#just one very pissed off medical examiner

[deadn30n]

◟ CHARACTER VERSES ◝ : EDEN

Eden / Solstice is a very versatile character; they were designed specifically as such even in the book itself to allow for all different types of growth. this makes fitting them into alternate universes extremely easy. i would like to make a note and say that in their timeline, they are the most powerful creature known through the universe, save only for their maker. this does not, however, apply to other verses and out of respect for the fandoms i insert them into, i've significantly dumbed down their power to avoid any kind of god modding or discomfort. the list you find here is only a brief synopsis of each universe i've decided to toss them into. i will likely make more in depth versions of each one later on down the line. all of them will be linked individually on the character compendium you can find on my pinned post :>

001. MAIN UNIVERSE in the world of DEAD N30N, it is considered an apocalyptic future comprised of cyberpunk and steampunk aesthetics. the city of Hellix is Eden's stomping grounds, and the place where they've grown and evolved as an artificial angel since descending from heaven. DEAD N30N's universe is vast and unexplored, so inserting your character into this verse is extremely easy. but if you chose to interact with Eden in this place, you must take note that they are an artificial intelligence program straight from heaven. their mechanical and eldritch-esque presence is most prominent in this world, making them rather strange and even uncomfortable to interact with at times. their personality is only partially developed, and they struggle to exude human emotions with ease. their goal is to be human at all costs; and they believe themselves to exist as a servant to humans.

002. LEAGUE OF LEGENDS PROJECT: EDEN was revered as the end all be all trump card for Noxus to win the war against it's neighboring countries in it's conquest to own the map. Eden was a vastayan baby stolen from the depths of the Ionian forests in the hopes of fusing ancient magic with noxian machinery. however, as the Noxian soldiers descended to take the finished product and present it to Swain, it's creator Juniper Hawthorne put up a hefty resistance. he realized his creation had grown a heart and soul for itself, and wanted to do anything but force it to face the horrors of war. after witnessing the ruthless slaughter of their 'father', Eden Hawthorne, who adopted the name Solstice as a way to separate themselves from the evil they were originally created to do, broke free and fled Noxus. now it's on the run, hiding wherever it can and avoiding it's noxian pursuers.

003. LEAGUE OF LEGENDS: PILTOVER POPSTAR EDITION! takes place in the same universe as HEARTSTEEL. tied heavily to @goldenfists. | a young, rabbit-eared vastayan always dreamed of bringing what they loved most to the world stage; singing! but due to poor health and general fear that still lurked in human hearts for vastaya, this dream was a difficult one to accomplish. Eden Cielo ( stage name Solstice Maltyr ) grew up and lived a relatively peaceful life in the forests of Ionia. all of that would change when they finally decided to leave their homeland and enter into Piltover to chase their dream! with their older brother at their side && serving as their manager, they entered the city of Piltover and began their adventure! however, due to their fluctuating health, coupled with the rather nasty reception they were given at being a Vastaya, they were eventually confined in a private, out-of-the-way hotel where they could rest and operate in another way. they discovered 'virtual idols' and decided to become one as a good starter; created their avatar, and began putting on performances online exclusively! soon enough their popularity had skyrocketed and it wouldn't be long now before Solstice could reveal their identity to the public and hoped it would be a better reception than the first time. their goal? to be as well loved && accepted as Sett is! because if a vastaya like him could be adored in the spotlight, then couldn't they too?

004. GENSHIN IMPACT during the golden age of the archons lived a lesser god named Faustus. she ruled & protected over a small village in the outskirts of what would later become Mondstat. so much did she love the humans she governed over that she gifted them a guardian; a mechanical angel fashioned under her own magic by the name of Eden. when war began to break out amongst the gods and the archons, Eden was given strict instructions to take the humans of the village underground and protect them at all costs. they did this without question, knowing full well Faustus wouldn't survive the war, weak as she was. && they were right. Faustus perished in the war, but the humans of that village lived on under Solstice's careful protection. that village eventually became a legend passed down through generations of Mondstat's people and told as a fairytail, not knowing that somewhere deep beneath them that village still lived on. their generations survived and lived on, and remain safely hidden from the outside world under Eden's careful protection. perhaps though... one day someone might discover the secret door that leads to where they are? if they can survive Solstice's domain, first, however.

005. ONE PIECE neither human nor mink, a small child is born with tattoos of the constellations splashed over it's body. the baby is believed to be blessed by the moon itself, and grows up living a relatively normal life among the minks. it carries physical traits of the minks ( rabbit ears, a tail, even startling speed and incredible agility ) but also looks quite human. it's given the name Eden, and nicknamed Solstice because it was born during the autumn solstice. it's best friend is a young mink named Argun Maltyr who... to nobody's surprise... is the one they wind up falling in love with. Argun dreams of being a pirate & Eden dreams of being a doctor, so when the two are of age, they set sail together! their voyage is short, as their ship is marooned on a handful of islands. they decide to settle with the villagers for a while and intend to get married, until the day of their wedding when pirates strike && kill everyone, including Eden's beloved. stricken by grief and rage, Eden literally obliterates the pirates and tosses their remnants into the sea. afterward, they remain on the island and rumor of it being haunted by the 'violent lunar rabbit' begin to spread throughout it's neighboring islands. no one dares go near it for fear of their life. deep down Eden still dreams of being a doctor and longs to go out to sea, but is rather bristly and even violent with intruders, especially pirates.

006. DEATH NOTE 23-year-old Eden Cielo is overworked and underpaid as the primary medical examiner for the corpses of Kira's victims. originally from America, Eden later relocates to Japan due to their expertise and smart wits. the Japanese police force believe that Eden can somehow find clues to Kira's whereabouts through the bodies of his victims, and they think Eden can do that. big surprise: they cannot. what's worse, Eden feels this is not only a waste of their time, but also an extreme annoyance because the bodies won't stop piling up and a part of them wants to throw in the towel and hunt Kira themselves to give him a piece of their mind. they think his ideals are ridiculous and too far-fetched. fortunately, they never get the chance to actually go down that potentially life-threatening path, but they certainly do take the time to give the investigators a piece of their mind.

007. JUJUTSU KAISEN perceived as the government's greatest failure, 23 year-old Eden Cielo ( named PROJECT: SOLSTICE ) is kept under close wraps by the ones who created them. some time ago a child with absolutely no significant qualities was born; making it the perfect candidate for the government's experiments. their goal was the create a special-grade curse user with complete autonomous obedience toward the government, and the best way to do that was to take an ordinary human and turn it into something extraordinary. their fused it with machinery, believing this would be key into keeping Eden submissive, and spent years perfecting the thing... only for it to drastically fail in their eyes. it was a success, yes! the child eventually developed special-grade powers, the ability to create a domain called the garden of eden ; but it also failed. you see, it developed a soul, a mind of it's own, and emotions. it's power was only a fraction of what Gojo Satoru's was; it was meant to replace him, to avoid relying on a wild card, but it'd never come even close to what he is. however, it's still strong and trying to kill it proved to be very difficult, so the government keeps Eden under lock and key to avoid them from rebelling. it dreams of freedom, but can it ever have that? it's older brother is certainly working to make that a dream, still incredibly bitter his younger sibling was taken away from him all those years ago.

#CHARACTER VERSES: EDEN. #hey look at me finally being productive WOW!!! #LOOK MOM I DID BLOG STUFF!! #eden's death note verse is the funniest one in here though #just one very pissed off medical examiner #LFDKSAJGHD

[my-my-my]

modern Aizen??!! What type of dad would he be? Or husband? What type of life would he have?(job,money,hobbies,etc.)

I love modern Aizen concepts. I've thought so much about this - I have way too many ideas. I'll break this up into chunks for easier reading.

TW: none!

... as a husband:

A very career-oriented, driven man = very busy. There will be some days where you won't physically see him (because your work schedules don't align), but he will call you each day when you have free time.

He's very attentive. He can tell when you're upset, hurt or angry about something, and he'll listen.

He doesn't like nagging and passive aggressiveness. If you're upset with him, be direct! He trusts you and expects you to trust him as well.

He loves cooking with you, especially if you're curious about new recipes, or try something in a restaurant and want to recreate it at home with him.

He doesn't like leaving household chores with you - he tries to meal plan and prep with you. He's the one that offers to hire a cleaner so there's less stress for you.

When he has time off, he will spend it with you. He will plan elaborate, details days off, vacations, anniversaries, etc. - it's his way of "making up" to his intense schedule.

... as a father:

Extremely, and I mean EXTREMELY patient. He may not be all that understanding with his child, but he tries.

I think Aizen "handles" older children better than new borns and infants.

New borns and infants give Aizen a small seed of fear - this tiny, precious child is someone who inherently has to rely on Aizen. I think in this sense, Aizen's philosophy of "the weak need the strong" changes - of course his baby needs him!

Aizen will always, and I mean always, read them bedtime stories. He loves to encourage his child to read more. One of their first gifts from him (once they're old enough/develop memories) is a little bookshelf.

Library days are important! He's one of those parents who will sign up for parent-baby classes at the local library.

Aizen is definitely the "I'm not angry, just disappointed" parent. He won't shout at his child ever, but they develop an inherent respect for him.

I don't think Aizen would like the concept of private schools (inherently classist/elitist), so he's very much fine with his child going to a public school.

Summer vacations are also for travel! He would encourage his child to see the world - he doesn't want them to be ignorant of the world around them.

... his job:

I've talked about this before, but I can see Aizen in some type of medical or education-role (or both!). I often picture him as some kind of psychotherapist (requires a medical degree) at a world-renowned hospital/institute who's also an associate professor at the major university. He would be one of those people who would have the HBSc + MSc + MD + PhD lol

He would also be a graduate-level supervisor for students. But he's very selective on who he takes under his wing (i.e. Ichigo...). He would encourage his students to think critically about what he's teaching them, but also be supportive in their endeavours.

I think Aizen develops his supervisor persona because it was, unfortunately, something he didn't get to experience as a graduate student. His supervisors were very hands-off and while Aizen was an extremely competent student and fellow, I can see him wanting a mentor during that period of his life.

Aizen only sees a few patients a year, on a consultancy-basis, if he's more research-focused. But some years he does go back into the clinical practice route.

Aizen has definitely had a TEDTalk or two.

Aizen is always competing with Urahara for grants and funding lol it pisses him off.

If Aizen is on a thesis committee with Urahara, it frustrates him, but he tries to be nice and polite - often times he's ignoring Urahara in these meetings and at the time of a student's defence.

Aizen would be a notoriously difficult Comprehensive Examiner for PhD students. Again, going back to thinking critically - he expects students in his division/unit/stream to not regurgitate what they've learned, but demonstrate areas of improvement, new techniques, etc.

Aizen teaches one undergrad-level course in psychology, another one in sociology and then one last one in philosophy (at the 300 level). Many undergrad students flock to his office hours.

Overall - financially - Aizen is definitely not hurting for cash.

... his hobbies:

Reading: whether that be manuscripts, chapter proofs, fiction and non-fiction alike. I think Aizen is inherently a student for life type-of-person. He wants to know more, he has such a thirst for knowledge.

Coffee/tea-hopping: he's not one for gimmicky cafes, but Aizen's curious to try new spots for their coffee and tea selections. Even when he travels abroad, he will try local cafes and buy some beans and blends for home (if he likes it).

I think Aizen would still hold on to calligraphy - it's such a rare talent these days I find. It's an expensive hobby for sure - but one he plans and budgets for. Very, very rarely does he sell some of his prints - it's a way for him to decompress.

I think Aizen would be hesitant to introduce his child to calligraphy - he doesn't want them using his expensive inks and pens lol. I think he'd get them a "child" version of them, but he wouldn't pressure them to continue with calligraphy if it doesn't interest them.

In a similar vein, I can see Aizen enjoying playing the piano in his (very limited) spare time (he's trying to master Rachmaninoff and that unbelievably finger span). I don't see him playing the piano necessarily for the music - but rather, I think it's a test of almost all of his senses. It requires his focus, his ability to read music - translate that ability into finger movements, and be able to interpret the composers own feelings into the piece of music. I don't think he'd be able to tell you who his favourite composers were, but he would be able to tell you pieces that gave him a "challenge" (that he conquered). He would enrol his child in piano lessons.

I can see Aizen being into hiking, and maybe mountaineering. I think it gives him a sort of thrill to climb mountains (always reaching to the top).

Weirdly enough, I think he'd be into foraging as well? Foraging for edible mushrooms specifically (I guess there's something to be said with curiosity and mad scientist types).

Aizen avoids social media. He knows of it, he probably has a twitter account for his academic stuff, but that's about it. I also don't see him as a podcast listener - but he has been invited on to podcasts as a guest!

Overall, I think Aizen would have a life similar to a well-known, top-earning clinical researcher! Someone who's constantly learning, but also wants to share that knowledge to a few select students. This leads him to having a very limited home life, but he makes it up with his attentiveness and understanding. I think Aizen would be a devoted partner to a person who is as equally curious as him - someone he can also learn from.

Thanks anon for this ask! I hope this is what you had in mind.

#bleach #aizen sousuke #aizen sosuke #sosuke aizen #sousuke aizen #aizen x reader #aizen headcanon #answered #anonymous #bleach writings

[cowboylor]

domesticated

matty is under the weather and you take it as a rare opportunity to play house.

wc: 0.7k

warnings: language?, nothing weird, this is self-indulgence for my 2014 self, BUT a little angst if you squint

By the time you enter your apartment, he’s already stolen your freshly-washed blanket and deep diving through your Netflix. He glosses over the recently watched Gilmore Girls with an unjustified look of contempt.

You announce your arrival with a boisterous display of the holiday-colored cup in your left hand and the grocery bag of Tylenol and saltines in your right. 

“One tea for a very, VERY–” Matty glowers and you limit it to two verys. “–sick and malnourished man.”

“And abandoned,” He mutters as you shove the tea into his hand. 

You fight the urge to smile at the rasp in his voice and the way he’s wrapped himself in your blanket. Instead, you look amused as he examines the brightly colored cup with suspicion. He glances up at you with reluctance. 

“Me and millions of others swear by it,” You assure.

You set the grocery bag by the foot of the couch before joining him on the loveseat. 

He brings it to his lips and grimaces, “Smells like piss.”

“That’s a downside for you?”

He leans over to lightly flick the base of your chin, and grins: “Cheeky.”

You busy yourself by shuffling through the bag, listing off medication and time periods when he can take said medications as Matty watches you spew while also shuffling bottles and condiments to him. 

“How are you feeling?”

“Like shit,” He says, his raspy voice evident. “My head aches, my throat hurts. It’s razors.”

“Poor baby,” You coo, before pressing a kiss to his neck and springing off the couch. His hand trails your arm until you’re too far away. “What will we ever do without that sweet voice?”

Matty turns over against the couch, pulling the quilt with him. “Don’t patronize.” 

“I was thinking of making soup–” He hums against the cushion as you speak as you round past the kitchen. “–chicken if it’s all the same to you. You’re probably not hungry, but I’ve found that as long as you keep your appetite up, the faster the road of recovery is, you know?” 

