Ma'am."

You gave him one last smile before you headed inside.

Your heart was hammering in your chest as you couldn't help but smile for the rest of the week.

You couldn't wait for your date. So, as soon as you got the news that they were back, unharmed, you couldn't hide your excitement.

You waited for him to come through those doors and take you out as he promised he would.

And one day, it finally happened, he opened the door and you smiled at him.

"Ready?" is all he asked, all he needed to ask as you ran to him.

"Ready." you replied before locking the door behind yourself.

Taglist: imreadinggoaway @fleursirvart​​ @v-2bucky ehsebastiancrunch-time-sports  @pxstelrainbow ablogbypeteparker liamssmilersmexylemony @greenarrowhead feelingsareharddd @thisismysecrethappyplace @sincerelyfan @theoneanna @aestheticsandmarvel @rororo06 @castellandiangelo @avengers-r-us @destynelseclipsa   @spilledinkindumpster celebsimagine @capsiclesdoll snoopy3000 @firstangeldragonranch @puknow @crazzyter  @alwayshave-faith @soleil-dor @alex12948 scream-kiwi79  @lxdyred  @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl​ @liveforkarljacobs @anonymoussherlockandmarvelgeek​​ @paola-carter​​ @stunkbiggu

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

               DO NOT REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS

[ayasley]

The text content is:

"Has anyone ever said that you look very familiar after taking off your glasses?"

"It depends on how you understand, Mr. Wayne. Or rather, Batman. Put down the Batdart, you know it doesn't work."

It's machine translated, not sure if it's accurate. Sorry my English is not good enough.

内含彩蛋*1，应该还挺明显的，在背景中墙上的画里。文本框阅读顺序：右→左。 画的过程中和群友讨论了一种大胆的场景：人来人往的宴会上，冷清的角落里，布鲁斯坐在克拉克的腿上。 大宅里其他客人（只能看到两个人在角落里贴）：嗯，韦恩先生又去勾搭记者了，屡见不鲜，散了散了 实际上俩人在吵嘴 :) 我觉得这很可爱。Easter eggs are paintings on the background wall. :)

对于Bruce也许坐在Clark腿上这一点，我的朋友画了一张设想图给我，我看完笑死了，好喜欢，所以我post她的想法在这里的第五张图片。这张草图韦恩还在偷偷��克拉克的手臂肌肉…我笑死了，大厅里其他人都未必看得到这个动作，这是做戏吗老爷！果然是真的想摸吧！克拉克：生气归生气手在韦恩大腿上扶好眼睛还盯着韦恩的胸…P5 is a picture given by my friend. During the process of I drawing this picture, I discussed with her that it looks like Bruce is sitting on Clark's lap. So she gave me this picture. And I laughed to death after reading it. I really like it, so I also post it here. She is really a genius. I always enjoy chatting with her while drawing because she can always give me a lot of inspiration. So the scenario is:

At the bustling banquet, in a deserted corner, Bruce sat on Clark's lap.

Other guests at the banquet (only able to see two people affectionately in the corner): "Well, Mr. Wayne has gone to hook up with reporters again, it's not uncommon, we won't pay too much attention to it."

Actually, the two are arguing:

Bruce: So you're Superman??

Clark(with glasses removed): And you're Batman, we both have a little secret. What do you have to accuse me of? (Angry, but glancing at Wayne's chest muscles, open a X-ray *)

Sorry guys, I'm Chinese. As we all know, China has strict internet regulations. I am difficult to log in to Tumblr. I may only check Tumblr information once or twice a year. If you need to interact with me, please contact my Chinese website, for example: https://ayasley.lofter.com/

[paingoes]

Destroyer - Check Up

(Masterlist)

long time no simon

(Content: abuse apologism, non-sexual nudity, child abuse mention, child death mention, drug mention, insensitivity around addiction, brief weight mention)

=======================

“Follow the light,” Dr.Martino turned the flash on. Delta traced its path with his eyes. He blinked out the afterimage against his eyelids. He jumped a little as the doctor pulled his hair back, tying it up in a loose knot for him.

“Stand.”

Delta got up from the table. It was a fairly standard routine at this point; he didn’t need to be told what to do. Except — he didn’t understand why Simon was there. The scientist was leaning back against the bookshelf, not saying anything. Delta felt a little tug of embarrassment as he pulled his shirt up over his head. He didn’t want Simon to see all of it. 

Delta wouldn’t dare hesitate around Dr.Martino, though. Martino knew he wouldn’t. He had known him the longest and was least likely to play games with him. He shrugged the shirt off, folding it neatly onto the table. He removed the loose fabric of his pants until he was standing mostly nude within the cold office. It would have been typical, almost boring — if not for the fact Simon was there, if not for the litany of bruises marked out on his body. 

He was ashamed of it. Dr.Martino’s gloved hand traced gently against the bruises. Some of their shapes were still imprinted clearly onto the flesh. A cable, a ring, a ruler. Not all of it was deserved, even Delta knew that. Paris had gotten out of control. But there was enough of it that he felt he had earned and it made him distressed to have the marks of his own failures so visible against his body. He didn’t want Simon to see it. 

Dr.Martino did some quick measurements. Delta was sure he’d lost weight recently, mostly from stress. The doctor examined the faint scarring around his neck, the afterburns of his own powers nearly frying the collar. 

He dimmed the lights. The soft pale glow of the X-ray equipment stood out against their dark surroundings. Martino guided him into one of the machines, instructing him to stay still. He did so. It moved with a soft mechanical whirr, maneuvering its parts deftly around his frame. 

“You can go,” Dr.Martino switched the machine off.

“Yes, sir,” Delta nodded, stepping outside of its confines. He pulled his clothes back on quickly, left his hair tied up. He exited without looking at either of them.

Dr.Martino carded through the X-rays, putting them all atop the table light. Simon shifted slightly.

“He’s been pretty banged up recently, hm?” He said.

“The psionics are designed to work under high stress. They can take a lot of abuse.” Dr.Martino shrugged.

“You don’t think Paris has a problem?”

“Paris has plenty of problems.” He scoffed. “Christ, I’m glad I never had a son.”

Simon still looked uneasy. Martino sighed, putting the papers down.

“You’re giving him more sympathy than he deserves. That kid is a menace. He always has been.”

“You really think so?” Simon’s voice was surprised, but not judgemental, “He’s always been so good for me.”

“I don't like sneaky. None of the actual good kids made it out of the institute. I used to have favorites, you know. Turns out the ones with an actual conscience don’t fare so well when it's time to drop the bomb. Nine times out of ten, he was the one they sent to deal with them.”

“You’re joking,” Simon balked, “I didn’t know they killed the rejects.”

“Oh, not all of them. A lot of them did get rehomed when they burnt out. But the hostile, powerful ones had to be destroyed. There was this one girl Stella — super nice kid. But when they tried to make her kill the animals, she’d freak out, start getting all mad. Ended up injuring all her handlers. So they sent Delta in. Crushed her like an insect. No hesitation. No emotion at all.”

He paused. “Of course, that’s what they were looking for. That’s why you have to treat him like an object. If he starts to value his own feelings, it all falls apart.”

The silence hung in the air. Simon glanced out the port window. 

“Sometimes I remember the last person in my position blew their brains out,” He says.

Dr.Martino laughed. It had caught him off-guard. Simon smiled, but it looked more like a grimace.

“I still think Paris is being too rough with him. It’s against his own interest.”

“His Highness is a fucking junkie. He doesn’t know his own interests.”

“That’s what I’m saying. He needs help.”

“Are you going to say something to him then?”

Simon didn’t answer, readjusting his cuffs with no real sense of urgency.