You feel his gaze on you as you shuffle with pots and pans and the half-empty chicken broth in the back of your fridge. But you continue to babble on about soup and proper medication intervals but soon you can’t ignore the staring. You glance up to meet his eyes and notice the faint circles under his eyes that make your heart twinge and for a second, you think something’s wrong.

You set the pan aside, “Everything ok?”

“I think you enjoy this,” He says, a smirking through semi-cracked lips. You tilt your head. “Me being at your mercy and all.” 

The choice of words makes you snort and it just makes his grin widen. You’d never voice it to him because you don’t want to come off as clingy but Matty smiling on your couch is one you want more of. You’re used to seeing him smiling in front of fans and large crowds, but this one feels the most personal. 

You fight a smile, before turning your back to the stove:  “Never.”

*

In your life, you’ve heard from others how men tend to resemble sick, Victorian children whenever they catch a cold—groaning in misery whenever their heads ache or flipping under the covers in agitation when their throats dry up. And this, you’re becoming more convinced is true with every hour of a sweaty Matty muttering into your neck how the end is finally here. 

But–

When you’re looking at him sip honey citrus tea buried under your throw blanket with his legs draped over yours, you can’t help but think how you wouldn’t mind putting up with this every now and then. But, you know that would be nearly impossible. 

You fidget with the edge of the quilt fabric as he catches your wandering stare. 

“What is it?”

You hum, pick at the pattern, and then shrug, “You look properly domesticated.”

The corners of his mouth quirk up and you think he’s going to refute the statement venomously. But then he pauses and you think he’s about to say something corny. You’re not sure which makes your stomach churn more, but you watch him and how his dark eyes seem to be taking you in all at once. 

After a beat of silence, he turns to you, eyes flicking to yours like you have an unspoken understanding of the timeline and depth of your relationship. 

He gently flicks the tip of your chin again, grinning like a devil: “Best not to get used to it.”

Crowds will have to suffice. 

You brush his hand over the blanket,  “I won’t.”

#matty healy x reader #matty healy imagine #the 1975 #the 1975 imagines #yeah............. #anyway #*my writing

[joe9cool]

Invisible String- Collide

This takes place after the story and before the epilogues. Just a cute little story while listening to Invisible String by Taylor Swift

Mike Wozniak was in his attic, normally this was something his wife would be doing, but this was something that was driving him nuts since he discovered the tall young man that stole his youngest daughter's heart.

Justin looked familiar, but he couldn't put his place on it. Then the lightbulb went off in his head when he remembered Justin was from Oregon. He had never gotten a proper chance to mention it since everyone had been fussing over him the entire time he was visiting

After hours of searching through photo albums, he made an "Aha!" Noise as he grabbed the two photos he was looking for

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Dad, I thought you were taking this slow. You just had a medical emergency." Sara had decided to go home for a week to check on her dad before Justin's training camp started. She had just finished wrapping up promotional press for the shows new season premiere. Sara was cleaning her home when her dad surprised her with food and an envelope. "Where's mom?"

"Probably at her art class. Who knows?" Sara laughed and crossed her arms. "And how pissed would she be if she knew you were here with Chinese food?"

"Really pissed. But she will be gone for a few more hours and there's the farmers market on her way home. Plenty of time to hide the evidence." He set the food down as Sara got out the paper plates and plastic utensils. "What's in the envelope?"

He slid it across the dining room table as he began to plate some of the food. "Take a look for yourself."

Confused, she tucked a piece of her dark hair around her ear before opening the envelope. It was a series of photos. She studied the first one. It was a picture of her, Alyssa and their dad outside what looked like a stadium. She looked at the back, in her moms handwriting

7/12/2002

Autzen stadium, Eugene Oregon 

"Oh my god. How do I not remember this?" Sara examined the photo. She and Alyssa were dressed in typical early 2000s kids clothes. Their hair in pigtails, and they looked like they would have rather been anywhere but there. "I told Justin I'd never been there before but I guess I'm a liar."

Mike laughed. Taking a bite of his food. "It was an overnight business trip and I took your girls at the last minute since you were upset about Katie and Brittany going to Florida with your cousins. I didn't know anything about the area, saw this massive football stadium with Duck gear everywhere and got you this since you cried." There was a bag that he reached in. He pulled out a small stuffed Duck with an old Oregon logo on it. "Maybe one day, you could give it to your baby."

Sara took the duck and smiled. "I don't even remember having this." Her dad smiled. "Well you kept it in your room for a few days until Brittany made fun of you for having too many stuffed animals and then you threw them in the basin. You're lucky your mother is a sentimental hoarder."

He picked up the envelope and took out another photo. "This was when I went to New York for work because my company was sponsoring the college football awards. In 2019 I attended the national college football awards banquet to see my buddy Steve present the William Campbell trophy to a young man. I didn't know much about him, but he was very smart and polite in the brief moment I shook his hand."

He flipped the photo over and there was a group photo. All of the big execs surrounding Justin, and sure enough her dad was all of the way at the end.

"Who would have thought I'd be meeting my future son-in-law." Mike smiled as his daughter rolled his eyes. "Dad please."

"I'm just saying." He held his hands up.

—

"Wow. Now I feel bad, I didn't even recognize your dad when I met him in the hospital." Justin smiled as she showed him the two photos and the stuffed Duck. Sara laughed. "How would you have known?"

"True." He smiled. "You're a liar though." She looked confused. "Huh?" He got up and walked towards her, cornering her, he spoke slowly. "You told me you've never been to Eugene" She smiled, catching on by his tone. "I guess technically I did lie. Does that mean I'm a bad girl and need to be punished?"

She squealed as his hand snaked around her to squeeze her ass hard. "Bad girls always get punished."

—-------------------------------------------------------------

A week after she showed him the photos something else had happened. She was scrolling on her tiktok page when a photo she recognized came across her for you page.

It was an old photo that her college roommate Cameron had posted back in 2017 on instagram. Fans must have dug up the photo as the old friend's profile was open.It was a photo of them at a UCLA football game, one of the few she attended. They were on the field, her name starting to pick up as she gotten some guest star roles on tv shows and was gaining traction in movies. Her and Cameron were by the end zone. She captioned it

One day she will get into football.

The person who posted it had used the song 'invisible string' as the sound

Isn't it just so pretty to think All along there was some invisible String, Tying you to me

Sliding over the person had zoomed in on the same photo. Sara gasped as she recognized the guy on the field throwing a few feet behind them

It was Justin, her Justin.

She smiled widely. She vaguely remembered that game. From what she did remember, she was bored and on her phone messaging a douche that she was dating while waiting for call backs.

How close she was to meeting him. His hair was buzzed short, and he paid no attention to the chaos around him as he was getting ready for the game. Typical Justin.

Smiling, she made a few calls.

—--------------------------------------------------------------

A few weeks later, Justin was at camp as Sara had just gotten in from another day of protesting for the writers. She was cooking dinner when he walked in. "Hey babe." He kissed her. "Smells good, as usual. I'm going to change."

"Okay when you're done I have a surprise for you." He lifted his eyebrows. "Oh?" His earlier task was forgotten. "Is it another workout?" He wiggled his eyebrows in a suggestive manner.

"That's for later. I'm talking about an actual gift."

Justin sighed and Sara laughed, deciding to show him earlier, she grabbed the frame from one of the drawers. He took it and was confused for a second. "Who is the girl with you?"

"My roommate Cameron this was when we went to the UCLA Oregon game." She smiled as she saw the recognition on his face. "Hey that's me in the back!" Justin looked up and laughed. "This was in 2017. Oh my god."

She smiled. "Who would have known? It's too bad you had that shaved head otherwise I would have definitely tried to fuck you." He rolled his eyes. "You know I had a girlfriend at this time?"

“So was I, well kinda, we were seeing other people on the side.” He narrowed his eyes “Hey I was a hoe when I first got into the La/Hollywood scene”

“I don’t want to hear about that.” She laughed at his jealousy. “You know the chicken needs some time to cool off, I need to keep busy.” She dragged a finger down his chest. Catching on, he put her over his shoulder and immediately went into the room. Unbeknownst to them, the music playing in the background begun playing ‘invisible strings’

A.N. This was just something cute I thought of while listening to the song

#justin herbert #sara and justin canon #nfl imagine

[imagine-silk]

Could you do a story or, if you don't want to do that, long thourough headcanons of Yandere Curie with a Darling that is a courser from a previous request?

》I made this one actually evil (You can thank Cassandra for that)

TW; SA

The thing that drew her to you was your appearance, as shallow as that is. You had almost no body fat, your skin was flawless, and you held your composure like you were unable to let it go. You were so novel and new, her curiosity was peaked and she told no one to keep you to herself. Watching you from afar, close enough to see, far enough to not be noticed. Immaculate, stunning, stoic, graceful, words were not enough for her.

But your comings and going were making her mad. It was so overwhelming to her. You showed up out of nowhere and then suddenly you disappeared. You never came to her for first-aid or greetings, in fact you constantly walked past her. Making friends was something she didn't understand how to do so she didn't know how to just walk up to you and talk. Even if she did you would have left her alone. No trace, no witnesses.

Then you got captured by none other than Sole. A Institute courser who attempted to kill a few of her companions. The list didn't include her but it did include a no witness order. You would have killed her given the option.

This didn't dissuade her however, quite the opposite. You hid for so long in silent strength and on the prowl. She had no doubt if it was anyone other than Sole you would have succeeded. Sole is unstoppable. Imagine the strength you must have to have survived the encounter, and the cunning. It gave her shivers just to think about it. Uniquely beautiful and dangerous, now tied up in a bow.

She convinced Sole she should check on you, as a doctor, of course. You were bound to have injuries on that perfect airbrushed body. To her delight, Sole said yes.

Being trapped on the surface was disgusting for you, not only for your mission, it was dirty. They stripped you of your things and gave you surface clothes, you never felt so naked. There was nothing to do but sit. Wait.

You stayed still as Curie looked you over. If you wanted to get out you needed leverage and she would make a mediocre hostage. Not only that, you were hurt and you needed the medicine. The things she said were very medical, how the bruises affected you and what to do and what not to do. Little did you know she was showing off. All you heard was directions. The only talking you did was saying what hurt.

She kept going every few days with medicine and touchy hands. Normal procedures. Until it wasn't. "Your body is perfect. I am going to perform some studies." To say it was unnerving would be an understatement. She flat out told you you didn't have a choice. She used a stealth-boy to go in and sedate you. At first you weren't worried, you were poison trained, but then you went limp and fell over. Whatever she gave you wasn't a regular sedation. You were aware, just paralyzed.

She drew blood, took samples of hair and skin, cheek swab, the works. Invasive but not as bad as you thought. But you spoke too soon. After she collected the samples she examined more, sliding her hands under your shirt and petting all over, watching your face with great interest. You gathered enough strength to hook your leg across her torso and neck to push forward and pin her to the ground. But your facade didn't even last a second because she knew you had no real strength. She pushed you softly and you fell back onto the ground. This time she straddled your stomach and dragged her nails over your clothes.

You didn't know what feeling it was when she was doing all of it. The answer pissed you off. Fear.

After that you always tried to fight her and you always failed. Her curiosity grew as well as her understanding of what she was feeling and what she wanted. The longer this went on the more forceful she became, the more clothes came off, the more pleasure she derived from her visits. She completely ignored your demands to stop and went about her studies, if you could even call it that.

Then you asked a key question, "Why are you doing this?"

Her answer unnerved you. "Because I want to." Fawned over you in the most concerning way, telling you the lengths she would go. Breaking your legs or killing anyone who told her she had to stop coming. She said all of it while sitting on your leg, rocking back and forth, her hands on your shirtless chest. Your lips were bruised and your muscles ached. "Because this is love."

The day after you yelled you had enough. That you didn't love her. That you were a courser from the Institute there to do a job. She push you down and leaned face-to-face, so close you could hardly see her face. "So if the Institute is gone you will be mine?" She suddenly had a huge impact on the efforts to take down the Institute. You were happy for the break but you celebrated too soon. She came back in a frenzy. "You are mine."

#ask and you shall receive #fallout 4 #gender neutral reader #fallout imagines #fallout x reader #yandere #companions react #gender neutral #yandere curie #curie

[jad3w1ngs]

So this is a bit of a vent and also a bit of a positive thing? Hard to describe but anyway.

I finally seem to have a kind of diagnosis for my pain.

Turns out that my ligaments are all a little bit too stringy/long so they aren't holding my bones in the right place.

I am viewing this part as the positive bit because I've been trying to get someone to say/know why I'm constantly in pain since I was 23 (I'm 29 now). The fact that it's taken this long for someone to actually, properly look at me, to actually examine me instead of telling me that I'm either imagining it or that I should just lose weight.

I mean the fact that I literally lost 3st (42lbs) just to stop them using that as an excuse should probably tell you just how often that was their excuse.

So that leads me into the ranty part of my post. I've been going to the doctor's on and off since this pain started and mostly focused on my lower back and tailbone (because that's where most of the pain is) and every time it was just waved off like 'oh everyone's backs hurt a bit'. And okay sure, the human spine sucks but I'm pretty sure most people (especially in their early 20s) are still able to sit in a chair for more than 10 minutes without pain, more than 30 minutes without being in so much pain that they can't focus on anything else.

I'm sure most healthy, non-disabled 20 something's don't have days where their legs feel so week because their back is fucked that they worry about climbing stairs because they're sure they're going to fall.

Now onto how I finally got the doctor to listen to me. By talking about something else.

I started the way I normally do (fresh doctor because I moved a little while ago so I've had to start the process over again) talked about my back, how I've been in pain daily for over 7 years now and I want to know why/if they can help me. I also brought up the fact that I've finally put two and two together in that my joints don't always seem super sturdy, that the reason I'd made that appointment in particular was because my leg gave out on a walk and my knee has been sore ever since and keeps clicking etc.

Doctor does what all the doctors do. Said, oh we'll ignore the back for now because we all have bad back (she legit said this too me) we'll focus on your knee.

I was annoyed but also just kind of let it go because I had made the appointment about my knee and also if I talk verbally about my pain too much I start crying, especially around medical personnel.

Now's the part that really pissed me off, because of the next question she asked me.

'does your joint pain actually stop you from doing your job or going about your life'

And I'm sure there's probably a reasonable explanation for that question, there is a possibility I'm over reacting but it very much came across as something that if I said no, it doesn't effect my ability to do my job, that she just wouldn't have helped me.

Anyway, I said yes. Because yes, there are days my joints just don't work. There is also a lot of manual handling and a lot of walking involved in my job, so on days where my joints feel extra stringy or my legs feel wobbly I can't do my job.

She manipulated my legs, moving them from side to side. Tried to see if there was still any swelling etc. And that was when we discovered that, and I quote I 'have the stretchiest knees she's ever seen' that my joints would be the perfect ones to show trainees because the hyperflextion (I think that's the right word) was textbook and really visible.

So now I know. I still feel quite patronised and dismissed but I know. Because it explains everything. My ligaments aren't doing their job so my bones move about. Not stretchy enough for things to dislocate properly but they do for a few seconds. This also means my hips don't sit right when I sit down hence the pain.

I have a path now, it's mostly physical therapy to train my muscles to do what my ligaments can't (basically I have to become super strong! Get hench! That kind of thing) and I have something that I can start with when I go to the doctor's from now on.

#long post #about me #a little rant #medical trauma

[mellygrl]

melly girl & Doctor Knox's <3 Bucket List

"You drink and hold your pee till you cant any longer and have to release it in public. Blue jeans are the most appropriate attire for this fantasy. I would take you back to a room and lick you clean. I don't mind drinking your pee, baby." - Doctor

"We meet and I pee o your underwear and you on mine. We than spend the day marked by each other in public such as a theme park." - Doctor

"You as the exhibitionist wearing no underwear and a short skirt... showing off every chance you get and making the other girls jealous of your body and the men jealous of what I have and they don't. A theme park could be a good place for that if dumbed down. We could wear surgical masks if need be." - Doctor

"A BBC gang bang - I love watching a beautiful white girl with several black men. It would definitely be a great opportunity for Plan B and I would have my way with you after." - Doctor

"A nude hike would be fun wherein we take our clothes off, pack them in our back pack, and take to the trail naked and free, making numerous stops to lick the sweat from one another." - Doctor

"A medical play day, where we can totally examine your body including a rectal exam, a speculum to examine your vagina, needles to measure your pain threshold. We could incorporate fisting in there as well." - Doctor

"A primal play day where I can mark you as my property in any way imaginable from pissing inside you, to biting, clawing, and flogging you. You would in turn have to take any body fluid I told you to, anywhere I told you. You would also have to lick any of my body parts I tell you to and give me any of your body fluids on command." - Doctor

"free use is very interesting. wouldn't mind playing my Nintendo Switch while you use me and flip me around as needed." - melly

"i love age play!" - melly

"i would be interested in exploring flogging..." - melly

"... and caning!" - melly

"passing me around to your friends..." - melly

"... and mayyybe you even have a friend who isn't into the lifestyle but you want to treat them discreetly to an experience they wont forget." - melly

"honestly, i have a fantasy, but i think its crossing the line so i probably shouldn't even bring it up. but if you ever do want to hear it..." - melly (he did, let me know if you do, too!)

"i would love a collar in the near future!" - melly

"I have a fantasy about helping guys that are down on their luck get pussy. Like geeky guys that are 18 to 25, or girls for that matter. Help out someone." - Doctor // "i would love to give geeky men their ultimate fantasies!!" - melly

"we could make some money, Daddy. i wouldn't mind being pimped out here or there. as long as they pay my worth, which we both know is a lot." - melly

"you can actually breed me, i will wear whatever you'd like, and you can plant your seed deep inside my very fertile pussy, my womb ready and chomping at the bit to fertilize an egg, its only real purpose. then, id take plan b and i guess well hope i don't get pregnant." - melly

This is word for word out of both Doctor Knox's and I's sexy lips, or rather from our sexy finger tips via our sexy brains and sexy eyes, but whatever. Texting.

I will add to it, cross things off, and share stories <3 Just wait, this is gonna be fun!

#dear diary #me #reality #Doctor Knox #if you have any questions about my life/partners/kinks/experiences please feel free to reach out with an ask #anons welcome #send pervy asks #bd/sm blog #k1nk blog #bd/sm community #bd/sm kink #bd/sm lifestyle #bd/sm relationship #k1nk #hard k1nk #good slvt #free use slvt #degrading k1nk #bd/sm brat #cnc k!nk #cnc free use #breeding k1nk #bd/sm slave #bd/sm pet #bd/sm collar #hi im mel

[bendingthelaws]

2

TW - Mention of dismemberment, mention of removed body part, mention of violence. No description of the gore

*****

Chicago Police Department Headquarters - Major Case Squadroom

"Kase!” Karsten’s head popped up from where he’d been reading over reports back from the lab on the threats that had been coming in against Colin Masterson, and leads on his missing intern.  Some were saying she wasn’t missing, that this was a coverup for an abortion of Colin’s child that went wrong.  He and Declan needed to quash that shit before it got out of hand, that was the last thing that they needed getting splashed all over the front page of some paper. 

“Yo!” He called out, starting to stand up.  Best not to say too much till he had some kind of clue what was going on.  The Captain sounded pissed, and he was pretty sure he hadn’t done anything.

“Get your damn ass over to DA Masterson's, YESTERDAY!  They are calling for you personally and grab Declan wherever his lazy ass is at." Captain Foster screamed from the door to his office as soon as Karsten had come to full standing.

"What the fuck did I do?" God fucking damn it! It was first thing Monday morning and he couldn't have fucked up anything for Colin over the weekend. He’d been going over everything he’d received on Friday and the previous lab reports all weekend.  

"I don't know, but I just got my ass handed to me by his boss AND mine. Something's going on over there and you've been asked for specifically by name. Whatever it is, fucking fix it!  And if your partner caused it, kick his ass when you’re done fixing it." That was an order, no doubt about it to anyone in the room, all of whom were now looking at each other warily.  There was not one officer in the room who didn’t know what had been going on with the prosecutor, and if things were starting to go higher up then it was never a good sign.  The case was already high profile as it was, since someone in the department was leaking to the press.

"Got it! I'll call when I know what's going down boss!" Karsten gave a fake salute and turned around heading out. Nothing good could come from a call to the DA's office before you'd had your second cup of coffee. Nothing. Just don't let it be another dead witness in their case against Constantin Rakeovich. They were all supposed to be in protective custody.

*****

Cook County Medical Examiner's Office

Dr Serena Cavenaugh, the Chief Medical Examiner for Cook County,  had just sat down at her desk after getting coffee when her phone went off. It was the State's Attorney’s Emergency number. Nothing like a call from that number to start her Monday off in a bad place.  If he was wanting more lab reports than what she’d emailed over to both he and Detective Kase, then he was just going to have to wait.  She could not rush the State Police Crime Lab.  It didn’t work that way.

"Cavenaugh." She answered after hitting the speakerphone button on her desk phone so she could keep working on her laptop during what she hoped would be a quick call.  There was a kidnapped intern that she needed to try to find any kind of evidence she could from what they had pulled off of the body, or from out of the bod.

Colin’s voice was calm, too calm as he relayed to her whathe had discovered within the “gift” left on his desk that morning; as well as ltting her know that someone else in his office was passing along the same information toDetective Kase as well. Listening to what Colin had to say, her heart stopped and her fingers hovered over the keys.  Forgotten instantly was getting any work done that morning. She'd thought the first two boxes were just some threat that would go no further, but that did not seem to be the case. Just the sound of Colin's voice told her this one was no joke and that her friend was rattled.  Very little rattled Colin Masterson, she had learned that over the years of working with him. Her stomach turned the longer he spoke; if this was how Monday was going to go, the rest of the week was going to be total and complete hell.

"I’m on my way Colin. Don't let anyone touch anything, even Karsten. I'll have Spencer meet me there." She nodded a few more times as Colin let her know he had just received verification that Karsten was on his way as well. Well, there was a bright spot, she'd be working with her favorite cop.

After she hung up, she grabbed her coat and coffee before heading out. On the way to her car she called Spencer; might as well head him off before he made it all the way into the office.  Might as well add one more person to the list of having their day ruined.

*****

Dan Ryan Expressway

Yes! Traffic was flowing, Godsmack was echoing in his car, and they'd gotten his coffee order right for once. Not too bad for a Monday. Now to hope that the weekend wasn't too grisly  for the city.  Putting pieces back together was not his favorite thing to do. Something light and easy for the first day of the week was always preferable.

Those hopes were dashed when Rena's number came up on the display screen in his car. If she couldn’t even wait till he got to the office, it was never good.  Hitting the button on his steering wheel to answer the call he took a deep breath and aimed his voice to where he knew the mic was in the car, "yeah boss, what's up?"

Rena's voice came through the speakers, replacing the musc. First came the apology, which meant whatever was coming next was going to suck balls. The redirect to Colin’s office..again…meant only one thing. FUCK!

"You've got to be kidding me. The sicko sent another box? What this time, a fingertip?" Whoever it was sending these boxes was seriously disturbed. They all had a feeling they knew why they were being sent, but just couldn't tie it back to the who.  How twisted did the bastard have to be to be doing this?  Did he really think that his case could just be dropped like it never happened?  He knew better.

What Rena told him next just about had him wrecking; he was in no way prepared for what Colin had been sent. This was an interesting development, and not at all in a good way. An eyeball. Someone sent Colin Masterson a motherfucking eyeball. All he could do now was hope it was fake or not human, although he knew in his gut that it was going to end up belonging to the intern.

#bending the law #my writing #new chapter #new writing #original story #fiction #original writing #original fiction #writing #writers community #writblr #long reads #chicago #crime #police #lawyers #violence #dismemberment #blood #serena #karsten #spencer #medical examiner

[masquenoire]

Another box is left among the chaos, this one small enough to hold in two hands. Chimera kept to their warning. Nestled on a bed of bloodied medical gauze is an eye, the gleaming onyx and gold plucked neatly from someone's socket with great surgical care.

He stares down at the eye peering back up at him solemnly, the once glossy colours having dulled slightly since being extracted from it’s host. Chimera had kept their word, sending him one of Croc’s body parts and it’s not the first time that Roman is thankful for years of grim experience in this field, his expression one of aloof passiveness as he puts on a pair of latex gloves. He’s pissed but is able to keep his cool, picking up the eye with tender care and inspecting it just as thoroughly. It had been removed very carefully. Eyes were delicate organs, by far one of the most vulnerable parts of the body and it being intact suggests Croc was sedated while it was being removed, or at least he hoped so. The bloodied gauze the eye once sat upon is still red in colour, and the relatively fresh condition of the organ suggests it was removed mere hours ago. Two, perhaps three? Close enough, but where had it come from? The notion that Croc was so close and yet so far was almost enough to tip him over the edge into apoplectic rage but Roman knew that losing his temper wouldn’t help in this situation. He needed to stay focused and think. Croc needed him to stay focused and think, to use his brains instead of his brawn. Setting the eye down into a spare container he’d used in the past for similar purposes, Roman seals the lid, placing the thing eye and all into a beer chiller in case he needed it later as evidence or to provide a lead he might have missed in his initial examination. The cold would keep the organ from decaying too quickly, serving as a grim reminder as to how much Croc hated the cold. What was that phrase again? An eye for an eye? Maybe it would make the world go blind, but Roman would sooner blind every motherfucker out there before giving up on Croc. Sending him one of Croc’s only pissed him off more, making him all the more determined to pay Chimera back, with interest.

"An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth. I ain’t a religious man but kids, you just brought divine retribution down upon yourselves.” Time to track down where that fucking box came from. Hacking was more of the Riddler’s speciality but maybe Horsehead had uncovered something, having increased surveillance all around the city on his orders.

#anonymous #Chimera Anon #;; asks #When being a cold-blooded torturer lets you keep your cool around seeing your friend's extracted eyeball #I mean it's not like they just grabbed a random dude Croc's eyes are pretty unique #Roman hopes to lowest pits of hell his eyes are able to regenerate like other parts of his body #If so then good but either way he's going to gouge out the eyes of every whitecoat he catches with an ice cream scoop #Then blend them into smoothies and make them drink it #eye horror tw #eye horror cw #body horror tw #body horror cw #Lord grant me forgiveness if this disgusts any of you #I tried to tag but can only remember so much

[lonespektr]

SEPTEMBER 29TH HORROR WATCH

Slasher: Ripper 1x1

Slasher has a new season and it's a prequel.

Slasher is exactly that with four pretty decent seasons under it's belt it's a series that's decidedly in the realm of smart slashers there's usually a point and definitely a few twists.

"Jack" is run off by a pimp who threatens jack with his own knife to stay away from hassling his girls (and boys) - he has previously injured then in the past

Jack stalked off to find another victim

A widow (the clothes are mourning) he pulls the knife

Except the widow is not prey

A very messy blood egale?

Annd a very literal scwering on a post

Fitting for a rapist sadist fuck

Detective find him carved up the pimp says he's not actually the jack just a sicko rich fuck impersonator

Good riddance everyone thinks bit the detective wants to solve a murder

The rich women relatives are in denial

We have our medical examiner doing a live surgery on a semi awake patient lol

The crowd in the theater is enthralled but she examines the corpse both ME and Detective agree it was probably a very pissed off woman

Bossman of course does not

Another cat house owner ( actual owner of a home was interviewed and now he's going down to the alley where the working girls walk

Rich landlord is harassing the sex workers and pimps

These women are trying to marry off a young sister who moved into town

This anthology series like most good ones have same actors across multiple seasons occasionally not the full cast but some actors reappear and it's always nice

Rich people Magic show classic saw in half

Killer left a clue in the body tiny scroll, actually a confession

And a clue on the next murder

"Friends of Margaret"

Uh oh 12 years ago the bossman knows something

Oooo the wife looking guilty already!! These are always hard to crack

They do a lot of red herrings

She lying though

Dead husband has kink paraphernalia in his office and weird skeleton

The rich sisters hassling the (apparent bastard daughter)

More weird kink stuff

Spanking a grown woman

Landlord sent thugs to beat on the pimp

False bottom in an office drawer

Book of newspaper murder clippings fan boy i don't think he's actually the ripper

"Margaret" was obviously a victim of the actual ripper years prior

Apparently now detective then beat cop s the first on the scene with the body

They keep showing the dancer but i don't think she did it

They killed one of the guys working girls trying to beat him up

Slasher often has the killer come face to face for a VERY long time. I guess it's classic slasher trope though

Our widow killed our pimp with the heart of gold

#graywatchhorror23 #slasher: ripper

[sickbaysaturdays]

Metal Dreams

Sequel to “The Metal Butterfly,” available in the March archives of this fine blog.  This is a special feature, and we will return to our regularly scheduled programming next week.

Two lost souls who can’t go home share a correspondence.

Medic,

You said to write to you when I arrived safely at New Pergamus University Hospital. This has transpired. The ship-to-surface shuttle dropped me off last night, and I spent most of the evening being examined by Dr. Solano and her team.

People seem more forgiving of each other here. On the transport yesterday, two men argued, and I thought it would come to blows. Instead, they both burst out laughing. In fact, I don’t think I’ve seen a single public altercation since leaving the Imperium.

I’m treated better as well. This morning, the nurse told me jokes while she set up my S-33 infusion. Back on the warship, the only person who treated me like anything other than an experiment or a freak was Sergeant Tillery.

Dr. Solano seems to know her trade. She said my recovery would take some time, and she would need to replace some of Dr. Gatwin’s experimental cybernetics with standard models. She is kind, but the thought of more surgeries has me anxious.

Thank you for finding me this place. I think I will be alright here for a while.

If you’re not too busy, I’d love to know what is happening on the Monarch.  Has anything exciting happened? How are Mr. Constanzakis and Corporal Flynn? And you, of course. I hope you’re well.

How do you sign letters in the Alliance? Back on Caldros, we’d use yours in Glory, but I doubt that’s appropriate here.

Orren

Orren,

I’m glad to hear you’ve arrived safely. I admit, I found NPUH because Dr. Solano was the co-author of the cybernetics text I used when you were in the Monarch’s sickbay. It’s good to hear that she’s just as competent in person.

Mechanic Constanzakis, last I heard of him, is bored and trying to optimize the flashlight. Corporal Flynn reports all systems nominal. They are currently sitting on an empty cot and cleaning their rifle.

We did have some excitement recently. Are you familiar with altitude sickness? Last week, I had several patients come in with what turned out to be altitude sickness. After putting lots of steroids in everybody, I made a very pointed call to environmental control.

Turns out a couple of clowns decided to overclock the system processor, which predictably caused it to fail. The backups kicked in with a few hiccups, like a hazardous drop in oxygen and pressure. Everybody is very pissed off.

It was a little nostalgic, though. I haven’t seen a case of altitude sickness since I worked with the Rescue Service back home. We’d get a couple tourists a year who went up the mountains too fast.

I hear you about being nervous about more surgeries. I wish I had something comforting to say, but I’m not very good at overcoming fears myself. All I can do is wish you luck.

(There are lots of ways to sign a letter. Basically, you want to end with whatever sentiment you want to leave your recipient with.)

Best of luck,

Medic

Medic,

Thank you for the new information. I don’t think I realized this until I left, but in the Imperium, almost every pleasantry exchanged between citizens contains the word glory. For instance, the most patriotic way to say hello is Glory to and then the name of the place you live. Glory to Caldros, my name is Orren.  

Of course, it wasn’t Orren back then. I took the name from a comic book series I loved as a boy. Orren Beck is the scientist who gives Hero Gloriorum the technology he needs to fight insurgents. Looking back, it’s all blatant propaganda, but it was also my favorite comic in happier times.

You’ll be pleased to know that your follicle-stimulating treatments are still working, and my hair is nearly the length of my shoulders. One of the nurses, Mauro, showed me how to braid it.

You and Corporal Flynn told me to think about what I want. Sergeant Tillery has been on my mind lately, and I want to send a letter to her family. 

When an Imperial soldier is killed in battle, their family only receives a computer-generated letter saying they died for the glory of the Imperium. I think her family deserves more than that.  

Unfortunately, I don’t know much about her, just that she was from the Outer Arm, and won several marksmanship awards. I can’t access Imperial servers from here. Can you still access the personnel records on the warship she served on? 

She was an extraordinary woman. It would mean a lot if I could tell her family that.

Thank you,

Orren

Orren,

I had to ask a few favors, but here’s what I found:

The only Tillery serving on the warship Fearsome was a Sergeant Megan Tillery from Slacov, Mispronac. She’d been in the service ten years, and received the Imperial Star for exemplary service in the battle at Barnard’s. There were three marksmanship awards in her file.

Next of kin is listed as Burr Tillery, husband, living in Slacov Province. I’ve attached the full contact information.

Your friend,

Medic

Medic,

Thank you for this. It took me almost a week to decide what to write. How would Mr. Tillery react to receiving a letter from a lab experiment? In the end, I introduced myself as someone who’d served with his wife, and told him how brave and kind she was. I said, very truthfully, that she is missed.

In other news, I finally got my spinal processors removed. Dr. Solano told me that spinal surgery can cause significant pain, but I am in less pain now than before. Tomorrow, they’re going to replace my right arm, which has been useless due to the infection at the shoulder graft.

Yesterday, Mauro took me to a café on the hospital’s ground floor. I told him I only need the odd infusion of nutrient broth, but he insisted on showing off his city’s specialty pastries. I ate a fruit muffin and a benetta. 

Medic, it’s the first food I’ve eaten since I left Caldros. I had almost forgotten the joy of sugar and oil and crumbs. Of course, it doesn’t compare to the roasted onion breads from Caldros, but I suppose I’ll have to get used to Pergaman food while I’m here.

It wasn’t always a happy place, but I miss little things about home, like the food. Yesterday, Mauro said I can go home after they’ve finished fixing my cybernetics, but he doesn’t know about my origins. The Imperium considers me a casualty of the battle at Harah, and if I were to go back now, I’d be arrested as a defector.

Your friend,

Orren

 Orren,

All I can say is I know the feeling. Sometimes home is a past tense word. Mostly I try not to think about it. Corporal Flynn says it helps to talk it out, and I guess that’s what we’re doing.

So, news aboard the Monarch: I have a horrible hacking asthma cough, and someone has been diverting narcotics.

I keep the Good Stuff in a safe behind a fingerprint lock. This week, I did a spot check, and I was short. The perpetrator didn’t even bother to follow long-standing medical tradition and replace the drugs with saline; they just took the vials.

I have a pretty good idea of who it is. I am not looking forward to the conversation we’re going to have.

The asthma cough is treatable, at least. I mixed myself up a gourmet nebulizer of steroids, racemic epi, and beta-2 agonists and am self-administering it as I write. Corporal Flynn is watching me disapprovingly from their spot by the doors, but they don’t have a belt around their lungs or a cough that tastes like old coins.

How did the arm surgery go? And I want to hear about all your favorite foods.

All my best,

Medic

Medic,

The arm surgery went “smoothly,” according to Dr. Solano. I’ll need a lot of physical therapy to learn how to use the new arm, though—my brain needs to learn the new connections. As before, there was far less pain than I’m accustomed to.

Since I can’t use both hands to type, I’ve been connecting to the computer with a hardline and writing these letters with my brain. It’s faster than typing anyway, and since my spinal processors were removed, interfacing with a computer is much smoother.

A few days ago, Mauro walked in on me while I still had the cable running from my temple to the computer console. He left the room in a hurry. Now, when I ask if we can go to the café again, he’s busy. 

So there are no more favorite foods to report so far. I have discovered another passion, which is reading. Most books that aren’t boring as water or oozing with patriotism are banned in the Imperium. Here, the Pergaman Public Library has a dizzying variety of books. I’m having real trouble choosing. What are your favorite books?

Hoping your cough gets better soon,

Orren

Orren,

Unfortunately, I am typing this while propped up in bed in the sickbay of the Libertad, the larger ship in our task group. It turns out that what I thought was asthma exacerbation is actually pneumonia. Corporal Flynn had to call Dr. Wick after I coughed myself into a minor syncopal episode.

This is all backward. I treat patients; I do not receive treatment unless it’s from myself. Lucan, the head medic here, is relishing the opportunity to flex his critical care skills. I am covered in monitoring equipment, and he’s got me on bacteriophage infusions. It’s excessive.

At least this means I don’t have to talk to the narcotics culprit yet.

You can still get food even if that nurse won’t go to the café with you. If you’re not comfortable going by yourself, most hospital cafés will deliver food upstairs. There should be a computer menu to place your order.

Let’s see, books. I haven’t had much time to read lately, but I remember enjoying Gone-away Station, which is a mystery thriller about a space station that’s only there sometimes. Oh, and Murder on the Orient Express, a homeworld classic. Make sure you get the Sovan translation; all the others are impossible to get through.  Bearing Witness is a memoir by Soraya Varden, who spent forty years as a medic with the Rescue Service in Mattarin, Kumitan. It was one of the things that inspired me to become a medic.

I asked Corporal Flynn, and they recommend Down in the Valley, which is historical nonfiction about the Cruciad civil war.

All my best,

Medic

Medic,

You were right about the café offering delivery. I have decided that I like croissants, both plain and with filling.

This week, Dr. Solano replaced my other arm and, at my request, switched my experimental bioplastic medication port out for a more standard one. It’s a small change, but I feel more like myself. Like my body is my own again. I know that probably doesn’t make a lot of sense to you. 

It doesn’t make a lot of sense to me, either. Percentage-wise, I’m more tech than human. My brain, where the soul, the “butterfly,” supposedly lives, is also significantly enhanced by tech.

I’ll never be the boy I was. That body and mind are gone. I don’t even go by his name anymore. I’m also not Twelve, the lab experiment. I’m Orren, but who or what is Orren?

I wish I could sleep, at least. Since I stopped sleeping, there have been an awful lot of hours to fill.

Your book recommendations helped fill those hours. I started reading with my eyes, but I feel more comfortable reading via hardline connection. It’s smooth and seamless, like taking a bath in words. 

You can tell Corporal Flynn that I particularly enjoyed their book on the Cruciad civil war. It didn’t pull any punches.

Wishing you better health soon,

Orren

Orren,

Thanks for the letter. It always cheers me up to hear from you. I am feeling better now. Being ill is boring, and I’ve decided not to do it anymore.

The downside is that I couldn’t delay confronting the narcotics thief anymore. It was awful. He didn’t even deny it. He just sat down on a cot and started crying. I didn’t know what to say. The poor guy left on a troop transport yesterday.

The worst part is that I knew he was struggling and tried to help. It wasn’t enough. I feel like it’s partly my fault for not doing more.

Well, we have something in common now because I can’t sleep either. I keep thinking about my patient, and then about all the other patients I’ve failed, and, well, that spirals pretty fast. And none of the safe sleep meds work anymore.

Sometimes I go for walks around the ship at night. It was a little scary at first—usually, Corporal Flynn escorts me everywhere, and it felt strange to be alone. I’m used to it now. I go to the obs deck with the enormous windows and stare at the stars for hours.

Have you ever done that? Just lost yourself in the galactic soup?

The first time I was in space, I was on a surface-ship shuttle on my way to an assignment with an asteroid mining company. When he heard it was my first time off planet, the man next to me insisted on switching places so I could have the window seat. Kumitan from orbit is a treat, he said.

I stared out that porthole and broke down sobbing. It’s hard to explain. I could see the Cappadine Valley where I grew up, this dimple of light green ringed by snowcapped mountains. It was so small and perfect. Suddenly I realized that everyone I knew was down in that little green dish while I was up in the ionosphere, so unimaginably far away.

Humanity fought for centuries to leave our homeworld and live in space. At that moment, all I wanted to do was somehow slide through that window and land on the shade porch outside my grandparents’ house.

I know all about the observer effect et cetera now, but I think a part of me knew that I was never going home again.

Sorry to be so maudlin. It’s been a maudlin couple of weeks.

Maudlinly yours,

Medic

Medic,

Thank you for your letter. I hope my reply finds you in better spirits. And I never want you to be sorry for writing maudlin things to me. Like you told me once, it’s better to talk it out, and I get the impression you don’t have any confidants on your ship.

I had a similar experience on the transport leaving Caldros. It wasn’t as intense as yours, but I recall the same sense of grief as I watched the shining torus station get smaller and smaller behind us. Maybe I also knew that I was never going home.

I had optic replacements last week. They’re still healing, so I’m feeling my way around the walls until the tech can be switched on. The good news is that I did get to pick the color. They’re dark brown, like my old human eyes.

But the more human I look, the less human I feel. I spend more time talking to the hospital’s mainframe than to other people. When I write to you, it’s with a hardline or a wireless connection to the terminal. I spend hours sifting through cyberspace, looking at hundreds of pictures and video clips and articles every minute.

Like you and Corporal Flynn said, cybernetics are not rare here. Dr. Solano herself had a cardiac replacement at a young age because of a congenital defect in her organic heart. But someone with a cybernetic heart isn’t the same as someone like me who can store memories on a hard drive and read a dozen articles simultaneously.

What makes a person? I don’t know. I don’t think I’ll find out here. But where else can I go? My asylum petition is still pending, so I only have a temporary ID. I could find a job, but where? Most Pergamans are still in school at my age, so should I apply to school?

These are all human things. I think I am not human.

Human or not, the question of the future weighs heavily on me. Dr. Solano says I only need one more surgery, and then she can see me as an outpatient. After that, I’ll need to make some decisions. I can count on one cybernetic hand the number of decisions I’ve made in my life, and they’ve all been minor.

How did you decide what you wanted to do in life?

Maudlinly yours as well,

Orren

Orren,

Sorry about the long turnaround. Corporal Flynn and I had a bit of a close call recently, and we’re both shaken up. I can’t say more than that–military secrets.

I think I decided I wanted to be a medic in primary school. Biology was my favorite subject, and I loved our community first aid courses. Medicine just felt right. I don’t know how much help that will be.

As for the question of your humanity, I think it’s entirely up to you. If you see yourself as human, then you are. If you see yourself as, well, something else, then you’re something else.

Lately, I’ve been thinking about identity as well. 

I’m not the girl who left Kumitan and cried on the shuttle. I don’t go by her name, either. I don’t go by any name.

At some point, I picked a new name for myself, or maybe some ancient god of medicine picked it for me. I’m a little fuzzy on how that works. I don’t know how long it’s been my name, and I haven’t told anybody.

It feels inappropriate, even. Sometimes I feel like someone took the person out of me with surgical tools, and only the medic is left.

On a brighter note, Dr. Wick asked me to help her write a paper. We’re going through all our combined chart data and doing a retrospective study on the effect of different pain relief methods on trauma patient outcomes. 

She’s got this hypothesis about nociblockers, but it’s too early to tell.

Which brings me back to names: if she wants to put my name on the paper, what will I say? Maybe she can put Dr. Carolyn Wick et al.

Your friend,

Medic

Medic,

Tell the good doctor your name, if only so you can receive credit for your contributions to her paper. I want to read it when it comes out, too. My favorite things to read are thriller novels, but I would enjoy a medical paper if it was yours.

I had my last surgery two days ago. The last of the pain is gone. Tomorrow, I’m getting a medication pump so I won’t need to take S-33 infusions anymore.

My strength and agility are the best they’ve ever been. I’ve been pretending to be weaker than I am so I don’t scare the poor physical therapy assistant. At night, I test myself by running through the halls or lifting furniture with one arm. I’m limited by the need to be quiet. I wonder what I can really do.

Yesterday, I was wandering through cyberspace, looking for information on human sleep patterns. Not needing to sleep is useful, but I’d like to dream sometimes. I reached out through the lines of code and data, and the strangest thing happened. Someone reached back.

They didn’t have a net tag or a routing signature, or any of the information I normally see when I encounter another user. They simply handed me a file packet and disappeared. I ran the file in safe mode. It was a piece of code written for neural tech. My safe mode trial found no viruses, so I ran it on myself last night. 

I had the most incredible dreams.

Whoever that cyberghost was, I need to find them again.

Your friend,

Orren

P.S. I’d like to know your name if you’re willing to give it.

Orren,

Your cyberghost has me interested. How did they know how to write code compatible with your neural tech when no one else has tech like yours? No one else that we know of.

Thanks for your advice on the name thing. I have this tendency to spend too much time inside my own head until everything gets kind of monstrous and warped.  

Dr. Wick and I are still going over the data, but when she’s ready to publish, I’ll give her my name if she asks.

I’m worried about our mutual friend the coropral. They’re sitting on an empty cot right now, taking apart their sidearm and putting it back together again. Admittedly, I know nothing about guns, but I know you don’t need to clean them fifteen times in a row. The corporal’s had a hard couple of weeks.

This morning before PT, I asked if they wanted to talk about anything. They just said something about being a soldier. It’s ironic because they’re the one who told me that it helps to talk it out.

I just want this stupid war to be over! I want Corporal Flynn and all the soldiers to go home. I want the prisoners rotting in camps on desolate moons to go home. I want homes to stop being destroyed. Homes and people.

What would I do after the war? I never thought about it before. Almost three years in non-stop crisis mode has killed my ability to think past the next critical patient. I’d practice medicine, I suppose. Like I said, it’s what I’ve wanted since primary school. I’m living out my childhood dreams, albeit in a twisted, ironic way.  

Not that I mind. Medicine is a merciful trade, and someone, somewhere, always needs us.

Wishing you good dreams from across the void.

Your friend,

Mercy

Mercy,

I want you to know you’ve been a valuable friend to me these past few months. Every time I get a letter from you, it makes my whole day a little happier.

Mercy, my friend, I didn’t choose this for myself. My whole life, I’ve hardly chosen anything for myself at all. But that’s all about to change.

Today’s the day I leave New Pergamus University Hospital. I found my cyberghost, Mercy. Or rather, they found me. They gave me another file packet. It was a series of photos. Photos of people like me, with bodies and brains full of tech, none of it disguised in any way. They all looked content and comfortable with themselves. At the end of the file was a location. It’s far away, far from the Alliance and the Imperium.

That’s where I’m going. I have enough medication to last me almost a year, a lunchbox of croissants, and my temporary ID. Getting there will be difficult, but I’m built for long journeys. I never tire. I need minimal nutrients and water. I can talk computers into doing what I want them to do. I don’t need to sleep, though I can dream when I want to. It may take me a long time, but I will find the others who are like me. And maybe I’ll find myself along the way.

This is probably the last you’ll hear from me for a while. Where I’m going, it’s hard to get messages out, but I’ll try my best. Good luck with your medicine, and with your life. When I first met you, I met Medic. Thank you for letting me get to know Mercy as well.

Your friend, no matter how far away,

Orren.

 ———

If you’ve read to the end, please like/reply so that I know you’re out there in the void.

#submission #ss cyberpunk

[thoughtsijustthoughtof]

It's been one week since Chester died. Well died may not technically be true.

Basically he became very lethargic the past few weeks and was initially diagnosed with a sore back, or some sort of back issue, but nothing seemed to help him.

We took him to another Vet because the original Vet was pretty terrible, they wouldn't even attempt to examine him in any physical manner because he's very wriggly and anxious with them. The new Vet quite happily gave him a physical examination, it only took 3 of us holding him still and reassuring him, and suggested it was more likely a rear leg issue but if the medication prescribed didn't help within the week we would do some blood tests.

The medication was terrible. It made him way worse, he couldn't stand, not even to do the toilet. Then came the excessive puking. So much midnight puking. So we called for advice, turns out you have to wean them off him so we had to adjust the dosage, but he was clearly still suffering. Blood test it is then. A day later we're told he's highly anemic and there's possible signs of either an infection or even something cancerous. Awesome. He's referred to a hospital.

Oh did I mention that this drained my savings? Because it did. I in no way regret or begrudge this but I think it important to mention for what is about to unfold.

So yeah, the Vet hospital. Costs a shit ton. Luckily he is insured so no matter what I could feasibly claim some of the cost back, little bit of a weight off my shoulders. So he gets referred for a couple of days later.

The day before he seems worse. He won't get up to go for a pee, get a drink of water, nothing at all. Just stayed in the same spot all day. Then came dinner time. He wasn't interested but I hand fed him some and was making sure he was hydrated. My brother gave him a little dog treat that he used to love playing with. He seemed to actually be a little playful, even wagged his tail a little bit, there were some actual signs of life.

About an hour later he is walking around aimlessly, drooling profusely (he has never been a drooler unlike my aunt's dog Buster who turns into a cartoon character eying up a hunk of meat at dinner time) looking off into the distance or staring at me or my Mum. Then he starts violently convulsing and then throws up everything he ate that day caked in foam. NBD I thought obviously just an upset stomach, he seems fine after that I think. Then another hour passes and he does it again. Except this time his stomach was empty and he was throwing up foam and his body looked like someone was squeezing a toothpaste tube. Then the yelping and moaning happened.

I decided I had to phone the emergency vet, problem being I'm now skint, remember the drained savings account? I genuinely considered leaving him until his appointment in the morning because of fucking money. Thankfully I was able to get some help with funding the emergency appointment, although it's still quite a chunk of change. You know I'm still so pissed that with my dog in so much pain, the most pressing matter was making sure I had money to pay a fee. They really don't care that much about the pets if they are demanding a fee up front. I mean how about a payment plan for christ sake? It's a god damn emergency Vet you heartless fucks.

We call my Uncle who is able to take us to the Vet, all the way my best friend in the world Chester was howling, whimpering and yelping for the pain to stop.

We go in and I have to carry him, something he usually hates but was totally content with me doing. We hand him over and are sitting in the waiting room. There are a bunch of animals coming in and out. Dogs with broken legs, Cats that couldn't open their eyes and even the cutest little Bearded Dragon who was having a hard time breathing. There was a TV on the wall showing the news, very mundane but I was able to keep track of the time at least.

One hour later. "Chester's owner please". We are led to a small examination room with a Veterinarian anxiously holding a clipboard. He sighs before he starts asking us questions. We know exactly where this is going. We confirmed his medical history and what led us to this point. Then it's time for him to let us know the script.

Chester isn't looking good. He's struggling to breathe and based on an X-Ray he has an insanely large mass, bigger than a football. Have we noticed his shape change over the past year? he asks. Well yeah in fact we had, his stomach looks like he's been pregnant since New Year, something I specifically queried my original Vet about at Chester's yearly checkup and was told it was nothing to worry about (in hindsight they probably thought because he was a little overweight that he just a had a wee tummy going on but they never even attempted to examine him because once again they are irritated by his anxious behaviour). This Vet looked perplexed by this. He said that it's one of the most sinister looking masses he's ever encountered.

We are presented with 3 options.

1) Try and keep Chester going through the night until his morning appointment where they'll be able to be more thorough.

2) Have Chester undergo surgery from a non-specialist surgeon who can't guarantee that he'll still be breathing once he's zipped back up regardless of the outcome of the surgery (Shoutout to this Vet, he was 100% upfront about his abilities and gave us his genuine opinion and was an absolute professional).

3) Put him down.

We were given some time to think on it and ultimately, based on all the information we'd been given, decided that the best thing for Chester was to put him to sleep. It wasn't an easy decision. Duh. We wanted him to suffer no longer.

Vet comes back in, we give him our thoughts, he evidently believes it's for the best based on the situation and gives us a rundown of how it'll work.

He goes to retrieve Chester so that we can spend some time with him before he goes for his big sleep. Unfortunately his heart rate has slowed down and it's looking like he won't make it any longer. So the Vet had to quickly Euthanise him. He was gone. He is gone.

I break down as the Vet says "It looks like Chester tried to make the decision for you".

So yeah he was about to die after we'd already decided to put him to sleep. I'm devastated.

Utterly devastated. I can't stop thinking about him. He was my best friend and he's gone.

The worst part of this all is that had I chosen to forego the emergency Vet, I would have woken up to find him lying dead.

Goodbye Chester my Beautiful Bearded Bastard.

#Pets #dogs #Vets #goodbye #beards #chester

[petertingle-yipyip]

FINGERS CROSSED - MATT MURDOCK

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Word Count: 4,370

Summary: An old friend comes back to town and when she nearly dies, Matt lets something slip (loud enough that his actual girlfriend hears it). 

You had been up late, running over the notes Foggy gave you earlier. You had the papers sprawled over the floor of the bedroom while you were scribbling your own key points and questions. You weren’t sure if you were trying to piece something together so Matt wasn’t completely lost - if he ever showed up for the case - or if you were looking to find something that Foggy missed. Or maybe you just wanted something else to focus on other than Matt’s ridiculous secrecy as of late.

The case was counting on the medical examiner’s admission of falsifying the death certificates. And your friends got it, but under coercion. It was stricken from the record and your friends were left with nothing. Nothing but anger and resentment at each other, admittedly due to Matt’s secrecy and his new “private client” that he told not even you about.

And you didn’t blame Foggy. Matt had pissed you off with that as well. He was the one who insisted the firm take on the Castle case and yet he was missing for most of it. Lucky for your friends, you had free time to help.

“So glad I didn’t go to law school.” You muttered as you reached for one of the further stacks of papers. “This Punisher case is a mess…”

The door opened quickly but before you could welcome your boyfriend home, you heard the commotion. Stick was barking orders, Matt was moving in a hurry, and a girl was groaning in pain. You haphazardly bunched all your papers into the folder and took them with you to put on the coffee table. Coming out, you saw Elektra with a gruesome gash across her stomach and bleeding out on the couch.

“Holy shit.” You whispered, kneeling beside her. “Please don’t die on this couch.”

You didn’t dislike Elektra per say, but she wasn’t your favorite person. Not anymore at least. You two had been relatively close friends in college but her so-called mission with Matt drove you two apart. Since you always knew the truth about her, you couldn’t be around them a lot. It was too tempting to tell Matt the truth. But once Elektra left, you were the one who helped him get his schooling back on track and move forward. You never brought it up again because it simply wasn’t your story to tell.

“You could’ve told me you were running around with her, Matt.” You scolded as you pressed your palm to her stomach, a few inches about the deep slice. She whimpered as you applied the light pressure and you mumbled an honest apology.

“Really?” Matt scoffed, drawing a glare from you. “You want to do this now? She’s dying.”

“Why do you think I’m right here, dipshit?” You rolled your eyes and let your power work. “You forget she was my friend first.”

You focused on Elektra’s pain, reeling it in towards yourself. You liked to think of pain like a glow, a blazing white - sometimes red - warm glow within the body that shone like a beacon only to you. And once you found it, you pulled it into your own chest like you were reeling in a fish. It could easily dissipate in your body without you feeling a thing, so it gave you a rather effective bedside manner. There was also the other side to your power, the delivery of the pain that you absorbed from others. You could take that glow and target it towards someone else. Mimic the feel of a compound fracture in their leg, a snap in their ankle, their stomach twisting into literal knots, or even a constant building pressure behind their eyes - anything you could think of really. But the weaponized side of your power, you hadn’t used it in years since you left SHIELD.

“Bring her in here.” Stick called from the bedroom.

You were suddenly very glad that you had gotten the papers out of the room. Matt pushed past you and scooped up Elektra before carrying her into the bedroom. You huffed in annoyance as he turned his back to you but said nothing. You heard his gentle coos, assuring her that she’d be okay.

“You’d think she was his girlfriend.” You muttered with a roll of your eyes. You hoped Matt heard you, though you doubted he was paying a lot of attention to you. Instead, you turned your focus back to the case notes. You sorted through the papers and found the few that you were studying just minutes before.

“Y/L/N!” Stick called after a few seconds of silent chaos.

“What?” You returned, refusing to lift your eyes as you scanned the papers. The single syllable was sharper than you intended being that Stick wasn’t the one you irritated with but you didn’t care enough to retract it. It was relatively warranted, all things considered.

“Get your ass in here! This is gonna hurt like a bitch and she could use your help.”

“Of course, because God forbid-“ You complained as you pushed yourself to your feet and slammed your paper stack to the table. You didn’t know Stick that well but you knew he wasn’t going to let you say no. He was stubborn like that.

“Quit your bitching and get-“

“I’m coming!” You shouted angrily and entered the bedroom. You shoulder checked Matt on your way to the bedside and sat in the space beside Elektra.

“Y/N…” She said weakly, reaching for your hand.

“Shh.” You cut in and placed your hands over hers, finding the white glow almost instantly. “You can apologize after we fix your ass.”

She let out a strained chuckle before a sharp gasp when Stick poured the mixture over the slice. You felt the cold liquid splash your hand as he generously distributed it over the deep injury. He covered the wound with torn strips of sheet and claimed he was done.

“I’ll get the kit.” You offered, giving your friend one last look before slowly pulling your hand away.

Matt was quick to take your place beside her, causing a grind of your teeth. You pushed the anger aside while you went to the kitchen and rummaged through the cabinet until you found the small suture kit. You were bringing it back when Matt’s words stopped you at the door.

“Sweetie, stay with me.” He said gently. You stayed behind the glass of the door, just listening for a moment. “Stay with me.”

“Matthew…” Elektra said weakly. “I- I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” He assured her. “It’s okay, just- Just stay.”

“I’ve known her to pull through worse.” You announced your arrival as you moved to the other side of the bed. You busied your hands with the kit, hoping to calm the subtle shake. You took a deep breath and once the pounding in your ears stopped, you turned back to Elektra.

Glancing at Matt, you saw he had her hand in his. He had his forehead leaning against their hands as he muttered a desperate, pleading prayer. Any other circumstance, you would’ve considered that sweet.

“Get out.” You said plainly as you swung a leg over her hips and leaned your weight back into her thighs.

“What?” He said quickly.

“Get. Out.” You emphasized. “You’ll only get in the way.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Y/N.”

“Stick?” You called, leaning down and began peeling the bloodied sheets back while you held the thread between your teeth to free your hands. “Get Matty out of here, please!”

“Y/N.” He grabbed your arm, knowing it would lead to a quick turn of your head.

“Your precious ‘private client’ will be fine.” You mocked. “It’s your girlfriend you need to be a little more careful with.”

“What?”

“Stick!”

“Come on.” Stick said from the doorway. Matt didn’t take his hand away, though you could feel the subtle movement of his thumb under your sleeve as he tried to read you.

Matt could feel the heat radiating off you, the anger that was coursing through your veins. Your heart was beating fast, blood pumping hard. He could practically feel the heat of your glare as well. It would be an understatement to say you were angry, but he wasn’t completely sure what pisesd you off so bad. Surely, it wasn’t as simple as Elektra getting hurt.

“Ellie’s a real fighter. And Y/N does a hell of a patch job. You should know that.” Stick added.

“What did you just say?” Matt said, hesitantly letting his hand leave your arm as he followed after Stick. “Did you just call her Ellie?”

“Y/N.” Elektra groaned as you began pressing the edge of the still bloody wound together. “I- I didn’t know… I didn’t know…”

“Didn’t know what, El?” You sighed.

Your anger had peaked and was now dissipating, and maybe that was just due to Matt being out of sight. Worry filled its place. Worry that Elektra was going to bleed out in Matt’s bed. That you’d lose one of the few friends who really understood you, your powers and the way you were raised. But also that Elektra held more of Matt’s heart than you or he realized. You had to push the last thought out of your head to focus on the task at hand.

You worked slowly, carefully threading the needle through her skin and muscles. All the while, you used the fingers that held the wound closed to absorb the pain into your body. You felt her pulse under your fingers and it was steady, strong, too stubborn to die.

That was the Elektra you were friends with, maybe even missed after all.

“That you were the girlfriend… I thought it was just the… The blonde from his office.”

“Karen wishes it were her.” You chuckled slightly. “I didn’t know you were back in town either so I guess we both were in the dark.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s…” You trailed off. “I’m not gonna say it’s okay, because I don’t know if I’m angry or upset right now. And I don’t know who to blame… Probably Matt.”

She laughed weakly.

“I wish you would’ve called me too. Matt’s not the only one who could’ve helped you.”

“I didn’t think- I figured you wouldn’t- wouldn’t want to hear from me again.”

“Of course I would, dumbass.” You shook your head fondly.

“I’m sorry… I should’ve-”

“I know you didn’t mean to hurt me.” You assured her. “I just-“

“Did you always love him?”

“What?”

“It’s obvious.” She chuckled weakly. “You love him… Did you always?”

“No.” You said honestly. “I had a crush while you two were together, I’ll admit that. But I didn’t get real feelings until after you left and it was me and him… Y’know, you left me too that night.”

“I never meant to hurt either of you. But I had to go, to protect him…”

“I know. But it didn’t make it easier…” You snipped the end of the stitches before gently placing some gauze over it. You taped the ends before patting her side and climbing off. “Get some rest, okay?”

“Y/N/N?”

“Yeah?” You didn’t look up while you were cleaning up your things. There was a wave of nostalgia as she used that old nickname for you.

“You’re the only real friend I’ve ever had, save for Matthew…” That made your movements stop and a small smile made its way across your lips.  “Thank you.”

“Yeah, you were my first real friend too.”

You grabbed the kit and left the room, gently closing the door behind you. You came out to Stick sitting on the sofa with a smug expression while Matt stood tensely between the two arm chairs. Clearly they had abruptly paused their tense conversation and there was no indication that they were going to continue it with you in the room. You tilted your head with a wide eyed expression, thinking ‘This is gonna be fun’, as you quietly walked to the kitchen.

You tossed the kit on the counter before washing the blood off your hands and pouring yourself a drink.

“You didn’t think that was important to share?” You asked finally, gesturing towards Elektra in the bedroom. Clearly no one else was going to break the tension. “Or were you just-“ You shrugged. “-trying to keep her to yourself?”

“What did you expect me to say?” Matt sighed.

“I don’t know.” You tilted your head back and forth as if you were thinking. “How about ‘Hey Y/N. Elektra is back in town and wants my help with something. She could use your help too’? It’s really not that hard to just communicate.”

“It’s not that simple either.”

“Right.” You threw back your drink. “Because it’s not like I could’ve helped you guys, right?”

“Y/N.”

“Because this.” You sent a quick jolt of pain towards Matt. Nothing extreme, just the sensation of a pinch on his arm. “Wouldn’t have been useful?”

“I couldn’t risk you getting hurt.”

“Oh my god.” You muttered in annoyance.

“Y/N, I’d never be able to forgive myself if I dragged you into something and you got hurt.”

“Mhmm… But she’s hurt. She’s hurt and you’re entire fucking world stopped, didn’t it?”

“It’s not like that.”

“But it is!”

“That's not what this is.”

“No, you wanna know what this is? This is Matt Murdock ditching his girlfriend and his friends and his job for her without a second thought. The case that you insisted on taking on is very quickly turning into a shit storm and where are you? Hmm? Running around with her all night! You’re ignoring Matt’s responsibilities and are only worried about Daredevil.”

“I- I know I’ve left you guys in the dark… A lot, lately. Alright?”

“Under statement of the fucking year, Matty.”

“I know that. But what me and her are dealing with, it’s something so much bigger.”

“Is it really more important than everything else in your life, hmm? More important than Foggy? Than me?”

He sighed and shook his head, putting his hands on his hips. He didn’t have an answer, not one you would like at least.

“Told you this would happen, Matty.” Stick added. “You can’t have it all.”

“I thought you liked me.” You turned in shock.

“You’re alright.” Stick waved you off.

“And you’re still a dick.” You looked back to Matt. “Answer me this then, Murdock. Do you still have feelings for her?”

He scoffed.

“Pretty simple now, isn’t it?”

“Are you seriously asking me that?”

“Don’t give me that bullshit.” You rolled your eyes. “I’ve been patient and steady with you through everything, but you’re not gonna wiggle out of this.”

“She seems serious.” Stick chimed in in amusement.

“Pick a side, old man.” You said firmly as you moved to stand behind the couch. “Do you or do you not have feelings for her, Matt?”

“No, I don’t. It was a long time ago. And I- I’m over it. I’m over her.”

You nodded slightly as you thought about his answer. It would’ve been easier to accept his answer. If it was a simple no, then why did he try to deflect the question? You moved suddenly, throwing your empty glass at the wall past Matt’s head. Stick chuckled as the glass shattered but Matt looked at you like you were crazy. The sudden movement shocked you as well, but luckily Matt couldn’t see that expression on your face.

“You think I don’t know when you’re lying?” You challenged. “I may not have super senses like you, but I don’t need them. You’re not necessarily a great liar.”

“Did you just-”

“Stay with me, sweetie.” You mocked and closed the distance between you two. Matt sighed inwardly as he finally realized his mistake. He hadn't even meant to call her that, hadn't even noticed when he did.

“Sweetie?” You shoved his chest. Matt let you take your anger out on him, accepting that he deserved it. He wouldn’t have been surprised if you had walked out right then.

“Sweetie?!” Another shove. “If you’re so over her, then why do you still hustle and wait on her like she’s queen of the goddamn world?”

“I- I didn’t-” He tried to explain, but he knew nothing he said would make up for it. He messed up big time. “It just slipped out, okay? I wasn’t thinking.”

You simply rolled your eyes and turned to leave. “I don’t have to put up with this.” You sighed.

“Where are you going?” He asked, reaching out and grabbing your wrist.

You could practically feel the desperation in his touch. He really didn’t want you to go, but he wouldn’t stop you. To Matt, you were everything. His sunshine on the gloomiest days, his warmth through any cold. You were his comfort, his home. And to you, Matt was all that and more, if possible. But your mind was so clouded with anger, jealousy, doubt, and hurt, that you couldn’t see anything other than that haze.

“Clearly you have other priorities. Don’t let me stand in your way.”

“Y/N.” He tried to pull you closer but let go when you yanked your wrist away. He felt something crack in his chest.

“Don’t.” You said firmly. “I’ve been the one at your side for years since she left. I’ve been the one who made you sure you were okay after everything. Every stupid fight and every cut, bump, and bruise. I was the one who was there to make sure it didn’t hurt and made sure to patch you up. I’ve kept your secret from everyone that you didn’t want to know and the minute - the minute - that she pops up in your life again, she’s your priority. It’s like she never left!”

“It isn’t like that!” He said suddenly, praying he could make things right. “You know that I love you.”

“I really wish you said that when you didn’t have your fingers crossed.” You scoffed and gathered all your papers again. You didn’t use your powers, but Matt suddenly felt like his heart was in a very tight vice. “All the hours spent giving advice on how to help you with all your bullshit.” You mumbled.

“Where are you going?” Matt asked sadly.

“I don’t know.” You said honestly. “Elektra should be fine so I don’t- I don’t think I need to stay. Not tonight at least..”

“Y/N…”

“I could say I’m sorry, but I’m not.” You shrugged. “You still have feelings for her and I’m not gonna sit here and play second fiddle to her. Not again.”

“Again?” He tilted his head in confusion.

“In college. You put her above everything, even your own degree. Matt, you can’t be that dense.”

“Don’t go.” He said quietly, damn near pleading. He knew if he said anything else, he wouldn’t be able to hold back the tears burning his eyes. “Please… Stay.”

“Alright, enough of this.” Stick announced and stood. He turned towards you. “You, sit down.”

“Bite me.” You rolled your eyes.

“I’ve told him a hundred times that these connections he insists on having will only end bad, but he still chose to keep you in his life.”

“Should I feel special?” You mocked.

“You should realize that for some stupid reason he cares about you.” Stick corrected. “He cares about you and he cares about Elektra.”

“It’s how much he cares about her that’s the problem.” You rolled your eyes, grabbing your jacket and phone on the way out the door. “But clearly neither of you are listening to me so I’m out of here.”

“Stop being so dramatic.” Stick groaned in annoyance.

“I hope you figure this out soon, Matt.” You called while you put your shoes on. “Because it’s going to be very awkward around the office if you don’t. And when she wakes up, let El know I’m not mad at her.”

“Y/N, please.. Don’t go. We can- We can talk this out. Just…”

“Goodnight, Matt.”

You headed down the stairs and took a seat about halfway down. You didn’t know where you were supposed to go. It was too late to knock on Karen or Foggy’s door. You left your wallet and your car keys in the bedroom, and you weren’t going to wander the streets aimlessly in the middle of the night. So, you camped out near one of the dim lights, put your headphones in, and went over the case notes again.

Reviewing each paper ten times over, you found nothing. There was no way, from your point of view, to win that damn case. Or maybe you were missing something. Maybe you just weren’t focusing or weren’t looking at the right things. Maybe that hallway was just too damn cold to focus. Regardless, your mind was clouded and heavy with everything that had happened that night. So you huffed in annoyance and dropped the papers on the step beside you.

“Pointless.” You sighed and wiped your face. How long had you been out there anyway? “Fucking. Pointless.”

You felt a poke to your shoulder and when you looked up, you saw Stick standing a few steps above you. You took out one headphone and sighed expectantly.

“So you’re really gonna walk out on him like that?” Stick scolded.

“I just needed space to think, I guess.” You shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“He would burn down this whole city for you. His city.”

“Yeah… But what would he do for her?”

“Y’know, this pity party has been exhilarating but I think it’s time you get your ass up and knock this shit off.”

“I don’t need a lecture, alright?” You groaned. “This is between me and Matt so just… Fuck off.”

“Open your eyes, girl.” He rolled his eyes. It was clear Stick was tired of your incessant whining. And truthfully, you were growing tired of it too.

“Open my eyes?” You scoffed. What could he have picked up that you missed?

“Open your eyes.” He repeated and jabbed his finger against your forehead. “And it’s sad you need a blind man to tell you that.”

“What are you going on about?” You smacked his hand away.

“Did you not realize the boy was about to burst into tears when you threatened to leave?”

You thought for a moment, picturing Matt’s expressions as you challenged his devotion to you. He was upset, sure. But thinking back, he was close to tears. You had been so swept up in your own anger that you hadn’t paid attention, or you subconsciously chalked it up to being for Elektra.

“Fuck.” You sighed sadly. “How did I miss that?”

“You were too busy comparing yourself to Elektra.” He continued, ignoring your now fallen composure. “But you’re not Elektra. You’re Y/N.”

“And you’re still an old, blind jack-ass. What’s your point, Stick?”

“You and Matt have a different relationship than him and Elektra. You are exactly what he needs, especially now.”

“He’s always gonna love her, isn’t he?” You sighed in acceptance.

“Probably.” Stick shrugged. “But I can tell he loves you too, probably more. So just. Take it easy on him.”

“All I know is I can’t be pushed to the side because of her.” You said with a small shake of your head.

“So get off your ass and don’t let him push you aside.”

You hummed in agreement and thought for a moment. Elektra was the first girl Matt fell for. Of course she would hold a special place in his heart. And even Elektra said that she didn’t want to come between you and him. At the end of the day, Matt had your heart. And damn it all if that wasn’t worth fighting for.

“Thanks.” You said as you grabbed the folder and stood. “The old man has a heart after all.”

“Don’t go telling anyone.” He grumbled before continuing down the stairs.

You snuck back into the apartment and found Matt in the living room. He had put away his Daredevil suit and was sitting in one of the arm chairs, head leaning against the back and eyes closed. You realized very quickly why he angled himself so uncomfortably in the chair. He wanted to leave the couch available to you in case you came back that night. You couldn’t help but smile softly when it clicked in your head.

“My darling, Saint Matthew.” You said softly. You kicked off your shoes by the doors and shrugged your jacket off, hanging it on the hook above your shoes. 

“Matty.” You said gently, shaking his shoulder. “Don’t sleep here, Matt. Lay on the couch, c’mon.”

“Y/N?” He muttered, sleep plain in his voice. He wasn’t fully asleep but he was knocking on the door. His hand came around yours and held tightly. “I thought you left.”

“I’m not gonna walk around this late by myself… Plus I got bored and cold.” You lied, causing him to chuckle. “C’mon, my love.”

“I’m sorry.” He let you take him by hand to pull him to the sofa.

You sat down first and turned to the side with a leg up, allowing Matt to lay between your legs with his head on your stomach. He liked to listen to your heartbeat before he fell asleep. Something about the steady rhythm was a deep comfort to him.

When he was close to you, he felt like nothing bad in the world could touch him. None of Daredevil’s problems could find him. No pain or danger or cruelty of the world could get close when you were there. None of that existed, just you and him.

He would always be grateful you chose him to love, and being worthy of that affection was all he could hope to be.

“Yeah, me too.” You nodded, running your fingers through his hair gently while he wrapped his arms around you. “I love you, Matty, so so much.”

“I love you too, Y/N.” He mumbled against your shirt and held you a little tighter. “I can’t lose you.”

“You won’t.” You assured him sweetly. “We’ll talk more in the morning. Get some rest.”

#mcu matt murdock #matt murdock x you #matt x you #matt murdock x yn #matt x yn #matt x reader #netflix matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock fic #matt murdock #matt murdock angst #mcu daredevil #daredevil x yn #daredevil x reader #daredevil x you #netflix daredevil #daredevil angst

[bakubub]

In which racer!kuroo is your roommate, and seems to only like it when you treat his wounds... (word count: 1.9k)

Ngl quite proud of this one!!

Warnings: 18+, a whole lot of swearing, a whole lot of blood, innuendos and implied nsfw, reader almost vomits (NOT from pregnancy chill, I know we're all scarred but its going to be just fine) and if you're squeamish perhaps skip the scene where reader stitches his wound?

Also bit of a disclaimer: I am in NO WAY a med student and literally all of my knowledge is from movies and other fics... so if you acc know what to do in this situation this may be a torturous for you :D

All due credits go to @aikk00​ for this AMAZING fanart!!!!

I watch as my roommate enters the penthouse, once again scratched up and bleeding, covered in so much blood there is no possible way that it was all his- if it was he would not be standing.

I launch myself off the couch- where I was sitting for the past hour nervously waiting for his return- and slip my arm under his, supporting him as we inched towards the bathroom.

"I can do this by myself you know," he grumbles, his grimace revealing just how much pain he was actually in.

"Mhm, I'm sure you can. Just like you boiled that poor egg by yourself last week, hmm?" I say sarcastically, trying to keep my mind calm and clear, because oh my god it looks really bad this time...

"Oi, its not my fault it fuckin' exploded," he mutters, voice laden with pain.

"You put it in the microwave because 'the shitty water wasn't doing its job.' Of course it would explode," I say, gently seating him on the closed toilet seat and taking out my supplies that I unfortunately have become rather accustomed to using. He's made it a habit to get himself injured.

"Where's the injury?" I ask, setting down my half-empty bottle of antiseptic and box of bandages. He peels off his shirt, cringing at the pain it brought him as the fabric was stuck to the gash that went from his left pectoral down to the middle of his chest.

"Pissed off a bidder after winning a race, fucker took out a knife once he realised he couldn't beat me up," he huffs out, arrogance still lacing his tone even with sweat dripping down his brow as he leans the back of his head onto the tile wall behind him. His Adam's apple bobs down his bloodstained neck as he speaks, and I quickly look away, focusing on the injury at hand.

Not his blood soaked, but nevertheless well defined pectoral muscles, nor the abs that my hands occasionally brush up against and know how hard they really are, and definitely not the trail of black hairs that lead down, down, down...

"What's wrong, the view too hot to focus on the work at hand?" He asks suggestively, raising his pierced brow, even in this state.

I'm quick to reply, having gotten used to his flirtatious remarks from the second I moved into his penthouse, "nope can't even see the view from that massive head of yours. Not to mention your permanent bed head."

He huffs out a laugh, then proceeds to flinch from the pain it must have caused.

"Stop moving, idiot. You're going to exacerbate the cut!" I say, quickly grabbing a damp towel and beginning to clean up his abdomen, whilst simultaneously pressing another rag to his wound to stop the bleeding.

“At least you admit that there is a hot view,” he says in his low voice, gazing at me from his position.

I simply roll my eyes.

No falling in love. That was the deal we had made on the day he offered me a place to stay in exchange for my services as a maid and apparently, a nurse. I cook, clean and basically keep the house running while this moron goes out and acts like the idiot he is. In my defense, dorms are expensive as hell, and his penthouse is nearby. Plus, I don't have to pay rent. It's a win-win situation.

But the feelings stirring up inside my heart might just ruin the dynamic we have going on and simultaneously take out a whole lot of cash out of my pocket.

At least, that's what I keep telling myself.

Once his skin isn't completely saturated in blood, and the wound has (thankfully) stopped bleeding, I add some antiseptic onto a make-up pad and begin to dab at his wound, earning winces and slight grunts from the massive man.

"The cut looks deep, Kuroo. You need to go to the hospital," I say, worry lacing my tone as my eyebrows crease and earn yet another huffing laugh.

"Do you want me to rot in prison for the rest of my life?"

I roll my eyes at his response, deliberately dabbing just a little harder which earns me a yelp and an attempted glare in my direction.

"First off, illegal street racing won't send you to prison for your entire life, just for like, half a year. Second, this wound needs stitches, and believe it or not, I'm not a fucking licensed medic. In fact, the only experience I have is with you!" I say, immediately regretting my choice of words as I wait for his remark.

"That's what she said," He says, chuckling at his own innuendo.

I sigh in frustration, pouring more antiseptic to make sure there was no chance of infection from whatever grimy ass knife stabbed him, and beginning to gently scrub the wound with a soft towel, so as to make sure there was no debris left in there.

"You're gonna have ta do it," he mutters, his hazel eyes boring into mine.

"I- I can't Kuroo, you can't possibly think-"

"Fine. I'll do it. Go get me a needle and thread," he states, struggling but nevertheless, sitting upright on the red stained toilet.

I stare at Kuroo in disbelief as he utters these words. Was he dumber than I thought? Does he have some sort of head injury too?

I examine his face and all I come up with is unnerving determination. I exhale out of my nose sharply, "fine, dammit. I'll sew your fucking wound shut."

I am extremely handy with a sewing needle and thread, used to really be into embroidery back when I had the time so...it should be fine.

He just shrugs, leaning his head back against the tiles and closing his eyes.

"Fucking asshole. Can't believe I'm saving your damn life," I mutter, leaving the bathroom to dig through my wardrobe for my sewing box and taking out a gold silk thread that I was saving for a special project.

Well, I guess that will never happen.

"Hey, I found some silk thread. It's literally known for its strength and durability in high temperatures, so it should work like a charm!" I say, walking back into the blood stained bathroom and trying to psych myself up.

He grunts in response. I sigh as I begin with mopping up the excess blood and sanitising the needle and thread before chucking on gloves.

I wipe the antiseptic over the wound once more, and examine it carefully.

Well, if his condition worsens, I can always knock him out and call an ambulance...

I decide, screw it, and thread the needle, pretending it was just another embroidery project.

It's okay, it's okay, it's okay, I chant as I puncture his skin with the thin needle.

Kuroo gasps in pain, and I place a hand on his knee, telling him to suck it up and deal with it, half talking to him but also to myself.

To my surprise, he listens, stretching his head back once more and gritting his teeth.

"Don't do that, here put this in-between your teeth," I say, grabbing yet another towel and shoving it into his mouth.

He obeys as I continue to stitch. I feel my gag reflex kicking in as I think about how stitching skin feels as though I am stitching leather, it feels hard and tough while pushing the thin needle through.

Must hurt like a bitch.

Once I've completed my neat stitches down the wound, without vomiting, I tie it off as I would with any embroidery, and clean the area free of any remaining blood. After rubbing some antibacterial ointment over the gold stitches, I stick on a particularly large bandage over the wound and start tidying up.

"Thank you," Kuroo mutters, still seated on the toilet seat and practically panting for breath.

"Ah, the criminal knows his damn manners!! Now get up and get in the damn shower. You ruined my pristine bathroom!" I complain, putting the last of the materials away before walking to the door.

"Wait, I- I can't get up." I turn around and look at him incredulously as he utters his next few words, "will you... shower me?"

My eyes just about pop out of their sockets at his request. "Are you insane?! I'm not your mother, nor your wife! Call your pudding haired friend and tell him to come shower you!"

He shakes his head, a rare pleading look taking the place of his usual arrogant smirk, "Kenma's too lazy to shower himself, Y/n, please!"

I contemplated it for a moment. Sure, I've seen him naked before, accidentally of course, and so what if I have to scrub him clean. God knows he can't do it himself with that damn injury.

Fuck this shit.

"Fine, get up right now." I bark at him, leaving to change out of my blood soaked pjs into a pair of shorts and a tank.

"...I just said I can't."

---

"Ow, y/n, you're scrubbing too hard!" He complains, his exfoliating glove around my hand as I rub his toned back clean of any dead skin-cells and blood remains.

"But look how much stuff is coming off!" I say gleefully, enjoying this a little too much.

Kuroo, seated on the built-in bench in the open shower with his red boxers on, looks back to see the satisfaction dripping from my features.

"Are you secretly a sadist?" he whispers. In response, I begin to rinse off his raw back with hot water, causing him to screech like a cat.

"It burns, it burns-”

“Shut the fuck up, moron! It's 4 in the morning, you’re going to annoy our neighbours. I tried very hard to get in their good graces, and Mrs. Suzuki still doesn’t like me! She definitely thinks I’m some kind of hooker…” Kuroo laughs at this, and I can’t help but watch as his whole face brightens up from his usual emotionless expression. I find myself smiling in response.

I grab his expensive shampoo and pour some into my hands, beginning to massage it into his scalp. With wet hair, his raven strands are for once flat on his head and reach down to his defined jawline. Kuroo groans under my touch, leaning into my fingers. I snatch my hands back and pour hot water over his head.

"ARGH! Y/N!" He screams, hastily getting up and wetting me in the process.

"Ah- what are you-" I don't get to finish my question as he grabs my arm and yanks me next to him under the hot water, soaking my clothes and my hair.

"You asshole!" I screech as I reach up to pull his hair in defiance, but he only grabs my arm and hooks it around his neck, leaning down to look directly into my eyes.

Our noses brushing against one another, he mutters, "You look pretty with your hair wet and your shirt see through."

It takes me a moment to get past the compliment and to hear the perverted comment that he just uttered.

He sees my look of confusion and laughs, bends over, clutches his stomach and laughs, before bellowing in pain because of his injury.

Smiling smugly down at him as he grimaces, I force him to sit back down and continue massaging the shampoo into his hair, warning him that if he so much as moaned I would leave him in here, dripping wet and in pain.

"That's what he said," is his reply.

I smack his head in response.

Notes, interactions and reblogs are highly appreciated <3

#kuroo x reader #haikyuu drabbles #racer!kuroo #kuroo tetsuro scenarios #haikyu fics #haikyuu!! #kuroo x y/n #kuroo x gender neutral reader #kuroo x gn!reader #kuroo x you

[cyborg-franky]

Can I have something fluffy with gn reader x Law please? <3

I WENT ABIT MAD ON THIS. Law is like my best boy. I even have Law tats haha. so writing him after so long I was very nervous. I hope you like.

Law x GN reader SFW Fluff/Angst Words: 1,558 Not proof read oops

You had always wanted to go to sea, being a pirate wasn’t exactly what you had been thinking when it came to visions of the wide-open sea, beautiful sunsets and amazing adventures. But adventures you got regardless of the unforeseen career option. Your only real complaint apart from the dangers of the job was the fact that you felt lonely, being a Straw Hat pirate was great, you loved your crew but there was no one you felt a deep connection with, not the type you’d always longed for, someone to hold your hand, share a bed with.

That was until you’d met the surgeon of death, you didn’t think someone as harsh as him would have been your type. The way he always seemed pissed off and irritated at even being around your crew, the fact he just needed your captains help and had formed a hasty alliance that every moment of every day you thought he deeply regretted the choice, that much was always clear on his face.

You were shocked he didn’t have wrinkles with how much his brows were permanently furrowed, even when the man ate at dinner with you all, the way his stern expression never left his face. Whenever you’d glance at him you always thought he would be so much more handsome if he smiled.

Just like everyone that you’d come across during this new life of yours, Law was no exception, scars of a tragic past remained on his soul. You couldn’t blame him for that and at least he wasn’t ever nasty or ill willed towards anyone. He seemed to even get along with some of the crew. The less intense members.

Thinking back to the first night you really made progress with the heart pirate you recalled how it changed the way you thought about him. It had been late into the evening, everyone settling down to their own devices.

You knocked on Chopper’s office door, opening it before you got an answer, often the small medic had issues rushing from his chair and to the door to open it so you always just stepped in. “Chopper can you look at this for me?” you asked closing the door.

“The Doctor went to bed an hour ago.”

You gripped the doorknob, that deep voice certainly didn’t belong to the sweet fluffy reindeer, you took a breath, why didn’t you just wait for a response like a nice normal and polite person? You had never been in a room alone with Law until now. Taking a breath and telling yourself that your hand wasn’t going to get any better by just going to bed.

“Oh, sorry” cradling your sore hand close to your chest your eyes darted around everywhere you could to avoid looking at him.

He was sat at the doctor’s desk, a medical textbook open, a pot of coffee at his side. His normal irritated expression however wasn’t present, his brows relaxed, his whole posture in fact looked lazy, his long legs stretched under the table, he looked comfortable in the chair, like he was on his own ship.

“I can look at it.”

“Huh?”

He turned to face you, cocking his head to the side to give you his full attention, his gaze rested on your chest, or rather the aching hand you clutched there, feeling your own beating heart as he nodded for you to come forward.

“Are you sure?” You looked at the comfy stool next to his desk, inching towards it.

Your hesitation made him laugh, actually laugh, it was such a nice sound you decided, deep but smooth, you’d never heard him make any show of amusement, he hadn’t even cracked a smile in all the time you had known him. But here he was, the very person who had the reputation of being a twisted individual, a current warlord for gods sake, the surgeon of DEATH in fact, smirking at you as you nervously sat down where he’d gestured.

“I am still a doctor you know” another chuckle as he straightened up in his seat.

“I know I don’t look like one, but my father was a doctor, I learned a great deal from him, it’s not just my devil fruit that affords me my gifts” Law explained and crossed his arms over his chest waiting for you to go on.

“Sorry, I know you shouldn’t believer every rumor that floats out at sea, if I believed everything the papers or drunks in bars said I’d think my captain was the devil but I’ve seen that man with chopsticks up his nose, I’ve seen him sleeping like a baby, he’s no devil” You knew your nerves had turned into rambling, feeling your palms sweat at being so close with the other captain but his soft chuckle, under his breath, trying to be discreet. But you’d heard it, such a nice sound you mused feeling a little more at ease around him now.

“So?”

“Well, my hand hurts, ever since I climbed down from the crows nest about three hours ago, I think I got it tangled in the ropes as I slipped a little” You explained. Law nodded his head before he held his tattooed hands out.

You held your hand out for him, he gently took it in both of his, long nimble fingers moved over your digits, feeling different parts, he was surprisingly gentle, his hands warm and welcoming. You couldn’t help but stare as he expertly examined your aching hand. You felt your gaze drift from his hands, up his arms and towards his face. His expression was like nothing you’d ever seen on the warlord. Soft. The way his tired eyes looked over your hand, he seemed happy to help, in his true element.

If not for whatever plagued him in his past, would he have been happy just being a village doctor? He seemed at peace right now. You allowed yourself to smile, your heart beating faster for an entirely different reason then when you’d set foot into the doctor’s office.

His grey eyes met yours when he pressed a certain painful part of your hand and you yelped. He clicked his tongue pressed a little harder, flexing your hand in his grasp. You bit your lip and focused on where your hands met.

“Sprain”

“H-huh?”

“You sprained your hand” He pulled his hands away and you hated how your heart dropped at the loss of contact.

“Oh..”

Law pushed his chair out and stood up, walking around the doctor’s office and looking for things, opening a few draws. You did your best to stifle any laughter from watching the very tall man try navigating his way around storage designed for a very small reindeer. It was comical.

“Avoid using it wherever you can for starters” he explained pulling out a small box and returning to the desk. “Ice will help it; you should have come to me sooner about it but” yeah, he was a doctor alright you mused as he took your hand once more. “Ice for twenty minutes every two to three hours will help with the swelling, I’m going to bandage it up right now, a compression will help support your hand while it heals, I suggest elevating it as much as possible.”

You nodded along while watching him work on your hand, he did so much damage to people, you’d seen some of the things he was capable of, he was terrifyingly powerful. But the way he held your hand still, being firm but gentle was a side you didn’t think someone who’d swapped out people’s body parts and rearranged souls for what seemed like fun could ever be capable of.

“Come to me tomorrow morning and I can re-do it if needs be” you wished he’d hold your hand longer, but he moved to get something else, a little cup which held two pills.

“For the pain”

“Thank you” You watched him pour you a glass of water and handed it you, aiming for your good hand. You gulped the medication he’d given you and drinking the water to chase it down you let out a sigh.

Law simply nodded in response to your gratitude, saying nothing more as he got comfortable in his seat once more, taking a swig of his black coffee, no wounder the man never slept, you stood from your seat and excused yourself with a small ‘goodnight’ closing the door.

Walking along the deck, just the sound of waves lapping against the ship to keep you company. You turned the corner and pressed yourself against the wall, your newly bandaged hand laid over your heart as you stared out to sea, watching the moon shimmer across the dark surface of water. You felt your lip tremble.

The feeling you’d wanted all your life, the tight feeling in your chest, the fluttering of butterflies, all-encompassing feeling and desire to be by someone’s side. You were in love. You were in love with Trafalgar Law of all people, and you knew this wouldn’t end well for you.

You bit your lip, slowly sinking to your knees on the wooden deck of the ship. You could feel tears prick your eyes. This was going to hurt, worse then never knowing what it was like to long for someone.

#one piece reader insert #one piece x reader #law x reader #trafalgar law x reader #angst #fluff #sfw #gn reader #nb reader #one piece law x reader

[poguesofthebau]

ssa silent treatment

summary: spencer starts acting distant, and when you notice and realize he won’t talk to you about why, you give him the silent treatment. your being so close to him but refusing to speak to him slowly but surely drives spencer insane.

word count: 3.5k pairing: spencer reid x female!bau!reader

a/n: y’all know i had to have reader lowkey tease spence for being spence at the end of this, bc that is what i do. tease him, but in a wholesome way bc i also simp for him <3 so here it is!! also gonna tag @jamesdeerest​ here! enjoy y’all!!

spencer was acting weird. you weren’t really sure why he thought you wouldn’t notice, but you did.

it was a tough case, and everyone was locked in because of it. despite the multiple victims, trips to crime scenes, medical examiner’s reports, and statements from witnesses and families, you still hadn’t caught your guy, and it was beginning to take a toll on everyone-- you simply weren’t catching a break. because of that, you thought spencer was just stressed at first. it had been a long three days for everyone so far, so you understood his reasoning for being a little short with you while you were at the police department. but, when hotch sent everyone back to the hotel for the first night since you’d arrived, you thought spencer’s attitude would shift at least a little. you heard, “go back to the hotel, get some sleep, and come back with fresh eyes tomorrow,” and you expected spencer to deflate a little, relax his shoulders and wrap an arm around you on the way out the door, maybe even grab your hand on the ride back to your room. however, you didn’t get any of that.

when spencer heard this dismissal announcement, he seemed to tense up even more. it was morgan who verbally disagreed, insisting that if the team pulled one more overnight shift you would somehow see something you’d all been missing for the past few days. spencer, on the other hand, remained silent, and when hotch stood his ground, you saw his jaw clench a minuscule amount before he rose from his seat, grabbed his bag, and followed morgan (who was angrily storming away) out the door. at spencer’s exit, jj looked to you, concerned over spencer’s behavior and expecting you to offer an explanation. you shrugged, shaking your head at the blonde as you gathered your things. “i have no idea, jj.” she gave you a sympathetic look then, waiting for you to get your belongings together before the two of you wordlessly walked out side by side.

when you stepped out of the building, you spotted morgan and spencer sitting in an suv. you were a little surprised that the two obviously agitated men had actually waited, but neither you nor jj questioned it before hopping in the back seat. morgan took off as soon as he heard the clicks of your seatbelts, and you silently watched spencer in the side-view mirror. the expression he wore wasn’t unfamiliar to you-- frustration, upset, and desperation, all in one look-- but it was one that didn’t make much sense to you in this situation. usually during a case like this, one that had the entire team stumped for days at a time, spencer would be visually exhausted by the time hotch finally sent everyone home. when you thought over the past three days, you couldn’t remember seeing your boyfriend smile once. the realization made your stomach drop, and the worry set in immediately. along with the worry came the paranoid thoughts. what if he had started to get a migraine? what if something had happened in the course of this case that had done something to him? what if he wasn’t okay?

luckily for you, those thoughts hit you the very moment derek put the car in park. you’d arrived at the hotel. through the fog of your own concern, you heard jj sarcastically announce, “home sweet home.” you let a chuckle fall past your lips at the comment as you opened your door, finding spencer a few feet closer to the hotel already, waiting for you to catch up. once again, you were reminded of how different he was acting when he didn’t put out a hand for you to grab, but you kept your mouth shut because of the relief his waiting for you again had provided. the rest of the walk through the building, including the elevator ride and the few moments it took for spencer to get the hotel room door unlocked, were the same. uncharacteristically quiet, with a suspenseful weight to every motion. when you were both finally in the room, spencer still hadn’t spoken, so you took initiative.

“are you okay, spence?” your voice was light, trying to simultaneously bring up the mood and open the floor for conversation.

“fine,” he said curtly, barely glancing at you as he tugged off his tie at the foot of the bed. “are you?”

your face contorted at the tone of his voice, and suddenly you were defensive. “what does that mean?”

“what do you mean? you asked if i was okay, and i asked if you were. i think that’s pretty straightforward.”

for a couple of seconds, you were stunned into silence. spencer was giving you an attitude-- that much was obvious-- but you had no clue what you’d done to deserve it. after opening and closing your mouth a few times, you shut it and simply nodded. spencer was sitting on the bed now, looking at you with false innocence. if he wanted to play this game, so would you. “fine, reid. i’m fine, too.”

“what, so now you don’t want to talk?” you heard the falter in his voice right away. he knew he’d pissed you off at that point, and although he wasn’t going to come right out and say it, he was already regretting his sourness. regardless of how he felt now, it was too late to turn back, and he still wasn’t ready to talk about what was really bothering him, so he continued the trouble he’d started.

“i’ll talk to you when you talk to me.” you turned out the light, finishing getting ready for bed in the darkness and sliding under the covers, keeping your distance from the man beside you.

the next morning, the air in the hotel room was suffocating. spencer had woken up a few minutes before you, and he was buttoning his shirt when you pulled yourself out of the bed. “good morning,” he greeted, hesitance in his voice.

“morning,” you said effortlessly. there was limited conversation between the two of you for the remaining time you were alone. for the most part it was a mumbled ‘excuse me’ or two, but no conversation, casual or serious, ensued. slowly but surely, you could feel yourself growing more annoyed with spencer-- you didn’t see why he wouldn’t just say something. it was you. he knew he could tell you anything, no matter how nerdy or rude or overly sweet. it didn’t matter to you. you always wanted to hear what he had to say, so this rare case of him refusing to speak his mind was bound to get on your nerves.

when you met up with the rest of the team in the hotel lobby, they all knew something was up. even morgan had a new mindset after a decent night’s sleep, so you and spencer still seeming so tense stuck out like a sore thumb. “hey, lovebirds. you two good?” hotch, rossi, jj, and emily looked to you and spencer expectantly when morgan asked the question, but neither of you flinched.

“ready to catch a serial killer, as always,” you replied with mock enthusiasm. morgan laughed, but he knew your deflective answer said more than your actual words had, so he let it go. the ride back to the station was the same. you didn’t speak to spencer, and spencer didn’t speak to you.

when you arrived at the destination, you quickly lost track of morgan and reid, not having seen the older man pull your boyfriend into a hall to further question him. “hey, pretty boy. what’s going on up there?” as he spoke, morgan gently tapped the side of spencer’s head a couple of times. after a few moments, spencer was still just glaring at morgan, clearly unwilling to speak his mind. “seriously, reid. what is it? you and y/n get into a fight or something?”

spencer scoffed at that, rolling his eyes at the suggestion. “she won’t even talk to me. i was mad, and then i got her mad, and now she won’t speak to me. and the worst part is, i’m still mad, and i wouldn’t even tell her why.”

morgan’s ears perked up at the confession, and he leaned casually into the wall behind him as his mind shifted into advice-giving mode. “well, why don’t you talk to her then, genuis? i mean, i’ve never heard of a time that spencer reid couldn’t tell y/n y/l/n anything.”

“it’s not that simple, morgan,” spencer sighed as he spoke, the frustration he was feeling toward the situation becoming clear in his body language. “it’s just--”

“morgan, reid. we’ve got something.”

spencer sighed again at the sound of hotch’s voice, shaking his head slightly at morgan, who patted him on the shoulder as the two regrouped with the team. a second after spencer dropped into a seat at the conference table, you came around from the other side, placing a coffee on the table in front of him and taking a sip from your own. before he had the chance to say thank you, you were walking away, over to where emily sat at the other end of the table, without even looking at him. spencer looked to morgan, who’d witnessed the moment, with a distraught look in his eye. morgan chuckled lightly, shrugging and throwing his hands up in response.

for the next fifteen minutes, spencer was forced to focus on something other than you. during the first five of those fifteen minutes, the team was verbally bouncing ideas back and forth, and everyone had their first glimpse at the chance to finally catch this killer. for a moment spencer felt hopeful that they could close this case and he could get you to speak to him sooner than later. then, though, the room’s population increased by two.

as the chief of police and one of his detectives walked in, you were speaking, spewing out a possible occupation of the unsub. when you finished your sentence, the detective announced their presence by stating a simple, “that would make a lot of sense.” you spun in your chair to see the source of the voice, giving him a tight-lipped smile in response when you spotted the detective who’d been working with the bau on the case. after smiling at him, the detective gave you what could only be described as a lovesick expression, and you immediately deflected the look by spinning your chair back around so he was out of your line of sight. the police chief spoke then, updating the team on another new victim that had been found that morning.

unbeknownst to you, spencer was fuming for the next ten minutes. he wasn’t surprised that you didn’t spot the anger on his face, seeing as you’d refused to lock eyes with him all morning, but everyone else in the room seemed to recognize it immediately. there was an uncomfortable weight in the room that you were aware of, but your stubbornness kept you from realizing that spencer (and you, unintentionally) was the source of it all. you continued to participate in the conversation, even directly replying to the detective at one point, despite your persistent refusal to make eye contact again. every time the detective spoke, spencer got angrier. by the time the impromptu meeting had ended, he was seeing red. he heard the police chief say, “alright, well, us two will head out and see if we can find anything, maybe bring somebody in,” and he was basically flying out of his seat.

“really glad we could all do this,” he muttered sarcastically, exiting the room as soon as he saw the two men go out the front door of the station.

“reid--” hotch began to call out, but when he saw the look on your face-- one of concern, confusion, and determination-- he knew you would handle it. hotch nodded to you, and before the rest of the team could get a word out, you were following spencer.

“hey,” you called out, hoping your boyfriend would realize you were finally talking to him. unfortunately, he either didn’t hear you or chose to continue ignoring you, and stalked out the station door without looking back. holding in a frustrated groan, you picked up the pace a little and jogged after him. as you stepped out of the station, head whipping around a few times to keep track of where the man was going, you stopped in your tracks when you saw him pacing back and forth a few feet from the door. “spencer.”

you caught his attention that time, and his face was painted in surprise when he heard your voice so close. your eyes locked for the first time since the previous night, and the look of surprise quickly morphed into a grimace. he began shaking his head, turning away from you and tilting his head up to the sky. you took a few steps closer, crossing your arms as you waiting for him to return your gaze. eventually he did, and his expression had once again changed-- this time, he looked remorseful. “i’m sorry. i’m really, really sorry, y/n.”

your eyes softened at the desperation in his voice, and the rest of your body followed suit. your arms uncrossed, shoulders deflating a little. “what is it, spence? just talk to me.” there was still some frustration laced into your words, but spencer was finally able to remember who you were. it was y/n. his y/n, the one he could tell any passing thought, any uncalled-for statistic, any traumatic childhood memory. anything at all.

he sighed, brows furrowing a little as he prepared to finally admit to what had him so upset. “that stupid detective, y/n. i mean, i’m used to working around airheads on cases like this, but that guy--”

“hold on a second,” you interrupted, holding up a hand. “are you-- do you mean detective beefhead?”

“if detective beefhead is the one that came into the conference room just now to simply ogle you, then yes. detective beefhead, y/n.”

the hand you’d been holding in front of spencer then clamped over your mouth, but the boisterous laugh you were trying to hold in fell out anyway. “oh my god. i’m sorry, spence, but seriously? not only are you jealous right now, but you’re jealous of a guy i just referred to as detective beefhead? is your iq still 187, or are you feeling sick?”

he threw you a dirty look then, crossing his arms. “you know, you told me to talk to you, and now that i am, you’re laughing at me. if i remember correctly-- and we both know i do-- you said you’d talk to me if i talked to you. not laugh at me. talk to me.”

you were able to stop laughing then, but the smile on your face wasn’t going anywhere. “spence,” you said, stepping close enough to him to forcibly uncross his arms and wrap them around you instead. “i’m sorry for laughing. really. but... that’s ridiculous. why would you feel threatened by him?” still slightly defensive, spencer tried to remove his arms from around your waist, but you leapt forward even more, grabbing his face with both hands and steering his head so he’d have to look at you. “c’mon, spence.”

“y/n,” he sighed, eyes closing for a second before he looked back at you and continued. “you don’t see yourself how i see you, or how anyone sees you.” your head tilted at the statement, and spencer’s arms tightened slightly around your waist as he shook you lightly for emphasis. “i’m serious. you are... you’re perfect, y/n, and i know how absurd that sounds to you, but it’s the most truthful thing i’ve ever said out loud, or thought, or known. and, frankly, i’m not the most outwardly-- or inwardly-- appealing person. i know that. i’m not like most people, and i know you think that’s endearing, but it’s hard for me to sit back and watch other guys come around and try to take you from me. my heart stops when i think that maybe you’ll look at someone else one day and completely forget about me, and us, and everything. it just-- it scares me, and when i get scared, i get defensive, and then i was acting so childish toward you, but it was all because i’m scared.”

for a few moments, all you could do was stare at spencer. you knew you should’ve said something right away, but for some reason, all you wanted to do was look at him. maybe it was because you knew you saw him in a way he didn’t see himself, and in a way nobody else could ever see him. when you looked at spencer, all you saw was everything, because that’s what he was to you-- everything. the thought of him feeling so unstable in your relationship crushed you, and the way he felt in that moment only reminded you even more of who you truly knew him to be.

you thought back over the last few days of working on this case, and all the times you’d come into contact with the detective spencer apparently felt so threatened by. he’d brought you coffee three times, but you’d denied it twice, having either just gotten coffee for you and spencer, or spencer having just brought you a refill. the one time you did take it, it was more in hopes that he’d retire his efforts after one small success. then there was the time you’d caught him leaning over your shoulder as you read the m.e.’s report. you’d asked him if he needed a copy of his own, and he’d told you that he had his own but liked appreciating the notes you’d scribbled into yours more than his own bland copy. you’d told him there was nothing bland about an innocent person who’d been murdered, and he’d basically run away from you. and then there was the interaction in the conference room that your team witnessed entirely. you realized then that spencer must’ve seen all the other approaches detective beefhead had made, and you internally cringed at spencer’s misinterpretation.

“you’re wrong.” those were the first words you spoke, because they were the most honest. “i know it’s gonna be hard for you to believe, but you are just so wrong right now, spencer. honestly, after all the time i’ve had with you, i kind of thought you’d know better to ever get jealous. and i know that sounds ridiculous, because everyone gets jealous, but i think i just hoped you’d see by now that it’s literally not possible for me to see another person the way i see you. literally. impossible.”

“i mean, it’s probably not really impossible, but--” at your pointed look, spencer cut himself off. “okay, fine. it’s impossible.”

“hell yes it is. because i love you, doctor reid. not detective beefhead, not some guy who tries to hit on me at a bar, not anyone else. just you, okay?”

he nodded, finally feeling for the first time in three days that you were still his. “i’m still sorry, though. you were so mad, and i-- i just made it worse, and i’m sorry for that.”

“i was only mad because you weren’t communicating with me, spence. so, if you’re sorry, you can make up for it by working with me a little and just telling me when something’s wrong.” he nodded rapidly, a smile finally breaking out on his face for the first time in days. “and also, you’re welcome for the coffee.” his face fell then, and as he opened his mouth to argue, you laughed and pulled his mouth to yours to keep him from bickering. for a second he resisted, determined to correct your statement, but he quickly realized that would get him nowhere. just as he succumbed to your touch, the door to the police station was swinging open again.

“oh, thank god,” you heard from the door. it was emily, a bright smile on her face as she spotted the two of you kissing in front of the station. at the sound of her voice, you and spencer pulled apart, both looking to her innocently. “hotch needs you both back. i’m glad to see you’ve sorted out whatever the issue was.”

you looked at spencer one last time before smiling back at emily, pulling yourself out of spencer’s grip to re-enter to building. spencer followed behind you both, relieved to know he was out of the doghouse with you and had no other guys to worry about. “spencer was jealous of detective beefhead.” you spoke quietly (and tauntingly, knowing your boyfriend could hear you), causing emily to let out an understanding, “ah, good ol’ detective beefhead. reid, kid, you got nothing to worry about there, trust me.”

“hey, don’t tell them!”

“you talk to me, i talk to you, we talk to the team, spence! it’s the circle of communication!”

“i’m never communicating again.” and that was spencer’s last grumble before you all got back to work. 

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